Kael traced the inked lines of the map with a calloused finger, the parchment crackling under his touch. The air in his workshop reeked of aged paper and smoldering tallow, the scent mingling with the metallic tang of iron from the tools scattered across his desk. Outside, the wind howled through the cracks in the stone walls, rattling the shutters of his tower home. He had spent years chasing rumors of a city lost to time, but this—this map, folded in a rusted tin box he’d unearthed in the ruins of Veylan—felt different. The symbols were wrong, their shapes too sharp, too precise, as if drawn by a hand that didn’t belong to this world.
A knock at the door shattered the silence. Kael froze, his pulse thrumming in his ears. No one came here. The village below had long since abandoned the hilltop, its streets choked with ivy and rot. He set the map aside, fingers brushing against the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath his coat. The knock came again, slower this time, deliberate.
“Kael of the Veil,” a voice called, low and frayed at the edges. “I know what you’ve found.”
He opened the door a crack. A woman stood in the shadows, her cloak soaked through, hair matted to her skull. Her eyes—too bright, too keen—locked onto his. “You’re not from around here,” she said. “But you’re looking for the same thing.”
He didn’t ask how she knew his name. Instead, he stepped back, letting her in. The moment she crossed the threshold, the air shifted. The candles on his desk flickered, their flames twisting into unnatural shapes. The woman didn’t flinch. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a shard of black glass, its surface etched with the same symbols as the map. “This is what they left behind,” she said. “The Hollow Veil. A city that was never meant to exist.”
Kael’s throat went dry. He’d heard the stories—of a place where time unraveled, where travelers vanished and never returned. But this? This was real. “Why bring it to me?” he asked.
The woman tilted her head, studying him. “Because you’re the only one who can read it.”
—
The journey south took three days, the road a skeletal spine of broken stone and tangled roots. Kael rode a mare named Dusk, her coat the color of storm clouds, while the woman—Lira, she called herself—traveled on foot, her boots leaving no imprint in the mud. They didn’t speak much. The silence between them was thick, charged with unasked questions. Kael kept his hand near the dagger, not out of fear, but because he didn’t trust the way Lira’s gaze lingered on the map when she thought he wasn’t looking.
On the third night, they reached the edge of the Wraithwood. The trees here were older than the village, their trunks gnarled and twisted, branches weaving a canopy so dense it swallowed the sky. The air was colder here, damp with the scent of moss and something else—something metallic, like blood. Kael dismounted, his boots sinking into the mud as he pulled the map from his satchel. The symbols glowed faintly, their edges flickering like candlelight.
“This is it,” he said, voice hoarse. “The entrance.”
Lira knelt beside him, her fingers brushing the parchment. “Not yet,” she murmured. “We have to walk the path. The Veil doesn’t open for just anyone.”
They moved deeper into the forest, the trees closing in around them. The further they went, the more the world shifted. Shadows stretched longer than they should, the air humming with a low, resonant tone that made Kael’s teeth ache. He caught glimpses of things—figures in the periphery of his vision, shapes that dissolved when he looked directly at them. Lira didn’t seem to notice. Her steps were sure, her breath even.
Then the ground gave way.
Kael barely had time to react. The earth split open beneath them, a chasm yawned wide, and he fell. The world flipped, his scream swallowed by the darkness. When he opened his eyes, he was lying on stone, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and something older, more rotting. Lira stood a few paces away, her hand outstretched, palm up. In her grip was the shard of black glass, now pulsing with a sickly light.
“Welcome to the Hollow Veil,” she said.
—
The city was a labyrinth of crumbling spires and whispering corridors, its streets paved with cracked obsidian. Light came from nowhere and everywhere—glowing veins of silver that pulsed like a heartbeat, casting long shadows across the ruins. Kael’s boots echoed against the stone as they moved through the empty avenues, the silence pressing in on them. Somewhere in the distance, a door creaked open, then slammed shut.
“This place is alive,” Kael said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lira didn’t answer. She was already moving, her gaze fixed on a towering archway ahead. The symbols etched into its surface shifted as they approached, rearranging themselves into something that looked like a door. Kael stepped forward, reaching out to touch the stone. The moment his fingers met the cold surface, the air rippled, and the archway dissolved into a cascade of light.
On the other side was a chamber, its walls lined with shelves of ancient tomes and vials filled with swirling liquid. At the center stood a pedestal, and on it lay a book—its cover made of blackened leather, its spine cracked open. Kael approached, heart hammering. The moment he touched it, the room trembled.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Lira said, her voice tight with something like fear.
Kael turned, but she was already gone. The book in his hands burned with a cold fire, its pages flipping on their own. He read the words as they formed, the language foreign yet familiar, and the city around him began to change. The walls stretched, the floor cracked open, and from the depths rose figures—skeletal, hollow-eyed, their mouths open in silent screams.
“What is this?” he asked, but the book had no answer. It only kept turning.
—
The creatures came for him in waves. They moved like smoke, their limbs twisting unnaturally, their voices a chorus of whispers that clawed at his mind. Kael fought with the dagger, its blade slick with something that wasn’t blood. Each strike sent ripples through the air, but they kept coming, relentless. The book in his hands pulsed violently, its pages fluttering as if caught in a storm.
“You have to close it,” a voice said. Kael spun, but there was no one there. The whispers grew louder, more frantic. “The Veil is breaking. You have to—”
A shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Kael turned, and there she was—Lira, her face pale, her eyes wide with something between horror and determination. “You don’t understand,” she said. “This place isn’t just a city. It’s a wound. A scar in the world. And you’ve opened it.”
“Then close it,” Kael said, breathing hard.
She shook her head. “I can’t. Only the one who opened it can.”
The creatures surged forward, their hollow faces contorted in pain. Kael stumbled back, the book slipping from his grip. It hit the ground with a thud, its pages scattering like leaves in the wind. The air thickened, the whispers turning to screams. Lira reached for him, her hand brushing his arm, and in that moment, he saw it—the truth, raw and unfiltered. The city wasn’t just a place. It was a memory, a wound that had never healed, and he had become its vessel.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. Then she was gone, swallowed by the darkness.
Kael stood alone in the ruined chamber, the book open at his feet. The whispers faded, replaced by a single word, spoken in a voice that wasn’t his own. “Choose.”
—
He didn’t know how long he stood there, but when he finally moved, it was with a clarity that hadn’t been there before. The book’s pages were still turning, the words shifting, waiting. He reached down, fingers brushing the edge of the cover, and the city around him stilled. The creatures stopped, their forms dissolving into mist. The air grew still, heavy with expectation.
“What do I do?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure if the question was meant for anyone but himself.
The book answered in a language he didn’t understand, but the meaning was clear. It wasn’t about closing the Veil. It was about understanding it. About accepting what had been done and what had to be done. Kael closed his eyes, took a breath, and made his choice.
When he opened them, the city was gone. The chamber was empty, the book now a pile of ash at his feet. The air was still, the silence heavy but not oppressive. He turned, expecting to see Lira, but she was nowhere. The path back to the surface stretched before him, winding through the ruins like a thread of light.
Kael stepped forward, his boots crunching on the broken stone. The wind had stopped. The sky above was clear, the first light of dawn spilling over the horizon. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The Hollow Veil was closed, but its memory would stay with him, a scar that would never fully heal.
And somewhere, in the depths of the world, the book waited for the next one to find it.
