Elias spent the next morning pacing the confines of his shed, the medallion resting heavily in his palm. The light filtering through the fogged windows did little to dispel the oppressive weight pressing down on him. Abel’s words from his dream echoed in his ears: The truth has a price.
The medallion was more than just a symbol. It was a key, a threat, and perhaps even a warning.
By midday, the decision was made. He needed answers, and he couldn’t find them here. The Black Veil was more than whispers in dusty records it was a living, breathing threat woven into the town’s fabric. If he wanted to survive, he had to understand their reach.
He left the cemetery behind, the medallion hidden in his coat pocket. His destination was clear: the church.
The church stood at the heart of Hollowshade, its ancient stone walls weathered by centuries of rain and wind. Its spire pierced the grey sky, casting a long shadow over the cobbled streets below.
Father Bennett greeted Elias with a mixture of curiosity and caution, his hands clasped behind his back. The old priest was a fixture in the town, known for his strict adherence to tradition and his sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
“Elias Thorn,” Bennett said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “It’s not often I see you here.”
Elias nodded, his steps hesitant as he entered the dimly lit nave. Candles flickered along the walls, their light casting wavering shadows across the worn pews.
“I need your help,” Elias said, his voice low.
Father Bennett raised an eyebrow but gestured for Elias to follow. They moved to a small study at the back of the church, the walls lined with shelves of aging tomes. The air smelled of ink and dust.
“Speak,” Bennett said, closing the door behind them.
Elias pulled the medallion from his pocket, placing it on the desk between them. “Do you recognize this?”
The priest’s face darkened immediately. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes darted to Elias, suspicion and alarm flickering across his features.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Where did you get this?” Bennett demanded.
“It was left by Abel Carter’s grave,” Elias replied, his tone steady despite the unease gnawing at him. “I think it’s connected to something bigger. Something dangerous.”
Father Bennett’s hand hovered over the medallion, but he didn’t touch it. Instead, he sighed heavily, sinking into the chair behind the desk.
“This is the mark of the Black Veil,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “An order shrouded in secrecy, their origins older than this town itself. They operate in the shadows, pulling strings where no one can see. Their influence is subtle but absolute.”
Elias leaned forward, his pulse quickening. “What do they want?”
Father Bennett shook his head. “Power. Control. The Veil is a web, Elias, and once you’re caught, there’s no escape. If they’ve taken notice of you, then you’re already in danger.”
Elias’s jaw tightened. “What about Abel? He left clues—secrets they didn’t want anyone to find. I need to know what he uncovered.”
Bennett hesitated, his gaze heavy with warning. “Some truths are better left buried, my son. The Black Veil is not an enemy you can fight. They are everywhere and nowhere, their members hidden among us.”
“Then why leave this?” Elias asked, pointing to the medallion.
“It’s a warning,” Bennett replied grimly. “They’re watching you.”
The priest’s words lingered in Elias’s mind as he left the church, the medallion once again hidden in his pocket. The cold air bit at his skin, and the streets seemed emptier than usual, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on him.
Elias’s next stop was the tavern. If the Black Veil was as pervasive as Father Bennett claimed, then someone there would know more intentionally or not.
The dimly lit room was filled with murmured conversations and the clink of glasses. Jonas was at his usual spot near the bar, nursing a drink and muttering to himself. Elias approached cautiously, sliding into the seat across from him.
“Jonas,” Elias said, his voice low.
The fisherman looked up, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve got some nerve, gravedigger.”
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Elias replied, though his tone carried an edge. “I need to know what you know about the Black Veil.”
Jonas froze, his knuckles whitening around his glass. He glanced around the room, then leaned in, his voice barely audible.
“Why are you asking about them?”
“Because they killed Abel,” Elias said bluntly.
Jonas’s gaze darted to the shadows, his unease palpable. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “If they hear you…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“Tell me what you know,” Elias pressed.
Jonas hesitated, then sighed. “They’re not just a rumor. They’re real, and they don’t take kindly to people poking around in their business. Abel was warned, same as you’ll be. He didn’t listen, and now he’s dead.”
“Warned how?”
Jonas tapped his chest. “Same as you. They mark you with that cursed medallion, then they watch. They wait for you to step out of line.”
Elias’s mind raced. If Jonas was telling the truth, then the medallion was both a threat and a promise.
“What happens if I don’t back down?” Elias asked, though he already suspected the answer.
Jonas stared at him, his expression grim. “You end up in the river. Or worse.”
That night, Elias sat in his shed, the journal open before him and the medallion resting beside it. His mind churned with the pieces of a puzzle too large to comprehend.
The Black Veil wasn’t just a shadowy conspiracy it was a force embedded in the town’s very foundation. Abel had uncovered something, but he hadn’t lived long enough to reveal it. Now, it was up to Elias to finish what Abel started.
The medallion gleamed in the lamplight, its intricate design a silent challenge. Elias clenched his fists, determination hardening his resolve.
If the Black Veil wanted him to be afraid, they’d underestimated him.
“Come for me,” he muttered, his voice cold as the grave. “I’m not running.”