CHAPTER 4: THE FIRST CROSSING
1146 Words
The fissure in the air did not rip wider.
It opened.
Like a breathing wound.
Evelyn watched as darkness peeled back in slow, methodical layers, revealing something neither night nor light. The space beyond shimmered with colorless depth, like oil spinning over water, buzzing with a sound she felt in her bones more than her ears.
“This is your fault,” Selene mumbled, edging toward the far wall. “No offense.”
Evelyn didn’t blink.
The terror was still there, harsh and piercing, but underlying it was something else now. Recognition. The impression of standing on a boundary she has passed before.
Lucien rose from his knees, his visage stern.
“The Veil Keeper doesn’t open gateways unless he wants to be seen.”
A shape produced inside the rift.
Tall. Slender. Impossibly still.
Its face slowly grew pale, smooth, and timeless, with eyes like cracked glass reflecting a thousand other skies.
Evelyn’s breath caught.
She knew this creature.
Not by name.
By weight.
By the way the air bent about it.
“Evelyn Kael,” the entity murmured, its voice blended, resonating with others underneath it. “Or should I say… Architect.”
Lucien swiftly stood in front of her.
“You will not touch her.”
The Veil Keeper grinned.
“You no longer command me, fallen one.”
The lanterns cracked.
Darkness blanketed the room, consumed only by the silver flame flaring along Lucien’s arms. Wings erupted from his back, huge, scarred, and blazing at the edges, filling the space with wind and light.
Selene swore.
“You could’ve warned me you still had those!”
Lucien didn’t glance away from the Veil Keeper.
“I was hoping not to need them.”
The Veil Keeper’s eyes slipped beyond him, focusing on Evelyn.
“You feel it, don’t you?” it mumbled. “The pull. The anguish of an incomplete design.”
Evelyn moved forward.
Lucien spun.
“Evelyn, no.”
She met his gaze steadily, resolute.
“I’m tired of being talked about like I’m not here.”
The Veil Keeper’s grin grew.
“Yes,” it answered gently. “You always were.”
The air thickened. Pressure squeezed on Evelyn’s head, memories scraping at the corners of her memory. Cities. Circles of light. Blood on white stone.
She staggered, and the world slanted.
Lucien grabbed for her, but she slid by him.
The Veil responded to her movement.
Light burst under her feet, producing a brilliant symbol that split the stone floor. The fissure in the air pushed wider, engulfing her in a rush of frigid wind and sound.
“EVELYN!” Selene yelled.
Too late.
She did not fall this time.
She came.
Evelyn stood on glass.
Not smooth glass, broken, layered, pulsing with light under it. Beneath feet, a massive metropolis spread, mirrored upside down, buildings swirling both upward and downward toward infinity.
The sky was alive.
Colors flowed like living creatures, violet, silver, deep blue, interwoven with constellations that altered as she blinked.
The Veil Realm.
Her heart raced not with dread, but amazement.
“So you remember,” said a familiar voice.
She turned.
Lucien stopped a few paces away, wings folded tight against his back, silver eyes clouded with relief and terror.
“You followed me,” she said.
“I will always follow you,” he said gently. “Across any world.”
The words struck her harder than she anticipated.
She glanced down at her hands.
They were shining.
Not burning, reacting.
Energy rushed through her veins, warm and steady, like a lost beat resurfacing.
“This place,” she muttered. “It feels like… home.”
Lucien’s expression furrowed.
“That’s what frightens me.”
The glass underneath them rippled.
From the light below, creatures started to emerge, translucent beings with empty eyes and trailing shadows.
Wraiths.
Lucien’s wings flared.
“Stay behind me.”
Evelyn didn’t.
She raised her hand.
The air bowed.
The closest Wraith paused mid-motion, light slicing through its shape. It sent forth a soundless scream and burst into flames.
Lucien gazed.
“You didn’t hesitate.”
Evelyn slowly dropped her hand, breathing hard.
“I knew how to do it.”
That quietens the heavy type.
The Veil moved.
A throne of light and darkness loomed before them, creating itself piece by piece. And atop it sat the Veil Keeper, entire now, more awful and lovely than ever.
“You see?” it murmured kindly. “She is awakening faster than you predicted.”
Lucien bared his teeth.
“You will not control her.”
The Veil Keeper leaned forward.
“I don’t need to. She was never designed to be controlled.”
Its glance returned to Evelyn.
“You are not cursed, child. You are unfinished.”
Evelyn’s chest clenched.
“What do you want from me?”
The Veil Keeper’s voice softened dangerously so.
“To remind you why you built the Veil.”
The world darkened.
A vision blossomed around them.
Two worlds clashing.
Cities collapsing.
Angels descending in flames.
Humans screaming under cosmic conflict.
And in the heart of it all, she.
Standing alone, arms extended, breaking reality apart to salvage what remained.
Evelyn gasped, collapsing to her knees.
Lucien hurried to her side.
“Stop,” he yelled at the Keeper. “You’re breaking her!”
“She survived it once,” the Keeper responded. “She will survive it again.”
Evelyn glanced up, tears staining her cheeks, but her eyes were alright.
“You’re afraid,” she realized. “That’s why you need me.”
The Veil Keeper halted.
“Afraid of what?” she pushed.
“That I won’t choose the same ending.”
The hush that followed was deafening.
Lucien glanced at her, something like hope flaring in his eyes for the first time.
The Veil Keeper stood slowly.
“Rest,” it said. “Learn. Remember.”
The throne disintegrated.
The Veil started to fold inward.
Lucien curled his wings around Evelyn just before the world dissolved into light.
They fell heavily in the basement room.
Selene was on her feet fast.
“Okay, you’re grounded. No more reality-hopping without supervision.”
Evelyn giggled softly, tears falling loose.
Lucien knelt alongside her, his hand lingering near her face, wondering whether he was permitted to touch her.
“You faced him,” he replied gently. “And lived.”
She met his eyes.
“I’m not the same person I was yesterday.”
“No,” Lucien agreed. “You’re becoming something far more dangerous.”
Evelyn stood, power still buzzing faintly under her skin.
“Good,” she said. “Because next time, I won’t be pulled into the Veil.”
She stared at Lucien.
“I’ll walk in on my own terms.”
And somewhere deep beneath the Veil, the Keeper heard and started to plot.
- Writer
