THE SHATTERED VEIL

The night was supposed to be ordinary. Ethan lay on his back in the grass, staring up at the stars. The quiet hum of crickets filled the air, and the world seemed still, safe, and predictable. But then, the sky tore open. At first, it was just a flicker—like lightning without thunder. Then came the crack, a sharp sound that split the silence. The stars twisted, bending into shapes that should not exist, and light poured down in broken streams, jagged like shattered glass. Ethan sat up, his heart racing. “What… what is that?” he whispered, though no one was there to answer. The ground trembled beneath him. The grass withered. The air grew heavy, thick, almost alive. And before he could run, the darkness fell. It wasn’t like night. Night was gentle, familiar. This was a shadow that reached for him, swallowing him whole. He felt himself falling—through light, through wind, through nothingness—until the world he knew was gone. When Ethan’s eyes opened again, he was no longer on Earth. The sky above him was fractured, broken into shards of black and silver. Strange constellations pulsed faintly, as though alive. The air carried a low hum, like whispers just out of reach. The ground beneath him was not grass but cracked stone, glowing faintly with veins of light. He stumbled to his feet, dizzy, his breath catching in his throat. “This… this isn’t real.” But it was. Every shadow, every sound pressed against him with terrifying weight. Then he heard it—a voice. Soft. Feminine. Unfamiliar. “You shouldn’t be here.” Ethan spun around. A girl stood a few steps away, half-hidden by the fractured light. Her hair fell in dark waves against her shoulders, her eyes sharp and guarded. She looked no older than him, yet there was something ancient in the way she carried herself. “Who… who are you?” he asked. Her gaze lingered on him, unreadable. Finally, she spoke. “My name is Freya.”