Witch Veil Novels & Stories

“Observe.” When they came to the edge of a clearing, the group froze. There was a huge stone archway in the middle of it, half hidden by moss and ivy. It was surrounded by a faint, mirage-like shimmer of air. With amazement in her voice, Ericka said, “The Veil.” Winter gazed at the archway, her heart racing. She was drawn to it since it had a strong, mysterious quality. “Remain near,” Hadzen said, his eyes piercing. “This is not at all finished.”

Finding a new resolve, she walked closer to the circle. She walked forward and stood in front of the bloody circle. The moment she did, a blood-colored veil shot up from the circle, preventing her from taking another step. “Do not expect the entrapment to save you, demon. For today, nothing will save you from me.” She took her sword and drove it into the bloody veil in front of her. Like hot knife through butter, the knife went in without resistance. She cut downwards, creating a hole in the veil before quickly stepping through. The moment she did, the veil closed itself up again and disappeared like it never came.

“It’s where it all began.” The flame nodded, her light flaring, illuminating the Cradle’s heart—a massive crystal, not like the tower’s core but rougher, primal, embedded in the stone, its glow shifting—red, violet, gold—pulsing with the runes, the mark, the dagger, the shard. “The Veil was forged here,” she said, her voice—my voice—resonant, echoing off the cliffs. “Your blood, our blood, sealed it. Now it’s breaking, and only the trinity can choose its fate.”

The crowd went completely silent. The massive double gates at the end of the aisle swung open. Alpha Vance stepped out first, his chest puffed out with pride. Next to him, clinging to his arm, was Ravena. She wore an incredibly extravagant, pure white gown that trailed for yards behind her, her face completely obscured by a thick, shimmering lace veil.

It didn’t linger. It dropped a small, blood-stained ribbon onto the stone before flying back into the darkness. The ribbon bore a symbol burned into its fabric. A crescent split by a vertical line. The Veil’s mark. But beneath it— Another symbol. Three claw slashes carved downward. A sign none of them had seen before. And it pointed north.

He put it back on the shelf. He pulled another. The Veil is not a place, this one said. It is a space between. Between life and death. Between worlds. Between what is and what could be. To enter the Veil is to leave the self behind. To leave the body, the mind, the soul. To enter is to risk never returning. He set it aside. Another. Blood Magic: Origins and Applications. He opened it.

A fierce wind rushed through it, pulling everything closer. The First Bride tilted her head, her veil fluttering. “She’s opening for you, bride. Step through…or stay here and burn with him.” Camela's eyes widened as she locked gazes with Vincent; her silk crown glowing more brightly while her gown tightened around her. Her quivering lips moved beneath the threads—silent words that no one could hear. Then the wind surged again, pulling her forward—straight toward the door.

“Because I’m not leaving without her.” The voice didn’t answer, but Aaron looked at me and said, “This is one of the veils. She could be beyond it… or trapped inside.” “Then get her out.” “It’s not that easy,” he said, his voice tight. “This veil responds to power. To sacrifice. If I push too hard, it’ll collapse.” “Then let it collapse!” I snapped. He grabbed my arm. “If it collapses, it’ll crush her soul with it.” That shut me up. My throat tightened.

The only stable thing in a land that had fed off my instability. “Valentina,” He murmured near my ear, his voice low, urging, trying to tether me to him instead of the haze. “Stay with me. Whatever it shows you— don’t let it take you again.” Again… The word hit something deep within me. Because the Veil wasn't just a spell. It was a scar. And suddenly… it cracked. Not in a dramatic explosion. More like glass sighing before it shatters. A ripple went across the air, soft as a breath, and then— everything froze.

“It makes her the veil’s queen. But you’re the people’s.” Ewen added, “And now the veil wants to decide between you.” At midnight, I sat alone at the altar again, flame weaving through my fingers without thought The veil in front of me shimmered gently, calm for now I closed my eyes And whispered a single word “Why?” And the veil responded Not in words In visions I saw her Not a shadow Not a wraith A queen Seated on a throne carved from ribs and roses Wolves bent before her in silence, marked not by bond but by oath