Witch Veils Novels & Stories

I walk out of the kitchen, hearing him yell out and add, "Oh, and put on a skirt!" All I see is black, then bits of red, then black again. Reason being, there's a blindfold shielding my eyes from seeing anything Alex has planned for the afternoon. I did as I was told. I rushed back upstairs, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and slipped on a bra and a skirt per Alex's request, putting his collared shirt back on and tucking it into the top hem of my bottoms. Then I hurried to the garage, where none of the lights were on, and he cornered me. He fucking snuck up on me, slipping the silk material over my eyes and whispering into my ear the infamous words, "For your wandering eyes." I didn't get

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.

Lady Vesper collapsed to her knees, hair wild, eyes wide. “You didn’t kill us.” Autumn stepped past her. “No.” “I showed you.” She walked through the broken glass barefoot, cuts forming with every step. The shards sang under her weight, chiming like distant bells, but her stride never faltered. Light caught in the bloodless wounds, casting fleeting sigils on the floor. But she didn’t bleed. The Veil wouldn’t let her. Its protection wrapped around her like a second skin, sealing her from harm, marking her as something untouchable—neither wholly mortal nor wholly myth.

And that was worse. Cassian met them at the inner gates, blood staining one side of his face, his armor scorched. “You came back,” he said hoarsely. “Thank the Ancients.” Aelin met his eyes. “What happened?” He glanced behind him, jaw tight. “Maelor’s vision was right. Three days ago, the Veil tore. They didn’t come in waves—they spilled through. Wraiths. Shades. Lycan husks. The worst of them are still gathering in the Wounded Vale.”

A mass of shifting bodies rising from the depths. Vaethea ignited her blade. Even here — where power was warped, dulled, and punished — she conjured light. Her sword was forged from old wrath and older love. She held it like a torch against the dark. “They’re not real,” Aphrodite warned. “Illusions.” “Can illusions kill?” “Yes.” “Great.” The swarm lunged. Vaethea moved first. Slashing, twirling, cutting into shadows that shrieked without mouths. Her blade left burning trails through the air, sparks flaring with each swing.

His dark hair fell into his eyes, but the way he looked at me—like he could see straight through my skin—made my breath hitch. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, stepping closer. “The Veil’s thin tonight.” “The what?” His jaw tightened. “You really don’t know.” It wasn’t a question. I crossed my arms. “Then maybe explain instead of speaking in creepy one-liners.” He hesitated, looking over his shoulder like he expected something to leap out of the shadows. “The Veil is what keeps… them out. It’s not supposed to show you things unless—” He stopped himself, eyes narrowing. “What did you see?”

The veil held the promise of untold knowledge, of answers to the questions that had haunted them throughout their journey. Valen's voice was a whisper, filled with both caution and curiosity. "This is the Veil of Temporal Convergence—an ancient artifact that holds the key to unraveling the mysteries of time."

The Witch The Veil tastes different tonight. It trembles like a spider’s web touched by something newly alive, vibrations spreading through threads older than kingdoms. Most creatures cannot feel it. Wolves especially—so bound to flesh and instinct—rarely sense the deeper currents of the Veil. But I am not most creatures. I kneel within the circle carved into the stone floor of my sanctuary, fingers hovering over the basin of dark water before me. Moonlight filters through the broken roof of the ruined temple above, silver spilling across ancient runes worn smooth by centuries of prayer.