The Painted Veil

An Epic Fantasy tale of action, adventure, heroism, horror and sorcery… Beyond Night is a Dark Fantasy Horror novel that pulls back the veil of nearly two thousand years of jaded history. Come tread in the bloody footprints left by monsters, soldiers and wizards and behold what lies hidden Beyond Night itself. It’s Bigfoot War mixed with Lovecraftian horror on the edge of the Roman Empire. How could Rome lose a Legion? What could’ve happened to blot out the existence of over five thousand men not only from history but the Earth itself? As the Legion moves north to engage the forces of Pictdom, a dark horror emerges from the bowels of the Earth. Thought to be random attacks by hulking monsters, Decurion August soon learns a dire truth, that these bloody events are directed by opposing the wizards of the Picts. While one side assembles all tribes in a confederated army to battle the Legion, the other pulls these Greyman beasts from the depths of the Earth. August fights not only these creatures and workers of magicks, but internal passions in the Legion itself. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

Two families at war. One marriage for peace. Many lies to hide the truth. ​Alessia Moretti did not marry Lucien Valenti because she loved him; she married him to get information. As the daughter of the Moretti leader, she believes the Valentis killed her brother, Enzo. Now, she is living in their home, ready to destroy their business from the inside. ​Lucien Valenti is a man of secrets. He knows his wife is a spy, and he is ready to play her game—until a person from the past returns with a warning: the real enemy is not the husband she lives with, but the father who forced her into the marriage. ​When a stolen file reveals "Project Veil"—a terrible medical plan paid for by her own family, Alessia is forced to work with the man she wanted to kill. From the expensive parties in Manhattan to the dark hallways of secret labs in Italy, Alessia and Lucien must deal with many betrayals. ​In the world of the Syndicate, the truth is more dangerous than a lie. And the truth is: some secrets are better left hidden.

I worked at a sales job and felt pretty good about my work. Then, Vivian appeared. She was a new intern with an insatiable curiosity for others’ private affairs. On Valentine’s Day, my husband, Henry Ambrose, bought a million dollars’ worth of bags from me to help me meet my sales target. Just as I left work to meet him for a date, Vivian sent a snide message. [Your Fitbit just logged an extra thousand steps. That’s literally the exact distance to the hotel next door. Nice work, Lily! You close a million-dollar deal and immediately head to the hotel with the client?] I coldly fired back, [If you’re this desperate to stalk people, you should’ve just joined the K-9 unit.] That very night, parcels of adult toys appeared on my doorstep. Vivian had written a nasty post that had gone viral, and things turned out like this! [This Salesgirl Slept With My Client and Stole My Million-Dollar Commission on Valentine’s Day!] A pair of my ripped silk stockings, which I had tossed in the trash, became her “proof” that I had seduced a client during work hours. Vivian was painted as the victim, while I was viciously smeared as a “salesgirl who slept with clients for commissions.” What Vivian did not know was that Henry was actually a leading researcher worth billions. I only took the sales job because I was bored and wanted to experience something new.

He was twisted in every way. Knows nothing about boundaries and a heart made out of ice and steel. He kills those he deems to rot in hell and those who dare disobey him. And definitely, he will torture anyone who dares lay a hand on HER. Damon Montreal, a notorious mafia boss in the city, had set his eyes only on one woman. The only light to his darkness Cara Davidsons. While she was the CEO’s princess daughter, she had all she needed. Yet, no matter how perfect her life seemed to be, there was a shadow that followed her everywhere. A prowling presence beneath the veil of darkness. A monster of a man. A phantom that visits her every night and watches her sleep. “You are mine, Cara. You are fucking mine.” With a voice so velvety and rich, compelling her to dive into his dark, messed-up world. Will she be able to embrace the devil that only she could tame and accept him for who he is? Or that Damon would be too ruthless and engulf the remaining ray of light in his life.

For ten years, Isaac was my fated mate. My Alpha. My future. Then, on the eve of his Alpha Ceremony, he chose another she-wolf to be his Luna, Chloe. His reason? She was wild and free...everything I used to be. "We are FATED MATES!" I screamed, my hand flying to the mark on my neck. "How can you defy the Moon Goddess? How can you just throw me away?" My wolf howled through our bond, trying to make him feel my pain. The backlash should have crippled him. But he didn't even flinch. It wasn't a real mark. Just a lie, painted on with magic. A trick to chain me to his side. My legs gave out. I hit the floor, a raw sob tearing from my throat. When the tears dried, the grief turned to ice. I stormed the Elders' Council and demanded they sever the bond. Then, I did the unthinkable. I chose his cursed uncle, Vincent. Isaac laughed. He thought it was a pathetic game to make him jealous. He had no idea. The Elders had already named his uncle the new Alpha. He didn't understand his mistake until he saw me crowned Luna on Vincent's arm. Only then did he come crawling back, begging for a forgiveness I would never give.

Everyone in Moonveil Pack knew our Alpha, Eric, worshiped his Mate. When he loved, he went feral. To keep me—an infertile she-wolf—on the Luna throne, he once painted the Elder Council in blood. Stood in front of the whole pack and swore he hated pups. Said he'd end his own bloodline before he let me hurt. Yeah. That was his version of forever. Until my body changed. Then one day he walked into our territory holding a young she-wolf's hand—Velda—and built her a little love nest right next to our home. I asked for an explanation. "My pack needs an heir. You can't give me one." Velda smiled all sweet. The second he looked away, she flipped me off. "Zara, you're fat as a pig. What makes you think you can compete with me?" I looked at her young, perfect face and finally got it. Those vows? Not love. Just lust in a crown. I didn't cry. Didn't cause a scene. I called the witch through mind link. "Do it. Forcefully sever my mate bond with him." If he hated this body so much, then the thousandfold pain I'd held back for five years? Yeah. It was time to give it back.

Sarita has always been a good daughter. The straight A's student and quite possibly going to be the class valedictorian on her graduation day. Like every other girl, she began to notice boys when she was fifteen and one boy in particular caught her fancy; Rajveer Chaturvedi. He is the co-captain of the school's basketball team The Panthers but he has never noticed her because he has his eyes on Divya Malhotra, head cheerleader who also happens to be his girlfriend. But Divya has her eyes on Vikrant Suryavanshi, the captain of the basketball team and Raj's best friend. Sarita loses all hope of ever getting Raj's attention but by a twist of fate, she becomes friends with Vikrant whom she'd heard of and seen a couple of times in school but had never spoken to due to the animosity between him and her best friend Kalyani who happens to be his cousin. Feelings grow between the unlikely pair and a long term friendship is broken when Divya's lies are revealed to Raj and Vikrant is painted the bad guy by his friend who swore to get his revenge. Vikrant's and Sarita's relationship is put to the test when she becomes pregnant due to a situation that was beyond their control and she is forced to choose between her family and the father of her baby when a young man shows up, claiming to be her betrothed.

Dario Morello came from old money in Santria City—but his family was cursed. Every guy in that bloodline dropped dead before twenty-five, like something sucked the life out of them. The only way out? Marry someone with a rare fertility gene. In my last life, my adopted sister Serena jacked my wedding dress and took my place at the altar. I exposed her right there in front of everyone. She became Santria's biggest joke. Then she killed herself. My parents said I was heartless. Cut me off without blinking. Dario? He hated me too. On the anniversary of Serena's death, he locked me in a basement, strapped me with explosives, and snapped, "That fertility gene lie? You made it up for clout and cash. Serena was pregnant with my kid. You killed them both. So now—you're going with her." Next thing I knew, I was waking up on the morning of the wedding. This time? I helped Serena with the veil and wished them a perfect life.

Elysia n’est finalement pas l’unique havre de l’Humanité. Suite à la découverte de deux nouvelles cités, des décisions s’imposent.D’un côté Arystra, théocratie sous la coupe d’un despote enfermé dans sa pyramide survolant le peuple miséreux. De l’autre, Orancia, cité engloutie après le Cataclysme, où le libéralisme est poussé à l’excès et la vie des citoyens n’a d’autant de valeur que leur compte-action.Arystra et Orancia sont-elles des menaces pour Elysia ou l'opportunité d'élargir ses frontières ? Et quelles sont ces Failles qui apparaissent mystérieusement tout autour de la planète ? De Veil Deylor, soldat malgré lui d’Arystra, à Elias et Caine, les réponses se trouvent à la croisée des chemins.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*