Veil of Dusk - Sneak Peek
- Lauren Kloos
- Sep 24
- 7 min read
A Traveler’s Guide to Obsidra
The Wayfarer’s Atlas
[maps to come]
Known Roads and Realms
Obsidra
To walk Obsidra is to walk the line between wonder and ruin.
Once a land of beauty, now a waste shrouded in secrets. It is a land of mysteries made up of volatile coastlands, jagged highlands that sing forgotten whispers, wastes plagued with sights unseen, and fields that hold more than fertile soil. At its heart rises the seat of power, Duskspire.
Duskspire
The higher the power, the farther the fall.
The jewel of Obsidra, Duskspire rises like a spear of stone piercing the sky. Its tower is both fortress and symbol of power, a city of narrow streets and whispered treachery.
The Spire – Colossal black tower older than recorded history
Crown District – Seat of rulers and nobles
Market Quarter – Bazaar of merchants, travelers, and thieves
Ashen Steps – Stairway rising into the Spire, watched by priests of old magic
Ashen Vale
When the Vale Mist curls across the road, turn back or be led to ruin.
Fertile valleys and winding rivers mask a land uneasy with memory. Golden fields thrive, but dusk brings mists that whisper with voices not their own.
River Auren – Broad trade river of bridges
Mistvale Bog – Fog-choked lowlands
Golden Fields – Farmland feeding Obsidra
Eldrin – Trade hub with vast marketplaces
Sylren – Seat of magical study
Briar, Aleric, Dunlow – Villages of orchard, superstition, and quiet farms
Stonecross – Monolith-marked crossroads
Duskra Highlands
Storms in the Highlands bury more than roads — they bury names.
Jagged cliffs, storm-lit passes, and villages clinging to survival. The Highlands breed resilience and shadow
Ironspine Mountains – Ore-rich peaks
Stormvale – Lightning-haunted valley
Frostwind Pass – Treacherous trade road
Ravorn – City of artisans and intrigue
Hearthsglen, Marrow – Hardy villages of soil, stream, and mine
Black Pinnacle – Storm-drawing peak
Fallen Stairs – Ancient stairway, half-collapsed
Noctra Wastes
If the Wastes light your path, you walk into death.
Once fertile, now a skeletal expanse of ash and silence, haunted by faceless hunters
Ashenwood – Forest of dead trees
Darkened Wake – Tar-black swamp
Noctra – Fortress city of secrets
Caelen – Half-ruined refuge of scholars
Grave of Kings – Ruined necropolis
Fell Obelisk – A shattered monolith burning with strange light
Velric Coastlands
Make your offering to the sea, or the storm will take its own.
Cliffs and ports battered by restless seas, lifeblood of trade yet perilous to all
Blackshore Cliffs – Jagged headlands
Siren Shoals – Treacherous shallows
Thalos – City of sailors and merchants
Fenwick – Fishing village
Veyrose – lighthouse village
Sunken Reliquary – Submerged ruin revealed at low tide
Shipyard Coast – Shoreline of wrecks
Tempest’s Eye – A storm forever returning
Thornveil Woods
The road through Thornveil is the only truth — all else is lies.
A labyrinth of twilight paths and roots where even the trees whisper
Heartwood – An oak older than kingdoms
Silvermist River – Fog-lined, moss-bridged waterway
Ghostly Path – The only road, haunted by thieves and worse
Blackmere – Poisonous swamp of strange lights
Thornbrooke – Settlements of fishers, farmers, and wary traders
Gravenhollow Crypts – Root-choked catacombs echoing with the forgotten dead
Weeping Tower – Watchtower bleeding water by moonlight
Sanctum of Silent Saints – Ivy-strangled ruin
Veilgrove – cloaked in drifting mists
Bleakmoore Wilds
The Wilds walk with fog, and the fog walks with hunger.
Moors and marshes where storms reshape the land and fog swallows the living
Graymoor – Misty plains of rune-stones
Blackfen Marshes – Tar-thick pools
Weeping Flats – A valley of endless drizzle
Crowmere, Dunrowan, Starfen, Loamwick – Half-sunken, wind-battered, ritual-bound, and muddy villages
Broken Keep – Toppled fortress haunted by scavengers
Miregate – Drowned arches of a lost city
Hollow Barrow – Looted burial mound
Sundered Causeway – Drowned, fractured road
Wandering Fog – Living mist devouring caravans
Storms of the Wilds – Tempests that redraw the land
The Huntsman’s Codex
To know the land, know its beasts. For Obsidra’s creatures are shaped by shadow, storm, and silence as much as its people.
Shadow Drakes – Winged predators that vanish into the sky
Obsidian Behemoths – Colossal creatures of stone and sinew, said to awaken at night
The Nameless – Shapeless horrors spoken of in every corner of the world
Mist Wraiths – Shadows in the evening mists, stealing voices and luring travelers astray
Vale Serpents – River snakes that mimic the cries of the drowned
Stormcrows – Enormous black birds whose cries herald storms
Frostborne Wights – Frozen corpses wandering the mountain passes, animated by storm-magic
Pale Hunters – Silent, faceless hunters that stalk travelers through the dead forests
Ash Ghouls – Corpse-like scavengers with cracked stone skin, feeding on carrion and bone
Siren Spawn – Amphibious creatures with drowning songs, haunting the shoals
Driftbone Crabs – Massive crabs that carry wreckage on their backs like armor
Hollow Stalkers – Gaunt, faceless beings of bark and bone, blending into the forest until they move
Briarwolves – Wolves with thorn-entwined fur, hunting in near silence
Moorhounds – Spectral hounds with glowing eyes, their cries carrying for miles
Fen Revenants – Half-sunken dead, rising from the bogs to drag the living down
The Fall
Chapter 1
Snap. “Shit!”
Genevieve sets down her sketch pad to pick up her bag. She digs through it for a minute before finally deciding to dump it out on the ground in front of her. She sticks her tongue out in concentration as she continues to sort through her trash: bubblegum wrappers, half-chewed pen caps, random keys…
“What is all this crap? Where is my sharpener?”
After searching for another minute, she gives up and sits back against the tree. Feeling defeated, she closes her eyes and counts to herself as she spreads her fingers through the lush grass, grounding her frustration more with each count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes.
Her gaze travels over the wall surrounding Greenhollow. She has lived her whole life in this city. Her parents had never wanted to travel. Any time she would ask them about it, they would always tell her the same thing: “We have such a happy life here, we don’t need to go anywhere else. All we could ever want is right here at home with you and your brother.”
She lets out a long sigh as she recites their vague non-answer in her head. It never made any sense to her. Genevieve always believed that you can be happy with what you have and yet still experience more. That is what was beyond the walls of the city: adventures and possibilities.
Genevieve looks down at her half-finished drawing.
“You know you can just make a new sharpener, right?”
“Fuck!” She turns to see Rowan behind her, leaning against the tree. She reaches down to pick up a rock lying next to her knee. “You scared the shit out of me, Ro!”
“Sorry, not sorry,” Rowan laughs, tossing her sharpener to her.
“Yes, I know I can make one,” she says, catching it, “but what is the fun of that? “
“The fun of using magic? Gee, I’m not sure,” Rowan says sarcastically as he sits down next to her.
She rolls her eyes at him.
“I know, Gigi. You know I just like messing with you,” Rowan says, laughing again. “What were you drawing today?” he asks, picking up her sketch pad.
“I was trying to draw the mountains over there,” she says, looking out at the view again, “but now it just looks like a bunch of weirdly shaped triangles.”
“Here, give me that,” he says, gesturing to her pencil. He starts to sharpen her pencil for her as she continues to look out over the wall, her eyes transfixed with wonder.
“I really love this spot,” she says in awe. It is the only place where you can see outside the city so well. On top of this hill, they can see past the south wall of the city. Not far off into the distance are mountains, their peaks covered in light snow. It is too warm in Greenhollow to be snowing yet, but it’s plenty cold on top of the mountains.
Besides the single road leading out of the city from the south, there isn’t much outside this side of Greenhollow. But Genevieve enjoys looking out at the mountains. She likes to dream of what else is out there, and remember how vast Obsidra really is. Maps can only let you experience so much of a place before they are rendered essentially useless.
“Here,” Rowan hands her pencil back to her, knocking her out of her daydream.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
They sit there in silence for a while longer, enjoying the view as the sun sets.
“We should be getting back,” Genevieve says and starts to stand up.
“Aren’t you going to finish your drawing?” Rowan asks.
“Nah, I’ll finish it tomorrow. Come on,” she says as she puts out her hand to help Rowan up off the ground, and they begin to make their way down the hill.
“Yeah, you’re right. Now that I think of it, I’m famished! What are your parents making for dinner tonight?” Rowan asks eagerly. He is naturally much faster than Genevieve, but he slows his stride to match hers.
“I think they’re ma---oh, gods! Don’t look now,” she mutters out of the side of her mouth, jutting her chin a bit to the right.
Confused, Rowan follows her gaze. Seeing as Genevieve is the most conspicuous person on the planet, he immediately sees Malik off to the side. Rowan’s eyes narrow on him as he puts his hand on Genevieve’s back to keep her walking.
“Let’s go,” Rowan chides.
She keeps walking, knowing better than to dredge up Rowan’s past with Malik.
As they continue down the paved street, Genevieve lets her gaze wander. She distracts herself by looking at the intricate details of the houses they pass.
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