Veil of Reality: Guardian of the Rift, #1

By Scott Marmorstein

A man with no past. A child with a hidden power. And a destiny that could reshape the cosmos.

Blake Reed awakens in a scorching desert at night with no idea how he got there, only razor-sharp survival instincts. A mysterious child named Yuna appears, their paths intertwined in ways that defy logic and fate.

As danger closes in, Blake must unravel the secrets of his forgotten past and protect Yuna from forces that threaten to tear apart the very fabric of reality. But in a world where nothing is as it seems, can he trust anyone, even himself?

Uncover the truth behind the Veil of Reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Marmorstein
• Release date: Mar 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224941902

Scott Marmorstein

Scott Marmorstein is an American author. He lives and works in North West Philadelphia with his wife and step-son, and their imaginary cat named Fred. Visit his website for blog and information about his other books at: www.scottdmarmorstein.com 

Book preview

Chapter 1

Empty Memories

Blinking against the darkness, Blake found himself facing a sea of desert night. His feet were stationed atop an elevated ridge, the coarse sand barely noticeable against the worn-out tips of his sneakers. The celestial sphere overhead was a tapestry of winking stars, their muted brilliance casting an ethereal glow over the landscape, turning the sand into a million microscopic mirrors. Below him, an obscure highway sliced through the desolation, stretching horizontally away into the darkness. Across the other side of the highway, a solitary white-brick building emerged from the darkness, its facade grudgingly revealed by the faint glow of a lone arc sodium. A crumbling parking lot was barely visible to the side of the long building.

His mind groped for a shred of memory, a clue to what had transpired before this moment, but came up frustratingly empty. A void yawned where his past should’ve been. I’m Blake Reed, he thought. The knowledge echoed hollowly in his mind. That was his name, the only anchor in this sea of uncertainty.

I’m in the desert... I know my name, but I can’t remember anything else.

He caught sight of a diminutive figure slumped against the white brick building. From this distance, it was hard to discern whether it was a child or simply a small person. His curiosity piqued, Blake began the descent, an uncomfortable ache resonating from his ribcage and an accompanying sting in his ankle. It was as if his body bore the echo of a forgotten chase.

Drawing nearer to the highway, the figure began to resolve into a child, hunched over with their knees pulled up to their chest inside an oversized shirt, their attention absorbed by a Rubik’s Cube. The dim light made it impossible to tell if the child was a girl or a boy.

Blake came to a halt, glancing down at his clothes, taking stock of his appearance, which, until now, he hadn’t remembered. His gaze fell on a flat stomach, hinting at a faint outline of muscle, a black shirt speckled with sand ripped blue jeans, and black sneakers emblazoned with a large ‘N.’

With nothing left to do but approach the child, Blake took a deep breath and hoped he exuded a hint of confidence and authority.

The wind swept over Blake, carrying a warmth that felt alien against his expectation of a cool desert night. Was he a native of these sands? Was his prediction built on some buried knowledge, or merely a trope he’d heard or read? The mysteries were as wide and empty as the desert itself.

His approach made the girl notice. The soft glow from the distant streetlights caught in her wide, almond eyes. Young with a shaggy haircut, a ghostly scar jaggedly traced her jawline from base to ear, starkly visible against skin tawny and smooth. Her oversized T-shirt, boldly emblazoned with BLACK, was a stark contrast against her scrawny, knee-hugging form. Blake couldn’t help but wonder what sights this desolate place held for a child.

He ventured a greeting, Hi there. His voice echoed the desert winds—low, raspy, and parched. The craving for water swelled, his throat rough and gritty.

The girl waved back instead of speaking, a smile ghosting her lips as she traced patterns in the air with her fingers. The motion was like a dance, mysterious and cryptic, much like their surroundings. Is this building a bar or a store of some kind? He asked.

She shook her head, her movements stirring up a mini sandstorm that glinted under the arc sodium lights before falling back to the ground. Can you tell me what it is?

It’s empty.

The pungent mix of dust and her own unique musk filled the air between them, an unwritten chapter of her existence in this barren expanse. Is there a town nearby?

No.

And your parents?

She rose, the scabs on her knees evidence of a rough life lived here. Don’t have any. Do you remember me?

He could almost swear he did, but the fog of his memory left him unsure. I…can’t remember⁠—

Before he could finish, the girl hushed him, her widened eyes darting nervously in the shadows. A primal fear gripped him, his senses on high alert. His ears strained for any abnormal sound. At first silence; then a growl echoed behind him, followed by a chilling shriek that froze his blood. His pulse pounded in sync with the terror that ripped through the silence.

The girl was already on the move, disappearing along the side of the building, leaving a swirling trail of sand behind her. Blake gave chase, driven by adrenaline and a newfound bond with the girl in the BLACK T-shirt. Despite the desert leaching his energy, he was determined to keep her in sight. He had no other option.

Blake rounded the corner just in time to see the girl transform into a bright flash of light. It took less than a second for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings again, yet somehow she was gone. It wasn’t possible. Blake looked to the right, out into the desert, expecting to see her fleeting white T-Shirt. To the left was a long brick wall, and she would still be in front of him. This made no sense.

Blake’s heart thundered in his chest. The noises from behind him had moved further away, ostensibly scared off by the bright flash of light. Blake walked to where a split-moment before she had been running and knelt down, his eye stuck on something on the sandy terrain. A circular ring of blackened and charred sand with small glowing embers still burning and small plumes of smoke drifting upwards. The smoldering desert sand could not disguise the sudden assault on Blake's senses—an acrid blend of sweet, smokey mesquite and charred brush tendrils embedding their essence in his nostrils.

As he reached to touch it, the eerie howl ripped through the silence once again, but further away now, retreating from the building and its human visitor.

Whatever made that noise hadn’t been an animal Blake knew of; it sounded like something entirely inhuman.

Just my overworked imagination clawing at my sanity, he thought.

Trapped in this vast desert with his identity lost to him, Blake was overwhelmed by a flood of questions. Where was he? Who had he been before tonight? Where exactly was he before standing on that ridge across the highway?

The desert winds whispered in his ears, their secrets tantalizingly out of reach. His eyes scanned the landscape for some guiding light, some hint to aid his quest for self-discovery. But the desert remained impervious to his quiet demand to know.

Taking a deep breath, Blake steeled himself against the echo of the scream still lingering in the air. His stomach twisted in hunger, his throat clenched tightly and dryly, seeking water. He ignored these signals. Blake rose to a stand and decided to march on in search of food and answers. As he continued to walk, keeping the wall of the building to his left for safety, Blake couldn’t help himself from thinking about the girl. How had she disappeared like that? Why did he feel so connected to her? Had they known each other? She’d asked him if he remembered her, which meant he probably should remember her. Something inside him that insisted he had met her before, but where and when he could not grasp.

Blake shook his head and continued to march forward with care and weariness leadening his feet.

As Blake ventured deeper into the desert night, the wind’s hushed sough teased his skin, carrying whispers of sand and the faint echoes of his footfalls. The lone building, a defiant wall of white bricks, stood its ground on his left, while the sprawling darkness of the desert stretched out endlessly on his right.

Somewhere behind him something stirred in the silent canvas of the night. A rhythmic hum, a barely-there echo that felt more like a phantom memory than a tangible sound. But as the seconds ticked on, it grew, materializing into an unmistakable drumbeat. Drums, a human hallmark. A potential lifeline, or perhaps a looming threat.

Emotions swirled within him like a turbulent storm. Was he approaching a hidden tribe of night-time cannibals, or a tribal community reaching out a hand of aid? His muddled memory was spinning tales and throwing theories around, all hinged on one certainty: he was an American. But the depth of that identity remained hazy, its implications indecipherable, leaving him treading water in a sea of confusion.

Should I stay or should I go? His voice, low and raspy, split the silence, bringing both comfort and disquiet. As his heart hammered away, sounding an alarm, the innate will to survive nudged him to make a choice.

I can’t just stand here, he muttered to himself, his lips flattening into a grim line. Opting for silence as his cloak, he became virtually invisible, shielding his presence from unseen threats. To stay would be a drawn-out death sentence; to move might lead to salvation or an untimely end. But the allure of the drumbeat, its mysterious magnetism, tugged at him persistently.

Driven by drumbeats which haunted the glittering landscape, he struck out toward their inexorable origin point, strides fueled by gritty determination against the shifting sands. With every step, he sank deeper into the desert, his senses sharpening in response to the black velvet darkness. The drumbeat thrummed louder, pulsing with life, beckoning him forward.

The desert served up a sensory banquet - the crunch of sand under his worn-out shoes, the gentle graze of the wind on his cheeks, and the eerie cries of distant night creatures, their calls weaving a haunting desert symphony. His heart skipped along to the drumbeat, drawing him closer to the heart of the enigma.

Rocks rose from the shifting sands to meet his foot on occasion, threatening to topple him. The drifts of sand grew steeper, foreshadowing a grueling ascent over the swelling dunes rising before him. Enveloped in the shroud of darkness, he felt like a blindfolded man in an alien landscape.

As his eyes gradually adapted to the dim light, he began making out the basic shapes, avoiding potential pitfalls. The uphill climb grew steeper.

The drumbeats swelled to a feverish crescendo - louder, faster, compelling. An inexplicable urgency had him quickening his steps, pushing him closer to the rhythm’s source.

As he ascended the sandy incline, a pressing urge forced Blake to halt. Swiftly unzipping his jeans, his worn-down black sneakers sinking into the coarse sand, he addressed his bodily needs. A transient sense of satisfaction washed over him, yet it swiftly gave way to a pang of dread. His urine splashed onto the desert floor, a stark testament to the water his body was sacrificing—a typical human function that in his extraordinary predicament spelled potential disaster.

Abruptly, the drumbeats ceased, and Blake found himself thrust into a tangible silence. The absence of sound amplified the vast emptiness of the desert around him. He stood there, momentarily disoriented by the disconcerting sound carried through the desert air. Until then, Blake had been somewhat certain that he was traversing an almost zigzag pattern, guided by the distant echoes. But now, without the auditory cues to direct him, he was unsure of which path to follow.

Blake pivoted in place, his eyes scanning the surroundings for the white brick building in the distance. The arc-sodium light painted its walls with an otherworldly shimmer, reminiscent of an alien spaceship. It surprised him that such a memory resurfaced amidst his disconnected past, but it provided only fleeting glimpses, nothing substantial to aid him at that moment.

Turning around once more, a flicker of certainty tugged at Blake’s consciousness. He believed that, as long as his back remained oriented towards the building, he would inevitably cross paths with whoever had been orchestrating the drumbeats in the nocturnal air. A sense of trepidation lingered within him. He could still be approaching danger rather than salvation—the struggle not only for his memory but for his survival kept slipping his cognitive gears.

Chapter 2

Aetherian Summons

With no other choice but to forge ahead, Blake climbed the hill with sliding steps. The incline proved slippery, and the work made his glutes burn with the effort. Once the terrain leveled out Blake got a clearer perspective. From the top of the hill, his vision improved, aided by the warm glow emanating from a campfire situated about a hundred yards ahead. Shadows of dark objects, likely cacti and rock formations, partially obscured the vibrant orange light, but a glimmer of hope flickered within him. Where there was fire, there would be people, and where there were people there could be food. That was encouragement enough.

Mindful of his presence, Blake made conscious efforts to calm his breathing, striving for utmost stealth. Blake forced himself to breathe in and out through his nose. He didn’t trust his mouth to keep him quiet enough. Despite his best intentions, the shifting sound of his shoes against the gritty sand and scattering pebbles beneath his soles persisted, but he endeavored to tread with caution. His plan remained unchanged: to observe those ahead before deciding on his approach.

Within forty yards now, Blake discovered a generous cactus, providing him a hiding spot. Straining his ears, he listened intently, capturing sporadic rustles of clothing and intermittent breaths—whether his own or someone else’s remained uncertain; the sounds blended together behind the protective embrace of the cactus. Silence reigned, interrupted only by the soft return of the drum, causing Blake to startle momentarily before restraining any inadvertent noise.

The drumbeat repeated, this time slightly louder, followed by a chorus of humming emanating from the campfire. The sound held an enigmatic blend of foreboding and stirring tranquility, captivating Blake like nothing he remembered ever experiencing before.

After a few moments of enchanting humming, the voices faded into silence. Blake closed his eyes, feeling a bead of sweat trace the contour of his nose before coming to rest tantalizingly at its edge, teasing him. The melody of the humming instilled within him an inexplicable sense of calm, trust, and serenity.

Before he could comprehend the reasons behind his newfound emotions, he felt his body step out from behind the cactus, moving autonomously toward the campfire and the enigmatic figures surrounding it. A force beyond his control compelled him toward these enigmatic individuals, while he remained a captive inside his own body.

If these beings were men, they were the most extraordinary men Blake had ever seen. As he drew closer, he couldn’t help but wonder whether they were dressed in elaborate costumes, their dark-brown robes glinting and shimmering in the mesmerizing glow of the campfire.

With each step, Blake’s anticipation grew, and as he neared, the distinct features of their faces became discernible. Their countenances were adorned with a striking hue of dark-blue skin, deeply etched with intricate wrinkles. Their minuscule noses and elongated foreheads disappeared beneath the hoods that cloaked them.

Within mere feet of these enigmatic figures, an eerie stillness enveloped the air. Unmoving, their eyes remained closed, as if locked in a state of profound meditation or devout prayer. The atmosphere exuded an otherworldly calmness, dissolving Blake’s earlier fears. A sudden force compelled his knees to buckle, and he found himself falling, surrendering to an unspoken reverence.

With each passing moment, as Blake remained humbled before these mysterious beings, a sense of comfort gradually washed over him. With closed eyes the dull ache in his rib cage and the throbbing pain in his ankle faded into insignificance. A new fragrance wafted through the air, intertwining the scents of incense and delicate floral notes, casting a gentle spell on his weary heart.

Rise, a voice commanded, resonating with a melodic timbre emanating from within Blake’s own mind.

His eyes opened slowly, finally realizing that he was once again standing upright, head bowed in deference.

We have been expecting your arrival, the voice uttered, its tone a delightful orchestra that caressed his ears.

Where am I? Who are you? Blake questioned, his curiosity tinged with a touch of confusion.

A chuckle, reminiscent of the soothing resonance of Tibetan bowls, reverberated through the air, accompanied by the delicate fragrances of jasmine and gardenia. Blake’s eyes grew heavy, swaying gently as he soaked in the atmosphere.

We are what you might call the Aetherians. We bear no true name, but you may refer to us as such. We are a collective of Time and Allness enthusiasts.

Opening his eyes, Blake surveyed the congregation of hooded figures, unable to discern their eyes behind the concealing fabric. The intricate patterns etched into their wrinkled skin was mesmerizing, momentarily illuminating with a pulsating energy that hinted at the stories they held within.

Why am I here? Blake’s voice quivered, the question echoing through his mind.

We have summoned you, Blake.

I have no recollection of anything before this desert?

It is best that you remain unburdened by your past self. Remembering would impede your ability to fulfill the task.

What task? Blake staggered a little where he stood, weariness stealing his strength by the second.

Retrieve the girl you crossed paths with. She is lost and in grave danger. The key she possesses unlocks a treacherous doorway within the universe. Should that door be opened, chaos will reign eternal. We stand as the guardians, the barrier that shields all Time and all multi-verses from collapsing into complete chaos.

I have no idea how to find her!

If you do not find her, be patient. She shall find you.

How is she supposed to find me?

She has found you before. She’ll find you once again. We are certain of it. There exists a connection between you and her. When you both cross paths again, persuade her to accompany you and bring her to us. Time grows short.

I’m so thirsty and hungry…please, do you have anything to eat or drink? Blake used every ounce of effort to stand still, his breath had calmed, but his heart hammered on. This was an encounter unlike any he could remember—not that his memory went back all that far.

One of the Aetherians rose silently, approaching Blake with outstretched hands. Those hands appeared to be enormous—the size of planets—and covered Blake’s eyes. Twinkling lights appeared inside the dark sphere those hands created. Without warning, Blake found himself inside a vast tunnel. Its shimmering walls seemed to glitter with stars in motion, an diaphanous display undulating with a lifeforce all its own.

At the very end of the tunnel was a bright white light. To look into that light felt like ecstasy, and Blake was no longer in control of his body. His body simply floated quickly toward that light. Am I dying?

The moment Blake crossed through the threshold of that white light, he fell into a kind of sweet languor, then nothing.

As Blake’s mind stirred from slumber, he found himself lying on his back, blinking open his eyes to a world that felt both recognizable and yet altered. Rolling over, he came face to face with the familiar sight of the white-brick wall. But this time, the sunlight bathed everything in a warm glow, casting a different aura over the scene.

Blake recalled that chilling howl and scream from the desert night. It echoed in his memory in search of forgotten memories.

Slowly and cautiously, Blake pulled himself to his feet, feeling a renewed sense of energy surging through his veins. The pains in his ribs and ankle from last night were still gone, a gift of compassion from the Aetherian’s power; something he’d do well to remember if he came across any doubts.

Beside him lay his provisions, a demonstration of the mysterious kindness of his newfound allies. Wrapped carefully in brown paper nestled deep in a leather pack, there was water and a bundle of bread. Blake unscrewed the lid first and drank cool water in gulps, dribbles of it sliding down his chin and tickling his neck. No matter how much he drank, the water flask did not drain. When his throat was sufficiently wet and his stomach full of cool water, he grasped the bread out of the paper sack and tore off a chunk, savoring its rich and savory flavors that replaced the previous night’s sweetness, filling him up with gratifying satisfaction. The bread was dark, its interior a purple-hue. Various seeds coated its topmost layer.

Close by rested a small leather pack, it's simple drawstrings serving as a shield for its contents. Blake reached for the pack, loosening the drawstring and unveiling its interior. He discovered two specialized pockets, perfectly crafted to hold his precious provisions. One pocket cradled the bread, while the other held the water. As he reached inside, a delightful chill greeted his hand, as if the pouch had its own built-in refrigerator, adding a refreshing touch to the moment.

Those folks sure know how to pull off a neat trick, Blake remarked with a mix of gratitude and amazement.

Tying the drawstring shut, he turned his head, searching for a glimpse of the girl he had only recently encountered by chance. But as expected, she was nowhere to be found. A wry smile curled at the corner of his lips, reminding him that such encounters rarely unfolded without a bit of effort. Determined, he set off, striding purposefully along the length of the white-brick wall to whatever lay beyond it.

A large parking lot sprawled before him, an expanse capable of accommodating up to twenty cars, though the absence of designated lines on its crushed-slate-gravel surface gave it an air of wild abandonment. Amid the rough terrain, an ancient Ford sat atop cinderblocks, its tires missing. Its worn frame revealing rusted rims, and shattered windows. Once adorned with a pristine coat of white paint, the vehicle had succumbed to the relentless march of time, now predominantly coated in hues of burnt orange. Yet amidst the decay, remnants of the wheel hub peeked through, miraculously spared from the clutches of nature’s erosion. As Blake’s eyes fixated on the dilapidated machine,