The world was never meant to remember the night the sky bled silver.
It was the night the stars dimmed—the night when the realms touched, and chaos wore a crown of light. From the rift between shadows and dawn, monsters crawled, angels fell, and mortals forgot what it meant to dream without fear. And when it all began to break, one being stepped forward—neither mortal nor divine—to weave the Veil.
A wall of living magic, spun from blood and sorrow.
It stretched between worlds, separating the realm of humans from the realm of the supernatural—dragons, vampires, elves, witches, and every creature that dared to hold a spark of power. Peace was born, but peace, as it always is, was only an illusion.
Because the Veil was not perfect.
It pulsed. It breathed.
And sometimes… it trembled.
Legends say the First Veilborne gave everything—her soul, her memories, her name—to seal the rift. But nothing sealed by sacrifice stays untouched forever. Every few centuries, when the balance weakens, the Veil whispers again.
It whispers of the chosen and the cursed.
Of bloodlines that have forgotten who they are.
Of love that could either heal the realms—or tear them apart.
And this time, when the whisper came, it wasn't from the heavens.
It came from beneath.
The earth quaked. The moon bled red.
And far beyond mortal cities, hidden deep within a forest that never sleeps, a single bell began to toll.
Bong.
Once.
Bong.
Twice.
The gates of Noctis Academy creaked open, the ancient iron groaning as though it remembered the centuries of secrets behind it. Shadows shifted across the courtyard, brushing over the carved sigil at its heart—the mark of the Veil.
Somewhere among the crowd of students arriving that morning, one figure lifted their head at the sound. A pair of eyes—unfamiliar, unreadable—met the dawn.
And the Veil trembled again.