The sky bled fire the night Kael Rhiven was born.
Above the village of Isenwald, a quiet settlement pressed between silver cliffs and pine-choked valleys, the heavens split in two — a crimson rift scarring the stars, opening like a wound that refused to heal. The Elders called it an omen. The priests called it blasphemy. But the villagers, too afraid to name what they'd seen, simply called it the Rift Night.
Kael never saw it himself. But he felt it.
Even seventeen years later, when he closed his eyes, he could feel its pull like a blade pressed against his spine.
---
Kael crouched by the frozen lake, breath misting in the early morning chill. His fingers curled around a shard of obsidian buried in the snow — sharp, too sharp for something natural. He held it up to the rising sun, watching the red light fracture through its core.
It hummed softly. A sound no one else could hear.
"Found another one?" came a voice behind him.
Kael didn't look up. "They're getting closer to the surface."
Liora, the innkeeper's daughter and his only real friend, stepped beside him. She wrapped her cloak tighter. "That's the third this week. You think it's from the mines?"
"Too pure," Kael said, pocketing the shard. "This isn't just stone."
"You always say that. But you never explain it."
"Because I can't." He stood, brushing snow off his trousers. "Not yet."
She gave him a long look — the kind that said you're hiding something again. But she let it go. That was what Kael liked about Liora. She didn't press. Not when it mattered.
The wind shifted. It smelled like ash.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Go back to the village."
"Why?"
"Now."
---
When Liora was out of sight, Kael turned toward the trees.
They were no longer alone.
From the forest came a man wrapped in gray leathers, face hooded, footsteps silent on the snow. Around his neck hung a bronze token — the mark of a Veilborne Seeker.
Kael's blood went cold.
"I'm not marked," he said before the man could speak. "You're wasting your time."
The Seeker tilted his head. "No one said you were."
"Then why are you here?"
The man stepped closer, drawing a slender blade from his belt. Its edge shimmered with faint light, like moonlight caught in steel.
"To see if that's true."
---
The fight was short.
Kael moved fast — faster than he should have. His instincts screamed before the blade even came close. He dodged, countered, grabbed a broken branch from the snow and swung.
It cracked against the Seeker's side, but the man didn't flinch.
"You are fast," the Seeker muttered, more curious than angry. "But clumsy."
Kael's breath heaved. "I told you. I don't have a mark."
The Seeker circled him. "That's the thing. Everyone has one. Even if it's hidden. But you…" His eyes narrowed. "You don't register at all. Not to the Living Veil. Not the Spirit. Not even Shadow."
He sheathed his blade.
"You are… empty. That shouldn't be possible."
Kael said nothing.
"Unless—" the man took a step forward "—you are something else entirely."
---
Back in Isenwald, the sky had turned black.
Kael didn't notice the clouds until the first scream echoed across the village.
He ran.
What he saw when he arrived stopped his breath.
The ground was torn open. The sky twisted like a whirlpool of night. From the cracks spilled figures wrapped in darkness — eyeless, formless things that moved like shadows caught in wind. Villagers fled in all directions, some already limp on the ground, drained of color and life.
"Wraiths…" Kael whispered.
The Seeker arrived at his side, sword drawn again. "Shadowspawn. They've breached the Living Veil."
"That's not possible. The Seals—"
"Someone wants them open."
Kael's hands clenched. "What do we do?"
The Seeker glanced at him. "You run. That's what you're best at, isn't it?"
Kael didn't answer. He stepped forward.
And then the world shattered.
---
The Veil broke inside him.
Pain lanced through his chest — not like a wound, but a rending. Light burst from his skin, not gold or silver but deep, shimmering violet. The sky cracked. The wraiths paused, then screeched like they recognized something ancient and terrible.
From Kael's back, three glowing marks flared into being:
A flame-shaped glyph: Living Veil
A spiral etched in silver: Spirit Veil
A black fang wrapped in mist: Shadow Veil
All three. All at once.
The Seeker dropped to one knee.
"…Tri-Veiled," he whispered. "By the gods."
Kael didn't hear him. The power surged — wild, untamed, ripping through his body like a flood. He raised his hand without knowing why, and the shadows recoiled as if scorched.
The wraiths screamed and scattered.
The tear in the sky closed.
Silence fell.
---
Kael collapsed.
Before the darkness took him, he heard the Seeker speak again — voice low, reverent, afraid.
"You weren't born Veilborne… You were born Veilbroken."