Upon the threshold of his meager refuge, Cael's gaze fell upon a folded parchment, its edges worn and stained by time's relentless passage. The seal that bound it bore a sigil lost to all but the oldest tongues — a spiral entwined with a fractured horn, faintly aglow with a spectral light that seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of forgotten ages.
His fingers trembled as he broke the seal, revealing scrawled words that danced like shadows upon the brittle page:
"The Horned Star watches more than you know. Trust none. Find the Veil."
No name, no mark — only the weight of a dire command.
The word Veil stirred something long dormant within Cael's soul. It was a whisper, a secret cloaked in riddles spoken in the darkest taverns and in the hushed tones of those who had glimpsed beyond the mortal coil. The Veil was said to be a gateway — a passage not just of place, but of truth and transformation.
Outside, the city throbbed with a restless pulse, its very stones humming with the songs of spies and shadows. The corrupted guild tightened its grasp, stretching unseen fingers into every corner of Erebus.
Cael folded the letter carefully, tucking it beneath his threadbare cloak. The weight of destiny settled heavy upon his shoulders, yet beneath it, a fragile ember of hope kindled anew.
That night, as the Horned Star cast its eerie glow upon the heavens, Cael dared to look up, searching for answers in the endless dark.
And for a moment — just a fleeting breath — the Horned Star blinked.
A faint, unnatural light flickered in the alley behind him, and footsteps whispered closer.