Bhuvan_Prakash_1610

For centuries, the world has turned a blind eye to the cracks in reality—places where the ancient and the impossible bleed into the modern day. But when a hidden vault is unearthed in Germany’s Black Forest, seven strangers across the globe begin to hear the same whisper.

Each of them holds a piece of a horrifying puzzle:

A haunted archaeologist in Germany.

A professor in Japan whose dreams predict death.

A French detective chasing a killer that leaves no trace.

A Spanish journalist obsessed with a conspiracy that ruined his life.

A psychic in Serbia who sees a truth too dark to bear.

A fallen priest in Scotland running from what he once exorcised.

And a hacker in Italy who unlocks a forbidden code on the dark web.


As ancient horrors stir and reality begins to fracture, they must uncover the terrifying truth behind The Veilbound—a secret society guarding humanity from what lurks just beyond sight. But the seal is breaking… and something is coming through.

They don’t know each other.
They don’t trust each other.
But they are the world’s last chance.

Whispers behind the veil

Kenji locked the university doors behind him as dusk settled over Kyoto.

The streets were quieter than usual, unnaturally still. Even the cicadas—normally screaming in the summer air—had fallen silent. A low, warm wind blew through the alleyways, and with it came the smell of smoke.

Not modern smoke. No, this smelled ancient. Like wood temples burning. Like offerings turned to ash.

He turned onto a narrow backstreet behind the Gion district. That's when he saw them.

Paper lanterns, glowing blood-red, floated silently down the alley. There were no wires. No festival. No people.

They drifted in perfect formation, as if guided by unseen hands. Each one bore the same spiral symbol from his dreams—painted in ink so dark it shimmered blue.

Not figuratively. The paper rippled as if breathing. The spiral ink morphed into a single, blinking eye—a vertical slit like a cat's, staring directly into his soul.

The lanterns began to hum, low and bone-deep. The eye blinked. Once. Then again. He turned to run—

—but the street behind him was gone.

In its place: a temple, broken and rotting, bathed in red moonlight. Bamboo trees twisted at unnatural angles. Shadows moved without source or shape. In the center of the temple stood a shrine—and on it, a mask. A Noh mask carved from bone, grinning with jagged teeth.

And behind it, rising like a mountain—

A figure. Towering. Formless. Cloaked in mist and sound.

Kenji's ears filled with whispers. A thousand voices all speaking the same name:

He was on the street again. No lanterns. No temple. Just a passing pedestrian staring at him like he'd lost his mind.

Kenji staggered home. He didn't sleep that night. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't dare.

And something was already watching.

CHAPTER 4 THE PAPER LANTERNS