Elias was running.
The world around him was dark, the air thick with shadows that twisted and reached for him like living things. The whispers were louder now, echoing from every direction in a language he couldn't understand.
"Join us… See the truth… Break the veil…"
Shapes moved in the darkness—vague, monstrous forms that grew clearer with every step he took. Their eyes glowed faintly, watching him, judging him. The ground beneath his feet felt insubstantial, like he was running on water that rippled with each step.
He stumbled, falling to his knees, his hands sinking into a surface that shifted between liquid and shadow. A figure emerged from the darkness ahead, cloaked in faint violet light.
Elias couldn't see its face, but its voice rang clear in his mind.
"You cannot escape. The Veil has claimed you."
Elias tried to scream, but no sound came out. The whispers rose to a deafening crescendo, and the shadows closed in—
---
Elias woke with a start, gasping for breath.
He sat up in bed, his heart pounding and his skin damp with sweat. His small apartment was dimly lit by the faint glow of a gas lamp outside the window, the walls bare except for his overcoat hanging on a hook.
"A dream," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Just a bad dream."
But his hands trembled as he reached for the glass of water on his nightstand, and the whispers still lingered faintly in the back of his mind.
He shook it off and got dressed, the familiar motions grounding him. Today wasn't the day to lose focus. He had a case to solve, and the missing factory workers weren't going to find themselves.
Elias stepped out into the streets of Arkwright, the morning fog clinging to the cobblestones. The city buzzed with activity as vendors set up their stalls and factory whistles blared in the distance.
"Get it together," Elias muttered to himself, adjusting the brim of his hat. He had work to do.
His first stop was the tavern in the market district, a smoky, dimly lit place that catered to dockworkers, factory hands, and anyone with a story to tell. Orson, the wiry bartender, gave him a knowing look as he stepped inside.
"Haven't seen you in a while, Thorne," Orson said, wiping down the bar. "You working a case?"
"Something like that," Elias replied, sliding a few coins across the counter. "I'm looking into some disappearances. Factory workers, mostly. You hear anything?"
Orson pocketed the coins and leaned in. "A few folks have gone missing, yeah. Some people are saying it's the bosses getting rid of troublemakers, but others think it's… something else."
"Something else?" Elias asked, raising an eyebrow.
Orson hesitated, glancing around the room before lowering his voice. "Callum. Old factory hand. He's always raving about shadows and curses. Might be worth a talk."
Elias left the tavern and headed toward the docks, where Callum was known to linger. The whispers grew louder as he walked, faint but insistent.
"They watch… They wait… They know…"
Elias shook his head, trying to clear the noise. The edges of his vision blurred briefly, the shadows in the alleyways seeming to move as he passed.
He stopped, taking a deep breath. The whispers receded slightly, though the chill in his chest remained.
"Keep it together," he muttered, continuing on his way.
---
Callum was sitting on a crate near the docks, puffing on a cigarette. He looked up as Elias approached, his bloodshot eyes narrowing.
"You Callum?" Elias asked.
"Who's asking?"
"Elias Thorne. I'm a private investigator. Orson said you might know something about the factory disappearances."
Callum took a long drag on his cigarette, his gaze darting around nervously. "Depends who you're working for. You with the factory bosses?"
"Not even close," Elias replied. "I just want the truth."
Callum hesitated before speaking. "The factories ain't right. Haven't been for a long time. Men go in, and they don't come out. And those that do… they're not the same."
"What do you mean?" Elias pressed.
Callum lowered his voice. "They're hollow. They don't talk, don't eat, just stare off into space. Like they've lost something inside."
Elias frowned, his mind racing. "Anything else?"
"They say there's something under the factories," Callum whispered. "Something old. The bosses know about it, but they don't talk."
As Callum spoke, the whispers surged again.
"Hollow… Forgotten… Consumed…"
Elias clenched his fists, the pressure in his chest building. The shadows around Callum seemed to stretch unnaturally, their edges flickering like flames.
"Thorne?" Callum's voice snapped Elias back to the moment. "You all right?"
"I'm fine," Elias said quickly, though his heart was pounding. "Thanks for the tip."
Callum nodded, watching warily as Elias walked away.
Elias spent the rest of the day gathering information from his contacts—dockworkers, factory families, and a few old informants. Each story painted a darker picture: strange symbols etched into the factory walls, muffled machinery heard at odd hours, and workers speaking of shadows that moved without light.
The whispers followed him through it all, rising and falling like a distant tide. By the time he returned to his office, he felt drained, the weight of the Veil pressing heavily on his mind.
Unable to shake the unease, Elias made his way to the Sanctified Lanterns' base. The heavy iron door opened after the familiar sequence of knocks, and Adrienne was waiting for him inside.
"You look terrible," she said, her brow furrowing.
"Thanks," Elias replied dryly.
Adrienne's expression softened. "What's wrong?"
Elias hesitated before speaking. "The whispers. They're getting louder. And I'm seeing things—shadows that aren't there."
Adrienne's face darkened. "That's Veil Fraying."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Elias asked.
Adrienne gestured for him to follow her into a quieter room. "It happens to Veilborn when they overuse their connection to the Veil. The more you tap into it—your monocle, your presence near rifts—the more the Veil pushes back."
"And how do I stop it?" Elias asked.
"You can't. Not completely," Adrienne said. "But you can manage it. Don't overuse the monocle. Avoid active rifts when you can. And take time to ground yourself—focus on something mundane, something human."
Elias frowned. "That's it? That's your big solution?"
Adrienne hesitated. "There's another way. A ritual."
"What kind of ritual?"
Adrienne shook her head. "I don't know much about it, only that it's called the Shattering. It's supposed to stabilize your connection to the Veil, but it's dangerous. And once you do it, there's no turning back."
Elias leaned against the wall, his mind racing. "So I either keep going until I lose my mind or gamble on a ritual that might kill me?"
Adrienne placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're stronger than you think, Thorne. Just don't push yourself too hard."
As Elias left the Lanterns' base, the whispers lingered faintly, like a distant echo. The weight of the Veil was growing heavier, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to make a choice.
But for now, there was still a case to solve.