Witch Veiling Novels & Stories

The woman looking back at me had sharp, predatory eyes, the dark kohl making my gaze look entirely colder than it actually was. The kohl and the contour were just the base. The real shield was a delicate, sparkling lace veil that draped from the gold hairpins at the crown of my head down to my shoulders. It obscured the lower half of my face in a soft, shimmering shadow, leaving only my eyes visible. It was a perfect disguise, striking enough to fit the high-society theme, but opaque enough to erase the plain American woman completely.

The vivid bulge on her stomach and supporting it with her right arms as she was slamming the glass harder. Then a tall man with a thick black veil on his face walked out from a tunnel on the bottom left of the theatron along with others. The dream fast forwarded to when that man with veil on was holding a dagger, encircling the werewolf before halting in front of her and said –

Her whole arm extended, finger aimed at the sky, her face turned upward with an expression that was pure Thornblood, pure recognition, something she had been taught to identify and had hoped she would never see. I looked up. There were two moons. The first one sat where it always sat. The second had risen beside it, enormous, three times the size of the first, the colour of old blood, casting a red light across the road and the tree line and all of our faces. Vera stepped out of the truck and looked up and grabbed my arm. "The Veil is already tearing," she whispered. Her voice was stripped of everything except urgency. "Not in hours. We have hours, not days. This changes everything.”

It spread quickly, rolling low across the ground before lifting higher, swallowing the houses one by one. Within moments, the entire settlement was wrapped in it. Eira grabbed my wrist. “Windows,” she said. We moved fast, checking every crack and corner, pressing cloth along the edges of the frames. “Is it dangerous?” I asked. “Not exactly dangerous,” she said after a moment. “Just… not meant for everyone.” “That doesn’t sound comforting.” She glanced at the thick mist outside before speaking again. “It’s called the Memory Veil. It fills the empty spaces history left behind—the parts that were lost or erased. When it shows up, it means the past and the present are beginning to collide agains

"Vincent! If you drive away now, we'll never be husband and wife!" But he left anyway, not looking back. Grace had always loved seeing him in white, so he threw aside the black suit I had sewn for him with my own hands and changed into white. A year later, Vincent returned. By then, my belly was swollen with life, and I was holding onto another man while hosting a baby shower. And the man wore the black suit Vincent had thrown away. Vincent went mad, claiming he was my husband, but no one believed him. ...

Charlie stepped toward it and felt her skin prickle, the same electric pressure she felt before a storm breaks. "What is that?" she whispered. "A ward," Wren said. "My mother specializes in them." "You didn't mention she's a witch." "She's not." Charlie gave him a look. "Wren, this is witch behavior." "She's... something else." Before she could demand clarification, Wren lifted his hand and pressed his palm to the veil. The barrier rippled like disturbed water, then parted, revealing a narrow passage of swirling silver light. Wren gestured. "After you."

The hall was resplendent, decorated in hues of gold and ivory, with hundreds of candles casting a warm glow over the ornate floral arrangements. Guests mingled, their chatter and laughter blending with the soft strains of a string quartet playing in the corner. Olivia stood at the far end of the room, dressed in an elegant white gown that shimmered faintly under the light. The intricate lace detailing hugged her frame delicately, and the veil pinned in her hair cascaded like a waterfall down her back.

Twists. Something unseen pressing outward from her in a wave that ripples through the space around us, reaching beyond the walls, beyond the clearing, beyond the sanctuary itself. Shielding. Masking. Redirecting. I feel it. Even without seeing it fully. The way the world outside shifts. The way the presence of the hunters— Flickers. Confuses. Misaligns. But— It costs her. I see it immediately. The way her body tenses. The way her breath catches.