The Crimson Veil

The sun rose pale and cold over Elaris, casting golden light through Celeste’s bedroom window. It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.

She hadn’t slept—not really. The dreams had come in waves, thick with ash and fire. Kael’s voice still echoed in her mind like a half-sung lullaby. But it was the mark that made it impossible to rest. It hadn’t stopped pulsing since she’d returned from the forest.

Now it looked sharper, darker. More… alive.

Celeste wrapped her wrist in a long black ribbon and slid on a hoodie, pulling the hood up as she descended the stairs. Her aunt, Mirella, was already at the stove humming softly, the smell of tea and cinnamon filling the kitchen.

“Morning, dove,” Mirella said without looking up. “You were up late again?”

Celeste forced a smile. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

Mirella turned, her kind eyes narrowing slightly. “That mark again?”

Celeste froze. “What?”

Mirella simply pointed at the edge of the black ribbon slipping from her sleeve.

“I’ve seen that before,” Mirella said softly. “Not on you. But in the old books. Symbols like that don’t just appear. They’re summoned.”

Celeste’s heart stopped. “You knew?”

“I suspected,” Mirella said, turning off the burner and setting a cup of tea in front of her. “Our family carries blood that’s… different. Your mother was gifted too, in her own way. But she feared it. Hid from it. That’s what got her killed.”

Celeste blinked. “You said she died in a fire—”

“She did,” Mirella said. “But it wasn’t natural. It was a cleansing. Someone wanted her erased.”

Celeste’s stomach twisted. “Why are you only telling me now?”

“Because until the mark appeared, I thought maybe—just maybe—you’d been spared. But it’s started again. Which means it’s coming. They’re coming.”

Celeste barely heard the last words. She was already standing, her pulse racing.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Where?”

She didn’t answer.

---

Outside, near the forest

The woods were silent again, but not empty. Celeste stood just beyond the first ring of trees, staring into the mist.

She could feel him. Not just his presence—but his pull.

“Kael,” she whispered.

He stepped from the shadows as if summoned. “You called.”

Celeste crossed her arms. “We need to talk.”

He studied her. “You’re afraid.”

“I’m confused,” she said. “And angry. You showed up, told me I’m part of some prophecy, and vanished. What do you expect me to do?”

Kael tilted his head. “Survive. That would be a start.”

“That’s not enough,” she snapped. “I want answers. What exactly am I?”

His eyes flared. “You’re the soul who bears the Veil Flame—the only living link between the mortal and infernal realms. The mark is proof. It means you’re the chosen vessel. Your blood carries ancient power.”

Celeste’s breath hitched. “Why me?”

“Because your line was forged in both realms,” he said. “Part human… part infernal. You’re a key, Celeste. And everyone wants to turn it.”

He stepped closer, more serious now.

“The prophecy says if you choose love over power, the realms will remain separate. But if you’re turned—corrupted—someone can use you to tear open the veil and merge the realms.”

Celeste shook her head slowly. “And you? What do you want from me?”

Kael looked at her, expression unreadable.

“Redemption,” he said finally. “Or damnation. Depending on what you choose.”

Before she could respond, the sky darkened.

A crack ripped through the air like a scream. Shadows spilled from the trees in jagged bursts of smoke. Kael moved instantly, yanking Celeste behind him as a creature emerged—tall, winged, with eyes like ink and a body made of shadow-fire.

“You weren’t followed,” Kael growled. “They were waiting.”

The demon hissed, extending long claws. “She smells like fate. Let me taste her.”

Celeste’s fear surged, but something inside her flared hotter.

Kael summoned a black-bladed sword from the air, flame licking down its edge. “You won’t touch her.”

The demon lunged. Kael met it midair, their clash sending sparks through the clearing. Celeste stumbled back, heart racing.

Then the mark on her wrist flared like wildfire.

The light burst from her skin, blinding and hot. The demon shrieked, clawing at the air as its form melted into smoke. Kael landed hard, breathing heavily, his sword burning low.

He turned to her slowly.

“You awakened.”

Celeste stared at her hand. The mark was glowing golden now.

“What did I just do?”

“You used your blood,” Kael said. “Instinctively. That much power… you shouldn’t be able to do that yet.”

Celeste felt light-headed.

“I think I need to sit down.”

Kael caught her before she fell. His arms were strong, warm, and steady.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered.

---

Elsewhere, in the Infernal Court

A circle of cloaked figures stood in a temple made of bone and obsidian. At the center, a pool of black liquid shimmered. A vision flickered within: Celeste’s glowing mark, Kael’s arms around her.

“She awakens,” one rasped.

“She grows stronger,” said another.

A third figure—taller than the others, with long silver hair and eyes like lightning—stepped forward. “Then it’s time.”

He placed his hand into the pool.

“Bring her to me.”

---

Back at Celeste’s house

That night, Celeste sat on her bed, Kael leaning against the wall across from her, arms crossed. He’d followed her home to keep watch—just for the night, he insisted.

She didn’t argue.

“So… I’m a vessel of ancient power,” she said slowly, trying to process it all. “And the fate of both realms hangs on whether I fall in love with you or not?”

Kael smiled faintly. “That’s… one way to phrase it.”

Celeste rolled her eyes. “That’s insane.”

“Isn’t love always?”

She looked at him. “What happens if I choose no one?”

Kael grew quiet.

“The veil weakens on its own. And others—stronger, darker ones—will try to take you by force. This isn’t just about love, Celeste. It’s about will. If yours breaks… so does the world.”

She lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling.

“This is too much.”

Kael crossed the room and sat beside her. “I know.”

He reached out and gently touched her hand.

“But you’re not alone.”

Their fingers laced, and for the first time in days, the mark on her wrist went still.

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