Shadow’s Veil - Part 1

A cold wind whispered through the desolate streets of Veridale, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and something far worse—the absence of life.

Vaelin Duskbane crouched near the entrance of what had once been the village square, gloved fingers tracing the cobblestones. No signs of struggle. No blood. No tracks. Nothing but silence. He exhaled slowly, scanning the abandoned homes, their doors hanging open like gaping mouths frozen in a final, unheard scream.

“This is unsettling,” Elira murmured behind him, her voice laced with unease.

“Unsettling?” Vaelin straightened, tossing her a dry look. “Elira, an entire village has vanished without a trace. Unsettling is when you find out your boots have a hole in them during a storm. This? This is ‘something is horribly wrong, and we’re probably going to die’ territory.”

She rolled her eyes. “I appreciate your unwavering optimism.”

“You’re welcome.”

Despite his sarcasm, Vaelin kept his senses on high alert. He had seen mass graves. He had seen the aftermath of sieges and assassinations gone wrong. But this… this was different. No bodies. No signs of panic. Just a town that had ceased to be.

Elira stepped past him, lifting a hand. A faint pulse of magic shimmered in the air around her fingers, illuminating the eerie emptiness. The glow from her palm flickered, the light struggling to hold its shape. That was new.

“Something is distorting magic here,” she said, brows furrowing. “It’s like trying to cast through thick fog.”

Vaelin unsheathed one of his daggers, the silvered blade gleaming even in the muted daylight. “Well, I don’t need magic to stab something.”

“That’s your solution to everything,” she muttered, stepping deeper into the village.

“And yet, it works.”

A gust of wind blew past them, carrying the distant creak of a door swinging on rusted hinges. Vaelin turned sharply, muscles coiled. His instincts screamed trap.

“Elira.” His voice was low, edged with warning.

“I hear it.” She didn’t need his caution—her own instincts were honed just as sharply. The two of them moved together, years of battles and narrow escapes forging a silent rhythm between them.

At the far end of the village, a small chapel stood. The only building with its doors still closed. Unlike the others, there was no dust on its steps, no sign of abandonment.

“That’s not ominous at all,” Vaelin muttered.

Elira gave him a wry look before pressing her palm against the wooden doors. The moment she did, the ground beneath them trembled. The air around them shifted—not with wind, but something deeper, something unseen. The world lurched.

And then—

The village was gone.

Vaelin barely had time to react before everything twisted around them. The warmth of the sun vanished. The sky above darkened, not like night, but like ink spilled across the heavens. The very air hummed with something unnatural.

They weren’t in Veridale anymore.

Elira’s hand clutched his sleeve. Not out of fear—Elira Ravenshadow didn’t do fear—but out of realization.

“Vaelin.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He turned, sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. Shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting along the ruined husks of what had once been buildings. Wisps of black mist curled around their feet, moving like sentient tendrils.

“We’re in the Shadow Realm.”

His stomach twisted.

“Well,” he said grimly, “that explains the whole ‘horrible sense of dread’ thing.”

Elira shot him a glare, but before she could retort, a sound echoed through the darkness.

A low, wet whisper.

It came from everywhere.

Vaelin tensed, blades drawn. “That doesn’t sound like a friendly ghost.”

“No,” Elira breathed, magic sparking weakly at her fingertips. “It doesn’t.”

From the shifting darkness, something moved.

Not a man. Not an animal. Not anything that should exist.

Eyes—too many eyes—blinked open in the black mist. A thing with no true form slithered toward them, its very presence gnawing at the fragile threads of reality.

Vaelin and Elira had fought assassins, warlords, and rogue sorcerers. But this?

This was something else entirely.

Vaelin tightened his grip on his daggers.

“Alright,” he muttered. “So what’s the plan?”

Elira exhaled, her voice tight. “Step one: don’t die.”

“Great plan,” he said. “Any thoughts on step two?”

“Working on it.”

The thing lunged.

And darkness swallowed them whole.

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All Parts of this Series

• Shadow's Veil Part 1
• Shadow's Veil Part 2
• Shadow's Veil Part 3
• Shadow's Veil Part 4
• Shadow's Veil Part 5