Veil Between Worlds Novels & Stories

Rather than questioning where she was, why she had been taken, or how they had captured her father, Lily closed in on the shimmering purple veil and stepped through. The veil was cool, like fresh rainfall after weeks of blistering summer heat. It roused Lily enough that she could see the thousand refractions glittering around her, a kaleidoscope of worlds and spaces that both did and did not exist. A hundred eyes faced her, woven into the very fabric of the veil, staring intently, as though she held the key to each of their destinies somewhere deep within her.

‘I will make every last one of you pay! She climbed out and dried her body leaving the once-white towel red. Alice bandaged her wounds and dressed in the same clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror. The person staring back at her looked depleted. Who was this person? Every time she looked at herself, a stranger stared back at her. Her eyes held no life in them, only an empty shell stared back. She felt sorry for the girl in the mirror. Why can’t this person just get a break? Why does this world hate her so much that it not only tramples on her but pulls her apart?

We’re back in the pine clearing, dawn just starting to bleed pink over the trees. The Chevy waits exactly where we left it. Remy pulls me into his arms and kisses my temple. “Told you we’d burn the world down together,” he murmurs. I laugh (wet, shaky, perfect). Riley and Thorne stand wrapped around each other, the Sanguis Draconis glowing soft and steady. The Veil is whole. The worlds are still separate. But the walls between them are thinner now (thin enough for love to pass through). Coyote’s voice drifts on the morning wind, one last time:

His voice was completely flat. "There is a barrier," Marcus said. "Between this world and the spirit realm. The old texts call it the Veil. It has been weakening for thirty years, small tears opening in places across the continent, things bleeding through. The Council has known about it. They have been sitting on it. There is a prophecy, older than the Council itself, about a wolf born of two specific bloodlines who has the power to interact with the Veil directly." He looked at me. "To break it open or seal it shut depending on how that wolf is raised and who controls them when the time comes." I felt the floor tilt slightly under my feet.

“What?” The Heart cracked. A sound came from beyond it. Not a voice. Not a heartbeat. Something enormous moving through the space between worlds. The Creator's face became pale. “The boundary.” Zevarion raised his sword. “Between what?” The Creator looked toward the darkness. “Between this universe…” The crack widened. “…and everything outside it.” Aeliana whispered: “What is outside?” The Creator answered: “The worlds that were never created.” Everyone froze. Seraphine grabbed Elyra's hand.

“Desmond, you reveal a new ability to me each day. However, I know nothing about who you are as an individual.” “Ask anything you want, darling.” His hand went up my thigh and grazed my butt. “Where do you come from? Do spirits have their world? Are the other planets inhabited by spirit people that we humans think of as aliens?” I asked. A smile of amusement played on his lips. “There is only one world for living souls. A veil separates us from the humans.” “Then why don’t you all come before humans? We could live together peacefully.” “The veil exists for a reason. There would be a global disaster if the rules were breached,” he said.

“There’s a legend—an ancient one—about a place where magic is born and destroyed. A place where the very essence of life and death converges. The Veil.” “The Veil?” I repeated, my brow furrowing. “I’ve heard of it, but it’s just a myth.” “It’s not a myth,” Odin said quietly. “It’s real. And if Fiona’s soul has been caught in the dark magic that severed your bond, the Veil may be the only way to restore it.” My heart hammered in my chest. “Where is it?” Odin hesitated again. “No one knows the exact location. The Veil exists between worlds—between life and death, between reality and the spirit realm. It’s a place you don’t find by ordinary means.”

The forest looked warped beneath the half-light, and the air hung still, charged with invisible tension. Iris shaded her eyes. “Is it an eclipse?” Aiden’s voice was low. “No. It’s the Veil.” The Veil. An ancient omen—a curtain between the mortal world and the realm of the spirits. For it to descend now meant something catastrophic was drawing near. It meant the boundaries were cracking, and the Hollow Throne was stirring. Her mark burned. Not with the usual golden fire, nor with the black void it had flirted with before. Now, it shimmered a dusky violet—a melding of both. Balance unbalanced.

A tranquil silence that nevertheless felt transient—a calm before an inevitable storm. Later that night, Autumn ventured to the edges of the Veil, that boundary between worlds, where light and shadow intertwined in a delicate balance. She had begun mapping its terrain—both mentally and magically—forcing her awareness against its shifting, enigmatic layers. The Veil no longer whispered with the same relentless urgency, nor did it wail in terror; now it pulsed rhythmically, in and out, almost like the gentle undulations of breath. Like a heartbeat. Until, suddenly, it skipped.