Daughter of the Veil

Chapter 5: The Council of Bones

Lila

The air outside was bitter with the scent of smoke and lightning. Lila wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the locket warm against her skin as they crossed the boundary into Hollowdeep—the hidden graveyard of the Forgotten Shifters.

Sky walked beside her in silence, his eyes scanning every movement in the darkness. Gabriel’s presence stirred beneath his skin, alert and brooding.

“This is sacred ground,” Sky said. “Only those called by blood or bond can enter.”

Lila nodded, but her steps slowed. The ground beneath her felt... alive. Whispers curled around her ears, ancient voices she didn’t understand.

The Council was waiting.

Nestled deep beneath a tangle of black thorns and silverwood trees, the Council of Bones sat around a stone table carved from dragon fang. They weren’t shifters. They weren’t witches.

They were something older.

A woman cloaked in raven feathers looked up. Her eyes shimmered like obsidian. “Nythera’s seed returns.”

Sky stiffened beside her.

“I am Lila Moonvale,” she said clearly, “and I need answers.”

A man with bark for skin nodded slowly. “The locket chose you. The dreamlight flows through your veins. What you saw last night was only the beginning.”

Noah’s name sent a shiver down the stone walls.

“He means to use the Dreambound Gate to tear the Veil,” the feathered woman said. “If he succeeds, the world you know will fall. Magic will fracture. Shifters will burn.”

Lila swallowed. “Then tell me how to stop him.”

They looked at one another, and something passed silently between them. Then the tree-man reached beneath the table and pulled out a blade.

Black. Glowing with runes. Humming with power.

“The Blade of Thorns,” he said. “Forged in the breath of Fenrir. Only the soulbound may wield it.”

He offered it to her.

Lila’s hand trembled as she took it.

The moment her fingers closed around the hilt, the blade came alive with dreamlight. Her veins lit with power. Her vision blurred with ancient memories.

A battlefield. A woman with her face. A dragon bleeding gold.

She gasped, staggering.

Sky caught her, grounding her.

The feathered woman stepped forward. “You are more than a witch, Lila Moonvale. You are the Dreambreaker.”

The room went still.

“What does that mean?” Sky asked, his voice hoarse.

“It means,” the tree-man said softly, “she was born to end the war that began long before we remembered how to count the stars.”