Veiled Eyes

Chapter 3

Fate – noun: the development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power.

My head throbbed, each pulse a brutal pound against my skull, the pressure so fierce I thought my eyes might burst. My heartbeat roared in my ears, a relentless drum that drowned out everything else. Breath came in ragged rasps, scraping my throat raw as I forced my eyes open.

The world swam in and out of focus—colors bleeding into one another, shapes warping and tilting. The vertigo rolled through me in sickening waves, each one threatening to wrench my stomach inside out.

A cool breeze traced over my exposed stomach, raising goosebumps along my skin. My shirt had ridden up to my chest, caught there by the straps of my cargo vest, the fabric brushing against my chin. It was the only thing keeping it from spilling over my face entirely.

A wave of nausea rolled through me, twisting my gut as I swayed like a pendulum in the dark. Each swing set the blood rushing to my head in a hot, throbbing pulse. My vision cleared in jagged bursts, just long enough to piece together the truth of my situation—truth that made my stomach drop even as I defied gravity.

I was upside down.

The realization landed with the weight of a stone in my chest. My fingers scrabbled at my shirt, yanking it down, but the moment I let go, it slid back up again, taunting me. My legs hung heavy, tingling with the dull ache of trapped blood, the weight of my body pulling at my legs.

The fog in my mind thinned just enough for the full reality to set in: I wasn’t lying on cold concrete. I wasn’t crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. I was suspended—inverted—dangling in the suffocating darkness.

How long had I been like this? Minutes? Hours? It was impossible to tell—only that every second upside down dragged me closer to death. I remembered the basics from training: too long in this position, and the blood pooling in my head would kill me. No wonder every breath felt like dragging air through wet cloth.

My gaze swept the shadows until I spotted the cause—a thick snarl of barbed wire biting deep into my left ankle, the rusted metal glistening dark where it had torn skin. Each swing sent another jolt of pain spiraling up my leg.

I tried to curl upward, to reach it with my hands, but the pounding in my skull roared to life, threatening to blot me out completely. White flashes burst behind my eyes, my vision narrowing to a tunnel.

My right leg was free. That was something. I lifted it, boot sole pressing against the wire, and pushed. The barbs shifted with a metallic groan. Pain lanced up my trapped leg, sharp as lightning, ripping a choked cry from my throat.

Then, with a sickening snap, the wire gave way.

I dropped like a stone. The impact slammed through my spine, my teeth clacking together hard enough to sting. My skull rang from the jolt, and black spots swarmed my vision, swirling like a storm I couldn’t escape. For a long moment, I didn’t move. I just lay there, gasping, each breath rasping through my raw throat.

The world above me was a swirling haze of muted colors, as if I were seeing it through fogged glass. Slowly—painfully—the high-pitched ringing in my ears ebbed, replaced by another sound: a faint, rhythmic dripping that echoed through the vast emptiness around me.

I blinked, my vision sharpening by degrees until the rough-hewn walls emerged from the blur. Shadows clung to their jagged edges, but here and there, they caught the faint silver gleam of moisture. Far above, a thin column of pale light angled down from a jagged hole in the ceiling. My stomach turned as I realized—that’s where I’d fallen from.

How had I survived the drop?

I shifted, biting back a groan as pain flared white-hot in my leg. The stone beneath me was cold and gritty, and the air had that damp, mineral scent that clung to underground places. My gaze swept the space—it wasn’t concrete. It wasn’t built. This was a cave.

I forced myself to sit up, my muscles trembling under the effort. My leg throbbed in time with my heartbeat, each pulse sharper than the last. I peeled back the torn fabric of my pants, fingers trembling as they brushed raw skin. The wound was jagged and ugly, the flesh shredded, smeared with a thick sheen of blood.

Memory struck like a blow—the Stalker’s hooked claws raking deep into my thigh, tearing muscle as easily as paper. The phantom pain of it shivered through me, leaving my hands clammy and my stomach lurching.

It looked like the Stalker’s claws had missed the vital parts of my leg—a small mercy. I patted down my vest, searching for anything useful, and came up with only a single roll of gauze. Of course. Everything else—my tourniquet, my ointments, my antiseptic—was gone.

Working quickly, I wound the gauze around my thigh. The pristine white turned scarlet almost instantly. It wasn’t enough. The bleeding needed to slow, or I wouldn’t last long. My fingers found the leather belt at my waist. Better than nothing.

I yanked it free and looped it high above the wound, pulling until the edges bit into my skin. Pain flared up my leg, hot and electric, forcing a cry from my throat. I cinched it tighter, teeth clenched until my jaw ached.

The sound of my own cry echoed back to me, bouncing off the cave walls. But when the last whisper of it faded, something else took its place.

A crunch.

Not the skitter of claws on stone, but the steady, deliberate rhythm of footsteps. Two legs. Heavy. Unhurried.

Coming closer.

Shit. I cursed myself silently, fury bubbling beneath the fear. How could I have been so careless—broadcasting my location with every cry?

My hands swept frantically over the cold stone until they closed around a jagged rock. I gripped it so hard my knuckles ached, the sharp edges biting into my palm, threatening to split the skin. Better my blood than my life.

My gaze flicked around the dim chamber, chasing every shadow. The cave branched into a web of tunnels, each one gaping like a throat ready to swallow me whole. The weak column of light from above barely touched the walls before the darkness claimed them, leaving the depths beyond utterly black.

Somewhere in that blackness, the footsteps kept coming.

Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the darkness.

Tall. Still. Its outline bled into the shadows, as if the darkness itself had given it form. My stomach lurched. Beast? Human? Both? Plenty of things in the Barren could walk on two legs. None of them good.

Maybe a Howler. Humanoid, with long, spindly limbs and skin pale as moonlight. They moved like whispers through the world—there one moment, gone the next. One note from their throats could twist your senses, pulling you into a trance you’d never walk away from.

But the other possibility—worse—made my blood run cold. A Harrowed.

They could look perfectly normal at first glance—just another wanderer. Until the monster inside tore its way to the surface. Limbs splitting and lengthening. Fingers rending apart into hooked, black claws. Their faces stretching, jaws splitting wide to reveal jagged, broken teeth. Eyes clouding over into a solid, dead white.

And then came the hunger. The Harrowed couldn’t survive without human flesh. They didn’t just kill you—they devoured you. Piece by piece.

The figure kept moving, its outline sharpening with each step. Broad shoulders. Upright stance. A gait that—at least at first—looked human.

Hope flickered weakly in my chest. Maybe this wasn’t a beast. Maybe someone from my troop had found a way down here. Maybe I wasn’t alone in the dark after all.

“Hello?” My voice cracked, trembling with fear. If it was something that meant to kill me, silence wouldn’t save me now.

The figure stopped dead.

Every muscle in my body tightened.

Through the dim light, I could just make out the sweep of a tall, broad frame. The faint shift of muscle beneath stretched fabric. It should have been reassuring—should have screamed human.

But it didn’t.

The stillness wasn’t human. And the chill crawling up my spine told me my hope had been a mistake.

“Stay back!” The words came out high and thin, barely louder than the thunder of my heartbeat.

I lifted the rock, my grip slick with sweat, my hand trembling so hard the edges bit into my palm. I tried to steady myself, to square my shoulders and look like someone ready to fight—but the truth was written in every shaky breath.

I was hurt. I was cornered. And I was prey.

The figure tilted his head, the motion sharp and unnatural—predatory. It was the way a wolf might study a wounded deer.

Then, slowly, he began to move again. Each step was deliberate, measured.

As he passed into the thin shaft of light, more of him took shape. A man—at least, that’s what my eyes told me. Tall, broad-shouldered. A short beard shadowed his jaw, and dark brown hair fell in uneven waves across his forehead. His eyes matched—dark, deep, and unreadable.

He was… handsome. Striking, even. But there was something wrong. Something in the way he carried himself. In the way the darkness seemed to cling to him, as though reluctant to let him go.

“You speak?” The words rolled out in a deep, gravelly rumble that reverberated off the stone walls, wrapping the cavern in his voice. His eyes, the color of a storm-tossed sea, locked onto mine, a flicker of something unreadable in their depth.