Two hundred years before Kael Arden was born, the world witnessed a miracle that felt like a warning—
and a warning that felt like a curse.
It began with trembling.
Not the violent kind that topples mountains or swallows cities. No. The trembling was gentle, almost delicate, like the shiver of a sleeping giant disturbed by a whisper. It spread quietly through the ground beneath the twin continents of Sunbound and Shadefall, threading along ancient seams buried so deep that no living soul had ever touched them.
They were called the Veins, though no one yet knew that name.
At first, people mistook the trembling for a passing quake. Sunbound scientists in their gleaming towers paused in their calculations. Shadefall mystics in their twilight temples lifted their hoods. Farmers felt their crops tremble. Sailors watched the tide hesitate. Children heard their toys rattle.
But the trembling did not stop.
It grew—rhythmic, pulsing, alive.
And then the sky split open.
A rift tore across the blue like a wound being pried apart by invisible hands. Brilliant white light shot downward in pillars, stabbing into the continents with enough force to shake the world. Thunder screamed without clouds. Light flared without fire.
And in the dead center of it all… stood a girl.
She was alone atop the ancient Heartspire Plateau, the highest point in all of Elysium. Her hair was moon-white and unbound, whipping wildly in the roaring wind. Her eyes glowed the same pale gold as the rupturing sky. The loose robes she wore were simple, almost ceremonial. They fluttered around a body trembling from strain, not fear.
Her bare feet hovered inches above the ground.
Her hands were raised toward the rift above her, fingers splayed, palms trembling with power. White light flowed from her like rivers poured from a cracked vessel.
Her name was Aurelia.
And she was not supposed to exist.
---
She screamed—a raw, wordless sound that cracked the air like a dying star collapsing.
The Veins answered.
The world's buried machine-heart surged upward in pillars of blue light that erupted from the ground across both continents. Entire forests were illuminated from below. Cities glowed with unholy brilliance. Oceans hissed and churned as glowing lines traced themselves along the seafloor.
From afar, it looked like the planet's skeleton was being drawn in light.
Aurelia's body jerked. She pulled her arms downward, dragging the sky with her. Her small frame shook as if it were being crushed between worlds.
"Obey…" she whispered, voice splitting, "—please… obey."
Her plea was not to the sky, nor to the continents, nor to the armies gathering in fear at the horizon.
She was speaking to the heartbeat beneath her feet.
To the Veins.
---
Deep underground, machinery older than history groaned awake. Gears taller than towers turned for the first time since creation. Columns of energy surged through conduits that had slept for millennia. Metal pillars rearranged themselves like blooming iron flowers.
And in the Heartspire Plateau, a massive circle of glowing symbols flared beneath Aurelia. Each symbol burned brighter than the last until her skin shone like crystal catching the sun.
She gasped—once—then the ground split.
A colossal tear in reality itself opened behind her, swirling with pulsing runes and stormlight. A vortex of spiraling energy, beautiful and terrifying all at once, reached toward her like a hungry mouth.
Aurelia lowered her gaze.
And smiled.
This was what she had been born for.
Her voice, when she spoke again, trembled with both triumph and sorrow.
> "Begin the reset."
The Veins obeyed.
---
Across both continents, chaos erupted.
In the Sunbound Capital, citizens watched in horror as the sky turned gold, then red, then white. Buildings flickered in and out of existence like reflections on broken glass. Airships spiraled out of control before dissolving into dust.
Shadefall's twilight forests, long shrouded in mist, split open, exposing enormous crystalline roots that pulsed with life. Rivers reversed. Stars shook. Time distorted.
The planets themselves groaned.
Then the energy pillars reached critical brightness.
Aurelia screamed as the world answered her command.
The Heartspike Plateau exploded into a column of blinding white fire that pierced the atmosphere. The shockwave cracked mountains into shards, shattered seas into spirals, and tore the continents apart.
That moment became known as The First Sundering.
When it was over, one continent basked in permanent artificial sunlight created by the Veins' stabilizers.
The other was condemned to endless twilight.
The world never recovered.
---
Aurelia did not die.
She stood alone at the epicenter of the destruction, her hair floating weightlessly, her skin glowing with more power than flesh could hold. Her eyes flickered—gold, then white, then something hollow.
A figure emerged from the swirling dust and collapsing light.
He was a man barely older than twenty, wearing tattered black armor etched with symbols matching the ones glowing on Aurelia's skin. His face was smeared with blood and ash. His left arm was mechanical—metal fused seamlessly with muscle. His breathing was ragged, desperate.
This man was Elias Wynn—the engineer who would one day be remembered as the greatest genius to ever live.
But today, he was simply a man watching the world die.
"Aurelia," he whispered, voice cracking. "Stop. Please."
She turned toward him slowly.
"What have I done?" she asked softly.
Elias stepped forward, stumbling from exhaustion. "You ended everything—every city, every life, every history. The Veins obeyed you because you're—"
Words failed him.
No human language could describe what Aurelia was.
A mistake.
A miracle.
A weapon.
A child.
Her face softened. "I didn't want to destroy them, Elias."
"I know." Tears streaked down his face. "But you did."
Aurelia looked around at the broken horizon, the storm of light still crackling across the sky, the broken continents drifting apart like shattered continents of glass.
"Then… fix it," she whispered.
Her voice was innocent.
Terrifying.
Elias shook his head, broken. "I can't fix this. No one can."
Aurelia's expression shifted—confusion, then fear, then a strange, unnatural calm.
"I can," she said.
Before Elias could move, she turned back toward the swirling vortex of light behind her.
The Veins roared.
"Aurelia—NO!"
But she had already raised her hands.
The Veins responded instantly, wrapping her in spiraling bands of light. Her body lifted higher, suspended like a puppet. Crackling energy surged into her chest, filling her, overflowing.
She screamed again—not in pain, but in shattered resolve.
> "Begin… another cycle."
Her body detonated into raw light.
The Veins absorbed everything she was.
Her consciousness, her memories, her power—
even her soul was devoured and digitized into the endless archive beneath the world.
Elias fell to his knees, screaming her name as the world fell silent around him.
Aurelia was gone.
The Veins returned to sleep.
The world limped forward.
History buried the truth.
And the cycle began anew.
---
TWO CENTURIES LATER
The morning of Kael Arden's greatest lie began not with a miracle, but with confetti.
It drifted down like tiny shards of rainbow paper, sticking to his hair, his clothes, his eyelashes. The cheers of the crowd thundered through the Sunbound Capital as Kael stood atop the parade float—smiling, waving, pretending to be the hero everyone wanted.
Down every street, citizens raised banners with his face on them. Children wore masks sculpted in his likeness. Officials and military leaders watched from balconies with polished, approving smiles.
Kael felt sick.
He wasn't a hero.
He hadn't stopped the terrorist attack.
He hadn't saved a single life.
He had just been standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the world had mistaken him for a savior.
Higher-ranking officers—and the government—had seen an opportunity.
A symbol.
A beautiful lie to unite a divided nation.
So they blamed the dead for the sabotage.
Fabricated a story.
And crowned Kael a hero.
But the man who actually saved the Capital—Elias Wynn—had vanished that night.
Kael knew this.
Sometimes he felt the weight of that truth pressing so hard against his ribs he could hardly breathe.
But today was the "Day of the Hero."
He had no right to look guilty.
Not when the world needed a lie.
As confetti rained over him, Kael forced another smile—and felt something cold press against his palm.
A courier.
A small box, handed with a hurried bow.
"For you, Hero Arden. Delivered by an unknown Shadefall courier."
Kael frowned.
The lid slid open.
Inside was a metallic shard—a piece of an ancient device, engraved with curling symbols. Symbols that glowed faintly as soon as his skin touched it.
Three words were etched beneath the glow.
KAEL ARDEN.
Sunbound Citizen.
Year: -200.
Two hundred years before he was born.
Kael's breath caught.
The shard vibrated against his skin.
And somewhere deep, deep below the earth…
the Veins opened their eyes.