Crimson veil

Chapter one:

Rain always poured heavier in the city's oldest quarter.

Aria Vale lingered under the faded awning of *Vale & Vine*, her aunt's cluttered bookshop, watching the downpour twist streetlights into hazy gold smudges. The storm muffled the usual sounds of the city-tires rolling over wet pavement in near silence, footsteps lost beneath the relentless drum of water. She tugged her coat closer, the damp chill seeping through despite the layers.

The shop had been closed for hours, but she'd stayed behind to catalog a new shipment of rare books. Her aunt was off in Florence, chasing another impulsive purchase, leaving Aria to manage things alone. Not that she minded. The quiet of the shop, with its scent of aged paper and forgotten stories, was a familiar solace. A gentle kind of enchantment. Predictable.

Until tonight.

She turned the key in the tarnished lock, the click barely audible over the rain, when movement flickered at the edge of her vision. Across the street, tucked in the narrow gap between a shuttered café and an abandoned music store, something shifted.

Not a person-something else. Too fast. Too unsteady.

A sound followed-a rough, guttural noise that didn't sound human.

Aria froze, pulse hammering. Logic told her to walk away, to call for help, to act like she hadn't seen a thing. But the noise came again, weaker this time. Agonized.

Before she could second-guess herself, she crossed the street, her boots kicking up water. As she neared the alley, the shape resolved into a man-barefoot, bruised, and slumped against the damp bricks. His clothes were drenched, streaked with rain and something darker.

"Hey-can you hear me?" she asked, voice nearly swallowed by the storm.

Nothing.

She crouched beside him, reaching out. The second her fingers grazed his shoulder, his hand snapped up and clamped around her wrist. His grip was ice-cold. Unyielding.

His eyes flew open-pale, almost metallic, and brimming with something wild. For a breathless second, she thought he might lunge at her.

Instead, his voice was a ragged whisper. "You weren't supposed to see me."

Then his body went slack again, unconscious.

Aria stared, heart pounding. Every nerve in her body told her to bolt, to forget this ever happened.

But something kept her rooted-an inexplicable pull, as if the storm itself had chosen this moment to tear apart the quiet life she knew.

She looked down at him, questions swirling.

Who *was* he?

And why did it feel like nothing would ever be the same?