Voices in the Veils

The wind sliced through the ancient juniper branches like a rusted blade, shaking loose a spray of dew that struck their heads like leaden pellets. Without warning, the fog surged from the belly of the valley—a heavy, slate-gray curtain dropped onto a stage, erasing the forest and smothering the world in a thick, suffocating silence. Bryce stood perched on a jagged limestone outcrop, his knuckles white around his phone. He had been trying to capture that ethereal moment where the clouds kissed the peaks, but in a heartbeat, the screen washed out into a flat, sightless white. His camera had gone blind. He lowered his hand, turning left and right, but his friends were gone, replaced by flickering smudges dancing in the mist—ghosts drowning in a sea of spilled milk. A chill that had nothing to do with the mountain air crawled into his marrow, settling there with a heavy, ominous weight. His thumb hovered over the radio button on his tactical vest, trembling. He tried to force a steady tone he didn't possess. 'Jared? Kade? You guys there? I can’t see my own hand in front of my face.' Silence followed. A thick, pressurized silence that felt like the air before a lightning strike. Then…