Veilborn: Fracture Of The Nine Realms

CHAPTER 1 - The Boy Without Flame

Genre: Dark Fantasy / Progression Fantasy / Elemental Magic / Action



The fire refused to answer him.

Kairo Vess knelt alone in the center of the Resonance Circle, sweat beading on his brow, the sacred markings beneath him drawn in soot and red dust. Before him, nine braziers stood — one for each element, each realm, each god-force — but the one marked for fire remained dark. The others flickered faintly, echoes of power watching with breathless judgment.

The room held no noise now. No whisper. No chant. Only the breath of those who waited.

“Kairo Vess,” intoned High Flame-Priest Morvin, his voice echoing across the temple stones, “son of Saria. Born of Emberreach. You have stood before the sacred flame of Sol’tar. You have offered your name, your will, and your soul.”

Kairo swallowed hard.

“You are found… wanting.”

The final word struck like a hammer.

No burst of heat. No flicker of recognition from the flame god. Not even a spark. Just the still, suffocating quiet of failure.

Then came the whispers. Always the whispers.

“Veilless.”

“Unmarked.”

“Another wasted year.”

Kairo rose slowly from his knees. The dust clung to him like shame, coating the dark-red robes gifted to all initiates. He stared at the empty brazier, willing it to change, to flicker, to show anything but rejection.

Nothing.

In the first row of observers, Caelum Raithe folded his arms, flame tattoos pulsing faintly under his skin like molten veins. His smirk carried the weight of every insult he’d never needed to say aloud.

“Well,” Caelum said, loud enough to be heard by all. “Looks like the gods finally cleaned house.”

Laughter broke from a few. The rest stayed silent — not out of kindness, but discomfort. The Vess name had meant something once. His brother Sion had been the pride of Emberreach. The youngest to ever awaken a full Veilcloak. The only fireborn strong enough to match the old warpriests in a Trial of Ascent.

And then he was gone.

Consumed in a Veilstorm when Kairo was ten. No body. No last words. Only flame… and silence.

“Kairo,” the high priest said again, voice clipped. “The path of the Veil is not yours. You may remain in Emberreach… or leave. The choice is yours. The Circle is done.”

No more ceremony. No gentle words. No comfort. Just a shattered boy walking off an altar that had swallowed generations of souls and sparked legends.

Kairo bowed his head, turned, and walked through the center aisle. Dust shifted under his boots. Eyes followed him like knives. And in his chest, beneath the hurt, the shame, the humiliation — was something colder than fire.

Hollow.

The cliffs of Emberreach jutted out like broken fangs above the obsidian plains. Kairo sat at the edge of one now, wind whipping his dark cloak behind him. Below, lava shimmered faintly through cracks in the rock, a red glow pulsing like the heart of the realm.

He had always loved this spot.

It was where Sion used to bring him to train — or just talk. The elder brother had been more than gifted. He had been kind. Patient. Fearless.

“You don’t need the Veil to be strong,” Sion once said, laughing as he held a flickering ember above his palm. “But it sure helps when Caelum’s running his mouth.”

Kairo smiled faintly at the memory. Then the smile died.

That day still haunted him — the storm, the screaming, the heat that wasn’t fire. The shadows crawling beneath the light. Sion had vanished saving a group of children, throwing them into a tunnel moments before the Hollow descended.

The others lived.

He didn’t.

And now Kairo was alone.

Again.

A deep, echoing rumble rose from the horizon.

At first, he thought it thunder. But the sky was too clear. Then he saw it.

A spiral of clouds, black as night, forming unnaturally fast. Lightning flickered within it — not golden, but violet.

His blood froze.

A Veilstorm.

“No… not now.”

He rose to his feet just as the wind screamed. The spiral widened, and from within it, they came — creatures without shape, born of madness and magic and failure.

Hollows.

Misshapen beasts, twisted echoes of the nine elements they once served. Limbs too long. Faces missing. Cracks of burning Veil-light leaking from their wounds.

One landed on the outer edge of Emberreach with a quake.

Then another.

Then a dozen.

Screams followed. Fire erupted from rooftops. Warden towers lit up with sigils of war, casting bolts and shields and elemental furies in all directions.

The Hollows didn’t stop.

They fed on it.

Kairo sprinted.

He crossed the cracked bridge that led back into the lower city, ignoring the warnings, ignoring the guards screaming for him to stay away.

He couldn’t.

There were still kids outside the shrine walls. Apprentices too young to Resonance. Families trying to evacuate.

One Hollow loomed above a small child frozen in the street — a boy, maybe six years old, clutching a carved wooden flame.

No time.

Kairo dove.

The Hollow’s limb struck.

And missed.

Kairo stood in front of the child, panting, hand raised.

And time bent.

The world slowed. The wind stopped. Colors fractured like stained glass. And in that moment — he felt it.

The Veil.

Not fire. Not water. Not stone or wind.

Something older.

A presence without shape. A hunger without malice. A force of unraveling.

Entropy.

“Welcome back, Kairo Vess.”

Light exploded from within him — not heat, not flame, but something colder, deeper, vibrating with sound that couldn’t be heard. His cloak flared backward as violet-black sigils spiraled across the air around him.

The Hollow struck again.

Kairo raised his palm.

The creature paused mid-swing — not from choice, but because the world froze around it.

Then it folded inward — space twisting, collapsing, reducing the beast to fragments of ash and flickering light.

Silence fell.

People stared.

Some in awe.

Some in fear.

Caelum stood at the far wall of the shrine, blood on his cheek, scorched armor still glowing. His eyes locked with Kairo’s.

“What... are you?” he whispered.

Kairo looked down at his hands.

Still shaking.

Still burning.

But not with fire.

With truth.

And it terrified him.




Hey reader 👋 — welcome to Veilborn: Fracture of the Nine Realms.This is a dark, emotionally rich fantasy story about power, identity, and truth in a fractured world.

If you enjoy:

Outcast protagonists with secret powers

A unique elemental magic system (with real consequences)

Massive worldbuilding, god-tier enemies, and emotional twists

And a plot that refuses to be predictable...

Then you're in the right place. 🔥

Drop a comment, favorite the story, and let me know your thoughts.This is just the beginning — and trust me, things get wild from here.

— B. Hatch