The night was thick with silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves outside Elias’s shed. The journal lay open on the table, the faint scrawl of Abel Carter’s warnings staring back at him. The medallion rested beside it, a sinister token that seemed to hum with an energy all its own.


    Elias sat hunched over the table, his head cradled in his hands. The weight of the Black Veil’s presence was suffocating, pressing down on him like the stillness before a storm. Abel’s death, the cryptic warnings, the priest’s grim caution—it was all converging into a dark and unavoidable truth.


    He was being watched.


    The sensation had grown stronger since his encounter with Jonas at the tavern. Eyes in the shadows. Footsteps that ceased the moment he turned to look. Even now, the hair on the back of his neck prickled, his instincts screaming at him that he wasn’t alone.


    Elias’s gaze shifted to the oil lamp on the table. Its dim light flickered, casting long, dancing shadows against the walls. His hand moved instinctively toward the spade leaning against the wall, his only means of defense in a confrontation.


    The knock came suddenly, sharp and deliberate, shattering the fragile silence.


    Elias froze, his breath caught in his throat. He stared at the door, his fingers tightening around the spade.


    Another knock, louder this time.


    “Who’s there?” he called, his voice steadier than he felt.


    No answer.


    He stood slowly, the spade in hand, and approached the door. The knock came again, insistent and unnervingly calm. Elias reached for the handle, hesitating before pulling the door open in one swift motion.


    No one was there.


    The night stretched out before him, cold and empty. The mist clung to the ground, swirling in eerie patterns. Elias stepped outside cautiously, scanning the surrounding cemetery. The graves lay undisturbed, their stone markers silent and solemn witnesses to his unease.


    And then he saw it.


    A figure in the distance, cloaked and motionless, standing at the edge of the cemetery near the wrought-iron gates.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Elias’s heart pounded as he gripped the spade tighter. “Who are you?” he shouted, his voice cutting through the still air.


    The figure didn’t move.


    Elias took a step forward, his resolve hardening. “I won’t ask again!”


    Still, no response.


    With each step, the figure loomed larger, its presence an unspoken challenge. Elias’s breath fogged in the chill air as he closed the distance. When he was only a few feet away, the figure finally spoke, its voice low and hollow, as if dragged from the depths of the earth.


    “You were warned.”


    Elias tightened his grip on the spade. “I’m not afraid of you. If you’re here to threaten me, you’ll have to do better than cryptic words.”


    The figure tilted its head, the shadows of its hood obscuring its face. “Defiance will not save you. The Veil sees all, gravedigger. You tread a path from which there is no return.”


    “What do you want?” Elias demanded.


    “To protect you from yourself,” the figure replied. “But you are determined to fall.”


    Before Elias could respond, the figure raised a hand, and a sudden gust of wind extinguished the oil lamp back in the shed. The cemetery plunged into darkness.


    Elias swung the spade in a wide arc, but the figure was gone. The mist closed in around him, and the cold seemed to seep into his very bones.


    Back in the shed, Elias bolted the door and lit the lamp again, his hands shaking. The medallion seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, as though mocking his attempt at safety.


    The journal called to him, its brittle pages whispering of answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to find. He flipped through them again, desperate for something—anything—that might give him an edge.


    His eyes landed on a new passage, one he hadn’t noticed before:


    “When the Veil closes, all light is snuffed out. Trust no one, not even yourself. The shadows carry their whispers, and their whispers carry lies.”


    A chill ran down his spine. Had the words been there before, or was his paranoia playing tricks on him?


    Elias slammed the journal shut, his frustration boiling over. Every step forward seemed to push him deeper into a labyrinth of secrets and danger. The Veil was everywhere, its reach extending far beyond what he could comprehend.


    And yet, he couldn’t stop.


    As dawn approached, Elias found himself drawn to Abel’s grave once more. The fresh mound of dirt was still there, undisturbed since the previous night. He knelt beside it, tracing the name etched into the weathered stone.


    “Abel,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “What did you die for?”


    The silence was deafening, but Elias felt a strange sense of presence, as though Abel’s spirit lingered, watching and waiting. He pulled the medallion from his pocket, holding it up to the pale light of dawn.


    It was a tether, Abel had said. But a tether to what? To the Veil? To the truth?


    Elias clenched his fist around the medallion, his jaw tightening. “I’m not stopping,” he said aloud, his voice firm despite the fear clawing at him. “Whatever you found, whatever they’re hiding, I’ll uncover it. I owe you that much.”


    The morning mist seemed to shift around him, almost as if in response. Elias rose to his feet, his determination solidified.


    The Black Veil had taken Abel Carter’s life. They had silenced him, buried his secrets, and tried to scare Elias into submission.


    But Elias Thorn wasn’t one to scare easily.