The salt-kissed air of Marrow’s End clung to Elara’s skin as she trudged down the cobbled path, her boots crunching gravel like bones. The town’s fog-veiled silhouette stretched ahead, its crooked houses hunched like old women murmuring secrets. She hadn’t belonged here since the day her grandmother died, though no one else seemed to notice. Not the way the wind whispered through the pines, not the way the harbor’s waves pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
The attic stank of dust and forgotten things. Elara’s fingers brushed mildew as she lifted the moth-eaten quilt, revealing a tin box stamped with a sigil she’d seen only in nightmares—three interlocking circles, jagged as broken teeth. Inside lay a journal, its leather cover cracked like dried skin. The pages smelled of ink and something else: iron, or maybe blood.
She read until the sun slunk below the horizon, her pulse quickening as the entries unfolded. Her grandmother’s handwriting, frantic and looping, spoke of a ‘veil’ that kept the town safe, a pact sealed with a name Elara couldn’t pronounce. ‘They’ll come for you,’ the final entry warned. ‘If they find out.’
The first shadow appeared that night.
It slithered along the wall of her bedroom, taller than a man, its form shifting like smoke. Elara’s breath hitched as it tilted its head, or what passed for one, and she saw the hollow where its eyes should be. She stumbled back, knocking over a lamp, and the thing dissolved into mist. The next morning, her mother found the shattered glass but said nothing. Just swept it up, her hands trembling.
Jace found her at the docks, staring at the water. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ he said, leaning against the railing. His dark eyes narrowed at the bruise under her eye—she’d fallen trying to escape the shadow. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she lied.
He didn’t believe her. No one did. Not until the second shadow appeared, this one solid as a stone, blocking their path home. Jace’s flashlight flickered as they backed away, the thing’s mouth stretching wide, revealing a row of needle-like teeth. Elara screamed, but the sound died in her throat. The shadow lunged—and vanished when Jace threw a bucket of seawater.
‘What the hell was that?’ he panted, wiping his face.
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘But it’s not done with us.’
The journal’s clues led them to the town’s oldest building, a crumbling library where the librarian, Mr. Vey, had been since Elara could remember. His eyes, pale as washed bones, lingered on the journal as he traced the sigil with a finger. ‘That mark,’ he murmured. ‘It’s not a veil. It’s a seal.’
‘Sealing what?’ Elara asked.
‘A hunger,’ he said. ‘One that outlived the town itself.’
The library’s basement was a labyrinth of shelves, each labeled with names Elara didn’t recognize. Vey lit a lantern, its glow casting jagged shadows. ‘Your grandmother wasn’t just a keeper,’ he said. ‘She was a sacrifice. The veil needs blood to hold.’
‘Why us?’ she demanded.
‘Because the bloodline is thin,’ he said. ‘And the hunger is waking.’
The next night, the shadows came in pairs. They circled the town, their forms more defined now, their whispers coalescing into words: *Unmake the veil. Unmake the veil.* Elara’s hands shook as she pored over the journal, desperate for a solution. The final entry was a ritual, but it required a price. ‘A life for a life,’ her grandmother had written. ‘But the cost is never what you expect.’
Jace found her in the library, tears smudging the ink. ‘We can’t let them win,’ he said, gripping her shoulder. ‘Whatever it takes.’
The ritual was simple, but the execution… complicated. Elara stood at the town’s center, the journal open on a stone altar. The shadows closed in, their whispers rising to a shriek. She pressed her palm to the sigil, feeling the ancient energy hum beneath her skin. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of ozone and decay.
‘I don’t know if this will work,’ she said, voice raw.
‘Then we’ll die trying,’ Jace replied.
The ritual demanded a memory—something precious. Elara thought of her grandmother’s laughter, the way she’d sung lullabies in a language that didn’t exist. The shadows recoiled as the memory left her, dissolving into mist. The veil rippled, then snapped tight, sealing the hunger once more.
The town awoke to a silent dawn. The shadows were gone, but so was the journal. Elara’s hands were empty, her chest hollow. Jace pulled her into a hug, his tears soaking her shirt. ‘It’s over,’ he whispered.
But Elara knew better. The hunger didn’t die. It waited. And the veil… it was only a temporary fix.
She kept the sigil carved into her wrist, a reminder. The town would forget, as it always did. But Elara wouldn’t. Not when the shadows still whispered in her dreams, and the hunger still clawed at the edges of the world.
The veil was thin. And it would break again.
