Morning came, and, oh man, did it hit like a crazy hangover.
Which was impressive, considering I wasn't even drunk. Unless you'd count existential crisis as some kind of high.
I laid there, and just stared at the ceiling fan which was spinning above me, trying to fixate my eyes on a single blade, as I tried to convince myself that last night was a dream. A really crazy one.
You know, the usual delulu.
The kind that goes:
"Nah, I didn't see shadow monsters."
"Nah, I didn't touch a glowing mandroid."
"Nah, I didn't meet some silver-haired woman who didn't just know my name, but knew my full name."
Except that my hoodie was still really soaked, and my sneakers was covered in mud. And my phone—yeah, the one that was used to threaten me in blood-red letters, was just lying lifeless on the desk, completely dead.
Not "battery-dead." Like, "you've completed your purpose on this earth" dead.
I just sighed. "Fantastic. Just what I needed—a supernatural malware." God!
I tried removing myself from the bed, stretched, and looked around my humble single-room apartment. If a burglar ever broke in, they'd probably leave empty-handed out of pity.
Empty noodle disposable plates? Check.
Unpaid bills scattered all over my pathetic desk? Check.
A half-functioning laptop from 2015, that's now a desktop? Double check.
The only thing in order was the stack of graphic novels under my desk, because apparently my coping mechanism was fictional chaos instead of real chaos.
My reflection in the mirror looked like someone who has been starved of sleep for about three years now. The circles under my eyes could've had their own zip code.
I rubbed my eyes, and kept rubbing passionately till they started getting wet.
"Okay Milano, Let's be logical. You either had a psychotic episode, or the world's a lot weirder than anyone ever told you."
Then, my dead phone buzzed from the corner of the room. I just froze.
The screen flickered. Static. Like an old TV. And then a symbol appeared. A simple circle, spiraling, with a line cutting through it. It looked like an eye… or a seal, I think.
Then words formed, glitching across the screen:
You shouldn't have touched the Veil.
I blinked twice at it, like I was confirming its message, but indeed, I was trying to be sure I was not seeing things.
"Yeah, well, next time I'll try not to trip into some cosmic abomination at 2 AM."
Then the phone vibrated again. Harder this time, and for a second there, I could've sworn I heard whispering. Not from the phone. From behind it. Like the sound was seeping into my apartment through the keyhole, or the space under the door.
I tried leaning closer, to hear, and then—knock, knock, knock.
Jesus! I said as I jumped, nearly dropping the phone.
Is someone really at my door? I asked myself, as I crept toward it. Every nerve in me was screaming do not open that door, but my idiot curiosity came out on top. I peeked through the peephole, but, nothing. Just the hallway.
I opened it anyway, because apparently I like suffering.
And there, an envelope was lying on the floor.
Black. No name. No address. It was sealed with the same spiral symbol from my phone.
"Oh yeah. Totally normal. Just another Monday in Crazyville."
I went on and tore it open.
The paper inside was thick, old-fashioned. And it smelled faintly of smoke and lavender. The handwriting was elegant, and looping. It was like the kind of penmanship that people used way before emails took over the world.
It read:
Milano Draven,
You've seen that which sleeps behind the Veil. Thus, that makes you a variable. This is something the world isn't ready to handle.
I'll find you before they do.
Until then, stay out of the rain.
—E.
I stared at that last line for a solid thirty seconds.
"E?"
The woman from the alley?
I swallowed nothing. "Well, that's comforting. Mysterious silver lady sends letters now. Haha! At least she's polite about it."
Then I realized what she wrote: stay out of the rain.
I looked outside.
It was pouring.
The same kind of copious downpour as last night's.
And… unless I'm miraculously high again, the shadows in the puddles outside my window were moving.
I grabbed my jacket and backpack. Staying indoors will not save me from my curiosity. I needed to feed it with answers.
There's this café across the street, which was usually my safe zone. Cheap coffee, bad Wi-Fi, and a hot barista, Jenny, who only judged people internally.
I slipped inside, like a late student trying to avoid the professor on the chalkboard. I tried to look casual. Not like a guy being hunted by some supernatural weather.
Jenny looked up from the counter. "Morning, Milano. You look like you lost a fight with a hurricane."
"Haha! Close," I said, as I slid into a seat. "More like lost a fight with reality."
She chuckled. "So… finals week again?"
I smiled inside. If only she knew.
I ordered a coffee, and started scribbling on a napkin like a madman.
Who is E?
What's the Veil?
Why can I suddenly feel when the lights flicker?
Am I dying or evolving?
Before I could answer even one of those, the door bell rang.
Someone walked in.
Everyone in there looked up for a second, then immediately looked away, like their brains decided "nah, not my business."
I didn't even have to look. I felt it. The same strange shift in the air. That subtle distortion that made it feel like the world held its breath.
And when I finally looked, there she was. Silver-haired lady.
Same silver hair. Same calm, ageless eyes. Same faint shimmer in the air around her that whispered: physics does not apply to me.
E.
She scanned the room like she was a CIA spy checking for threats, then walked straight toward me. Each step was quiet and precise, like a predator who's used to moving through fields filled with preys.
Jenny opened her mouth to greet her, but no sound came out. Literally. Her lips moved, but nothing came out.
She reached my table and sat across from me, completely uninvited.
"You opened the letter," she started. Her voice was soft, and low—like velvet dipped in danger.
"I was curious," I replied. "Also, you showed up in an alley last night, blew up reality in my face, and then ghosted me. So, yeah, I sure had a few follow-up questions. By the way, what's E?"
Her lips twitched. Maybe it was a smile. Maybe not. Maybe gas. Hard to tell.
"You touched the Veil," she said simply. "That makes you a Conduit now."
"Cool," I said. "Does that come with dental or just existential dread?"
She ignored that. Of course, she would. "You're connected to it. The line between this world and the next. The Veil holds the balance, and when you touched it, you tore it."
"Yeah, sounds like me. Breaking things I don't understand since 2001."
Her eyes flashed. For a split second, I saw something ancient there. Pain, fury, maybe guilt too. Then it was gone.
"They'll come for you," she said. "Things from beyond. Shadows that were never meant to exist here."
"Great. So, like, demons?"
"Worse," she said.
Then silence. Just the soft hum of the coffee machine that suddenly sounded way too loud.
"So what now? You're just gonna what… protect me? Train me? Or… or drag me into some secret society with matching cloaks?"
This time, she did smile. Barely. "You think this is one of your fiction novels?"
"Lady, everything about you screams fiction, with both hands raised up."
She leaned forward. "You joke because you're scared. That's good. Fear keeps you alive."
Damn! The number of times I've heard that in a fictional movie, or read it in a novel makes me feel like I'm in one right now.
Her hand brushed the table, and for a second, every shadow in the café bent toward her. The cups rattled, and the lights flickered.
Jenny didn't notice any of it. In fact, no one did. It was like the world had frozen around us.
Then Eliana looked me dead in the eye. "You have three days before the first breach opens. After that, the world changes. Forever. Stay close to me, Milano Draven. Or die trying to understand what you've become."
I stared at her. "You realize that's the least reassuring thing anyone has ever, ever said to me?"
Her expression softened. It was just a fraction. Then she went, "You'll adjust. You have to."
And then, just like that, poof—she was gone.
No smoke, no flash, no cinematic superhero exit. Just one blink, and she wasn't there anymore. It was like a dream all over again.
Jenny turned back to me like nothing had happened. "Refill?"
I looked at her, then I looked at the empty seat across from me. "Yeah," I muttered. "Better make it strong."
As she walked away, my phone buzzed again on the table. The screen lit up. It was working perfectly now, and there it was again: the same spiral symbol.
Under it, there were three words that glowed faintly in white:
THE VEIL BREATHES.