The city of Arcanova never slept. Neon lights buzzed in sync with the pulse of the underground trains, and a veil of haze cloaked the skyline like a lingering memory. To the world, it was just another sprawling metropolis — a haven for ambition and danger. But beneath the polished streets and digital billboards, secrets older than civilization stirred.
Eli Draven, 22, worked night shifts fixing street-level mana conduits — tech fused with ancient spellcraft, powering the city. To most, the glowing blue cores were just urban infrastructure. But to Eli, they whispered.
Tonight, one whispered louder than usual.
Sparks crackled as he pried open the base of the conduit on 8th and Lorin Street. Inside, instead of the standard rune-inscribed core, a black shard hovered, suspended midair, dripping shadow like ink in water.
He reached for his tools, but the shard pulsed.
"Help me…"
Eli froze.
That wasn't in his head. The voice, though distant and cracked, had spoken aloud. Or through him.
A rush of cold surged up his arm as his fingertips brushed the shard. Symbols — ancient, forgotten glyphs — spiraled across his skin, burning with eerie light. His body seized. His mind exploded.
Visions.
A war between Veilwalkers and Shadekin.
Cities burned. Skies cracked. A hero — faceless, nameless — breaking the Veil between realms.
Then darkness.
Eli collapsed to the ground, gasping. When he looked up, the shard was gone. And standing over him was a man in a long coat, eyes glowing violet, holding a blade made of shadowlight.
"You touched it," the man said. "You've been marked."
Eli blinked. "What the hell is happening?"
The stranger knelt, pressing a rune against Eli's chest. "You're not just a conduit tech anymore. You're a Veilbreaker. And the war is starting again."