All Chapters of THE VEIL PROTOCOL: Chapter 1
- Chapter 10
25 chapters
The Quiet Sky
The wind across the Sky Archipelago always carried the bitter chill of the upper atmosphere, but today it felt like ice against the skin. Eilan Voss adjusted the heavy leather straps digging into his shoulders, his boots slipping slightly on the slick surface of the crystal bridge. Below him, there was nothing but an endless expanse of thick, churning white fog that hid the burned valleys and the dark oceans of Orthos far beneath. He was a long way from the ground, suspended in the cold, thin air of the floating islands, and his muscles were screaming in protest. Every breath he took was a struggle against the thin air, and the cold bit through his thick woolen coat as if it were made of paper.He paused to wipe the sweat and condensation from his forehead, leaving a streak of grime across his pale skin. Around him, the massive, jagged chunks of aether-scrap floated in the tethered nets, swaying gently with the movement of the islands. This was the life of a Nebul Sweeper. They cleane
What Came Down
Kaelen’s hands were shaking so violently that he dropped the aether-comm device twice before he could finally press the activation rune. The small brass instrument sparked weakly, emitting a pathetic hiss of static before dying completely. The old sweeper cursed, slapping the device against his palm, but the warped aether radiating from the crater below had completely jammed the frequency. The Vanguard Corps was not coming. Not today. Not yet. Eilan stood at the edge of the crystal bridge, his eyes locked on the pale, writhing ribbon of spores drifting upward through the fog. His mind raced through a dozen different scenarios, all of them ending in the slaughter of everyone he knew. The village of Nebul was only a few miles away, its ventilation shafts drawing in the upper atmosphere air to keep the subterranean habitats breathable. If that swarm reached the intake valves, the parasites would flood the village. The Vanguard would arrive eventually, but they would arrive to find nothi
The Second Heartbeat
Consciousness returned not as a gentle awakening, but as a violent collision with pain. Eilan Voss gasped, his eyes snapping open to the harsh, flickering glare of a single lumen-globe suspended from the low ceiling. The air in the room was thick with the sharp, chemical stench of iodine, crushed aether-root, and the metallic tang of dried blood. He tried to sit up, but a wave of profound nausea forced him back down onto the cold, steel examination table. His head throbbed with a rhythmic, blinding agony, and his right arm felt as though it had been submerged in a vat of boiling acid and then flash-frozen in the upper atmosphere.He was in the back room of the Nebul Sweepers workshop, the makeshift medical bay they used when someone broke a bone or caught a bad case of aether-lung. The walls were lined with rusted tools, jars of salves, and stacks of canvas bandages. It was a far cry from the pristine, white-walled medical centers of the Vanguard Corps, the place he had dreamed of wak
Veltis
The words hung in the cold air of the workshop, echoing not in the physical space of the room but inside the hollow, echoing cavity behind Eilan's eyes. He remained on his knees on the hard stone floor, his chest heaving as he stared down at his right arm. The bandages were still damp, the pale yellowish fluid seeping through the thick cloth, but the arm was perfectly still now. The second heartbeat continued its slow, mocking rhythm, a heavy thump and squirm that vibrated up into his shoulder. Eilan swallowed hard, his throat dry and tasting of copper and fear. He asked the voice what it was, his own voice sounding small and pathetic in the dim light. The response came immediately, flat and devoid of any inflection or warmth. It said its designation was Veltis, a term that translated roughly to the Living Sheath. It explained its primary and only directive with chilling, mathematical precision. It existed to preserve its own life, and because its biological functions were now inextri
Hiding the Hand
Eilan stood in front of the cracked mirror in the small, damp washroom of the Nebul Sweepers barracks. The morning light from the golden sun was just beginning to filter through the narrow window, casting long, pale shadows across the stone floor. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark, bruised circles, and his skin had a sickly, ashen pallor. But it was his right arm that drew his horrified gaze. The bandages Kaelen had applied were still in place, but beneath the thick white cloth, a faint, rhythmic pulsing was visible. A sickly red shimmer, like the glow of corrupted aether, throbbed in time with the second heartbeat in his palm. He could feel Veltis shifting beneath the dressings, a cold, sliding sensation that made his stomach turn. The voice in his head remained silent, a cold, calculating presence waiting for his next move. Eilan knew he could not stay hidden in the basement forever. If he missed his shift, the foreman would send someone to check on him
First Blood
The massive Warped lunged forward, its nine foot frame closing the distance in a single, terrifying bound. The rusted metal grating of Platform Seven groaned and buckled under the immense weight of the creature as it landed. The flickering lumen globe above cast erratic, dancing shadows across the monster's pale, translucent flesh. Eilan scrambled backward, his boots slipping on the slick, fog dampened steel. He raised his left hand, gripping the heavy iron pry bar with both hands, his knuckles white with sheer terror. The creature's sensory tendrils whipped through the air, tasting his fear, tracking his frantic movements. It let out a deafening, metallic shriek that vibrated in his teeth and sent a spike of pure agony through his skull. The sound was not just loud, it was a physical force that pressed against his chest, making it hard to breathe. The cold wind of the upper atmosphere howled around them, but it was entirely drowned out by the monstrous noise of the predator.Eilan sw
The Village That Was
Eilan stared at the monstrous appendage that had replaced his right hand. The jagged bone blade pulsed with a faint, sickly red light, dripping the yellowish blood of the Warped onto the rusted metal grating of the platform. The voice of Veltis echoed in his mind, calm and rational, instructing him on how to retract the biological weapon. Eilan focused on the command, feeling the alien muscles in his forearm shift and contract. The bone blade dissolved, the chitinous armor receding beneath his skin, until his hand was once again a normal, albeit pale and scarred, human hand. He quickly wrapped his right arm in the torn remnants of his leather glove, binding it tightly with a strip of cloth he ripped from his jacket. He could not stay on Platform Seven. The fight had been loud, and the upper atmosphere was no longer silent. Distant, echoing shrieks carried on the wind, the unmistakable sound of a full swarm on the move. He ran to the cargo cage, slammed the ascent lever, and began the
The Boy Who Bled Silver
The massive stone slab groaned, a deep, structural sound that vibrated through Eilan's boots and up into his teeth. His right arm was locked in place, the three foot long bone blade bearing the full, crushing weight of the collapsed plaza ceiling. The corrupted aether within the weapon flared with a blinding, sickly red light, humming with a high frequency vibration that made the air around it shimmer and distort. Eilan's muscles screamed in agony. The mundane flesh of his shoulder and back was tearing under the immense strain, his boots sliding backward across the cracked crystal floor, carving deep white grooves into the stone. He gritted his teeth, a primal growl building in his throat as he fought to keep his arm from buckling. Beneath the shadow of the falling rock, the survivors were frozen in a state of absolute, paralyzing shock. They stared at the pale, translucent flesh of his arm, at the pulsing red veins, and at the jagged, monstrous weapon that was holding up the ceiling
Flagged
The scanner screamed. The sound was a high, piercing whine that cut through the heavy, smoke filled air of the plaza. The tech holding the device stumbled backward, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the glass dial. The needle was pinned to the absolute maximum, vibrating so violently that the glass casing began to spiderweb with tiny cracks. The soft blue light of the machine had turned a deep, bloody red, casting a sickly glow over the techs pale face.Contamination, the tech shouted, his voice cracking with panic. He dropped the scanner as if it were burning him and scrambled backward, drawing his sidearm. We have a Tier Six biological anomaly. Right here. He is infected.Instantly, the plaza erupted into controlled chaos. The Vanguard soldiers, who had been securing the perimeter, snapped their attention toward the pontoon. Their movements were flawless, drilled into them through years of rigorous training. Within seconds, half a dozen soldiers had their aether rifles level
Tyren
The transport ship touched down on the landing pad of Relay Station Seven with a heavy, metallic thud that vibrated through the soles of Eilan's boots. The massive ramp lowered, hissing as the hydraulic seals released, and the cold, sterile air of the Vanguard forward operating base rushed into the cabin. Eilan was not in the prisoner cage anymore. Lieutenant Vance had deemed his scan inconclusive, downgrading him from a biological threat to a standard contaminated refugee. He was marched out with the rest of the survivors from Nebul, his right arm tucked tightly against his side, the heavy fabric of his jacket hiding the pale, scarred flesh and the dormant parasite beneath. The processing hangar was a cavernous space of white steel and blinding lumen globes. Hundreds of refugees sat on long metal benches, waiting for medical checks and reassignment. The air smelled of ozone, antiseptic, and the sour sweat of terrified people. Armed guards in pristine white armor patrolled the catwal