The night stretched on, heavy and oppressive, the walls of the old woman's small room groaning under some unseen weight. The lantern Liam still held pulsed faintly, now more rhythmically, almost sentiently, as if it had absorbed the strange energy the Veil had seeded in their veins.
Alex's hands tingled. Every nerve seemed alive, buzzing with a sensation he couldn't describe. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and the shadows along the edges of the room seemed to twitch, responding to some unspoken command.
Tara's eyes widened. "I felt that too… like I can push the air, or… or the darkness. I don't know, it's not words…"
Liam, on the floor, shook his head. "I don't like this. I don't want this. I feel like something is… watching inside me now, not just outside."
Jordan leaned against the wall, pale. "I feel it too. But if it's all giving me powers, I don't want to test it. No way."
The old woman's voice came from the corner, low and careful. "Testing it is inevitable. The Veil will force you to use it. Better you learn on your own terms than under its hunger."
A sudden sound cut through the room—a scraping, wet and deliberate, from somewhere in the house above.
Alex froze. "It's him."
"No," the woman said sharply. "Not him yet. Something else. He sends it."
The ceiling above shuddered as a shadow detached from the eaves. It slid along the rafters with unnatural fluidity, long limbs folding and unfolding like black origami. Its head was too small for its body, featureless except for a faint, writhing glow in the center—like a pair of eyes struggling to form.
Jordan let out a strangled yell. "What the—holy shit! It's moving like… like it's made of the shadows themselves!"
Alex held up his hands instinctively. The strange energy coursing through him tingled violently, and to his astonishment, the shadows near his feet shifted in response, thickening slightly along the floorboards, forming a wall of darkness between them and the creature.
"Did you do that?" Tara asked, eyes wide.
"I—I don't know!" Alex whispered. "I think I did!"
The creature hissed, a sound like wet leaves dragged over broken glass. It dropped from the ceiling in a single fluid motion, landing on the floor with a soft, wet thud. Its limbs bent at impossible angles as it stalked toward them, every step leaving a faint smear of blackness on the wood planks.
Liam's voice trembled. "It's… it's going to get us!"
The old woman stood abruptly. "No! Use what you've been given! Don't wait for it to strike!"
Alex inhaled sharply. The energy in his veins flared. He extended a hand toward the approaching shadow, instinct guiding him. The air between them seemed to resist, then warp slightly, like a stone dropped into water. The creature stumbled back as if repelled by some invisible force.
"Do it again!" the old woman urged.
Tara stepped forward, hands outstretched. The shadows around her thickened, curling like serpents around the creature's feet. The blackness hissed at her, and for a terrifying instant, she felt the Veil's energy attempting to bite back, as if judging her worth.
"Focus," Alex said, voice steadier than he felt. "It's just… just a shape. Nothing more. Use the power."
The three of them—Alex, Tara, Liam—felt the pulse of the Veil surge stronger. It responded to their fear, their will, their desperation. They pushed outward, and the shadows recoiled against the creature like walls of steel.
The figure hissed again, its form flickering, unable to maintain cohesion. In a final, violent twitch, it shot upward toward the ceiling and dissolved into black mist, leaving behind a faint, lingering cold that crawled over their skin.
Jordan let out a long, shuddering breath. "Okay. That… that just happened. Did we… do that?"
"Yes," the old woman said. Her face was pale but proud, eyes gleaming with a rare intensity. "You are touched. The Veil listens and responds. But remember this: every action draws attention. Every display of power sends a signal. You are no longer merely surviving. You are… participating. And Lord Drakov knows."
Alex's hands were trembling from the exertion, his chest heaving. "That… thing wasn't him," he said cautiously. "But it's clear he can command monsters, shadows… whatever that was."
Tara shivered. "And now he knows we can fight back."
"Which makes you more dangerous. Which also makes you a target," the woman said. She knelt by the table and drew another symbol in the dust, faintly glowing blue. "If he comes tonight, you will have the power to resist him, briefly. Use it wisely. Do not mistake it for safety. It is only leverage."
Liam shook his head, nearly in disbelief. "I don't know if I can handle… whatever this is. It's like—like something's inside me, waiting."
Alex placed a hand on his shoulder. "We can handle it. Together. If the Veil is giving this to us, we have to use it."
Jordan groaned. "I… I don't like this 'Veil power' thing. I just want to live through the night without being eaten by shadow monsters or… or whatever that was."
The old woman's lips tightened into a thin line. "The Veil tests all who enter Direford. Some succumb. Some awaken. You—" she pointed to each of them in turn, her eyes piercing—"you have awakened. But it will ask questions of your mind, your soul, and your morality. Each answer… will have consequences."
Alex's jaw tightened. "Then we answer carefully. And we survive tonight."
A soft scratching returned at the window. The lantern flickered violently, responding to the Veil's energy in their veins. The pulse within them grew stronger, synchronized now with the faint rhythm of the lantern.
The old woman whispered, almost to herself: "And remember—power is a candle. Burn it too recklessly, and it consumes you faster than any shadow, any lord, any creature."
The group sank back onto the floor, breathing in unison. Their muscles tingled with the strange energy, their nerves buzzing with awareness. Each of them felt the shadows, the air, the very heartbeat of the village, almost like it had its own consciousness.
Alex's gaze hardened. "We've been given a gift," he said. "Maybe the Veil wants to test us. Maybe it wants to use us. But we're going to learn it. Control it. And when Drakov comes… we won't be the hunted. We'll be the ones who fight back."
Tara nodded, eyes glowing faintly in the dim lantern light. "We can't run forever. If we're meant to survive, we have to understand what we can do… and how to use it."
Liam swallowed hard. "And hope it's enough."
The old woman stood, moving to the window. The shadows outside were still, but a presence lingered—a faint, terrible awareness that pressed against the panes.
"Tonight," she whispered, "you learn to fight shadows… or become them. And remember—Direford does not forgive mistakes."
The lantern pulsed. The Veil throbbed in their veins. And somewhere beyond the walls, something stirred, waiting. Watching. Judging.
The first trial had come.
And the night had only just begun.