The fog clung thicker than ever, curling around the broken houses and the narrow streets of Direford. The Veil's pulse in their veins was stronger now, insistent, like a heartbeat they couldn't ignore. Shadows seemed alive, reaching, curling around their ankles, brushing against them in ways that made their skin crawl.
Tara tightened her grip on the Veil-touched villager they had saved, who clung to her arm, trembling and muttering incoherent warnings. Alex led the group cautiously, his eyes scanning every shattered window and crooked roof.
"Everyone… alive?" he whispered.
"For now," Liam muttered, his voice tight. "But for how long?"
Jordan scoffed nervously. "Oh, come on. We survived the shadows, the forest, and now a zombie with bad eyesight. What else could possibly happen?"
A sudden scream cut through the air, high-pitched and jagged, tearing through the mist like a serrated blade. The Veil-pulse in Alex's chest flared violently, and the lantern in Liam's hands flickered uncontrollably.
"Not joking, not joking, not joking—" Jordan whispered, gripping the lantern.
Alex didn't answer. His steps quickened toward the sound. The scream had come from the far end of the village, near a row of houses that leaned precariously over the cracked cobblestone street.
They arrived at the first scene to see a pair of villagers. Both were middle-aged, their skin pale and drawn tight, veins crawling like black ivy across their limbs. Their bodies had twisted in impossible angles, limbs folded over themselves at grotesque intersections. One man's arm bent backward at the elbow until it pressed against his spine. His legs had collapsed under him in a spastic heap, yet he was still upright, eyes wide, glassy with terror.
The second villager—an older woman—had collapsed completely. Her knees and elbows were bent at impossible angles, her spine kinked like a broken spring. She lay twisted on the ground, gasping for air, but each breath seemed to contort her further, her joints locking painfully.
Tara staggered back. "Oh… God…"
Liam gagged. "This… this isn't natural."
Jordan pressed a hand to his mouth. "That's… that's not even living anymore!"
Alex's pulse quickened—not from fear, but from the Veil's whispering. You are next. You see the price. You see the cost.
The surviving villagers cowered in their homes, peeking through cracked shutters. The twisted forms on the ground writhed slightly, as though the Veil was still feeding on their terror.
One of the villagers, a boy no older than fourteen, stumbled from a doorway, clutching his chest. He collapsed mid-step, his knees twisting beneath him, his torso folding unnaturally as if gravity had lost all meaning. His face was pale, eyes wide with pure panic. He cried out once, a sound that cut through Alex's chest, and then went still. The lantern flared briefly in Liam's hands as if reacting to the sudden death.
"Stop it…" Tara whispered, voice trembling. She looked at Alex. "We can't save them all. We can't."
Alex swallowed hard. "We have to focus. If we can't stop the Veil from taking them… we at least need to survive it ourselves."
Another scream echoed, this one coming from the toppled bell tower. Shadows streamed from the cracks in the wooden beams, taking form around the edges like the first creature they had fought. Limbs elongated and bent at unnatural angles, clawing at the sky and the walls, some limbs splitting into smaller, writhing appendages.
The group froze for a heartbeat before moving toward it. They knew instinctively that staying put meant death.
As they approached, the Veil-touched villagers were caught mid-transformation, bodies folding into themselves as if some invisible force was rewriting the rules of flesh. Limbs bent backward, torsos compressed, joints popped in unnatural sounds, and eyes bulged with horror. One man collapsed entirely, the weight of his twisted limbs forcing his head to strike the cobblestones with a sickening crack.
Tara turned her eyes away, but Alex forced himself to look. His chest burned with energy—the Veil's pulse urging him to act. "We have to—push them back, push the shadows—now!"
The three of them—Alex, Tara, and Liam—felt the Veil surge through their veins, raw and insistent. Shadows rose at their command, forming barriers between themselves and the twisting, grotesque villagers. The creatures screamed, both in agony and in hatred, as the Veil's energy pushed against their bodies.
But not all could be saved. One woman's body folded entirely in on itself mid-struggle. Her spine collapsed, vertebrae grinding audibly. Her legs twisted underneath her, toes scraping the stones as she gasped once, shivering violently, then lay still.
Jordan vomited onto the ground, unable to bear the sight. "That… that's not even… human. That's…"
The surviving villagers fled into the nearest houses, banging doors shut behind them. The group stood, panting, Veil energy thrumming violently through their veins, and realized the brutal truth: Direford demanded a price for every life.
Alex's hand clenched the lantern. "This is what the Veil is showing us. The power—it comes with a cost. Every life it touches… it can take. Every choice matters."
Tara shivered. "Do we… do we keep moving? Or do we try to help them?"
"Both," Alex said firmly. "But cautiously. We use the Veil to shield ourselves. We can't save them all, but we can survive to fight another day—and maybe save the next."
Liam's hands shook as he lifted the lantern. Its glow pulsed, almost encouragingly. "It's… giving me strength. But I don't like it. I don't like how strong it makes me feel while they—" He swallowed. "While they die."
Jordan rubbed his face, muttering curses under his breath. "This village… this night… it's… holy hell. I don't know if I can deal with more of this."
Alex's jaw tightened. "You don't have a choice. The Veil is awake in us. Drakov knows we're here. And if we don't master it, we become what's left behind in the fog."
Tara nodded slowly, gripping the Veil-touched villager tightly. "Then we move forward. And we fight. Whatever comes next, we fight."
The fog swirled thicker as they stepped toward the bell tower. Shadows twisted in the distance, feeding on the screams and the death of the villagers. But now, the party could feel something new—a power welling up, raw and untested.
It was frightening. It was exhilarating. And it was just the beginning.
Somewhere in the twisted heart of Direford, the faint, deliberate footsteps of Lord Drakov echoed.
And the village hungered for them still.