Witch Veil Novels & Stories

Then I set the phone down and got up. The sun was starting to move across the kitchen wall, catching on the edge of my discarded wedding veil on the counter. I’d brought it home last week after the final fitting. I picked it up now, ran my fingers over the delicate lace. A few days ago, I’d imagined walking down the aisle wearing it. Now it felt like someone else’s dream. Someone I used to be. In the middle of that thought, the TV in the living room flickered on. I hadn’t touched the remote. It was the news feed that auto-played sometimes when my cable restarted.

Grateful for any small human sound that could exist beside the note. Elaine’s tablet chimed again. She looked down. “I have preliminary enhancement on the paper edge,” she said. “There are partially printed letters at the torn side.” Daniel turned. “From what kind of document?” “Inventory or storage list.” Elaine adjusted the image. “I can make out ‘bridal,’ possibly ‘veil,’ and a number.” Leah’s heart beat hard. The veil. Not only the dress. The veil had hidden her face at the altar. The veil had allowed a lie to walk down the aisle with everyone pretending not to see what was wrong.

Serena approached, her expression unreadable. “You’re sure you can control the pattern?” “I can’t control it,” I said. “Only listen.” She studied me, then clasped my forearm. “Then listen well, Bianca. The Veil has waited centuries. Don’t let it swallow you.” I nodded. “If it does, it will remember who entered.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The Ascent to the veil We rode in silence through the northern valley, wolves padding ahead in rhythmic formation. The mist thickened, coating our cloaks with dew. Kale rode beside me, his hand resting loosely on the hilt of his blade.

The way her name might sound if whispered by the wind. Delph. He was near. She could feel it. Every heartbeat drummed to the rhythm of his name. The valley stirred around them. The once-hidden dwellers gathered at the edge of the spring, witches, outcast wolves, old spirits who hadn’t spoken in years. Murmurs passed like fire through the crowd. Elder Maelis lifted her hands toward the moon. “When the light turns red, the veil thins,” she said. “Old debts rise. Old vows break.”

“To this sacred place.” She gestured around us. To the strange flat rocks forming the clearing here. And the odd green of the grass. The vibrant wildflowers which seemed to form a perfect frame around the circle as if somehow, they could make a barrier, people couldn’t cross. But I had. “What is this place?” “Now that, My Dear,” She lifted a pointed finger. “is the correct question.” *** “It’s called The Mending Vale. This is where ancient witches used to come to help gather energy from each other. Or to heal any one of them. It’s why you came…To be healed.”

“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.”

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.

As soon as Sheila gasped awake, Valerie and Zeriyah began the spell to unbind Sheila's soul from Vladimir. Sheila's wounds had barely started to heal when Valerie and Zeriyah finished the spell on her, and quickly, they and the other witches took their positions around Vladimir. Zeriyah was holding the Vortex in her hands and had begun chanting to channel every witch's magic into the Vortex to access the portal when a strong wave of magic radiated off Vladimir, destroying everything in its path. This force sent the witches flying and I wrapped my arms around Sheila, firmly, waiting for the magic’s effect but it never came. Almost like an invisible shield was placed around us. The only thing

she said, stepping toward the edge of the platform. Beneath them, the depths yawned open — layer after layer of translucent shadow, stitched together by flickering veins of gold. The core of the Veil had always been dark, silent, predictable. Now it shimmered like molten glass, its form shifting in ways no reaper had ever witnessed. The others hesitated as she raised her scythe. The weapon’s blade pulsed once in acknowledgment, its edge bleeding faint golden light — the same hue that had seared across the Citadel.

They simply vanished as if the people who made them had disappeared into thin air. Selene swallowed hard as her voice trembled. “She opened a veil.” Killian looked at her sharply, his brows creasing together. “A veil?” “A magical doorway,” Selene said quietly. “She used it to hide her location, and Astrid went through it.” Beta Andrew frowned. He was already mentally exhausted from all the twists. “Can you go through it?” Selene shook her head. “Not yet. A veil like this can tear a wolf apart if they enters unprepared. We need someone who can see the other side.”