Veil Of Night Novels & Stories

She sat before him, her face hidden behind a silver veil, her hands resting over the great scrying pool that shimmered with unseen visions. “You have come for answers,” she murmured, her voice as ancient as the stones around them. Vesper’s jaw tightened. “Tell me where she is.” The Oracle tilted her head. “You already know.” The words sent a jolt through his chest. He clenched his fists. “The Veil.” The Oracle nodded. “It has taken her.” Vesper felt his blood run cold. The Veil was not of this world. It was a place of the lost, the forgotten. A realm where no living soul had ever returned.

A palace disguised as a house. I sat up, the silk sheets sliding down as I rubbed my eyes. My movements felt sluggish, as if the enormity of everything had physically worn me down. The events of the previous night played on a loop in my mind—Alexander’s promise to respect my boundaries, his unexpected gentleness. It left me more confused than comforted. A knock at the door startled me, and before I could respond, the door creaked open. A young woman in a crisp black uniform stepped inside, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.

The dust of the clone began swirling upward, forming symbols in the air — words written in fire. THE VEIL IS COMING. And then, darkness.

His dark hair fell into his eyes, but the way he looked at me—like he could see straight through my skin—made my breath hitch. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, stepping closer. “The Veil’s thin tonight.” “The what?” His jaw tightened. “You really don’t know.” It wasn’t a question. I crossed my arms. “Then maybe explain instead of speaking in creepy one-liners.” He hesitated, looking over his shoulder like he expected something to leap out of the shadows. “The Veil is what keeps… them out. It’s not supposed to show you things unless—” He stopped himself, eyes narrowing. “What did you see?”

The Witch The Veil tastes different tonight. It trembles like a spider’s web touched by something newly alive, vibrations spreading through threads older than kingdoms. Most creatures cannot feel it. Wolves especially—so bound to flesh and instinct—rarely sense the deeper currents of the Veil. But I am not most creatures. I kneel within the circle carved into the stone floor of my sanctuary, fingers hovering over the basin of dark water before me. Moonlight filters through the broken roof of the ruined temple above, silver spilling across ancient runes worn smooth by centuries of prayer.

Or perhaps something else. Sleep didn’t come easily. When it did, it was filled with visions: the claw marks gouged into trees, bones snapping like brittle twigs, eyes gleaming in moonlight. She woke before dawn, her skin clammy, the sheets tangled. Through the thin curtains, she saw the moon, low and swollen, sinking toward the horizon. Even waning, it looked too bright, too near. Three nights, she thought. Three nights until full. She pressed her palms to her eyes, willing her mind back to the safety of science, of logic. But the words of Agnes Holloway whispered in the dark: The Hollow Beast comes when the moon is fat and white.

“Start explaining, or I swear I’ll—” The entire facility shook violently. Lights burst overhead, showering sparks. Damien grabbed my hand. “Earthquake?” Alexander’s face went gray. “No.” A deep, metallic groan echoed through the structure, followed by a rumbling roar that made my bones vibrate. The ceiling split. Through the crack, I could see not sky—but darkness. Moving darkness. It pulsed like a living thing. “What is that?” I breathed. Alexander’s voice was almost reverent. “Sector Zero has awakened.”

My gaze drifted to the black suit he wore, the very one that had started all of this. "Then throw that suit away," I said softly. "I'll make you a new one." He nodded without hesitation, his eyes tender, full of hope. "Okay." For a while, I truly believed life would go on peacefully from there. But then, Vincent appeared. At first, he only lingered near our home, standing at a distance with a dark, brooding stare fixed on our windows. Soon, though, he began to lose control, shouting, raging, completely out of his mind.

Lyra’s heart stuttered at the fondness in his voice. They soared across the twilight sky on the Nightveil Drake, wind whipping through Lyra’s crimson gown. Below them, Vaeloria glowed in anticipation. When they landed before the Grand Hall of Veils, the drake nuzzled Lyra once more before taking flight again at Kaelith’s command. Inside, the hall had been transformed into a temple of pure hedonism. The High Priest of the Veil and his spiritual subordinates performed the opening rituals at the central altar. Ancient chants filled the air as glowing runes drifted downward like falling stars. Sacred oils were anointed on participants, heightening every sensation and stirring latent magic.

[A/N: Warning. This story contains gory scenes, disturbing descriptions and might also be triggering something unpleasant inside your mind. Read at your own discretion. Thank you. The story is purely fictional and from the author's imagination. The cover photo is not mine. Credit to the real owner.] ***** A silhouette of a young girl is dragging her legs, climbing the staircases to the rooftop in the middle of the night, alone. Her body is weak and swaying slightly. Her clothes are wet and she is barefooted. Mud and dirt covered her foot, leaving behind her dirty footstep's traces on the floor. Sobbing and weeping could be heard from her, echoing in the desolate hallway.