The sky above Corvenmere Academy was not sky at all—it was a veil, stitched together with ancient spells and roiling shadows, ever shifting like smoke above a dying battlefield. The academy loomed like a wounded cathedral, its spires crooked, bleeding black ivy, and its gates whispering secrets in dead tongues.

Inside, the air was thick with anticipation.

“Do you feel that?” whispered one student to another, both wrapped in the emerald and obsidian robes of House Velnar.

“It’s him,” came the hushed reply. “The Wolf of Drevenmoor. They say he murdered a professor.”

“They say he doesn’t need a wand.”

“They say he commands spirits.”

The iron gates groaned open with the sound of a dying creature. And through them walked Kael Virellian.

No entourage. No luggage. Just a tall, sharp-boned figure clad in a tattered longcoat that fluttered with shadow rather than wind. His silver eyes—too pale, too bright—swept across the crowd like a curse. Every step he took made the air colder, the whispers louder, and the magic around him twitch like it was afraid.

Lucien Astor stood at the top of the staircase inside the Grand Hall, watching.

He had seen many monsters in his short life, had studied ancient ones, even danced with demons at court balls.

But he had never seen anything like Kael.

Power bled from him, not refined or gilded like the Astors' magic, but savage—wild. It licked at the edges of the wards with amusement, challenging them.

The Headmaster cleared his throat nervously. “Kael Virellian. You have been granted provisional entry into Corvenmere. Any abuse of our laws will be met with exile—or worse.”

Kael didn’t respond. He merely tilted his head, smirking as if the threat amused him.

Lucien descended the steps slowly. Students parted for him like water around a blade. He was the chosen heir of House Astor—the golden boy of the academy. But tonight, he felt like prey.

Kael turned toward him before he spoke. As if he already knew Lucien would come.

“You’re not like the others,” Lucien said quietly.

Kael’s voice was low and dangerous. “Neither are you. But you pretend better.”

A flicker of something passed between them—like a promise wrapped in barbed wire.

And though Lucien didn’t know it yet, his fate was already sealed.

The Wolf had arrived. And the Veil would bleed.

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Alright that was the end of the first chapter of Thorns of Veil. Hope you all will like it

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TO BE CONTINUE. . . .

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Lucien Astor couldn’t sleep.

He had bathed in warded waters, worn silken linens soaked in moonlight, and recited every charm of rest known to his House. But sleep eluded him, stalked away by silver eyes and the storm they promised.

Kael Virellian.

Lucien rolled over in bed, his gaze fixed on the high arched ceiling of the Astor dormitory tower. The veined marble reflected the flickering glow of candlelight. Even in the heart of the academy’s most powerful stronghold, he didn’t feel safe. Not from Kael. Not from himself.

His blood knew something his mind had not yet caught up to.

The wolf had teeth—and Lucien was already bleeding.

Down in the East Wing, Kael stood in a chamber that had been sealed for twenty years. Dust still hung in the air like ash from an old fire. He ran his fingers along the cracked stone of the hearth, lips twitching in amusement.

They hadn’t even tried to hide their fear. His “room” was a cell—isolated from the other students, lined with binding glyphs and silver-threaded wards. But Kael had seen worse. He had lived worse.

And these fools thought walls could contain him.

He snapped his fingers. The magic flared, wild and black, consuming the sigils in seconds. One of the protective glyphs shrieked as it died.

Kael turned to the small, arched window. The academy grounds below were bathed in the eerie violet haze of Veil-magic. He could feel it breathing, pulsing. This place was alive—and deeply cursed.

Just like him.

A whisper brushed his ear. "Astor…"

Kael didn’t flinch. “I felt it too,” he muttered.

Something about Lucien Astor burned different. He wasn’t just some polished heir or walking prophecy. There was rot beneath that golden skin—something sacred and doomed. The kind of power that begged to be unraveled.

And Kael had always been good at breaking beautiful things.

The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with energy. Students whispered in groups, eyes constantly flicking toward Kael as he entered. He ignored them all.

He made his way toward an empty bench at the end of House Nocturne’s table—until a voice stopped him.

“You’re sitting with me.”

Lucien.

Kael turned, eyebrow raised.

Lucien stood, his robes midnight-black with gold trim, crest of Astor glowing faintly on his chest. His expression was calm, but his magic sang through the air like a blade in sunlight.

“Why?” Kael asked.

Lucien's answer was maddeningly casual. “Because if we’re going to destroy each other, I’d like a front-row seat.”

A beat of silence. Then Kael’s smirk returned.

He sat beside Lucien.

The hall fell into stunned silence.

“I hope you’re not easily broken,” Kael said.

Lucien poured himself tea without looking up. “Try me.”

Their knees brushed beneath the table.

And somewhere, deep in the bones of Corvenmere Academy, the Veil pulsed like a heartbeat quickening.

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To be continued

Kael wasn’t sure what was worse—the stares, or the silence. Both followed him through the corridors of Corvenmere like ghosts. He could feel every gaze, every whispered fear clinging to the hem of his coat.

He didn’t care.

But Lucien’s eyes?

Lucien’s eyes burned.

Kael had felt them all through breakfast. Judging. Measuring. Wanting.

And that made things dangerous.

The first joint spellcasting class was held in the Chamber of Embers—a vast circular hall lined with obsidian pillars, runes carved deep into the stone. Every student in Year Seven was present, lined in opposing pairs around a blazing ring of fire.

At the center, Professor Elaris floated slightly above the ground, her robes crackling with wardlight. “Today,” she said, voice sharp, “you’ll form your first Binding Circle. Trust is required. Balance is essential. Failure means injury—or worse.”

Her eyes gleamed. “You will be paired.”

Groans filled the room. Everyone knew Binding Circles weren’t just magic. They exposed your thoughts, feelings, memories—stripped you to your soul.

Lucien remained still, though his pulse ticked under his skin like a countdown.

“Kael Virellian. Lucien Astor. Center ring.”

A collective gasp echoed.

Lucien rose like a prince summoned to execution. Kael stepped in with a predator’s ease, hands in pockets, silver eyes unreadable.

They faced one another inside the circle. Runes ignited around them. The room dimmed. All fell silent.

“Begin,” said Elaris.

Lucien drew his wand, elegant and sleek. Kael raised his hand, no wand at all—his magic shimmered from his fingertips like ink in water.

They began the rite.

Their energies clashed instantly—Lucien’s sharp, radiant, controlled. Kael’s wild, shadowed, and brutal. The air thickened. The flames pulsed.

Lucien narrowed his eyes. “You’re holding back.”

Kael smirked. “Afraid I’ll see something you don’t want me to?”

“You wish.”

The next moment, Lucien stepped forward, thrusting magic into the circle. His power surged—sunlight and steel. Kael met it with raw shadow, tendrils of darkness wrapping around Lucien’s light like vines strangling gold.

Their hands brushed.

And everything broke open.

Images flooded between them. Flashes of Kael as a child, blood on snow. Lucien standing over a grave, tears burning his cheeks. Screams. Fire. Shadows clawing at a cracked mirror.

Kael gasped.

Lucien staggered back.

The circle shattered with a sound like glass breaking in the soul. Both boys dropped to one knee, breathing hard, eyes wide.

Around them, the flames died.

The class stared in silence.

Professor Elaris descended, brows knit. “That—was not failure. That was… a resonance.”

Lucien’s hand trembled.

Kael stood first, brushing soot from his coat. He turned to Lucien, voice low, steady. “We’re not finished.”

Lucien looked up, something dark and uncertain in his gaze. “No,” he whispered. “We’re just beginning.”

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To be continued

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