Eyes in the Veil

Jeames stood at the edge of the ancient forest known as the Northern Veil, its towering trees casting long shadows in the early morning light. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth. He took a deep breath, steadying himself for the day’s work. Despite the tranquillity of the forest, he could feel an undercurrent of unease—a sensation he had learned not to ignore.

The Northern Veil was Jeames’ domain, a place where few dared to tread without good reason. Its reputation for being mysterious and occasionally dangerous was well-deserved. Still, he felt at home among the whispering leaves and hidden paths. Jeames had always found solace in its wild beauty, but now it seemed to hum with a tension that set his nerves on edge. There had been rumours of strange happenings in the region—whispers of dark figures seen slipping through the shadows and the sense that something ancient and malevolent was stirring beneath the earth.

“Strange times indeed,” Jeames muttered under his breath, shaking off the passings of his overactive imagination.

Jeames turned back to his camp, a small, efficient setup nestled beneath the protective branches of a towering oak. A fire crackled softly in the center, its warmth pushing back the morning chill. He poured himself a cup of steaming tea from a battered kettle, savouring the bitter taste as it cleared the fog of sleep from his mind.

He was not alone in the north. Other Wardens patrolled nearby territories, though they rarely crossed paths. The Wardens were a solitary order by nature, each responsible for maintaining the peace in their assigned regions. Jeames had long ago grown accustomed to the solitude. Still, today, in particular, he found himself inexplicably wishing for some company. His mind wandered to Emmaline, wondering if she had received his message and how soon she might arrive. Jeames felt a bit guilty over sending her back south, but he needed to know what she was capable of. She was young and untested, but he had seen a spark of determination in her eyes, a resilience that reminded him of his own early days as a Warden. She would need that strength for the trials ahead.

The message he had sent her had been brief but urgent. He needed her assistance here in the north, where the land itself seemed to be calling for aid. There was something amiss, something that continued to elude him, and he hoped that Emmaline’s fresh perspective might help illuminate the path forward.

As he prepared to break camp, a movement in the underbrush caught his eye. Jeames froze, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. A moment later, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, lean man with sharp features and piercing blue eyes.

“Jeames,” the man chuckled, inclining his head in greeting. “I see you’re as vigilant as ever.”

“Loric,” Jeames sighed, relaxing his grip on the sword. “I didn’t expect to see you this far north.”

Loric was a fellow Warden, one of the few Jeames considered a friend. His territory lay to the east, an old sprawling forest known for its treacherous terrain and elusive inhabitants.

“I heard rumours of trouble out this way,” Loric said smugly, settling himself by the fire. “Thought I’d lend a hand if needed.”

Jeames nodded, grateful for the offer. “There’s something strange afoot, that much is certain. I sent for Emmaline, hoping she might spot something I’ve missed.”

Loric raised an eyebrow. “One of the new recruits? You’ve got more faith in her than I would.”

“She’s got potential, I’m told,” Jeames replied, his voice firm. “She might surprise you.”

Loric pulled some dried meat out from a worn leather pouch on his belt, tearing a strip with a sudden tug of his stained teeth. He hesitated before offering some to Jeames, his arm extended with the thin, mangled remains of the piece he was currently giving his attention to. Jeames shook his head and took another sip of his tea. They sat silently for a while, the crackling of the fire and the distant calls of birds the only sounds in the clearing. As the sun climbed higher, Jeames laid out his plan.

“We’ll start by patrolling the eastern edge of the forest,” he said, breaking the quiet and tracing a line in the dirt with a stick. The locals have reported strange lights and sounds coming from that direction. If there’s anything to be found, it will probably be there.”

Loric nodded in agreement, and together, they packed their gear, dousing the fire before setting off into the forest. As they moved through the trees, Jeames felt the familiar rhythm of the wilderness envelop him, the sounds and scents of the forest sharpening his senses.

They travelled in silence, the only communication a series of hand signals honed over years of practice. It was a language of efficiency, born of necessity in the wilds of Avoriel.

Hours passed, the sun climbing high above the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Jeames felt a growing unease in the pit of his stomach, a sense that they were being watched. He exchanged a glance with Loric, who nodded imperceptibly—he felt it, too.

The sensation grew stronger as they approached a clearing, the air thick with anticipation. Jeames signalled for Loric to halt, crouching low to the ground as he surveyed the area.

It was then that he saw it—a faint shimmer in the air, like heat rising from the earth. It hovered above the center of the clearing, pulsating with a strange, otherworldly energy.

“What in the name of the Sisters is that?” Loric whispered, his voice barely audible.

Jeames shook his head, his mind racing. He had never seen anything like it, and its presence filled him with a sense of foreboding.

“We need to get closer,” Jeames said, determination steeling his voice. “Whatever it is, I’m willing to bet it’s at the heart of whatever’s happening here.”

With that, they moved forward, every sense alert for danger. The forest held its breath around them, the air charged with the promise of revelation—or peril.