The night sky appeared fractured, like glass struck from within. The cracks spread slowly, forming patterns that should not exist, shimmering with a light that did not come from the stars. The city of Ravencroft trembled—not physically, but in a far more terrifying way, as though its very existence was being questioned by something beyond human comprehension.
Amid the gaping void above the world, a woman stepped out from the shadows of reality.
Her eyes were violet, glowing faintly like a flicker of amethyst in the dark. Her hair was pitch black, as if it absorbed the surrounding light, falling straight past her waist. The black gothic coat she wore clung to her like the night mist, adorned with lace details and silver chains hanging from her waist.
Valeria Nacht had returned.
Behind her, the void quivered once more and gave birth to a second figure.
A man stepped forth with a grace that was almost inhuman. His hair was golden, softly glowing in the dimness. His eyes were blue, more aware of their presence in this world. He wore a similar gothic coat, embellished with silvery brocade forming symbols incomprehensible to ordinary humans.
Magnus Crowley, the Keeper of Time.
They stood atop the highest balcony of the Obsidian Tower, gazing down at the city still pulsing with mortal life—unaware that their reality was on the verge of collapse.
Magnus broke the silence.
"You've returned."
Valeria turned slowly, her lips curving into a faint smile that never reached her eyes.
"Of course."
"Eight hundred years is no short time."
"Time is an illusion, Magnus. I was only gone for a moment… or perhaps an eternity. It's hard to tell the difference."
Magnus snorted but said nothing more. He knew Valeria never spoke directly.
The air around them suddenly shifted—not colder or warmer, but denser. The light surrounding them began to fade, consumed by something unseen. From the creeping shadows at the edge of the balcony, a silhouette began to take shape.
A tall man emerged, wearing a long black coat, almost like the half-burned robe of a priest. His eyes were entirely black, without iris or pupil, like two holes into the void.
Alistair Graves.
The Grand Watcher.
"You've returned," he said expressionlessly.
Valeria nodded slowly.
"Did you think I'd stay gone?"
Alistair didn't answer. His gaze studied Valeria in a strange way, as if trying to understand something invisible.
"Your absence created imbalance," he finally said. "Entities that should've remained sealed have begun to stir. The boundary between reality and the void is thinning. This world… is becoming fragile."
Valeria shrugged, as if it wasn't her concern.
"I'm just one of many architects of this world, Alistair. Surely, it can't all depend on me."
Alistair narrowed his gaze.
"No. But you're the only one who understands the boundary between existence and nonexistence. Without you, that boundary begins to fade."
Magnus turned to Valeria, his expression neutral but his eyes filled with questions.
"That's why we came back. We knew something was wrong," he said.
Alistair shook his head slowly.
"Knew? No, Valeria didn't return because she knew something was wrong. She came back because she couldn't escape her fate. You can't run from something you created yourself."
Valeria looked at him without emotion.
"Then what do you want from me, Alistair? An apology? A confession? Or just proof that I still exist?"
Alistair paused before answering.
"We've summoned the Council."
Magnus and Valeria exchanged a glance.
"So… things have gone that far?" Magnus asked.
"Farther than you can imagine."
Valeria closed her eyes, as though listening to voices beyond time. When she opened them again, a strange gleam flickered in her violet gaze.
"Very well. Let's see how deep the chaos runs."