Veil Of Tears Novels & Stories

“What is happening?” “It’s a trap. We called it ‘the fog of revelation’. It allows everyone to possess your true feelings towards every little thing. You can’t escape it from showing and telling the truth. You dreamed about us, Hana having sex with me. That’s why you are seeing things that measure your trust towards Hana and me.” Prince Keiynan explained it to him while Hana is listening to the prince as she also wants to understand what Chen was seeing. “But before we discuss about this thing and drove us out of control, we need to go out of here.” Hana said and quickly grabs her own things.

A shadow coils around his heart, visible beneath his skin. “Stop!” you scream. **“The Veil requires a life,”** she croons. **“His… or theirs.”** The dagger hums in your hand, its edge singing with power.

“That essence mingles strong—use for veil potency, or distract?” Lira veiled spectral, third-eye pulsing erratic white. “Visions devour depths—branches infinite, prophecies crown bleed if forced. Harmony adapts subtle; undercrypt hungers heirs' blood, personal now. Whispers seek from sight? Bond's heat veils deeper—refuse tempt, guide true,” she intoned ethereal, veil shifting to reveal luminous concern. “Paths branch dark; choose wise, or self-fulfill ruin.”

I asked. She turned slightly. “The veil,” I said, gesturing to my own face. “I thought that tradition had mostly died out across the packs.” She shrugged. “Some still practice.” “What are the central tenets?” I asked. “I’m curious.” A pause. Slightly longer than it should have been. “Prayer. Devotion to the Goddess.” She stopped, then continued, “the veil is a commitment. The removal of vanity before the divine.” “And the name?”

I’d seen it once before—held above my chest like a curse waiting to be sewn. She didn’t rise when we entered. Just watched. Her body was half-shadowed by a scorched birch trunk, still upright but hollowed. Her veil hung to her ribs—woven of gray gauze, old as rot, embroidered with slivers of ivory bone that chimed faintly in the still air. I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her eyes. Like glass behind frost. Like being remembered by something that shouldn’t be alive anymore.

Vivica threw herself on the bed, then she pulled out her phone and dialed her best friend, Ziva James, crying. She sobbed sorrowfully and said, “Hello, Ziva. I am sorry for what I said. I was so hurt that you kept your brother’s marriage a secret from me.”

I sat on the floor while covering my mouth to pour out all my tears and just cry all night long so that I could be numb. *** I had just awoken when I heard what sounded like a fight, so I stretched and noticed that I was still wearing what I had been wearing last night; I yawned and stood up but stopped when I heard shouting again. “Did you believe in your daughter?” “Here we go again, Sharlene!” “Our daughter is in pain, Vernon! Scarlett is in pain, but you don't seem to care!” “That’s not true! I’m concerned about Venice as well!” “You’re concerned? That’s why you put your trust in Sophia rather than your daughter!”

Like delicate raindrops clinging to the precipice, her tears teeter on the edge, threatening to spill over and carve a path down her cheeks. Within those sorrowful eyes, one can witness the struggle of a wounded soul. They are the windows to a heart burdened by the weight of grief, loss, or loneliness. The irises, once bright and vibrant, now seem dim, as if a shadow has enveloped their natural radiance. The sparkle that once danced within them has been replaced by a haunting emptiness.

A strange tension was building inside him. Amelthia sat on her bed wrapping the white blanket around her. Her past scenario's flashing through her mind. She remembered the stinging and burning of her skin. She remembered the hot feel of her tears streaming down her cheeks. She remembered the cold surroundings. She remembered his scowl, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked down at her. She gripped on the blanket tighter as hot tears same as her past flowed from her eyes down her cheeks.

And so is he. The night stretched on as Elena continued her search, pouring over every book and scroll she could find. The pack’s library was vast, filled with centuries of knowledge, but the answers she sought remained elusive. She found a passage in an ancient text that mentioned the veil - an invisible barrier between realms where spirits and magic lingered. It spoke of breaches, tears in the veil caused by dark rituals or powerful celestial events. The Blood Moon, it seemed, was one such event. “When the veil is torn, the balance is broken, and the darkness seeks to claim the light. Only the blood of the chosen can mend what has been undone.”