The village of Thorn Hollow had always been a place of quiet unease. Nestled between jagged mountains and a forest so dense the sunlight barely kissed the ground, its people lived by two rules: never wander beyond the old stone wall at dusk, and never speak of the things that lurked in the woods.
Elara Veyne broke both rules regularly.
At seventeen, she'd long since grown accustomed to the villagers' sidelong glances. Her mother had vanished into the woods when she was six, and ever since, the townsfolk treated her like a ghost—half-seen, half-feared. They blamed her mother's "unnatural" curiosity for the tragedy, and by extension, blamed Elara for the strange occurrences that followed. Crops withered the week she turned twelve. A well ran dry the day she cut her hand on a rusted scythe. Coincidences, Elara told herself, though the whispers of witch clung to her like fog.
But tonight, the forest called to her in a way she couldn't ignore.
It began with a sound—a low, resonant hum that vibrated in her bones. She'd heard it before, faintly, when gathering herbs near the wall. But this time, it pulsed with urgency, as if the trees themselves were pleading. Elara stood at the edge of her garden, her fingers curling around the iron pendant her mother had left behind—a twisted, thorn-like thing that always felt warm against her skin.
"You're not really going out there, are you?"
She turned to find Kael leaning against her cottage doorframe, his arms crossed. At nineteen, he was the closest thing she had to a friend, though "reluctant accomplice" was more accurate. His father was the village blacksmith, a man who'd sooner toss Elara into the woods than let his son near her. But Kael had a habit of showing up when she least expected it, usually with a loaf of stolen bread or a sarcastic remark.
"You know the rules," he said, nodding at the satchel slung over her shoulder.
Elara adjusted the strap. "Rules are for people who want to die bored."
"Or people who want to live past twenty." He stepped closer, his hazel eyes narrowing. "You've been hearing it again, haven't you? The… noise."
She hesitated. Kael was the only one she'd ever told about the hum, though she'd regretted it immediately. His face had gone pale, and he'd muttered something about "old stories" before changing the subject. Now, though, his jaw tightened.
"It's not just a noise," she said quietly. "It's like… a song. And it's getting louder."
Before he could argue, she slipped past him into the twilight.
---
The forest swallowed her whole.
Elara moved quickly, her boots crunching over brittle leaves. The hum grew clearer now, threading through the trees in shimmering notes. She followed it deeper, her pendant glowing faintly—a soft, amber light that made the shadows recoil. Her mother's journal had mentioned this: "The Thorn Pendant reacts to the Veil. Where the boundary thins, it will guide you."
The Veil. The word sent a shiver down her spine. According to the journal, it was a barrier between worlds, a fragile membrane that kept darker things at bay. Her mother had spent years studying it, convinced the Veil was fraying at Thorn Hollow. The villagers had called her mad. Then she'd disappeared.
Elara's breath hitched as the trees abruptly parted, revealing a clearing bathed in silver moonlight. At its center stood a stone altar, cracked and moss-covered. The hum crescendoed here, vibrating in her teeth.
And then she saw it—a shadow, pooling like ink at the base of the altar. It writhed, tendrils snaking upward to form a shape: a wolf, but wrong. Its eyes burned crimson, and its fur seemed to ripple as though made of smoke.
Shadowfang. The name surfaced from her mother's notes. Creatures born of the Veil's corruption, drawn to fear.
Elara froze. The creature's gaze locked onto her, and it let out a growl that shook the earth. She stumbled back, fumbling for the dagger at her belt—a gift from Kael, though he'd never admit it.
"Stay back!" she shouted, her voice trembling.
The Shadowfang lunged.
Elara swung the dagger, but the blade passed through the creature as if slicing water. Its claws raked her arm, hot pain searing her skin. She cried out, falling against the altar as the beast reared for another strike—
—and then the pendant flared.
A burst of golden light erupted from the thorn, scorching the air. The Shadowfang howled, its form dissolving into ash. Elara gasped, clutching the pendant as the light faded. Her arm throbbed, blood soaking her sleeve, but the wound… smoked. Thin tendrils of black crept up her veins.
No. No, no, no—
Her mother's warning echoed in her mind: "The Veins corruption is poison. If it takes root... "
Elara didn't let herself finish the thought. She ran.
---
The village was in chaos when she returned.
Torches flickered in the square, voices overlapping in panic. Elara pushed through the crowd, her injured arm tucked tightly against her side. She spotted Old Marl, the village elder, standing atop the well, his face ashen.
"Another child's gone missing!" he barked. "Lira's boy—vanished from his bed. This is the third this month!"
A murmur of fear rippled through the crowd. Elara's stomach dropped. Missing children. Shadowfangs. The Veil. It couldn't be a coincidence.
"It's her!"
The voice cut through the noise like a knife. Mrs. Harlow, the butcher's wife, pointed a shaking finger at Elara. "She was out there again—I saw her sneaking past the wall! First her mother, now this… She's cursed us all!"
The crowd turned on her like wolves. Elara backed away, but hands seized her arms, yanking her forward. Kael shoved through, shouting for them to stop, but his voice was drowned out.
"Look at her arm!" Mrs. Harlow screeched.
Elara's sleeve had slipped, revealing the blackened veins. The villagers recoiled. "Witch!" someone spat. "She's marked by the Dark!"
Old Marl descended from the well, his gaze icy. "You've brought this upon us, girl. Just like your mother."
"I didn't—" Elara's voice broke. "There's something in the woods—creatures. They're taking the children! If we don't—"
"Enough!" Marl snapped. "You'll be confined until we decide your fate. And if the boy isn't found by dawn…" He didn't need to finish. The threat hung in the air, sharp as a blade.
---
They locked her in the smokehouse, a windowless shack that reeked of salt and ash. Elara slumped against the wall, pressing her wounded arm to her chest. The corruption had spread to her shoulder, the pain a constant, gnawing fire.
"If it takes root, it will consume you."
She fumbled for her mother's journal, hidden in her satchel. The pages were filled with sketches of Veil-spirits, wards, and a map of the forest marked with a single X: " Where the Veil was sealed." Her mother's last entry was a frantic scrawl: "They're coming through. I have to mend it. Forgive me, Elara."
A soft knock startled her. The door creaked open, revealing Kael, a lantern in hand.
"You're an idiot," he muttered, slipping inside.
Elara blinked. "How did you—?"
"Picked the lock. My dad's a blacksmith—you think I don't know how to handle a rusty bolt?" He knelt beside her, grimacing at her arm. "That's… bad."
"You should go. If they catch you—"
"They're talking about burning the smokehouse at dawn," he said quietly. "With you in it."
Elara's breath caught. "Then let them. If I'm gone, maybe the curse—"
"Stop." Kael's voice hardened. "This isn't your fault. Those creatures… I've heard stories. My grandfather used to say the Veil was thinning. He said only a Veyne could mend it."
Elara stared at him. "What?"
"Your mother wasn't just studying the Veil—she was guarding it. The villagers didn't want to believe her, but… I think she was right." He pulled a folded paper from his pocket—a sketch of the Thorn Pendant, identical to hers. "Found this in my dad's old things. He was there the night she disappeared. He never talked about it, but… I think she went into the woods to fix whatever's broken."
Elara's mind raced. The map. The altar. The Shadowfang. If her mother had tried to repair the Veil, maybe she'd left clues—or worse, maybe she'd failed.
"I have to go back," Elara said suddenly. "If the Veil's breaking, those children… they might still be alive. Trapped between worlds."
Kael swore under his breath. "You'll die out there."
"I'll die in here either way." She stood, swaying slightly. "Help me or don't. But I'm going."
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he grabbed the lantern. "You're the worst."
---
They fled the village under a moonless sky, the forest looming ahead like a living thing. Elara's arm burned, but the pendant's warmth steadied her. Somewhere in these woods was the answer—a way to heal the Veil, to find her mother, to stop the shadows swallowing Thorn Hollow.
As they crossed the stone wall, Kael glanced back. "You sure about this?"
Elara tightened her grip on the dagger. "No."
And with that, they stepped into the dark.
---
END OF CHAPTER 1
Next: Elara and Kael venture deeper into the woods, where they uncover a forgotten temple and a haunting truth about the Veil—and the price of mending it.