Born In The Veil Novels & Stories

“That is the most complicated explanation of a birth I have ever heard.” Damien ignored him. “Continue.” Aeliana looked at Elyra. “The child was created from every first feeling—love, fear, wonder, grief, and hope. She was innocent, but her existence disturbed the balance of reality.” “Why?” Elyra asked. “Because she could remember everything.” The Heart pulsed softly. “Every beginning. Every ending. Every possible future. Every forgotten soul. She could see the shape of time before it happened.” Zevarion’s gaze hardened.

Like something pulled from a nightmare. Everyone went crazy. The camera zoomed in on the strange, wax-coated baby. His image was broadcast across countless screens in real time. Vanessa lunged toward the bed before anyone could react, but her hand froze halfway… The disgust on her face was apparent. She couldn't bring herself to touch him! She spun toward me the next second, her voice sharp and trembling, every word dripping with hate. "Claire! You disgusting witch! You actually slept around?! Look at this thing you gave birth to!"

Lyra’s heart stuttered at the fondness in his voice. They soared across the twilight sky on the Nightveil Drake, wind whipping through Lyra’s crimson gown. Below them, Vaeloria glowed in anticipation. When they landed before the Grand Hall of Veils, the drake nuzzled Lyra once more before taking flight again at Kaelith’s command. Inside, the hall had been transformed into a temple of pure hedonism. The High Priest of the Veil and his spiritual subordinates performed the opening rituals at the central altar. Ancient chants filled the air as glowing runes drifted downward like falling stars. Sacred oils were anointed on participants, heightening every sensation and stirring latent magic.

I was trying really hard not to cry and was failing terribly. I move to the stepping stool right in front of the mirror. While Nora and Kim are wowing over the look, my eyes are glued to myself in the mirror. It’s beautiful. Not the casual type of beautiful. The type of beautiful that Bentley Brown described in the room my grandma died last Christmas Eve. “It comes with a custom-made veil,” the designer chimes, getting the veil and putting my hair into an updo to get it in. The veil is a thin, stainlessly white and long net, far broader than my dress, flowing behind me. I grab the edges of the veil to adjust it slightly so that it could be seen more from the front while actively suppressing

We were in a Nursery. "We’re almost at the Well," the First Mother whispered, her silver hair now a brilliant, violet fire. "But the Veil is not a guardian. It is a Mirror of the Origin. To pass through it, you must be more than a King or a Queen. You must be the Source." I stood on the prow, watching the mist. I could see the outlines of the Origin-Well ahead—a massive, vertical shaft of white-violet light that pierced the very center of the Earth.

And walked toward the tear in the Veil. Heather moved to go with her. Baylee held up a hand without turning. “Stay with Collin.” Heather’s breath caught, and for once, she didn’t argue. “You get back here,” she choked. Baylee smiled over her shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.” Then, without armor, without an escort, without anything but her mark and her will, Baylee stepped into the light. And the world changed. --- The Midway Crossing the Veil didn’t feel like walking through a doorway. It felt like drowning and being born at the same time.

She barged into the old temple chamber I’d been sleeping in, her expression guarded but alert. “Do you feel that?” she asked, scanning the stone walls like she expected them to crack. I nodded. “It’s her.” “Your child?” “Yes.” A long silence. Then she muttered something low under her breath. “Asha?” I asked. “She’s calling the veil,” she said. “It’s too early.” “The veil?” “The membrane between worlds. Spirits. Power. The Matrons used to cross it at birth or death, but never before.” I gripped my stomach instinctively.

It thrashed violently, but I tightened my grip and, with a guttural growl, twisted hard. Its neck snapped. Its body froze for a half-second, then burst into smoke. No bones, no blood. Just swirling, black vapor vanishing into the breeze. I stood up slowly, heart pounding. “They’re veil-born,” I said to myself, my voice low and filled with dread. My eyes darted around the trees, scanning the shadows. “Someone opened it. Someone let them in.”

Inside, two ghosts plotted the next war. And between them, something that wasn’t love and wasn’t hate — just a thread of survival, stretched to breaking. Final Line: “We go home,” Amara whispered, eyes fixed on the fire. “If The Veil was born in Sicily… then it dies in Sicily.”

She was watching his every move and micro expression. “When Bradford was born, there was a great uproar as he was born with a veil. as you know, only great casters are born with veils. Your ladies and waiting had one job and that was to keep you calm while I had the time to make sure that this child would be viable. The elders of the clan had told me that any child born that would not be powerful and viable would be an embarrassment to the clan, and therefore must be sacrificed to the healing waters. I wanted to do everything in my power to make sure that our children would never meet that end. So there was a time I hid Bradford away. My goal was to watch him grow into a great leader with gr