Prologue-A Voice Before Names

Before the stars had names, they were stories. Before the world knew silence, it sang. And before memory built walls, there was only the thread.

The first ones walked the Veil not with feet, but with thought. They did not conquer. They did not cultivate. They remembered—and the world bloomed around them. Where they stepped, rivers of resonance flowed. Where they breathed, time bent to listen.

But even memory fades when no one listens. The line was broken. The names were lost. The song scattered into silence.

The Council came after—guardians, then watchers, then something colder. They bound the Veil in law and symbol, locked away what they feared might return. They called it order.

But the Veil is not a wall. It is not a prison. It is a breath drawn between realms. A silence with teeth. And it remembers.

Now, in the city of noise, a boy walks beneath flickering stars. He is small. He is quiet. He does not yet know who he is.

But the Veil knows.

He touches the thread again. And the world—

remembers what it was forbidden to know.

And the Veil... begins to hum.