### Chapter 9 – The Veil Strikes
Draeven's streets had grown restless. Shadows moved differently now; whispers carried a sharp edge. The Veil had returned—silent, invisible, and lethal. Unlike the rebels before, this new threat did not shout or march; it **stalked**. And Kael and Selara knew the city itself had become a trap.
Kael stood atop the palace battlements, arms crossed, silver eyes scanning the streets below. Smoke curled from burned warehouses, and corpses lay strewn along alleyways. The Veil's message was unmistakable: Draeven's saviors could be challenged.
Selara joined him, voice sharp, like a whip cracking the air. "They are clever… but clever is not enough against us."
Kael's gaze hardened. "Then let's remind them of who they face."
The hunt began at midnight. Soldiers were sent to patrol every street, yet the Veil struck first—one by one, patrols were found mutilated, bodies arranged in grotesque patterns. Heads were impaled on spikes at key intersections; entrails draped across bridges in messages written in blood: *"We see you. Fear us."*
Kael knelt over the first victim, inspecting the precise cuts. "Methodical," he muttered. "Precision is impressive… but arrogance is fatal."
Selara's lips curled into a cold smile. "Then it is time to escalate."
By dawn, the city was paralyzed. The Veil's attacks had grown intimate and personal: the baker found hanging from his own oven, eyes sewn open; a mother in the South District discovered dead in her home, dolls impaled with the same cruel precision as her body. Every act was a calculated **psychological strike** designed to make the people watch their neighbors die and understand that **no one was safe**.
Kael's silver eyes glinted with lethal anticipation. He moved through the city with a squad of elite soldiers, leaving a trail of reprisals: anyone suspected of aiding the Veil was executed publicly, their bodies branded with the monarchs' sigil, flesh carved in cruel patterns. Mothers, children, and fathers alike witnessed the carnage, their screams swallowed by the stone streets.
Selara oversaw interrogations with clinical precision. Whipping, burning, mutilation—every punishment was a statement. One captured spy was sewn alive into a barrel, left in the square for hours; another's tongue was removed for whispering false information. Fear became **suffocating**, palpable in the air, a constant weight pressing on every citizen's chest.
Kael and Selara did not just kill—they **tormented**, leaving trails of carnage designed to twist the minds of Draeven's people. Rumors spread: houses were rigged to explode if anyone dared escape; cats, dogs, and livestock were poisoned to starve the population into obedience; even wells were contaminated, leaving a taste of iron and rot on every tongue.
By nightfall, the Veil remained unseen, but the city had been reshaped into a **maze of fear**. Draeven's people had learned a new truth: the rulers of shadow and terror would **never hesitate**, and those who opposed them would be broken physically, mentally, and spiritually.
Kael's final proclamation from the palace balcony was simple, but it carried the weight of absolute power:
"Draeven is ours. Obedience is mandatory. Defiance is death—and death will be exquisite."
And below, in the smoldering streets, the Veil watched, unseen. But even the most cunning enemy knew the cost of challenging Kael and Selara: cruelty perfected, merciless, and unforgettable.
The city shivered under their rule. Spine-chilling, merciless, and **eternal**.
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