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" T oo bad he's stained by the veil. He's got such a pretty face."

"It's probably for the best otherwise he'd have his pick of everyone."

"Shush! He'll hear you."

Theo heard these whispers about himself a thousand times. Quinlan was a small village that he would describe as painfully plain. The grassy flat landscape, the shops, and homes were all some shade of beige.

He did his best to ignore the group of twentysomethings sitting on the ledge of the trickling fountain across the way and finished his final sale for the day. His last customer was a decent looking man he had been spending his free nights with named John.

He handed John two small tea bags. One was letting out a thick ribbon of lavender smoke that smelled like plums and cloves as it drifted up to the darkening sky. "You'll want to have your mom drink a fourth cup of the smoky one, to ease the pain. It may give her a small euphoric feeling, so don't give her more than half a cup. Then she needs to drink a full cup of ginger tea to reduce the fever."

"Thanks, Theo. You're a life saver," he said, clutching the small bag.

As he turned to go, Theo held up a hand. "Wait, I got you something."

"You did?" John flicked his eyes around nervously.

"The other night, you mentioned getting hurt when logging. So, I thought this would help." He handed him a small jar of crushed powder from a lower compartment. "In the future use this enchanted white yarrow and press it into the wound or rub it on top of stitches. It'll clot blood faster."

"Oh." He took the jar then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Theo, this is really sweet and I'm grateful. And I like... well, I really like what we do together."

"Having sex, you mean," Theo said simply. The panic in John's eyes was evident. People are predictable as always. "Don't worry. I'm not giving you this because I want more from you. I just had extra."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I do want to keep... um, sleeping together. But I don't want anyone to know because you're—I mean... I'm private about this type of thing."

"Because I'm stained?" John didn't deny it and Theo rolled his eyes. "I told you I could keep this casual, and I meant it. I gave extra tea to Mrs. Hathaway, and I gave the kids some glowing camellias to play with, too." He nodded to some children who ran across the cobblestones holding flowers that grew brighter as the sun steadily set behind the shops. "I like to give things away sometimes. Surely you know that."

"Right," he said with a sigh of relief. "Um, could you come by my place tonight? It's been a few days."

"I have plans, sorry." Theo forced a smile. "Have a good night."

"Are your plans with someone else?" When Theo only smiled in response, John's hands tightened around the jar. "Who is it? Is it Victor?"

"You aren't the only person keeping me a secret. I won't tell anyone about us, and I won't tell you about them. It's better that way, right?"

"But I thought—"

"Thought I'd stay exclusively your dirty secret? And what's in that for me?" John was silent, and Theo looked past him at the group lounging on the fountain edge. He flashed a smile and tossed a wave in their direction. Instantly, the group was all swoons, pink cheeks, and hushed arguments about who he was waving it. He glanced back at John and nodded up the road. "You should head home before the wind comes. Have a good night."

He left in a huff and Theo busied himself counting his profits. As the sky grew dimmer, everyone began to rush out of the square. The shops were locked up tight and carts were wheeled off toward the quiet cottages in the east. There was a silent understanding that being out here once the sunset was dangerous. Theo was the only one not in a hurry.

As he set a stack of bronze coins aside, a subtle green light spread over his cart.

Those who interacted with the veil were stained with a bioluminescent glow and believed to be carrying some of the veil's dark magic. There were rumors of others in different towns with a smear of glowing green behind their ear or permanent glowing dust under their fingernails. Theo's mark was not subtle. It couldn't be hidden with gloves or wearing his hair long.

Since he was a teenager, Theo had bold streaks that started on his right shoulder, traveled diagonally across his abdomen, and branched out asymmetrically like angry lightning bolts. It stood out bright on his brown skin all the time, but the moment the sun sunk in the sky, his scars turned him into an icy blue-green beacon of light. Some days it was more turquoise or teal. Others more cyan or sea foam. But it was always radiant.

More than once, he heard he was a waste when people thought he was out of earshot. “A great catch if only he wasn't stained.” “So handsome but I've never seen someone so deeply stained.”

Many were willing to kiss him in the dark, but by day they'd beg to keep their dalliances a secret. No one would actually court or marry someone stained. It used to cut Theo deep, but after hearing countless people ask him to pretend their time together never happened, he was numb to it. Now he treated flirting and sex with others as meaningless fun and accepted romance wasn't in the cards for him. He was far too busy for love anyway.

Only moderately satisfied with his profit, Theo packed up his cart for the night, but he didn't follow the rest of the merchants heading east towards the rows of sleepy identical cottages. Instead, Theo wandered west, across the empty fields to the forest.

No one else ventured into the western forest on a spring night if they could help it. In fact, in the spring most of Quinlan's inhabitants wouldn't even let their gaze move towards the tree at night until the first day of summer.

Despite all of that, Theo pressed forward, guided by the crescent moon and his own scars. He weaved through the densely packed pines and firs.

With every step he took over roots and across the pine needle dusted floor, his anticipation grew. He could find his destination with his eyes closed. There was an invisible constant pull in his chest that guided him to it for years. All year round he heard a call, but in the spring the call became a scream.

Five miles deep in the trees, Theo finally arrived.

In the middle of the forest was across a wall of fog so dense there was no seeing through it. The white cloud stretched endlessly upward toward the sky and slowly flowed downward like a waterfall of honey.

Theo grabbed his bow and arrows off the cart, strapped them to his back, took a breath, and stepped into the white.

The fog vibrated against his cart, making it rattle. The clouds had a light salty taste as if they rolled in off some mysterious coast. The air was thin as if he was climbing a mountain too rapidly. Just as the burn in his lungs was unbearable, the fog dissipated. There were no more pine trees, but trees flush with bright flowers, ripe fruits, and rich, green leaves.

The moon in the veil was always full and always hung low. Theo swore if he reached far enough, he could pluck it from the stars and pocket its pale light for later. The low heartbeat of the veil thumped in sync with Theo's heart, and all his muscles relaxed among it in a way they never did in the marketplace.

Despite it being comforting, Theo knew better than to let his guard down. Nearly everything in the veil could make humans violently ill or send them to the grave if not handled with care.

A manchineel tree up ahead oozed toxic golden sap and poison ivy sprawled out across the forest floor. The soft winds rustled the white and pink petals of the lethal oleander and foxgloves.

On top of that, every living thing, toxic or not, was enchanted. The ivy crawled slowly over Theo's boots like caterpillars, yellow and white daffodils chimed like little bells as he walked past them, and the songbirds that flitted overhead giggled between their songs as if the spirits of lost children were tucked between their rainbow feathers.

The veil was beauty and death in an endless embrace.

And Theo loved it.