Chapter 1
The Shadow That Didn't Answer
The world ended quietly.
No screams. No fire.
Just silence—thick, crushing, and wrong.
Ilyas Crowe noticed it when the streetlights went out.
All at once.
The alley behind the orphan quarter was swallowed by darkness so complete it felt solid. The air grew cold, heavy with something that tasted like rust.
Then the shadows moved.
Not stretched.
Not flickered.
They watched.
"Not today," Ilyas muttered, backing away slowly.
Too late.
The ground split open.
Black mist poured upward like a wound tearing through reality, swallowing buildings, people—memories. A symbol burned itself into the sky above: a shattered eye wrapped in chains.
Veilfall.
The word surfaced in his mind uninvited.
He ran.
Everyone did.
The unlucky were pulled screaming into the mist, their shadows tearing free first—ripped screaming from their feet like living things.
Ilyas tripped.
Hands clawed at him from the dark.
Cold fingers dug into his ankle, his wrist, his throat.
He screamed.
And something answered.
Not a voice.
A presence.
The shadow beneath him thickened, rising like ink poured into water. It wrapped around him—not gently, not cruelly—possessively.
The hands recoiled.
The mist screamed.
Then silence returned.
Ilyas lay shaking on the ground, gasping for breath.
Alive.
Slowly, he looked down.
His shadow was wrong.
Too dark. Too sharp.
It moved even when he didn't.
You lived, something whispered—not aloud, but inside the space fear left behind.
Now don't bore me.
Ilyas swallowed hard.
"I didn't ask for you," he whispered.
The shadow stretched—smiling.
No, it replied.
But you needed me.
Above the ruined city, the Veil sealed shut.
And somewhere far away, something ancient turned its attention toward a boy whose shadow no longer belonged to him.
§End of chapter 1§