Born In The Veil Novels & Stories

I see the knife hover, not to kill, but to bind. A cut that seals something into the boy’s blood. Not power. Punishment. The land shudders beneath my feet. And a name rises, not spoken aloud, but forced upward through stone and root and marrow. Bloodveil is not the first name. It is the cage built around the true one. The buried name tears free of the earth. And the Hollow speaks it. CAIN Pain explodes behind my eyes. Not physical. Conceptual. Like a truth snapping into place where a lie once held everything upright.

“No—no, that’s not them. That’s—” Draven pulled her behind him, shielding her with his arm even as the air bent around the being. The earth cracked beneath its feet, every step radiating heat and static that distorted the Vale. The mountains themselves began to hum, deep and resonant, as if remembering something buried beneath their bones. “The Veil is choosing,” Kairis gasped, horror dawning. “It’s rewriting what it lost.” The creature’s gaze flicked toward her, and for an instant its face split — Kael’s profile against Rhovan’s shadow, flickering like two images caught in the same reflection.

First, the veil. From a hidden pocket sewn into the waistband of my trousers—a precaution they had missed in their rough search—I pulled a small glass vial. It was cool to the touch. Inside, a liquid swirled like mist and oil, holding shadows within it. A Mirage Veil potion. Expensive. Rare. Given to me weeks ago by a hooded figure in the market: a man who owed my father a debt and who understood the new order I would bring. “For when the walls have eyes,” the man had whispered, pressing the vial into my hand.

Loving each other was not a choice made lightly—it was a risk taken knowingly. And so, before revolution ignited the city, before councils fractured and alliances trembled, two souls reached across an impossible divide. This is where the story truly begins—not with war, but with the courage to feel. Prophecy of Blood and Moon Long before Maverick Delacroix and Odessa Kingsleigh ever stood beneath the same sky, the world itself had begun to whisper.

“Something my mother wrote in the margins of her grimoire. She never told me why, but she underlined it three times.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, worn piece of parchment. She unfolded it carefully. “‘The key must not carry life until the veil is sealed. A child born of the key will tear the veil wide open. The child’s first breath will be the last breath of the world.’” The words hung in the air. I felt the blood drain from my face. Nikolai went rigid behind me. Nora folded the parchment again, voice barely above a whisper. “She believed it was possible to seal the veil. But only if the key remains childless until it’s done. If you conceive before then… the spirits wi

Hiding in borrowed clothes that still smelled faintly of blood and pine and desperate loyalty. That child's father had been a Veilfea, born of the forbidden union between a highborn Veilborn enforcer and the daughter of the fae queen who had dared to love beyond her court’s approval. Half Veilborn, half fae, he had been hated from the moment he drew breath: too powerful to ignore, too mongrel to accept. Shunned by his mother’s clan, Rejected by his father's, Bryan was forced to live with the veilborn. Watched every step of his existence, he learned early that survival meant disappearing even while standing in plain sight. And somehow, impossibly, he had done the one thing the Council feared

Talking about banal things entertained them and he was the one who did the shopping. Now he was gone and she had to go out to civilization to buy the basics. She stood in front of the mirror and stroked her cheek. She took the veil and placed it over her face. This was how Samay Fraga hid her face under the thin fabric, sheltering there a dark past and the fear of being captured, either by her partner or by the authorities. Therein lies the mystery of the veil. (...) Jacqueline helped Arthur take care of the baby with Nidia. Only the former knew that it was Sam's child since Arthur was very cautious about his girlfriend's affairs, especially since he no longer trusted Anabela.

A woman—my mother—crying beneath a blood moon, touching her belly like she already knew it held something not meant for the world. “You were never made,” the voice whispered. “You were chosen. The Elarian are not born—they are forged. From sacrifice. From imbalance. From prophecy.” Stars burst across the dark like fireflies. And then it came again— “The Veil remembers you.” The mark on my chest ignited with a fresh pulse of heat. And when I blinked— I was back. Lying on the glassy ground of the Veil, coughing, shaking. The shimmer of the gate still ahead. Gabriel groaned nearby, pushing himself to his feet.

He put it back on the shelf. He pulled another. The Veil is not a place, this one said. It is a space between. Between life and death. Between worlds. Between what is and what could be. To enter the Veil is to leave the self behind. To leave the body, the mind, the soul. To enter is to risk never returning. He set it aside. Another. Blood Magic: Origins and Applications. He opened it.

Celine shrugs, “It was mostly out of spite in the end. He was a part of a group called ‘The Veil.’. As far as we understand it ‘The Veil’ was originally a group dedicated to encouraging all peoples to work together for the betterment of all, but there are parts of it that have become ‘corrupt’ for want of a better term. The aim of those sections is the subjugation of humans, if not their outright extermination. We dismantled the one in England.” Eva puts her cup of tea down.