Embars Of The Veil

Kaelan Thorn crouched on the edge of a ridge, his gaze fixed on the camp below. He could see the firelight flickering, the faint outlines of travelers setting up their tents, voices drifting up to him on the cold night breeze. Laughter, the clinking of metal, the low hum of a song. Simple things he once took for granted.

He pulled back, turning his gaze to the forest. The shadows were thick, the night pressing in with a familiar weight. It was the kind of darkness that held secrets, that made each sound sharper, each movement slower. But he had become accustomed to that, to the feeling of being on the outskirts.

The night had barely settled before he felt it—a faint, pulsing ache, like a thorn pressing into his side. It started as a whisper, a dull pressure, and then grew, sharp and piercing.

Kaelan’s hand went to his chest, breathing through the pain as he focused, trying to block out the sensation. It wasn’t his own pain—it was hers. One of the travelers below, nursing what seemed like a minor injury. He could picture her, clutching her arm, wincing as she leaned against a companion.

He could feel her pain as if it were his own.

Kaelan cursed softly, willing the sensation to fade. This curse of his—the gift of empathy, as some had called it—was anything but a gift. It was a constant reminder of the night he’d crossed paths with a Veil demon, of the pact he’d made and the price he paid.

Some days, the pain was dull, distant enough to ignore. But tonight, it pulsed through him, raw and unrelenting.

With a deep breath, he turned away from the camp, moving into the woods, away from the travelers and their quiet agony. He needed distance, needed to put space between himself and their emotions, the ache that threatened to consume him if he let it.

He hadn’t gone far when he felt something else—a different kind of energy, faint but distinct. A warmth, creeping along his skin, sharp and sickly.

He froze, feeling the dread settle in his gut. The Ember curse.

Kaelan knew it, the way one knows an old wound. He’d heard stories of the curse spreading across the land, hollowing out villages, leaving entire families lifeless. But he hadn’t expected to feel it here, in the quiet solitude of the forest.

He scanned his surroundings, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. The shadows around him seemed to deepen, the trees casting strange, twisted shapes that flickered at the edges of his vision.

It was then he saw her.

A figure, cloaked in darkness, moving through the trees with a purposeful grace. Her silhouette was barely discernible, the lines of her cloak blending into the night, but he could see the faint glow of a ward she traced in the air, a soft blue light that flickered and faded.

Kaelan held his breath, watching her movements. She was skilled, her steps silent, calculated. Veilwalker, he thought. It wasn’t often he came across one of them.

He’d heard tales of Veilwalkers, those who could navigate the shadowed boundary between realms, but he’d never seen one up close. It was said they could step through worlds, that they carried shadows as their weapons and shields. Dangerous, every one of them.

But the Veil was thinning, and Kaelan suspected that whatever had drawn him to this place had also brought her here.

Steeling himself, he took a step forward, the crunch of leaves underfoot giving him away. The woman froze, turning to face him, her eyes narrowing. He felt her gaze travel over him, assessing, weighing.

“Not the safest place for a midnight stroll, is it?” he said, keeping his voice low.

She didn’t answer immediately, her stance tense, ready. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice steady.

Kaelan offered a slight shrug, feeling the weight of his own weariness settle over him. “A traveler, like yourself. Just passing through.”

Her gaze lingered, suspicion flickering in her eyes. She didn’t lower her hand, the faint traces of her ward casting an eerie glow over her face. “This isn’t a place for travelers. Not tonight.”

He glanced at the ward she’d drawn, recognizing the Veil’s unique magic woven into it. “And you’re here to…protect it? Or are you just curious about the curse, like me?”

The word seemed to catch her off guard, her eyes narrowing further. “The curse isn’t something to be curious about,” she said sharply. “It’s a sickness. It consumes everything it touches.”

Kaelan nodded, feeling the ache of empathy in his chest dull slightly as he focused on her words. “I’ve seen its effects. But I’ve also seen those who survive it…those who don’t. Call it curiosity, or a sense of duty, but I’m here to help.”

She didn’t look convinced, her stance guarded. “If you think you’re helping by wandering through cursed woods, you’re mistaken.”

He allowed a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the night closing in around them. Kaelan could feel the presence of the curse nearby, lingering like a dark fog, just out of sight. He could see her sensing it too, her gaze drifting to the shadows, her hand moving subtly in preparation for another ward.

“Look,” he said, keeping his tone calm, “you don’t have to trust me. But I can feel this curse, same as you. I’ve faced things like this before.”

She hesitated, the conflict clear in her expression. “If you’re cursed yourself, then you know what you’re risking.”

“Better than most,” he replied, the faint ache of his own curse flaring up as he spoke. “I don’t intend to get in your way. But if you’re going up against the Ember, you might need someone who can handle pain.”

Another pause, and then she gave a reluctant nod. “Fine. But stay close and stay quiet. I don’t need another distraction.”

Without another word, she turned and started down a faint path, her form melting into the shadows. Kaelan followed, his steps careful as he fell into stride behind her, the air growing colder as they moved deeper into the forest.

The night was silent, oppressive, the faint scent of burning wood lingering in the air. Kaelan’s grip tightened on his sword as they walked, the warmth of the Ember curse creeping closer with each step.

But he kept his focus on the Veilwalker ahead of him, her movements fluid and precise, each step drawing them closer to the source of the curse. She was an enigma, a mystery he couldn’t quite unravel, and yet he found himself trusting her.

Perhaps it was the weariness in her eyes, the way she held herself, as if each step she took carried the weight of a promise she couldn’t break. Or perhaps it was something deeper, something he couldn’t name.

All he knew was that, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t facing the dark alone.

As they moved further into the heart of the forest, the Ember’s warmth grew stronger, pulsing like a heartbeat, waiting.