Beyond the Veil

Have you ever found yourself sleepwalking through life, only to be jolted awake by something you can't quite explain? That's kind of what happened to me. One minute, I'm trying to avoid bear traps in the woods—the literal ones my parents set up, not metaphoric traps—and the next, I'm chasing cryptic dreams at the edge of our village, right against what's known as the Veil. I'm Brynn, and I used to think all the stories about the Veil were just that—stories. Our little village, cradled in the arms of two mountains and tucked close to that mysterious, shimmering barrier, is pretty much as off-the-grid as it gets. There isn't much to do except eavesdrop (not by choice; the walls are thin) on rumors about how my family wrangled the short straw in terms of curses. Thing is, I’ve been having these bizarre dreams about being someone I don’t know—a girl, someone similar to me, but not quite. I also saw flickers of vibrant lights dancing like fireflies just beyond reach. Waking up, I would've shrugged them off, except the morning after, I noticed I had a weird imprint on the palm of my hand. Kinda like someone tagged me with invisible ink. Of course, my parents weren't keen to chat. They just muttered something about "heritage" and "danger," which only led me to press more (maybe I'm stubborn, or maybe that teenage curiosity thing has a grip on me). So, one eve, when the world was livelier under moonlight and the woods whispered sweet nothings, there I was, on the village's boundary, curious even when all caution lamps blared red. As it turns out, walking into the Veil doesn't pulverize you like the village elders claim. It's like stepping from one life into another, and yet your feet haven't moved an inch. Colors intensify—vivid enough to make you gulp—and sound suddenly crashes over you like waves, a symphony of distant stories and laughter, along with this odd pin-prickling sensation crawling up my arms. That's where I met Thorne. Dodging a cluster of midnight blooms, I tumbled directly into him. Imagine a guy far too handsome for his own good, carrying an air of confident dishevelment, if that makes sense? He didn’t shush me or frown; he laughed—a hearty, resonant sound that seemed at odds with his sleek, enigmatic presence. "Welcome to the Mara," he said. "Heard you've been dreaming." Thorne was real, as was his tale. He spoke of the Mara, the realm beyond the Veil, throbbing with ancient magic and a deep-seated history woven into every fiber of their existence. And then came the doozy: I was part of it. Apparently, the girl I dreamed of was me—another version, numbed by fear and fragmented by a long-forgotten curse, and I held more sway here. I kinda laughed—mostly instinctive disbelief. But who was I kidding? I'd seen ordinary turn extraordinary and had felt the pulse of blood that acted as a thread between two worlds. With fragments of my story in hand, Thorne nudged me into Mara life. Sure, I slipped on mossy stones, and reluctantly shuffled through Moonbeam portals, unraveling puzzles that were more riddles than solutions. Only later to learn, truths had layers like onions. I admit, it all felt absurd, like I was some scraggly teenager from central nowhere who'd just found the last golden ticket. My journey was no-smooth sailing rollercoaster; it tested strength and unravelled vulnerabilities as I confronted family secrets glistening darker than anticipated, hurt from unspoken fears rumbling through friendships, and rich ties between Scrugg and glow-ray starlit alliances from ancients of mara-kind unforgotten. Still, the stakes? Real. Very real. Now, turns out, I hold potential over the power struggle due to this lineage hiccup. You guessed it, the one I inherit through a fragmented fate thread. Thorne assured there was a path, alongside our intertwined camaraderie bruised over fails and triumphs. On returning to daylight village, I stood both sides of the Veil, gaze and heart acting echo chamber, filled with the promise to mend hidden connects of fate breaking and bonds between realms mending. Thorne, too, could never completely go, shimmering a showman as shadow winking yet loyal guarding ally. What lies ahead? Unknown landscapes. Frankly, just a taste, and I'm willing to figure it out. Because when life throws you into swirling colors, you might find your footing craves exploration—a beautiful, tangled expedition that, against misperception, beautifully promises everything unthought before.