The wind howled through the skeletal trees as Lira pressed her palm against the moss-covered stone, feeling the faint hum of something ancient beneath her fingers. The air reeked of damp earth and decay, a scent that clung to her skin like a second layer. She had followed the trail of broken branches and bloodstains for hours, her boots crunching over fallen leaves that crumbled into dust. The village elders had warned her about the Hollow Veil—how it devoured those who lingered too long, how it whispered secrets only the desperate would listen to. But desperation had a sharp edge, and Lira had learned to wield it like a blade.
A rustle in the underbrush made her freeze. She twisted, knife in hand, but the shadows held nothing. Just the creak of branches and the distant cry of a hawk. Her breath came in shallow bursts, each inhale thick with the metallic tang of fear. Then she heard it—a low, resonant sound, like a stone rolling over glass. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t anything she’d heard in her twenty-three years of living on the edge of the world.
She stepped forward, the ground giving slightly beneath her weight. The trees thinned, revealing a clearing bathed in sickly green light. At its center stood a structure of black stone, its surface etched with spirals that seemed to shift when she looked too long. The air here was colder, heavier, as if the very atmosphere resisted being breathed. Lira’s pulse thrummed in her ears, but she didn’t turn back. The village had lost three hunters this month. Her brother had been the fourth.
A flicker of movement caught her eye. She spun, knife raised, but the figure was already there—tall, cloaked in shadows that seemed to drink the light. His face was obscured, but his voice was a rasping whisper that curled around her thoughts. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
Lira’s grip tightened. “Where is he?”
The figure tilted his head, and for a moment, she thought she saw something beneath the hood—a glint of silver, a scar running from temple to jaw. “He’s not here,” he said. “But you will be.”
She didn’t wait for an explanation. She lunged, knife flashing. The figure moved faster, vanishing into the trees like smoke. Lira stumbled forward, her breath ragged. The clearing felt smaller now, the air tighter. She pressed a hand to the stone structure, feeling a vibration that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Somewhere in the distance, a scream echoed—high-pitched, desperate. Her brother’s voice.
The spirals on the stone flared, and the ground shuddered. Lira dropped to her knees as a surge of heat rolled through the clearing. The trees bent, their branches twisting into jagged shapes. She covered her face, but the light was already seeping into her bones, burning away the edges of her thoughts. When she looked up, the structure was gone. In its place stood a door—wooden, weathered, its surface carved with symbols that glowed faintly.
A voice whispered in her mind, not the figure’s but something older, deeper. “Pass through, and you will find what you seek.”
Lira hesitated. The door creaked open on its own, revealing a narrow path that vanished into darkness. She stepped forward, the weight of the world pressing against her back. Somewhere behind her, the wind howled again, but this time it sounded like a warning.
The path led to a cavern, its walls lined with crystals that pulsed like living things. Lira’s boots echoed against the stone as she moved deeper, the air thick with the scent of ozone and something sweetly rotten. She reached a chamber where a figure knelt before a pool of black water, their hands pressed to the surface. The water rippled, reflecting faces that weren’t there.
“You’re late,” the figure said without turning.
Lira’s knife was already in her hand. “Where is he?”
The figure rose, and she saw the scar—same as the one in the clearing. “He’s gone,” they said. “But you’ll join him soon.”
“You’re lying,” she spat. “I saw him last week. He was fine.”
The figure laughed, a sound like shattered glass. “You didn’t see anything. You never do.”
Lira lunged again, but this time the figure was ready. They twisted, dodging her strike, and the knife embedded itself in the stone wall. The figure stepped closer, their face finally visible—sharp features, eyes like fractured moonlight. “You think you’re here to save him,” they said. “But you’re here because you were never meant to leave.”
The pool behind them churned, and Lira felt a pull, like the tide dragging her under. She fought against it, but the weight of the cavern pressed in, suffocating. The figure’s voice was a thread in her mind, weaving through her thoughts. “You’ll be here forever, just like him.”
She didn’t know if it was desperation or defiance that made her reach for the symbols on the wall. Her fingers brushed the carvings, and the chamber shuddered. The pool erupted, sending a wave of black water toward her. She dove aside, the liquid splashing against the stone, sizzling where it touched.
The figure screamed, their form flickering like a dying flame. “No!”
Lira didn’t wait. She ran, the chamber collapsing behind her as the walls groaned and cracked. The path twisted, leading her into a maze of tunnels that pulsed with the same strange light. She stumbled into a clearing where a figure lay motionless on the ground—her brother, his skin pale, his chest still.
“No,” she whispered, dropping to her knees.
His eyes fluttered open, glassy and empty. “Lira,” he croaked. “It’s not real…”
She grabbed his hand, feeling the cold seep into her bones. “We’re leaving,” she said, though the words felt hollow.
The tunnel shuddered again, and the walls began to close in. Lira pulled her brother to his feet, but he collapsed, his body convulsing. “It’s too late,” he gasped. “You have to go…”
“No,” she said, tears blurring her vision. “I won’t leave you.”
The tunnel exploded in light, and Lira was thrown backward. When she opened her eyes, she was back in the clearing, the door gone, the stone structure restored. The figure stood where the pool had been, their form solid again.
“You couldn’t save him,” they said. “But you’ll save yourself.”
Lira rose, her hands trembling. “I don’t want to save myself.”
The figure tilted their head. “Then you’ll stay here, just like him.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she ran, the ground shifting beneath her feet as the Hollow Veil closed in around her. The trees bent, the air thickened, and for a moment, she thought she saw her brother’s face in the shadows.
But she kept running.
The village was silent when she emerged, the sky a deep, bruised purple. The elders stood at the edge of the forest, their faces etched with something between fear and relief. Lira didn’t stop. She didn’t look back.
In the days that followed, the Hollow Veil remained quiet. No more hunters vanished. No more screams echoed through the trees. But Lira knew the truth—the Veil hadn’t been defeated. It had only been delayed.
And she would be waiting when it returned.
