The Veiled Queen Novels & Stories

There was Veyra. The queen from Ebonveil glided like a snake wrapped in red silk. Her dress sparkled with black threads that sucked in the light nearby. Her hair came down dark like bird wings. It fell in shiny waves onto her back. Rubies sat in it, glowing red like blood spots. Her mouth turned up in a smile. It looked too pointy. Too smart for comfort. Next to her was Aurek.

She knelt down, opened it, and pulled something wrapped in pale silk. Elianna’s eyes followed her with a frozen stare. The Queen carefully unwrapped it, her hands trembling. Inside was a delicate white veil, its edges embroidered with silver thread, worn but clean — clearly preserved with care. “This was wrapped around you when we found you,” the Queen said softly. “You were just a baby. Barely breathing. But there was something… otherworldly about you.” The King moved beside her, his voice tight. “You were brought to us during the war — a cloaked woman placed you at our gates. She never showed her face. She said one thing, and then disappeared.”

The others spread out behind her carefully, hands resting near hidden weapons beneath their cloaks. Lena looked pale. “Who are they?” Kael’s jaw tightened. “The Veilkeepers.” The name clearly meant something because several villagers immediately looked terrified. I looked between them. “Okay… and that means what exactly?” The woman answered for him. “We are the ones tasked with preventing the return of the Queen of Ruin.” Cold spread through my chest. Kael moved subtly closer to me. Protective again. The woman noticed immediately. Her expression darkened slightly. “You’re shielding her,” she observed.

They belong to this world in a way I may never understand, probably trained since birth to serve queens married to their kings. And now, I am their queen. “Welcome my queen,” I hear Lady Veyrien’s voice behind me. I turn around. Her eyes are still milky white with no pupils, her voluminous white hair cascading down her shoulders in long waves. I watch her raise her hand towards the five priestesses standing beside her. A silent order. They move closer to me.

My pride bled out with each hit. A hush swept over the gathered crowd. And then a new voice spoke. “That’s enough.” I looked up through blurred eyes. A tall woman strode forward, robed in dark green velvet, her silver jewelry glinting in the sunlight. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, deadly. She carried herself like royalty. She was the queen. She stopped in front of me, hands clasped behind her. Her mouth curled faintly. “River,” she said, her voice deceptively smooth. “You’ve truly gone mad this time, haven’t you?”

" Behind her, Jon moved first, stepping forward until he stood at her side. Then Rune, his jaw set, his eyes blazing. Then Lioren, still bearing the scars of recent guilt, but fiercer now than ever. And finally, Zarek—his presence cold, indomitable, like the steel of a drawn sword. Together they stood. Unyielding. Unbreakable. The air shifted. A ripple of something ancient and primal stirred in the blood of those gathered. For in that moment, they were not looking at a grieving girl. They were looking at something far older. Far greater. A queen. The light from the Moon Tree, distant even here, seemed to pulse—answering Veyra's unspoken ascension. It wrapped her in a faint silver glow, subtl

As her volume increases, the words that were once a mystery start to make sense. “Praise Oaestr, Great Diviner, Mother of us All. Praise Nyxt, Night Father, Void Incarnate, Mate of the Goddess. Blessed are your brood. Ayre, Faeyre, Bleyd, Kore, Myeti, Carnelia. Blessed Carnelia! Gifted Carnelia! The first Queen of Dragons.” The light from above overwhelms my current form and soon being flame itself isn't enough to keep the pain at bay any longer. As my body bucks against the throne, something shifts in Vega's expression and her eyes take on a look of genuine fear as she gazes in my direction.

She looked more… human, draped in regal robes of black and crimson, her body outlined with flame-like sigils that pulsed with every word. “Thalia?” Lyra breathed. “Yes. But not just me.” The trees rustled. A figure emerged from the forest’s heart - tall, graceful, wreathed in a quiet storm of gold and flame. Her hair was braided with metal threads, her eyes glowing like twin suns, ancient and kind. Her presence was sovereign. There was no mistaking who she was. The First Queen. The mother of blood and fire. “Lyra,” the Queen said, voice resonating like a bell struck deep underground.

​The page contained a massive, perfectly preserved oil portrait painted by the first priests of the unwritten era, framed in pure, unblemished gold. ​It showed the mortal queen, Cynthia Vaelcrest, standing on the steps of the first palace before the world fell into the dark. She wore no royal crown; she wore only a simple, white woolen cloak pinned with a silver crescent emblem at the throat. Her long, silver-tinted hair flowed over her shoulders, and her hands were clasped over her chest, her wrist marked with a natural, glowing silver crescent. ​But it wasn't the clothes or the hair that made Kaelor drop his sword onto the stone floor with a sharp, ringing metallic clang.

Waiting. Back at the table, Eliana leaned back, satisfied with the attention. “You should be careful,” she added. “This place can be… overwhelming for people who don’t belong.” Ivy set her glass down. Gently. No sound. Then she looked up. Her gaze moved from Eliana… to Aria… to Zara… And back to Eliana again. Steady. Unshaken. “For a place built on standards,” Ivy said calmly, “you seem very focused on appearances.”