Carnessa
Fox stirred his tea, watching the steam curl upward like smoke from a distant fire. "We thought it was paradise," he said. "That was the mistake."
Mr. Alden leaned back. "Another island?"
Fox nodded. "After Veyra's Spire, the Windless Star sailed west for two days. The sea turned warm, the sky gold. We saw birds again—bright ones, with feathers like fire. The crew grew restless. They whispered about a place called the Carnessa."
"The name doesn't sound promising," Alden said.
Fox smiled faintly. "It didn't matter. The island was beautiful. White beaches, flowering trees, music drifting from the hills. And women—dozens of them, waiting at the shore."
Mr. Alden raised an eyebrow. "Women?"
"They wore robes of silk and gold," Fox said. "Their voices were like wind through glass. Some of the crew jumped ship before the anchor dropped. They ran to the shore, laughing, shouting. The women welcomed them with garlands and wine."
Fox paused. "I stayed on board."
"Why?" Alden asked.
"Because they didn't blink," Fox said. "Not once. Not when the men shouted. Not when they kissed their hands. Their smiles never changed."
The captain gave no orders. The crew scattered. Fox watched from the deck as the men were led into the trees, music trailing behind them. He waited until dusk, then climbed down and followed.
The forest was lush, glowing with bio-luminescent vines and flowers that pulsed with color. Fox moved quietly, staying off the path. He heard laughter, clinking cups, and the low hum of song.
"I found the clearing," he said. "There was a feast. Tables piled with fruit, meat, wine. The women danced. The men drank."
Mr. Alden frowned. "And then?"
Fox's voice dropped. "Then they changed."
One by one, the men began to convulse. Their limbs twisted, their faces stretched. Skin split, bones cracked. They fell to the ground, squealing—no longer men, but pigs. Fat, pink, terrified.
"The women didn't scream," Fox said. "They just brought out knives."
Mr. Alden's face paled. "They butchered them?"
Fox nodded. "Cleanly. Like they'd done it before."
He watched from the trees, frozen. The music never stopped. The women sang as they carved, their robes untouched by blood. The pigs didn't run. They couldn't.
"I turned to leave," Fox said. "But one of them saw me."
She was tall, with silver eyes and a crown of thorns. She didn't chase him. She just smiled—and whispered his name.
"I ran," Fox said. "Back through the forest, back to the shore. The Windless Star was already pulling anchor. I shouted, waved. They saw me. They waited."
He climbed aboard, breathless. The crew didn't speak. They raised the sails and turned east, away from the Hollow Veil.
Mr. Alden was silent for a long time. "Why do you think they let you go?"
Fox stared into the fire. "Because I didn't drink."
He pulled something from his coat—a small vial, sealed with wax. Inside was a dark liquid, swirling like smoke.
"She dropped it when she whispered my name," Fox said. "I kept it. I don't know why."
Mr. Alden leaned forward. "Do you think it's the same drink?"
Fox nodded. "I think it's worse."
Outside, the wind shifted. The trees rustled like whispers.
Fox looked up. "The Hollow Veil isn't just a place," he said. "It's a promise. Beauty without mercy. Joy without truth."
Mr. Alden folded his hands. "And you escaped."
Fox shook his head. "I survived. That's not the same."
Mr. Alden leaned back. "Another island?"
Fox nodded. "After Veyra's Spire, the Windless Star sailed west for two days. The sea turned warm, the sky gold. We saw birds again—bright ones, with feathers like fire. The crew grew restless. They whispered about a place called the Carnessa."
"The name doesn't sound promising," Alden said.
Fox smiled faintly. "It didn't matter. The island was beautiful. White beaches, flowering trees, music drifting from the hills. And women—dozens of them, waiting at the shore."
Mr. Alden raised an eyebrow. "Women?"
"They wore robes of silk and gold," Fox said. "Their voices were like wind through glass. Some of the crew jumped ship before the anchor dropped. They ran to the shore, laughing, shouting. The women welcomed them with garlands and wine."
Fox paused. "I stayed on board."
"Why?" Alden asked.
"Because they didn't blink," Fox said. "Not once. Not when the men shouted. Not when they kissed their hands. Their smiles never changed."
The captain gave no orders. The crew scattered. Fox watched from the deck as the men were led into the trees, music trailing behind them. He waited until dusk, then climbed down and followed.
The forest was lush, glowing with bio-luminescent vines and flowers that pulsed with color. Fox moved quietly, staying off the path. He heard laughter, clinking cups, and the low hum of song.
"I found the clearing," he said. "There was a feast. Tables piled with fruit, meat, wine. The women danced. The men drank."
Mr. Alden frowned. "And then?"
Fox's voice dropped. "Then they changed."
One by one, the men began to convulse. Their limbs twisted, their faces stretched. Skin split, bones cracked. They fell to the ground, squealing—no longer men, but pigs. Fat, pink, terrified.
"The women didn't scream," Fox said. "They just brought out knives."
Mr. Alden's face paled. "They butchered them?"
Fox nodded. "Cleanly. Like they'd done it before."
He watched from the trees, frozen. The music never stopped. The women sang as they carved, their robes untouched by blood. The pigs didn't run. They couldn't.
"I turned to leave," Fox said. "But one of them saw me."
She was tall, with silver eyes and a crown of thorns. She didn't chase him. She just smiled—and whispered his name.
"I ran," Fox said. "Back through the forest, back to the shore. The Windless Star was already pulling anchor. I shouted, waved. They saw me. They waited."
He climbed aboard, breathless. The crew didn't speak. They raised the sails and turned east, away from the Hollow Veil.
Mr. Alden was silent for a long time. "Why do you think they let you go?"
Fox stared into the fire. "Because I didn't drink."
He pulled something from his coat—a small vial, sealed with wax. Inside was a dark liquid, swirling like smoke.
"She dropped it when she whispered my name," Fox said. "I kept it. I don't know why."
Mr. Alden leaned forward. "Do you think it's the same drink?"
Fox nodded. "I think it's worse."
Outside, the wind shifted. The trees rustled like whispers.
Fox looked up. "The Hollow Veil isn't just a place," he said. "It's a promise. Beauty without mercy. Joy without truth."
Mr. Alden folded his hands. "And you escaped."
Fox shook his head. "I survived. That's not the same."