> Veilla

>

> Vay−lah

>

> Type: Noun

>

> Meaning: "Veilla" denotes the boundary known as the Veil, which delineates the material world from the Spirit world—a domain of dreams and nightmares. This threshold is an integral part of the Menschen's spiritual framework, symbolizing the passageway to where the "saatgut", or soulseed, may reside, and where individuals may traverse in their dreams. The capacity to navigate through the "Veilla" is an exceptional ability, typically linked to those bearing a powerful seed.

Yeso could sense the scent of Veilla's private quarters even beneath the thin fabric of the blindfold. The familiar aroma of aged books and the subtle hint of lilac filled the air, evoking memories deeply etched in his mind. As he felt the plush velvet chair beneath his fingers, he knew little had changed since he left.

Growing up in his late teens, within these walls that had shaped him and crafted him to view the world from an elevated status, a perspective designed for rulership and cold judgment—a Commander. Yet, everything had shifted the moment his Hexe entered his life.

The opulence of the Capitol he had forsaken for her was nothing compared to the richness she brought into his existence.

Lost in these reflections, the sound of the door creaking open jolted him back to the present. Veilla's distinct footsteps were unmistakable. He felt her presence before she even spoke.

"Sit!" Her voice, commanding yet familiar, cut through the silence. He complied, easing into the chair. "Is that blindfold really necessary?" she questioned, "You look like an idiot!"

"Nice to see you again, Veilla," he greeted, betraying none of the torrent of emotions that her presence and this return to the Capitol stirred within him.

“You see me? Are you fucking with me?”

Yeso didn’t have the time to explain that he wasn’t blind beneath the thin fabric blindfold, yet the sharp crack of Veilla's hand striking his cheek came without warning. The blow was so sudden and forceful that a ringing filled his ears. Yeso, momentarily stunned, finally saw her settling into the chair across her desk. Tenderly, he rubbed his stinging cheek, attempting to diffuse the tension with humour. "Feeling better?"

"Not really," Veilla admitted. "How is she?"

"She's okay," came Yeso's curt reply. He felt uncomfortable speaking about his Hexe to the Fallqueen.

"Are you happy?" she prodded further.

"Would be more without you slapping me." Yeso's attempt at light-heartedness did little to alleviate the seriousness of their exchange. Still massaging his cheek, he added, "You still have a firm grip."

"The blindfold, take that stupid thing off!"

"But..."

"I am your Dame! It's an order! Take it off!"

Obediently, Yeso removed the blindfold, his eyes adjusting to the light, settling on Veilla. Time had not dulled her breathtaking presence. Her raven hair, cascading in curls over her shoulders, framed a face of timeless elegance. Her eyes, a piercing blue, seemed to see right through him. There she stood, embodying an effortless blend of beauty and commanding grace—his first love, yet inevitably, not his last.

"Ollo," he greeted her in Menschen, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Do you have any idea of the position you left me in?" She snatched a folder from the desk, flinging it toward Yeso. He caught it deftly, his fingers brushing over the crisp papers as he skimmed through the pages. His involvement, he quickly realized, was about far more than the spiders.

"First, you blatantly defy me, interfering in matters that hold no concern for the Capitol," she continued, her tone seething. "Really, Yeso? Embroiling yourself in a dispute between two kingdoms over a handful of Centaurs?"

"They refused to leave Moonbay because..."

She interrupted him sharply, "I have already offered them asylum here in Ormgrund. If they decline, that's on them, not you and certainly not me!"

"But..."

"No 'buts,’ Yeso! You cannot simply defy me like this!"

"I understand..." he muttered, recognizing the futility of arguing further. Then, raising his voice, he added, “It would be impossible for you to know—to feel it—wouldn’t it? After all, we don’t want it to be known that our dear, powerful, all-knowing Herbstdame, sovereign over the Map, can’t perform what is expected from her. So how could she understand the plead of the centaurs?”

She ignored him and proceeded. "And forty-two days of near-total darkness? Have you lost your mind?" Veilla slammed her palm against the table, her eyes blazing.

"We avoided bloodshed," he protested.

"By meddling in a conflict that, once again, was neither our concern nor our responsibility! You have disobeyed me again. Do you realise how this affected me? Complaints have poured in from the Red Sea to the Fisherman District. People unable to sail! Unable to work! And when they can't work, they can't trade. No trade means no food. And hungry people are angry people, Yeso. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dame."

"You cannot be so selfish, sacrificing the many for the few. What is your end game in all this?"

"I want everyone to live peacefully in the same land and protect the…"

Veilla shook her head. "Humans have made their choice, and I have made mine. Your mission isn't to play the peacemaker but to gather our people and bring them home!" Her words were final and uncompromising, leaving a heavy silence in their wake.

As Yeso pondered his situation, he could feel the weight of his decisions pressing down upon him, not just on his shoulders but on the entirety of Ormgrund. His choices weren't just political manoeuvres or a whim of idealism; he was protecting a place of power—an Ormsaat—seeded in Moonbay that Veilla could simply not sense.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Yeso was never born to be a Rame, a ruler swayed by the shifting tides of court intrigue and diplomacy. His Spirit was that of a Commander—a man who lived among the people, who spoke their languages, understood their customs, and witnessed first-hand their struggles and joys.

In his mind, he wasn't merely tasked with gathering scattered blue-blooded creatures to return them to a homeland they might not even remember. His mission was broader, nobler. He aimed to build a future, a new vision where diverse cultures and races could coexist, learn from one another, and grow together.

Veilla never understood it, but his Hexe did. Until now, she has always walked beside him, helping him with his mission.

"Who exactly is 'our people,’ Veilla?"

Veilla's brow furrowed. "What kind of question is that?"

"I need to know who I'm meant to be gathering. Is it just me, my Hexe, Redfred, Muru? What about Jaer, or Mediah?"

"I fail to understand your meaning…"

"Let me make it clearer, Dame," Yeso leaned forward. "People fall in love or get carried away by passion – choose whichever scenario suits your narrative. Their children might be born with wings, wield magic, carry blue blood, or exhibit none of these traits. Are they still considered 'our people?’"

His gaze fixed intensely on Veilla, unflinching. "You see, there's this girl, Ulencia. She's everything you'd expect of a Menschen—bright, captivating. But she has no magic, not a trace. We tried everything to awaken it but to no avail. Do you know what she told us? 'I'm just a human with a pretty blood colour.' So, my Dame, I ask you again: who exactly are 'our people?’"

"What do you expect me to say, Yeso? That I’ll step in and miraculously save everyone?" Veilla's voice rose due to frustration.

"It's not about saving 'them' specifically," Yeso countered, matching her intensity. "It's about changing a mindset, challenging the prejudices that make no logical sense. How do you think the humans will fare without any magic?"

"They made their choice!" Veilla's voice cracked. "They sealed their own borders, not me. I'm doing everything I can here. But I'm alone. We were meant to do this together, and you chose to leave me! You abandoned me!"

"That's not how it was!" Yeso's voice grew louder.

"By the Spirits, Yeso, do you think I cared about who you slept with? All I ever wanted was for you to stand beside me as Rame. I never cared if you had a mistress..."

The accusation struck a nerve. Yeso leapt to his feet, slamming his palm against the desk. "Don't you dare call her that!" His voice thundered through the room. "She has never been—will never be—the other woman. I won't let you belittle Zonnestra like that!"

Veilla recoiled slightly but was still angry. The tension in the room escalated like a taut string about to snap.

She leaned back into her chair, her hand absent-mindedly stroking her belly, slightly more pronounced than he remembered. Yeso's eyes widened a fraction. "You're pregnant. Again?"

"Yes, again," she replied with a nonchalance that seemed a bit forced.

Yeso recalled the news of her having twins a few Falls after he departed from the Capitol aeons ago. He never delved into the question of their paternity or the conspicuous absence of a father to be named the next Rame. But this revelation, after her earlier insinuations, jarred him. "I'm happy for you," he offered cautiously.

"I'm not entirely sure how I feel," Veilla confessed, her gaze dropping.

"May I... ask why?"

She sighed deeply, her eyes meeting his again. "I don't know whose it is."

"Oh."

"He never said his name, but he was..."

"Quite the party?" Yeso's attempt at lightening the mood was tentative.

"Oh yes..." Veilla chuckled wryly. "Perks of being a Dame, right? But I wasn't prepared for... this."

"This would be the second time..."

"Please, don't," she interrupted quickly.

"I won't."

"You're not going to call it a miracle?"

Yeso smirked slightly. "Well, I don't think its mechanics are particularly divine."

"You idiot," she laughed, her mood momentarily lightened. "I've missed you, you know."

"I've missed you too," he said earnestly.

"I mean, I missed my friend. I missed my best friend."

"I know. I've missed having my friend on my side as well."

" I am still on your side," she said, her tone turning more stern.

Yeso smirked again. She knew that smile too well. So she wasn't surprised when he answered, "No. It has been a long time since you haven't. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here; you would be among your people building bridges instead of destroying them."

"You left, Yeso!"

"I did, and you know why!"

The lightness of their previous exchange had ebbed away, yielding by Yeso’s final question, "So, what's the punishment?"

Veila straightened up in her chair, clasping her hands in front of her with a solemnity that matched the moment. "For the crime of disobeying me and meddling in affairs that are not in the interest of your dame, your head will be shaved."

"All of it?" Yeso asked a touch of surprise in his tone.

"Every diamond strand," Veila confirmed, "Will be used to repair the damage we had in the last moon. And for plunging the world into forty-two days of darkness..." she pressed on while Yeso embraced himself. "You will endure complete isolation for an equal number of days."

"Sounds... fair."

Veila hesitated before continuing, her discomfort palpable. "And for the crime of killing one hundred and two spiders..." She paused, swallowing hard. "You shall be flogged in public, one hundred and two times."

Yeso's eyes widened momentarily, and then he shook his head. "Veilla, I don't know if I can—"

"You must learn to control yourself, Yeso." Her voice was stern but underlined with concern.

"You do realize, if I lose control, I might incinerate everything and everyone around me," he warned, his voice low.

"I'm aware," Veila replied softly. "This isn't a punishment of my choosing. It was decreed by my Spirit. It was this... or worse, way worse." Her tone suggested she was trapped.

Yeso took a deep breath, accepting his fate. "Very well, I have one condition," he stated firmly.

"What is it?"

"Blindfold me. I'll do everything in my power to keep my magic and Spirit in check, but I can't—she can't—bear the pain through our connection. From the first lash to the last, keep my eyes covered."

Veila's nod, tinged with a trace of relief, sealed their agreement. "It's a fair request. I'll ensure it's done." Her words, though formal, couldn't mask the faint quiver of concern underlying them. "I've prepared your room. At least for tonight, you'll have all the comforts," Veila offered, a slight softening in her tone.

"Thank you," Yeso responded, his gratitude genuine despite the looming dread of what awaited him.

Rising to leave, the Commander was almost at the door when Veila's voice halted him. "Yeso?" she called.

He turned, anticipating her next words. There was a silent plea in her eyes, an unspoken hope against hope.

"You could always reconsider and accept..." she began, her voice trailing off, laden with unfulfilled desires and what-ifs.

Shaking his head, he answered, "I have accepted my punishment, and so should you." His words were firm, closing any doors to alternative possibilities, sealing their fates along separate paths.

Stepping out of the chamber, Yeso traversed the familiar corridors that once echoed with his footsteps in a different time, a different life. A sudden chill wrapped around him, a cold unlike any he had known within the Capitol's walls.

It seeped into his bones— a cold he would never come to know—Winter

> The Whitestone Capitol was said to be a breathtaking sight, its scale and beauty surpassing any simple description. Located in the Central District, it was constructed of gleaming white stone. A colossal embodiment of power sprawling over the landscape like a sovereign entity.

>

> Encircled in its foundational layer, the ground floor sprawled like a great, circular labyrinth. Here, segregated sectors dedicated to medicine, scholarship, archives, and various forms of Magi practices stood alongside divisions for agriculture, commerce, economics, and representative quarters for every district of Ormgrund. This floor alone was a microcosm of the world's greatest minds.

>

> Ascending to the first floor, one would find the heart of the palace's operations. This expansive level was reserved for the staff—a small army of maids, butlers, servants, and cooks.

>

> The second floor, still more immense, housed the luxurious chambers of nobles, kings, and queens.

>

> At the zenith of this architectural marvel, the last floor was exclusively reserved for the Dame and her inner circle. Here, at the centre of it all, sat her throne room, a space that, no doubt, radiated her authority and true power, the node of Whitestone.

>

> Above it all, reaching towards the heavens was the topmost Tower—a mysterious spire that none could decipher. Its purpose, discovered only by my father, was still, for me, a subject of speculation and wonder. He never told anyone what happened in that Tower, and I wonder if anyone had ever asked.

>

> ——Between Lore and Legacy: The Mystifying Histories of the Menschen Vol. II by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune