The Veiled Queen Novels & Stories

“Next you’ll say you’re communing with the spirits of sweaty warriors past.” I placed a dramatic hand over my heart. “You mock me, but I’m manifesting. One day, I’ll live in a castle with silken sheets and gold floors that clean themselves. There’ll be no mopping. Just gowns. And my prince charming will bring me breakfast in bed.” “Selene,” Liora deadpanned, “you’re an omega in Moonbane Pack, not a Disney princess.” “Yet,” I said, wagging my mop handle at her. “Y-e-t.”

The walls were etched with old prophecies, written in the tongues of demons and dead kings. At the center of the temple was a circle of red-cloaked figures. In their middle stood a man, pale and bald, his eyes pure white. He was known only as The Veil, the High Seer of the Order. He held a scroll made of human skin, reading aloud: > “The Vampire King rises. The Queen walks once more. When the moon bleeds red, The Morning Star shall awaken. And this world shall bow in fire and ash.” A deep hum rose from the Order.

Whispers filled the air—chanting, beckoning, ancient and cruel. And then they saw her. The First Queen. Suspended in flame, not alive, not dead. Her hair floated like a halo of wildfire, and her eyes—closed—held galaxies beneath them. Runes spiraled across her skin, binding her to a throne of bone and ember. Circle priests surrounded her, blood trailing from their palms into the carved sigils below. The air shimmered, time distorting. “Stop them,” Elara growled. But it was already too late.

She sits beside me, her body half-shadow, half-flame. "Rhea… this time, you’re not meant to just survive. You’re meant to awaken her." I blink. "Her?" "The one born in you. The force sealed at your first death. The Queen of the Veiled Flame." My heart stutters. "But what if I’m not ready?" Nyrielle smiles, a little sad. "The Veil doesn’t wait for readiness. It waits for truth." And I finally understand that what I carry inside me isn’t just history.

At their center stands a petite girl—no older than fourteen—wearing a crown of black glass. She pouts. “Oh, poo. We missed all the fun.” Violet and I exchange a look, then face her. “The new Queen of Air and Darkness, I presume,” I say, not bothering to bow with all that silver aimed at us. She claps, literally bouncing on her toes. “Aren’t you a clever one. Yes, dear wolf—I am Vaedra. Welcome to the Unseelie Court.”

The Queen stood behind them, in the shadow, she had changed into a dull black robe with red threads for the ritual, her face was hidden beneath a hooded black veil, only her hands were visible, as she silently watched the ritual begin. An old witch, bent over the floor beside where Keira was lying, wearing long black see-through lace, while stirring a bubbling old pot, her hands shaking, her voice muttering incantations, the green flames began to burn brightly as her incantations grew louder. “Faster, Akira, we don’t have all day,” the Queen hissed, her voice a little shaky. She slowly turned her head over her shoulders to listen to the commotion outside. “Moonclaw’s dogs are close.” She whi

Their light cast the land in hues of dream and prophecy. And atop the highest tower of Moonstone Keep, a new queen stepped into legend. Elara wore no crown of iron. Instead, she wore a cloak of white, stitched with scarlet fire, the sigil of Virelith burning across her shoulders: a flame entwined with wolf and fang. When she walked through the capital, no herald announced her name. The people knew it. They didn’t see a girl who had clawed her way from the ashes. They saw a queen who had chosen pain.

I open my eyes and take the card out of the blinding glow, and as my brain registers the card it looks blank, but I do as tradition states, spin around and hold it in the air for all to see. The gasps and the yelling starts, and I don’t understand why, so I bring the card down to my eye level and watch it. The card is black with what looks like six white silhouettes on it. There are colors beginning to swirl within each of the white silhouettes. Glancing up I see six figures walking toward me, but I can’t make out who they are. “Mistress to the Veil! The whore and her men must be sacrificed! You know the law! Kill the betrayers!”

"No, we don't have that ability. Only the original can do that. She's the beginning of our kind anyway. They call her the Phantom Queen and she is eternal, at least that's what they say. She can manifest her essence in her chosen descendant throughout the centuries hence why they call her the Phantom——something that cannot be seen but she still remains in this world." "So she still exists up to this day? Where is she now?" I sighed, scooting closer and cuddled her on my side. "Nowhere. She'd been long gone since the War of the Triad began eight hundred years ago. Let's say we are indeed a 'cult'. And we were united before under the Phantom Queen Silva who was chosen by the Essence of the Ori

Abigail, veiled in a bridal veil, embodies the epitome of grace and elegance. Her white gown drapes softly around her, flowing like a river of silk, whispering secrets of timeless beauty. It hugs her figure in all the right places, accentuating her curves with delicate precision. The intricate lacework adorning the bodice tells a story of intricate craftsmanship and devotion, much like the love that binds us together.