The Veil never slept.
It breathed.
Slow. Endless. Ancient.
Silver mist rolled across the broken plains like restless spirits, swallowing mountains and revealing them again in the same silent rhythm that had existed long before wolves learned to speak or humans learned to fear the dark.
Seraphine stood at the edge of the world.
Wind pulled at the long black strands of her hair, lifting them like shadows around her face as she stared into the shifting horizon.
Something had changed.
She had felt it hours ago.
A disturbance.
Not a crack in reality like the Ancients made when they forced their way through dimensions.
Not the violent pull of a summoning ritual.
This had been… quieter.
But infinitely more dangerous.
Like a door opening somewhere that should have been sealed forever.
