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57.89% Sands of the Forgotten Veil / Chapter 11: The Curse of the Veil

Chương 11: The Curse of the Veil

The nights in Al'Khari had always been unnervingly quiet, but tonight the silence felt suffocating. Azra moved through the darkened streets, her mind racing with the djinn's words still echoing in her ears. The veil wasn't just a barrier—it was a prison. And that prison was failing. Every step she took felt heavier, as though the weight of the city's forgotten past pressed down on her.

The djinn's voice had been so certain, so filled with twisted certainty. It believed the veil's fall was inevitable, and it had planted seeds of doubt in her mind. What if her father had been wrong? What if there was no way to save Al'Khari?

No. She couldn't allow herself to think that way. There had to be another way. Her father had found the gate and attempted to seal it, but something went wrong. If she could find what he missed, she could stop the veil from collapsing. She had to believe that.

As Azra reached the center of the ruins, where the crumbling remains of a once-grand palace stood, she felt the weight of the city's history settle around her. The palace had been the heart of Al'Khari, a place of power and prestige before the city's downfall. Now, it was little more than a hollowed-out shell, its windows broken, its walls weathered by time and neglect.

Azra's eyes flicked to the palace gates, which had long since rusted over. She had avoided this place since her arrival, knowing it was where her father's final moments had been spent. But now, with the djinn's words lingering in her mind, she knew she had no choice but to go inside. If there were any remaining clues about her father's last attempt to seal the veil, they would be in there.

The wind howled softly through the empty streets as she approached the gates, her footsteps echoing in the stillness. She pushed the gates open, the rusty metal groaning in protest, and stepped into the courtyard. The sight of it took her breath away—not because of its beauty, but because of the eerie stillness that permeated the air.

In the center of the courtyard stood a large fountain, its waters long dried up. Cracked statues of long-forgotten gods loomed over the space, their stone faces twisted into expressions of anger and sorrow. Above them, the sky was a dark, heavy slate, and Azra felt as if the very air around her was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Her fingers traced the edge of her father's journal as she approached the entrance to the palace. The massive doors were still intact, but they, too, had been weathered by time. She pushed them open with some effort and stepped inside, her torch casting a flickering light over the grand, empty hall.

The interior was dark and cold. The air smelled of dust and decay, with the faintest trace of something else—something metallic, like blood. Shadows danced across the floor as Azra moved deeper into the hall, her heart beating steadily despite the unease gnawing at her.

She knew where she needed to go.

Her father's final notes had been clear: the ritual chamber lay beneath the palace, hidden away in a series of underground tunnels that the royal family had used for their own dark purposes. If he had tried to seal the veil from collapsing, it would have been down there.

Azra found the entrance to the tunnels easily enough, a set of stairs descending into the earth at the far end of the hall. As she began her descent, the air grew colder, and the flickering light of her torch illuminated the narrow, claustrophobic passage ahead. The walls were covered in more of the strange symbols she had seen throughout the city—symbols that, according to her father, had been part of the ancient rituals that tied Al'Khari to the veil.

The whispers began again.

They were faint at first, barely audible above the sound of her own footsteps, but as she descended further, they grew louder, more insistent. They weren't like the djinn's voice—these were fragmented, broken, like echoes of the past. Voices that had once belonged to the people of Al'Khari, now trapped in the thin veil between life and death.

Azra pressed on, determined to reach the ritual chamber. Her father's notes had spoken of the chamber's importance, how it had been the key to controlling the veil. But as she descended further, the whispers began to change, becoming more coherent, more sinister.

"You cannot save them."

The voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

"You are too late."

Azra clenched her jaw, refusing to let the voices shake her. She had come too far to turn back now. The cold was biting, and the oppressive atmosphere grew heavier with each step, but she forced herself to move forward.

Finally, she reached the bottom of the stairs and found herself standing before a heavy stone door. It was carved with the same symbols that adorned the walls, but these were more intricate, more detailed. The air here felt thicker, like something was pressing against the other side of the door, waiting to be unleashed.

With a deep breath, Azra pushed the door open.

The chamber beyond was larger than she had expected. Massive stone pillars lined the walls, each one covered in the same ancient carvings. In the center of the room was a raised dais, and atop it stood an altar. The air was thick with the weight of magic, and as Azra stepped into the room, she felt a deep sense of unease settle over her.

This was the place. The heart of the veil. The very spot where her father had attempted the ritual.

Azra approached the altar cautiously. Her father's notes had been incomplete, but she knew enough to understand that this chamber held the key to either sealing the veil or opening it completely. She placed the journal on the altar, flipping through its pages one last time.

Her breath caught when she saw it.

There, scrawled in the margins of the last page, was a phrase she hadn't noticed before—faint, hurried, as if written in desperation:

"It cannot be sealed. The veil must be destroyed."

Azra's blood ran cold.

Her father hadn't tried to seal the veil. He had realized, too late, that it couldn't be saved. The very thing that bound the veil to Al'Khari was also what had cursed it. The city's rulers, in their arrogance, had tampered with forces beyond their control, and now the only way to stop the collapse was to destroy the veil itself.

But that would mean releasing whatever was bound beyond it.

Azra stepped back from the altar, her mind racing. Destroying the veil would break the curse that had plagued Al'Khari for centuries, but it would also unleash the ancient power that the gate was holding back. Her father had understood this, and it had cost him his life.

The whispers grew louder, more urgent, as if the very walls of the chamber were alive, reacting to her presence.

"You cannot destroy what you do not understand."

"The power must be set free."

"They will devour you, just as they devoured him."

Azra covered her ears, trying to block out the voices, but they only grew louder, filling her mind with dark thoughts. She could feel the weight of the veil pressing down on her, the presence of something vast and malevolent just beyond the fabric of reality.

Her hands trembled as she looked at the journal. Her father had tried to destroy the veil and failed. Now it was up to her to finish what he had started.

But could she?

Azra turned to leave the chamber, her heart heavy with uncertainty, when the ground beneath her feet began to tremble. The air grew thick with an oppressive energy, and the symbols on the walls flared to life, glowing with an eerie blue light.

Something was coming.

The veil was weakening faster than she had anticipated. Whatever lay beyond it was pushing through, and if she didn't act soon, it would break free. But the thought of destroying the veil terrified her. She didn't know what kind of power she was dealing with, and the djinn's warning echoed in her mind.

"The veil will fall. And when it does, you will beg for the power I offered you."

Azra ran up the stairs, her pulse racing. She had to find a way to stop this. But as she emerged from the palace into the cold night air, the city around her seemed to be coming alive. The whispers had followed her out, filling the streets with their eerie presence.

And in the distance, by the Gate of the Forgotten, she saw shadows moving—unnatural, twisted forms, slowly creeping toward the heart of the city.

The veil was breaking. And the curse of Al'Khari was about to be unleashed.


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