Shrouding The Novels & Stories

He felt as if he stood on the precipice of a shattered kingdom, the delicate balance of his life hanging in the balance. Underneath the protective shield of his hood, Alexander wrestled with conflicting emotions. He yearned to be there, to be a part of the mourning and the healing process, but the fear of rejection and punishment held him back. His hoodie became a symbol of both concealment and protection, a barrier between him and the harsh reality that awaited him should he step out from the shadows.

“Ven’al lunastra… maren kai’shal…” This time, the world didn’t explode or shake with my efforts. This time, it simply unfolded. A soft, ethereal glow surrounded me, not a blinding flash, but a gentle emanation, like a living cocoon of silver light. It was a shimmering, almost translucent mist, curling up my arms, brushing my cheeks, forming a delicate, impenetrable veil between the world and me. The air around me grew still, silent, as if holding its breath.

The warehouse was dim, shadows stretching across the high walls as the low hum of voices filled the air. Enzo walked just a few paces ahead of Sienna, his hand hovering protectively at her back as they wove through his men, heading for the makeshift meeting area. Sienna was acutely aware of his closeness, his scent, his touch—every nerve in her body on high alert. And every time he looked back at her, a thrill shot through her, like she was standing on the edge of something exhilaratingly dangerous.

Cold. “Bearer of the Veilblade,” the figure’s voice rang out, deep and resonant. “You stand at the precipice of fate.” Elior’s heart pounded. “Who are you?” The figure’s hood tilted slightly. “A keeper of forgotten truths.” Myrra stiffened. “A Shadebound.” The name sent a ripple of unease through the group. The Shadebound were beings said to be neither living nor dead, tied to the Veil itself. They were the keepers of its secrets—and its curses.

So the shield lets in water - great. I took a deep breath, focusing all my energy on the shimmering shield surrounding the car. I extended my hand towards the barrier, feeling the crackling power surge through me. The shield responded to my command, slowly shifting its form under my control. With a determined expression, I channelled my magic into reshaping the protective film. I visualised it retracting from the car and wrapping around me instead, like a cocoon of energy. The shield obeyed my will, swirling around me in a protective embrace.

Novak sounded more like a teenager who was in love. "What did she say?" "She never saw me." He said. Maya was lost at this point. "I used the Shadow cloak to sneak into the Blood Crescent pack just at the nick of time to save her from some trouble," he explained. The shadow cloak is woven from a rare fabric and the darkest form of magic. It grants the wearer invisibility and the ability to blend seamlessly into shadows. With this, one can sneak in and out of even the most dangerous territories without being seen or noticed.

"This is for you." She draped it over my shoulders. The material was thick and warm, perfect for traveling. But there was something else. A faint shimmer in the weave. Magic. "What is this?" I ran my fingers over the fabric. "A concealment cloak. Ancient craft. Very rare." She fastened the clasp at my throat. "It won't make you invisible, but it will mask your scent. Blur your presence. Make you harder to track or detect." I stared at her. "This is... this is too valuable. I can't—"

He was not to be dismissed. "We will thread protection," Soraya intoned. "A living lattice. It will grow in strength with the child. It will mask and shield, and it will throb a pulse that confuses malicious sensing. A hunter will feel a forest when they feel this child, and hunger will not know where to begin."

I whispered. Thorne’s eyes glinted in the half-light, sharp and calculating, but with something else buried deep.. something like.. regret. “It’s not a jewelry.. it’s a seal. A binding. Something meant to cloak you, keep you hidden from eyes that would destroy you if they knew you lived. That it has begun to glow…” He paused, scanning the trees as though the forest itself might be listening. “It means the forces it was forged to shield you from are aware of you now. And they are… coming.”

Aura (quietly braided) hover aligned, no draft I braid now. Not into thread. Into quiet. Each breath Shye gives adjusts my veil slightly enough to let light pass gently, not brightly. Their rhythm tells me: Not all presence needs illumination. Some deserve shadow curled through gentleness. Vathil (soil unguarded) beneath all, curled inside motion I don't try to fight. Shye steps, and the root responds gently not in pulse. In space opened underneath. They do not ask to stand above me.