Veil Of Tears Novels & Stories

A symbol she had never seen. A symbol that had never been there before. As she watched, it flickered once and vanished, leaving only a faint warmth behind. The whisper returned. “…find the Veil…” Lyra stumbled backward, her breath trembling. The crack in the sky dimmed slowly, shrinking until it became a thin line once more. Then—with a sound like shattering glass—it sealed shut. The night returned. Crickets resumed their song. The wind stirred again, as if waking from sleep. Everything looked normal.

"Love is painful but still people are bound to fall in it and enjoys every phase of it." In the recesses of her eyes, a tempest brewed, betraying the storm raging within. The once-sparkling orbs, now veiled in a gossamer film of unshed tears, echoed the profound sorrow that lingered in the corners of her soul. The pupils, once vibrant and alive, were now like deep pools of solitude, reflecting the shadows of heartache that danced in the dimming light. Every blink seemed to carry the weight of a thousand unspoken words, each tear threatening to spill over and trace the contours of a story etched in the silent language of her gaze. The windows to her soul spoke volumes, revealing a narrative o

Only a name, soft as breath, sharp as longing, passed from one to the next like a forbidden secret: Seren. They did not wear armor. They wore veils, every colour borrowed from the palette of loss: ember-grey, soot-black, blind-silver, bloodless red. Each veil was heavy with meaning. Some stitched with runes, the sigils of kin lost to fire or frost. Some bore only a blank square, unadorned—grief without a name. Others were cut from remnants of banners, repurposed as reminders that the old world was gone.

I try again. Same result. It's not working. Rio already notices the change in my demeanor. He advances and asks, a deep frown marring his forehead. "What's happening?" I wipe the layer of sweat gathering on my forehead. "I don't know. It's...not working." "No, no. You have to try harder." "I am trying." "It's not enough, do more!" He hollers, his voice rising above mine. A lone tear slips out of Veil's right eye. She already understands what's happening.

There was no way of stopping my hand as it shot up, pressing hard over my mouth as I tired to stifle the scream that tore it's way up my throat and passed my lips. The girl, staring back at me in the mirror, looked broken beyond repair. Hair twisted in knots, as if it had been caught out in the wind all day. My once nice purple long sleeve shirt and jeans now torn and crumpled, like each piece of clothing had been raked against tree after tree, shredding the fibers. Still, the one thing that my left eye couldn't look away from, was the blistering frost bite that ran across the other side of my face, where my once cool artic blue eye sparkled, mesmerising those in it's sight. The putrid smell

I was so mad. I don't know where that madness was coming from. But I feel so heavy that I feel like I might shrink under the ground. I wanted to shed a tear, but nothing is coming out. I wanted to burst into tears, but there was something inside me saying NO! A single tear is not worth it to give to this woman. Raven got near me, and she held my hands while the old woman was shaking in tears.

Rose's sobs echoed through the luxurious interior of the limousine as tears streamed down her face. The weight of her emotional turmoil became unbearable, and she could no longer contain her anguish. With a trembling hand, she lowered her scarf, allowing her cries to escape into the confined space. Her body shook with the intensity of her emotions, and she felt a surge of despair threatening to consume her. The pain, both physical and emotional, clawed at her chest, leaving her gasping for breath. In a desperate attempt to stifle the overwhelming anguish, Rose instinctively brought her hands to her mouth, biting down on her trembling fingers to suppress her screams.

I moved through and blindly, I collided against someone, my hands laying on her two boobs just in time, preventing a total collision. Sharply, I withdrew my hand and looked up to see a woman who should be in her late 40’s. She had her head scraped, leaving her hairless just like Ruto. She had the tattoo of a dragon on her arm, an art that makes her look rebellious. Jagged, a scar cut on her skin, running from her head, darting through her left eye brow and stopped below her eyes which made me wonder what kind of animal or weapon marked her face at such a delicate area.

He said the smell of cooking oil on my skin made him sick. One time, I bought myself a birthday cake to celebrate with him. But he threw it straight in the trash just because I'd set it on the floor for a second while unlocking the door. "Trash is where filth belongs, and that's where you belong, too." Then, why did all his rules go out the window when it came to Vivian? My eyes stung. I tilted my head back, blinking hard at the sky to hold back the tears. But then it hit me—the dead couldn't cry. I was a spirit trapped between worlds, maybe because my attachment ran too deep to let me move on.

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!”