Ash's eyes snapped open. The world around him was still—the sharp scent of rusted metal and old stone lingered in the air, but the quiet was wrong. The presence that had surrounded him moments ago… the weight, the force of something ancient and unknowable… it was gone.
He blinked, his vision adjusting to the dimly lit alleyway. The Forgotten Tower loomed ahead, its jagged silhouette a stark contrast against the pale sky. The sounds of the ruined city seemed far away, muffled like a distant dream.
But it wasn't a dream. He'd felt the power. He'd touched it.
His chest burned, and he instinctively reached for the place where the mark had appeared on his skin—nothing. The flesh was smooth, no trace of the strange symbol that had wracked him with heat and strange visions.
Had it all been a hallucination?
As he steadied himself, brushing off the disorienting sensation, he realized something was wrong.
There was a figure standing at the entrance of the alley. A shadow, barely distinguishable from the surroundings, but it was there, watching him. For a moment, Ash thought of bolting, but his legs wouldn't move. The feeling of being seen—of being watched—struck him with a jolt of cold fear.
"Quite the thing you've woken up," the figure spoke, their voice low and gravelly, laced with a kind of quiet authority that sent an uncomfortable shiver down Ash's spine.
Ash swallowed. The stranger didn't seem to care about the hesitation, stepping closer into the weak light, revealing themselves fully. Tall, cloaked in dark fabric, their face concealed by a hood. But Ash could make out the intricate tattoos on their exposed skin—shifting, changing in response to the air, like symbols dancing across their flesh.
A mark of the Veiled.
"Who are you?" Ash's voice was barely above a whisper, his heart hammering in his chest. The Veiled were the powerful families that controlled the city, and most didn't venture into places like this. Their territories were far removed from the forgotten ruins.
The figure tilted their head, eyes glinting from beneath the hood. "You don't need to know who I am. What you need to know is that you're meddling with something far bigger than you can comprehend, boy."
Ash stepped back, confusion wrinkling his brow. "I—I don't understand. What did I do?"
"You reached into the heart of the Tower." The stranger's gaze hardened. "You touched what was meant to be left alone."
The Forgotten Tower and The Veil
Ash's mind raced as the stranger's words sank in. The Forgotten Tower wasn't just a ruin. It was a place that housed ancient, dangerous relics—artifacts tied to the origins of the Veil itself. The Veil was the barrier that separated the known world of Elarra from the vast and unknown realms of Nyreum, the dark continent beyond.
The Veiled families controlled the Veil, using its power to maintain their dominance, hiding the truth of the world from the people. And Ash, by touching the relic, had unknowingly unlocked a door that should've stayed shut.
"I didn't mean to—" Ash began, but the stranger cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"You've done more than open a door. You've opened the fracture." The figure stepped closer, now standing just a few paces away from Ash, the weight of their presence overwhelming. "Fractures don't heal themselves, Ash. They bleed out, and when they do, the Veil weakens. And when the Veil weakens, those beyond will come."
Ash's head swam. "Those beyond?" His voice caught in his throat, but he pushed on. "Who? What are you talking about?"
The stranger's lips curled into something that was half a smile, half a sneer. "You'll see soon enough. When the Veil falls, it'll be too late to stop them. The creatures. The godslayers. They've been waiting."
Ash stumbled back, his mind too overwhelmed to make sense of what the stranger was saying. Creatures? Godslayers? The Veil was just a myth, wasn't it? A story passed down by the rich and powerful to maintain their hold over the rest of the population.
And yet, there was a truth in the stranger's words. The power he had felt—that wasn't normal. It was something far older, something unnatural.
The Mark of the Veilborn
The stranger seemed to study him for a moment, eyes narrowing as if sizing up Ash's very soul. "The mark you bear isn't just a sign of your ignorance," they said, their voice suddenly softer, but no less chilling. "You're marked as one of the Veilborn. The key to everything—if you can survive long enough to understand what it means."
Ash's breath caught. He hadn't noticed it before, but now the sensation of something etched into his skin pressed down on him. He tried to ignore the sharp pain that flared beneath his ribs as the mark twisted, faintly visible beneath his tunic.
Veilborn. The key.
The words swam in his head, mixing with the disorienting vision of the forgotten cage. What had he truly unlocked in that place? What was it trying to tell him?
The stranger took a step back, disappearing into the shadows. "Find out for yourself," they called back, their voice echoing as if from far away. "But remember, the world doesn't forget the Veilborn easily. Not when they know what you are."
Ash stood in the alley, the weight of the stranger's words sinking in. The Veilborn. He didn't know what that meant, but one thing was clear—he was caught in something much bigger than himself. And whatever he had unleashed, it was already beginning.
He turned back toward the Forgotten Tower, unsure of whether it was his fate or his mistake that had led him to this point. But there was no turning back now.
The Fracture was bleeding into the world.
And the Veilborn had no choice but to face it.