CHAPTER VI: Beyond the Veil

The forest was dark—far darker than anything I had ever encountered before. The kind of darkness that swallowed light whole. The moon hung weakly above, its dim glow barely enough to guide me forward. Each step I took stirred the crisp, untouched ground, and my boots echoed through the empty air, as if the forest itself was mimicking my movements.

The trees here were unlike anything in the Mortal World. They towered over me, their trunks twisted and thick with gnarled roots that jutted from the earth like skeletal fingers. Their bark was streaked with black and white, giving them a ghostly appearance, as if they had been painted by the remnants of lost souls. The air was frigid, the kind that seeped beneath my skin and coiled around my bones.

I pushed forward, weaving past tangled roots, my fingers brushing against the rough bark as I swatted at insects that didn't belong to my world. Strange creatures with translucent wings and too many legs scuttled away from me. The howling wind carried whispers—soft, unintelligible voices threading through the trees like an unseen presence watching me.

A shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn't fear. It was something else. Something estranged, foreign. It clung to me, this unplaceable feeling. It wasn't dread, nor was it comfort. It was an awareness, a realization that I was walking deeper into a place not meant for mortals.

Then, I heard it.

"Mortal..."

A voice carried through the wind, guttural, almost reverent. My fingers instinctively curled around the hilt of my sword. I turned sharply, scanning my surroundings, but all I saw were the endless trees, their twisting shadows stretching impossibly far.

And then something caught my eye.

A glint. A flicker of red light in the distance.

I halted, breath steady but alert, gripping my sword tighter. Slowly, I turned, glancing behind me, to my sides—nothing but the cold silence of the trees. My heartbeat drummed against my ribs as I took a careful step forward.

Deeper.

I moved toward the flicker, my path riddled with roots eager to ensnare me. My boot struck something hard. A small rock, bluish in color, shimmered under the moonlight. I barely had a moment to register its presence before my foot slipped, and pain flared through my knee as I fell onto the cold earth.

I inhaled sharply, feeling the sting before I saw it—blood trickling down my leg, staining the soil beneath me. The culprit was a jagged, dark-blue stone, its edges as sharp as a blade. But more than the pain, it was the familiarity that stopped me.

These stones… I had seen them before.

I lifted one from the ground, raising it to eye level. It twinkled like a dying star, its hue reminiscent of Lilith's eyes. Our mother's eyes.

Another flicker. Another glimmer.

I looked up—and froze.

Towering before me stood a gate unlike any I had ever seen.

Twenty feet high, its dark metal twisted into an intricate design of ancient symbols and thorned vines. The thorns were massive, each one twice the size of my palm, jagged and menacing. And beyond the gate lay thousands of those luminous blue stones, scattered like fallen stars.

A lesser soul might have been entranced by them. Might have lost themselves to the sheer beauty of the sight. But I wasn't weak-willed.

Still, my fingers moved on their own, reaching out.

The moment my hand brushed the gate, pain bloomed across my palm as a thorn pierced my skin. A single drop of blood fell, staining the dark metal.

A deep groan echoed through the air.

The gate moved.

Its ancient mechanisms creaked and groaned as it began to part, revealing the world beyond.

Carefully, I stepped inside, minding the stones beneath my boots. And then—I saw it.

Nestled in the center of the enclosed space, a single plant radiated with an ethereal glow. Small—barely three inches tall—but unmistakably the mythical plant I had been searching for. The one that could save my brother.

A miracle.

I knelt before it, my breath caught in my throat. How could something so small hold the power to heal an entire kingdom? I didn't understand. But I didn't need to.

With careful hands, I plucked it from the ground, slipping it into the tiny bottle Melor had given me.

And then—

A gust of wind.

The temperature plummeted. My breath came out in a visible mist as snowflakes drifted down from the sky, turning everything white.

I turned.

The gate—gone. The blue stones—gone. The entire area—nothing but an endless, barren white.

My heart pounded.

The air felt… wrong.

Not fear. But a warning. A scream of danger deep within my bones.

I moved. Fast.

Running through the endless white, my boots crushed the thin layer of snow beneath me. But I wasn't alone.

Something was chasing me.

Something from my left. From my right. From behind.

And then—I saw them.

The Veilborn....

Cursed beings of the Shadow Realm.

They were grotesque, twisted mockeries of men—some with curling horns, others with jagged fangs that jutted past their lips. Their elongated fingers ended in razor-like claws, and their eyes… some burned a deep crimson, others gleamed violet, both void of mercy. Their bodies, shrouded in black and gray, moved like shifting smoke, as if they weren't entirely bound to this realm.

I gritted my teeth. They were horrifying. But not enough to terrify me.

Death. That was the real fear. Dying here.

I stopped. My breath came in ragged gasps as I pulled my sword free, turning in a slow circle.

I was surrounded.

"Mortal..." One of them growled, its voice deep and unnatural.

I clenched my jaw, tightening my grip on my blade. I couldn't die here. I wouldn't. I had promised Lilith.

Then they lunged.

I moved on instinct, slashing through the nearest creature, my blade cleaving it in two. Dark violet blood splattered the snow, sizzling where it fell. Another rushed at me—I ducked, driving my sword into its side.

A battle. A storm of metal, claws, and blood.

I was fast, but they were many. Claws raked across my back, searing pain flaring through my body. I gritted my teeth, suppressing the scream that threatened to escape.

I wouldn't show weakness.

Not now.

But my limbs grew heavier. My breath shallower. My vision blurred.

I struck down another, but my knees buckled. My body gave out.

My knees touches onto the cold, unforgiving ground. My sword slipped from my grasp, its weightless touch lost to the void around me. My vision spun, my strength slipping away.

"No…"

This couldn't be the end.

"Lilith… Melor… Willow…"

His name—his name was the last thing in my heart.

Then—

The wind howled, stronger than before, forcing the creatures to cower. An overwhelming force crashed through the air, suffocating, commanding. The darkness itself seemed to shift, bending to the will of something far greater.

Shadows twisted, curling into the shape of a figure.

A voice, deep and absolute, resonated through the air.

"Enough of this."

The Veilborn trembled. They obeyed. The creatures fell silent. Trembling. Bending.

Not to me—

To him.

A figure emerged from the void. Cloaked in shadow, his presence radiated an authority that made even the cursed beings of this land kneel.

I collapsed.

The sky above was a vast, endless void, devoid of light.

One of them spoke, voice low, reverent.

"My Lord, with all due respect… we have a Mortal in our Realm."

"I know."

That voice.

It was him.

The one that had whispered to me before. The one that had led me here.

My body collapsed fully onto the ground, consciousness slipping away.

(Eryndor's POV)

I felt her the moment she stepped through the Veil.

A mortal—flesh and bone, fragile and fleeting—yet fate has chosen her to cross the threshold that no human has dared to since the Shadow War. She walks the path meant to be forgotten, her presence sending ripples through our realm. The Veilborn sense it, their instinct honed by centuries of exile.

They do not welcome her.

She moves with purpose, unaware of the eyes watching her from the darkness. The Veilborn creatures—my people—rise from the shadows, their confusion turning to something more dangerous. The lesson of our past is etched deep in their souls: mortals do not belong here. They are destroyers, betrayers.

And yet, she walks among us.

I do not stop them when they block her path. It is their right to question, to protect what little remains of our shattered kingdom. But the moment weapons are drawn, when Veilborn claws unsheath and magic crackles through the air, I move.

"Enough."

My voice carries through the mist-laden air, laced with an authority none dare defy. The Veilborn hesitate, shifting uneasily, their eyes flickering between me and the unconscious form of the mortal who now lays at their feet.

They do not understand. But one of them stated, "My Lord, with all due respect… we have a Mortal in our Realm."

"I know and I will deal with it," I say simply. They do not argue. They know better than to challenge me.

I extend my hand, and shadows coil around her, lifting her weightless body into the air. The tendrils of darkness wrap around her like a cocoon, a stark contrast to her pale skin. The Veilborn remain still, their monstrous forms tense with distrust.

In the next breath, I step through the shifting void, the mortal in my grasp. The world bends to my will, and in an instant, we are gone.

-----

She awakens in my castle.

I feel the sharp hitch in her breath before she even opens her eyes. The weight of magic in the air is unlike anything she has ever known, woven with remnants of a lost age.

She shifts, disoriented, the faint rustle of fabric breaking the heavy silence.

"You are awake."

Her green eyes snap open, meeting mine.

The confusion is there, warring with the remnants of fear. She sits up too quickly, her fingers instinctively closing around something in her palm.

The vial with the thing she came for.

"You succeeded," I murmur, watching her. She blinks, as if only now remembering why she is here. The tension in her shoulders does not ease.

"You are that Shadow," she says, her voice quiet but firm.

I tilt my head slightly, and ignored her question and say instead, "You need to go back, and I will let you."

But first, there is a matter to be dealt with.

The presence of others looms at the edges of the chamber. My people have gathered, their silent, inhuman forms melting into the darkness. The weight of their stares presses against me, unspoken questions thick in the air.

"Why is that thing here?.... Why did our Lord allow this?"

One steps forward, their voice a whisper of static and wind. "She is mortal."

"She is necessary." I revealed to them in a voice full of authority.

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. The creatures shift, their monstrous forms quivering with unease. They do not understand, and I do not expect them to—not yet.

"She is the way," I continue, my voice steady. "Through her, our Queen will return."

At the words, something changes. A stillness, a breath held between seconds. Then—joy.

It is unlike the joy of mortals, which is soft and warm. This is raw, a soundless tremor that ripples through the chamber, manifesting as deep thrums and sharp, guttural exhales. Veilborn forms twist and shake, their monstrous limbs quaking with something akin to elation.

The mortal—Charlotte—flinches.

To her, they are terrifying.

Their joy is a nightmare, their devotion a horror. She feigns sleep, her body stiff, her breathing measured. A foolish attempt at deception.

I let her pretend.

But I know.

I step forward, letting my voice cut through the growing energy in the room. "There is no time for mortals."

The joy dims slightly, shifting back to quiet reverence.

"It is time for her to leave."

The words are final. No one protests.

With a single murmur of incantation, shadows surge forward, wrapping around her still form. She vanishes into the abyss before she even realizes what is happening.

The chamber falls silent.

The Veilborn do not question me again.