A hulking figure, Commander Valerius, led the small expedition. He was a force unto himself, a Martial-Arcanist Veilborn whose very presence seemed to warp the heavy mist around him. A massive bladed staff, charged with crackling crimson energy, was his preferred tool for dismantling the creatures of the Expanse.
His combat style left little room for subtlety, shredding opponents with raw power.
Behind him, Lyra moved with spectral grace. Her hands, when active, could freeze the churning Veil itself, solidifying its tendrils into crystalline blades or shields. Lyra was an Arcanist Veilborn, her power cold and precise.
Kyrin, second-in-command, stalked slightly ahead. His attacks manifested as precise sonic bursts, vibrating through the ethereal mist, disorienting and rupturing Veilbeasts. A sharp mind accompanied his keen senses.
Finally, Goliath, a true monolith of muscle, brought up the rear. He shattered the heads of Greater Veil-Forms with bare, augmented fists. Beneath his mild exterior, a ruthless efficiency simmered. Goliath’s brutality, rending the abyssal mist-creatures, was whispered of even within Bastion Citadel.
Valerius’s party currently ventured beyond Bastion Citadel’s crumbling walls, seeking the Ethereal Shard Quarry.
His gaze, like a sharpened shard of black glass, pierced Kaelen. “How did you survive?”
“While the others dissolved into the Veil, how did you manage to persist, alone?” Valerius pressed.
“I—I don’t know. Consciousness returned atop a swirl of mist,” Kaelen whispered, voice thin.
Valerius’s eyes hardened, twin points of frigid light. “Did you awaken, perhaps? Lyra, check for a mark on his wrist.”
Lyra, hair the color of deep twilight, nodded. Her slender fingers closed around Kaelen’s wrist, twisting it with surprising strength. Kaelen bit back a groan. Lyra scrutinized the skin.
“Look. It isn’t there.”
She presented Kaelen’s wrist to Valerius. Indeed, his forearm was unblemished.
“Just luck, then? Not Veilborn,” Valerius mused, a low rumble in his chest.
Upon awakening, seven faint lines appeared on a Veilborn’s wrist, like an ancient tattoo. These were known as Echo Marks.
Light, or rather a faint internal glow, on the lowest line signified a Flicker-rank. Two lines glowing indicated Glimmer-rank.
Three meant Flare-rank, and four, a Blaze-rank. Each ascending rank added another glowing line.
Color further differentiated the Veilborn. Arcanists pulsed with azure light. Martial-Arcanists like Valerius glowed crimson. Technos, those who fused with augmented systems, bore obsidian marks.
Rarely, individuals emerged who defied these categories, their powers strange and untamed. They were called Specters. Even Specters, however, bore an Echo Mark.
This mark was the undeniable proof of being Veilborn, and often, a stark reminder of their burdens.
Valerius’s wrist bore a crimson glow across four lines, clearly marking him as a Blaze-rank Martial-Arcanist.
Lyra, Kyrin, and Goliath all displayed their own glowing marks. Kaelen’s wrist, conversely, was blank. No lines, no glow, no proof of awakening.
“He’s just an anomaly of fortune,” Kyrin commented, his voice flat.
“No creature of the Veil is escaped by luck alone,” Lyra countered, a faint chill in her tone.
“What are your orders, Commander?” Goliath asked.
“Our objective remains the Ethereal Shard Quarry. Bring him along,” Valerius commanded. “A lucky man, indeed.”
Lyra offered a chilling, mirthless laugh. Kaelen felt no humor in the situation.
*Can they truly not see?*
To Kaelen, the Echo Mark on his wrist shimmered plainly. Just a single line, a Flicker-rank, yes, but undeniably present. It was an awakening mark.
Yet, for some reason, it remained invisible to the others.
*Why can’t they see my rank? And the glow… it’s different.*
A deep, spectral grey-violet. A hue like mist illuminated by a dying star, unlike any color recorded for Veilborn. Stories of such an Echo Mark were unheard of.
Kaelen’s ability, the one that had flared in his desperate moment, was an intrinsic link to the Silent Veil itself. He could shape it, solidify it, perceive through its ethereal essence. He had conjured a momentary illusion of solid ground, a phantom drift of mist that had carried him, unseen, from the creature’s maw.
Though just Flicker-rank, his mastery over the Veil within a certain radius felt profound.
He glanced around. Every horizon stretched into the formless, sentient mist of the Shrouded Expanse. After the Sundering, the sixth and true apocalypse, ninety percent of life had vanished. The world itself had been consumed by this perpetual fog, rivers and seas swallowed, landscapes reshaped into amorphous, shifting terrain.
Nature strained to recover, but the verdant world of before remained a distant memory.
In such a world, an ability to freely manipulate the Veil…
The entire Expanse became his stage, a terrifying truth.
Only then did Kaelen fully grasp the monstrous potential of his power. He knew from desperate experience in the enclaves that abilities deviating from the norm often led to disaster. *If my ability is exposed, dissection or forced servitude might be my fate.*
He was Veilborn, but merely Flicker-rank. In the hierarchy, he was nothing. Survival demanded concealment, careful cultivation of his nascent power.
*One challenge after another. Damn it all!* Kaelen’s teeth pressed into his lip.
Awakening offered power, yes, but the need to hide it was a suffocating cage. Still, it was better than the helplessness of before.
Kaelen clung to that cold comfort.
Goliath’s voice rumbled. “Kid. Get on the transport.”
Kaelen flinched. “Don’t like it?”
“No, of course! The transport is… fine,” he managed, scrambling onto the flatbed cargo carrier. Soon, the others took their positions in the cab.
The vehicle, powered by Ethereal Shards, hummed to life, cutting a path through the ceaseless mist.
Kaelen sat hunched, observing the shifting, formless landscape. Twilight painted the western horizon a bruised purple. The Shrouded Expanse at dusk felt several times more malevolent, more intimidating, than by day.
No matter how formidable a party of Veilborn, survival in the open Expanse after dark was never assured. Valerius pushed the transport, rushing towards the quarry. They arrived just as the last hints of light bled from the sky.
“Is this the Ethereal Shard Quarry?” Kaelen stood in the cargo bed, gazing at their destination.
A massive, craggy formation, a jagged tooth piercing the mist. Deep within its scarred face lay the quarry. A formidable defensive wall, hewn from hardened Veil, guarded the entrance, repelling the lurking Veil Serpents.
Veilborn sentries stood vigilant atop the ramparts. A single gate offered passage into the inner sanctum of the formation.
As Valerius’s party approached, the sentries opened the gate. The transport glided through, entering the fortified interior.
Beyond the wall, a cramped settlement sprawled. A vital hub for Bastion Citadel’s Ethereal Shard supply, the formation housed numerous facilities and many lives. Though tiny compared to the Citadel, it provided most essentials.
Valerius’s vehicle shuddered to a halt. A lone Veilborn, a local guard, approached. His face twisted upon seeing Valerius.
*Why is this Shadow-Hand here?* the guard clearly thought.
Valerius, the “Shadow-Hand,” was infamous throughout Bastion Citadel and even at the Quarry.
“Been a while, Valerius. What business brings you here?” the guard asked, his voice tight.
“Tend to your own duties,” Valerius replied, dismissive.
“Yes, mind your own. Why do you need to know?”
The guard’s face flushed. His fist clenched at Valerius’s disdain. Goliath stepped forward, a mountain of muscle blocking the guard’s view, eclipsing the tense atmosphere.
“Something you wish to try?” Goliath rumbled.
Faced with Goliath’s immense bulk, the guard could only unclench his fist. Goliath, true to his moniker, possessed strength beyond reason. No low-rank Veilborn could stand against him.
Backing down, the guard spoke. “Just try not to cause trouble during your stay.”
“No interest in your tunnels. Our quarry is elsewhere, in the open Expanse,” Valerius chuckled. His reputation notwithstanding, Valerius was no fool; he wouldn’t provoke the Quarry, which answered directly to Bastion Citadel.
The Quarry was merely a waypoint for his true objectives.
“Oh, and take this one.” Valerius pointed at Kaelen. “The transport heading here was ambushed by a Veil Serpent. He’s the sole survivor.”
“The miners’ transport?” the guard frowned.
“Precisely. By the time we arrived, the Serpent had consumed everyone else. This one remained.” Valerius gestured again at Kaelen in the cargo carrier.
The guard’s brow furrowed deeper. “Hah. Manpower is already a constant struggle…”
The Ethereal Shard Quarry perpetually suffered from a lack of laborers. Applicants were plentiful, but casualties were higher. Working deep within the Veil-hardened rock demanded exceptional endurance, too much for average individuals. Recruitment efforts were relentless, accepting anyone, regardless of status.
Approaching Kaelen, the guard said, “You’re here as a miner, then?”
“Follow me. I’ll show you your quarters.”
Kaelen descended from the vehicle. “Thank you for saving me,” he said, giving Valerius a polite nod before following the guard.
Valerius watched Kaelen’s retreating form, his eyes sharp, calculating.
“Something amiss, Commander?” Lyra asked, a puzzled tilt to her head. She wondered why Valerius focused such intensity on an apparently ordinary person.
“A feeling. It doesn’t sit right.”
“Strange, isn’t it? Everyone perished, but he alone survived.”
“But we confirmed his lack of an Echo Mark, yes?”
“A Veil Serpent is not so easily eluded by mere luck,” Lyra murmured, a sigh lost in the mist.
Valerius drove away. Lyra watched Kaelen disappear. “If not for the Shadow-Hand’s presence, I would have pursued this anomaly further. A shame.”
The guard led Kaelen to the miners’ lodging. He gestured at a large, empty room. “This is your quarters.”
“Spacious. How many sleep here?” Kaelen asked, looking around.
“Twenty… people,” the guard replied. Kaelen blinked. Even for its size, twenty men felt like an unbearable crush. The stench of sweat from constant labor in the deep veins of the Quarry would be formidable.
The guard chuckled, observing Kaelen’s visible discomfort. “Not all twenty sleep here at once.”
“Few might not return today. Accidents are common.”
“Is mining that dangerous?”
“That’s why they send those like you, without ability.”
For a brief moment, Kaelen considered lashing out. But such a rash act meant instant death or expulsion into the hostile Expanse. Now was the time for absolute humility.
“Keep your head down,” the guard warned. “Cause trouble, and I’ll carve you into pieces for the creatures.”
“Many creatures around here?”
“Abundant. If this wasn’t a fortified formation, it’d be their feasting ground.” The guard’s words carried no idle threat. The dangers of the Shrouded Expanse were ever-present, even at the heart of the Quarry.