The year was 2136, a century after the Veil first split the sky open. Humanity stood transformed, no longer the trembling species that once cowered under the darkness of Arkael. The world had not only recovered but reshaped itself around the anomaly. What was once a wound in reality had become a catalyst for evolution.
Cities rose like luminous fortresses, built of alloyed stone and Rift-crystal fibers that pulsed with faint, rhythmic light. Towers stood taller than they had in the old world, their walls reinforced with condensed Ember to repel the corruption that still seeped through the rift scars. At night, the skyline shimmered in shades of violet and gold, a reflection of both human ingenuity and the lingering presence of Arkael's energy.
Humanity no longer looked entirely human. Some bore subtle signs of Arkael's touch such as glowing veins, elongated pupils, or faint motes of light drifting across their skin when they felt strong emotion. Others embraced the path fully and became registered Riftborn, wielding abilities their ancestors would have considered divine or monstrous.
The streets were a mosaic of old and new. Traditional markets thrived beneath floating lanterns infused with low-grade Ember cores. Public transports glided silently over magnetized rails powered by rift-reactors. Schools taught not only mathematics and sciences but also Mana Ecology, Rift Anatomy, and Ember Stability Management, subjects that did not exist before the Veil.
Above all, the world operated with one unspoken truth. Arkael was no longer an enemy. It was a resource. A danger. A teacher. A second world waiting to be understood.
Coexistence had come at a cost. Many lives were lost in the early decades, and corruption still claimed the reckless and untrained. But through hardship, humanity adapted. They harvested fragments of the rifts to create medicine capable of healing incurable diseases. They forged Ember engines that powered entire cities. They developed armors and weapons capable of bending gravity, fire, and space.
They evolved because survival demanded evolution. And evolution, once awakened, never slept.
In the skies above the new world, airships carved shimmering trails through the clouds, their hulls humming with steady Ember currents. Riftborn patrols moved beside them, a constant reminder that peace was fragile and had to be guarded. Beyond the horizon, the Arkael frontier pulsed with life and threat. Landscapes shifted every year, and creatures born of pure soul matter continued to adapt in ways that defied logic.
The old world had ended long ago. What remained was a civilization standing on the edge of two realities, thriving in the tension between wonder and peril.
And within this era of progress and danger, a new generation was rising. A generation shaped entirely by the legacy of the Veil. A generation destined to inherit both the weight of the past and the uncertain promise of evolution.
The global economy soared as humanity learned to exploit the resources and mysteries of Arkael. Corporations competed relentlessly for Riftborn operatives, offering luxurious contracts to anyone capable of entering the realm and gathering its rare materials. Arkael crystal cores could power entire districts. Soul minerals harvested from ancient ruins were used to forge weapons that defied physics. Even fragments of corrupted beasts held value, sold to laboratories eager to push the frontier of biological enhancement.
But growth always carried a shadow. As power became accessible, greed began to bloom. Some Riftborn vanished into Arkael with stolen resources. Others returned no longer interested in serving society but in carving out influence and control. Crime syndicates rose from the black markets, trading illicit Ember enhancements and unregulated Purge vials. Power, once feared, became a commodity, and humanity proved again that it could be as dangerous as the realm it sought to exploit.
To maintain balance, global coalitions formed the Guild System. Each guild stood as a pillar of structure and discipline, taking in young Riftborn, training them, and protecting their rights against exploitative corporations. They taught survival strategies, combat techniques, corruption management, and Ember stability. They prepared Riftborn for the harsh reality of Arkael, where death was a constant companion and mercy held no meaning.
Yet training alone was not enough to stop what came every year.
The world braced itself for the Black Mediterranean Veil. Every last month, without fail, the sky would tremble. The great shadow that once ushered destruction reawakened and stretched across the heavens like a living curtain. And through its opened seams, Arkael reached again.
Currently, only two weeks remained before the Veil's return. Two weeks before civilians and unawakened Riftborn would be at risk of being pulled into Arkael against their will. Those with dormant embers thrummed with quiet instability, their bodies reacting to the approaching distortion. Parents kept their children indoors. Schools installed temporary containment chambers. Emergency shelters opened in every major city.
The Veil remained open for four long hours on its first appearance. Four hours where people would vanish into the realm. Four hours where families prayed their loved ones would not be taken. When the Veil closed, silence followed, but the dread lingered. It would reopen again on New Year's Day, this time without warning. Those pulled inside would be swallowed by the harshness of Arkael. Some returned days or weeks later, injured or broken. Others returned in coffins, their bodies ravaged by corruption. Many never returned at all.
And so the world held its breath once more. Waiting. Preparing. Hoping that this year's toll would not be worse than the last.
What… was that? A cold sensation crept along my spine, like an unseen hand brushing against the back of my neck. The sudden chill pulled me from the fog of half-sleep, and my eyes opened to the soft glow of the city lights bleeding through the tall library windows.
For a moment, I lay still, letting the brightness settle into focus. Rows of shelves stretched into the distance, their shadows long and quiet. The overhead lamps hummed faintly, casting a warm haze across scattered books and empty tables.
Did I fall asleep again? Probably after studying too long.
The muffled buzz of the streets drifted up from below, a mixture of honking vehicles, Ember-powered engines, and people rushing through their early evening errands. Judging by the noise, I must have been out for quite a while.
I pushed myself upright and took a slow look around. Yes… still in the public library. The same second-floor corner I always claimed, tucked between the medical archives and the old world anthropology section. My notes were spread all over the table, along with the anatomy review I meant to finish.
I raised my wrist and checked my silver watch.6:00 p.m.
Great. Aunt Jeya would have my head if I came home any later. She always acted calm in front of others, but the moment I walked through the door after sunset she turned into a walking alarm bell.
"I should go," I muttered under my breath, already packing my books.
But that lingering cold from earlier… it hadn't felt like ordinary drowsiness. Something about it clung to me, subtle but unsettling, like a whisper I couldn't quite catch.
Still, I brushed it off. There was no point thinking too much about it. Not with the Veil weeks away and everyone on edge.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the exit.
I stepped out of the library, the city around me alive with movement. The sky above was tinged with a deep orange as the sun began its slow descent, but streaks of violet and faint ember sparks shimmered along the horizon, a subtle reminder of the Veil's lingering influence.
The streets were busy yet orderly. Mag-lev trams glided past with barely a sound, their engines humming in a low, rhythmic pulse. Vendors lined the sidewalks, their stalls glowing faintly with low-grade Ember lamps. The scent of roasted street food mixed with ozone from the Ember reactors, a strange blend that had become normal over the decades.
"Evening, Seyfe!" a familiar voice called out. I looked up to see Mr. Tanaka, the elderly owner of a small Ember-fueled bookstore, waving from his stall.
"Evening, Mr. Tanaka," I replied with a small smile. He nodded knowingly, eyes crinkling behind his glasses.
A group of children ran past, chasing a glowing sphere that hovered slightly above the ground, a simple Ember-powered toy, but it floated with an uncanny grace. Their laughter echoed between the buildings, clashing with the muted hum of drones patrolling the streets above.
I passed a guild training center, the windows glowing with fierce orange and red light. Inside, Riftborn practiced controlled Ember bursts, their movements precise and deliberate. Occasionally, sparks would arc beyond the glass and flicker against the street, harmless to civilians but beautiful in a terrifying way.
A delivery drone zipped past my head, carrying a crate of harvested rift minerals to a nearby corporation. Its sleek, angular body reflected the fading sunlight, leaving a brief trail of refracted Ember light in the air. People stepped aside automatically, giving it a wide berth as if the hum of its engine commanded respect.
"Watch your step, Seyfe," a street vendor called, pointing to a small fissure in the sidewalk that glimmered faintly. Residual corruption energy from a minor rift scar, harmless but unnerving to anyone who hadn't trained their instincts. I nodded politely and leapt over it in one smooth motion.
The walk home wasn't long, but it gave me time to observe how the city had changed. Humanity had learned to coexist with Arkael, turning what was once a threat into opportunity. Ember cores powered lights and vehicles, rift minerals reinforced buildings, and Riftborn patrolled the streets quietly, a mix of guardians and symbols of power.
Yet despite the beauty and efficiency, there was an edge of unease. Shadows sometimes moved oddly along the walls. Faint whispers of energy occasionally brushed against the edges of perception, a reminder that the rift was never truly dormant. Even the bustling city carried the hum of tension, a pulse beneath its orderly surface.
By the time I reached the narrow lane that led to Aunt Jeya's apartment, the first streetlights had flickered to life, their soft glow mingling with residual Ember sparks drifting lazily in the air. The city was alive, beautiful, and terrifying all at once, and I felt a familiar thrill and unease crawl up my spine.
I paused for a moment at the corner of the lane, taking in the city sprawled beneath the glow of Ember-lit streetlights. Airships drifted lazily above, their hulls humming with energy drawn from rift fragments, while Riftborn patrolled silently along the streets. Ordinary citizens moved around them, carrying on with lives intertwined with a world that had once been unimaginable.
This was no longer the world my parents had known. The Veil had reshaped everything, and humanity had adapted, evolved, and even thrived amid its dangers. The streets, the buildings, the air itself seemed to pulse with energy, both alive and unnerving.
"This is truly an era of convergence," I murmured under my breath. It was hard to deny the feeling. The city was a living testament to the coexistence of the old world, the Veil's horrors, and the new possibilities that Arkael's influence had brought.
I adjusted my bag and continued down the lane, the hum of Ember cores and distant echoes of training guilds filling the air. Every shadow seemed to stretch a little longer, every flicker of light a little brighter, as if the city itself were aware of the approaching Veil.
Home was just ahead, but even in this moment of relative calm, the pulse of Arkael lingered in the corners of the streets, a subtle reminder that survival, progress, and power came at a price.