Whispers from the Veil Ch. 7
Chapter Seven: The Breakthrough
She saw it again.
Painted on a crumbling brick wall in dripping black: 717.
Below it, the word: AWAKEN.
It was the third time that day.
First on the side of a delivery truck,
then whispered in her mind by a stranger passing on the street,
now here, bleeding through a message meant only for her.
717 followed her like breath.
She didn’t seek it.
It revealed itself.
Each time it appeared,
a wave of recognition swept through her chest.
Confirmation.
Alignment.
Instruction.
She wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
The angels were closer now.
Some showed up in human bodies.
A woman at a bus stop with golden eyes and a voice that rang like bells.
A man who reached out to steady her when she stumbled,
his hand warm but unreal,
like light cloaked in skin.
Others shimmered just beyond the veil,
tall, still figures that stood silently in doorways.
She could feel their wings stretch behind buildings.
She didn’t need to see them fully to know they were there.
They didn’t speak aloud.
They didn’t need to.
“We are watching.”
“You are protected.”
“Prepare the forces.”
The messages came like pulses,
telepathic downloads that arrived all at once
and left her gasping with clarity.
She had been chosen not just to walk through the veil,
but to lead within it.
The Illuminati was waiting.
Fragmented. Fractured. Divided.
She was the one who would reunify it.
Not through domination.
Through surrender.
Not to darkness.
To God.
The heavenly faction had already known.
They bowed when they saw her.
The earthbound ones resisted.
Bound by ritual.
Clung to control.
They tried to hide.
But the signal had gone out.
She had been crowned in spirit.
The title was silent.
But real.
Leader.
Commander.
Bridge.
She lifted the veil between heaven and earth,
and the hounds stirred.
Beneath the city,
in the layered dimensions below,
they began to rise.
Not beasts.
Spirits.
Loyal.
Terrible.
Holy.
They had been bound for an age,
waiting for the final call.
She gave it without words.
The ground vibrated.
Somewhere deep inside her body,
she felt them run.
And then the split came.
She had turned down a street she didn’t recognize.
The light was wrong.
Too red.
Too slow.
The people walking past her looked like humans,
but their movements weren’t right.
Their eyes didn’t blink.
Their smiles too still.
She was in another layer now.
A dimension designed to trap her.
They knew who she was here.
Not a girl.
Not lost.
But the leader of the Illuminati,
the one sent to turn the entire structure back toward the light.
She had become a threat.
And they wanted to stop her before she could complete the mission.
They came out of alleyways.
Men with cold voices and dead eyes.
She tried to back away,
but they were fast.
Coordinated.
One grabbed her arm.
Before she could scream—
stab.
A syringe.
Sharp.
Silent.
Forced into her skin.
The drug took hold immediately.
Her knees gave out.
Vision split into static.
Sound warped.
Her body no longer obeyed her.
She was dragged into the dark.
A hidden place.
A room not seen by ordinary eyes.
A door behind a door.
Lights too bright.
Walls that pulsed.
She lost time.
For days,
she drifted in and out of sedation.
Voices came in fragments.
Commands layered over static.
Hands moving her like a doll.
She tried to scream,
but her lips barely parted.
She heard them call her by the wrong name.
“Annie.”
“She’s still in there.”
“Keep her under.”
Her body was present,
but her soul was watching from above.
She felt everything.
And remembered.
But still, God was with her.
Even drugged.
Even held down.
Even when her mind blurred and time melted,
something inside her stayed clear.
I will not break.
You cannot take me.
And slowly,
like dawn cracking through black glass,
her clarity returned.
On the fourth day,
she moved.
Really moved.
A leg shifted.
A hand clenched.
Her breath came back fully.
She waited.
Listened.
And when the moment opened,
she ran.
Out the back.
Through corridors that pulsed like veins.
Into the light of a street that felt warped and unreal.
And the chase began.
She ran block after block,
but the path repeated.
A loop.
A trap.
The same door.
The same blinking sign.
The same man leaning against the wall.
She ran faster,
but she was moving through a maze that folded over itself.
No matter how many steps she took,
the distance never changed.
The block extended.
Warped.
Mocked her.
Behind her,
shadows.
Pursuers that changed shape as they closed in.
She couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t stop.
Couldn’t escape.
Her spirit howled.
She knew she couldn’t outrun this.
Not by speed.
Not by force.
Only by faith.
So she let go.
She closed her eyes.
And skipped time.
When she opened them,
she was somewhere else.
Quiet.
Open.
Safe.
A plaza.
Morning light.
Pigeons.
Children laughing.
Wind.
Her body still shook.
But she was free.
Her phone buzzed.
One message.
TO: ANNIE
Stand down.
She stared at it.
Then deleted it.
She was not theirs.
She never was.
Across the plaza,
an angel stood watching.
Still.
Vast.
Present.
He did not smile.
He didn’t need to.
He saw her.
And she saw him.
Author Note
Some stories come from places beyond language, woven from memory, symbol, and spirit. What happened in this chapter is drawn from a deeper truth. Not everything can, or should, be explained. Take what speaks to you, and leave what doesn’t.
— Eva Northwing
