Voidfall: The Broken Veil

Night in Blackvale rarely slept—but tonight, it held its breath.

“How far would you go…?” she murmured softly, her voice barely more than a thought as it slipped into the dark.

From above, she watched.

Below her, a man stumbled through the narrow streets, his breathing ragged, his steps uneven and desperate. He didn’t look back—couldn’t afford to—but whatever chased him had already taken everything from him except panic. That alone drove him forward.

He turned sharply between two shuttered shops, vanishing into a narrow alley slick with damp and shadow. A mistake. The thing waiting within already knew it was going to die.

The night had already gone wrong.

There were no rats picking through the gutters. No distant murmur of taverns or carriage wheels. Even the wind refused to pass through the stone corridors of Blackvale. The silence pressed in, unnatural and absolute. It crouched low, claws scraping faintly against wet cobblestone as dark blood dripped steadily from its jaw.

Still fresh from its victim.

It licked its teeth, but the hunger didn’t ease.

“Not enough…” it rasped.

Its form shifted, the illusion of a man peeling away as something leaner, sharper forced its way to the surface. Bone bent. Flesh tightened. The mask slipped. It should have fled the moment the silence set in. Instinct screamed it now. "Run."

However, something deeper held it there—something older than instinct. Something watching. The shadow behind it changed. No footsteps, no sound. Simply the presences of silence itself. The creature turned, fast—faster than any human could react.

Yet, It didn’t matter. Steel cut cleanly through the air.

The strike was precise, effortless. A single motion that left no room for resistance. The blade passed through its throat before it could even understand what it was seeing. No scream followed. Not a struggle. Only a wet, broken breath as something colder than death carved deeper than flesh—severing not just body, but whatever lay beneath it.

The creature collapsed, its form already unraveling as it struck the ground. By the time it hit the stone, it was already coming apart.

The huntress in black did not watch it fall. She had already moved. Had seen it all thousands of times before. With one step back. A shift in weight. And then she was gone—drawn seamlessly into the shadows as if she had never been there at all.

Only the faint flicker of crimson eyes lingered for a moment in the dark. Unfeeling.

…Uncertain.

Then nothing.

By the time the blood reached the cracks in the stone, the Pale Huntress had vanished. And somewhere in the quiet that followed, a single thought lingered—

Time was running out.

DAY

The alley did not remain empty for long.

Heavy footsteps approached from the far end, measured and deliberate, each step echoing faintly against the stone. A figure emerged from the darkness in the absence of the sun, his presence alone enough to disturb the stillness left behind.

He paused at the edge of what remained. as his gaze lowered. There was no body—only traces. Residue. Something wrong.

“…Again,” he muttered. He crouched slightly, gloved fingers hovering just above the ground, not quite touching.

"Not a vampire. Not a Lycan. No Cryptid."

His mind flared at the prospect.

“Something else.” Anger consumed his very thoughts.

The man straightened slowly, eyes narrowing as he studied the alley, as if expecting the shadows themselves to answer him.

“Pale Huntress…” he said under his breath. It wasn’t reverence. It wasn’t fear.

It was recognition—and something far more dangerous.

Interest.

Sometime Later

Morning came like nothing had happened.

Blackvale breathed again.

The markets filled quickly, voices overlapping in a constant hum of trade, movement, and life. Carriages rolled through the main roads, merchants called out their wares, and the lingering scent of coal smoke and damp stone clung to everything.

Amelia Mourne moved through it all with quiet efficiency, a small folded note in her hand.

She glanced at it again, her expression tightening slightly.

“Please head into the city market and buy me some coal and tools for my new commission order! It’s for the Royal Guard—so be quick!”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Like she heard his voice through the note.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath. “The bloody man couldn’t gather his own materials?” She complained. "Could be doing something worth my time, at least." She muttered to herself again.

Still, she folded the note carefully and slipped it back into her bag.

Work was work.

The market was already crowded—too crowded. People brushed past her from every direction, voices blending into a dull roar that grated against her senses. Blackvale was called the jewel of Aetherra, but to her, it had always felt… overwhelming, messy, and unpredictable. Too human.

She moved from stall to stall with purpose, gathering what she needed with minimal conversation. Coal. Tools. Parts. Simple things. Normal things she processed. As she knows to act like everyone else. “Mission complete… I suppose,” she murmured once she had everything.

She turned, ready to leave. And then—Something shifted. It wasn’t sound. Not sight. Something deeper.

Her steps slowed.

“A breach…?” she whispered. "Impossible. Breaches didn’t happen during the day." Something within her was shaking her core. As if something isn't right.

Her hand moved instinctively toward the pistol at her lower back, fingers brushing the grip before she forced herself to stop. "No, Not here. Not like this." She thought.

Amelia scanned the crowd with every intent in her body, eyes narrowing slightly.

That’s when she noticed—she wasn’t the only one who had felt it.

“You sense it too.” the unknown voice spoke up.

The woman standing there didn’t look like a merchant. Her stance was too balanced, her gaze too sharp, her hand resting far too comfortably near the weapons at her side. Red Haired, ragged coat, armed to the teeth.

"Not a civilian." Amelia thought as she tried to process every possible outcome of her nature.

“Something’s wrong,” the woman continued, studying the crowd. “And it’s not subtle.”

Amelia said nothing at first. Only watched in suspicion. Every bit of consciousness measured.

“…You could say that,” she replied evenly.

"The name's Grace." She spoke confidently.

Amelia was still suspicious of her. Like she could be hiding herself to strike.

"Are you always this weary, friend? Regardless, I think something isn't happy to be here." Her tone was informal. Impractical to Amelia. Yet, she turns to the strange essence once again.

Across the market, the crowd began to shift.

Not naturally. Not gradually. They moved because something made them.

As a path opened, slow and uneasy, a figure of a knight advanced through the center of the street. His steps heavy, deliberate—each one striking the stone with a weight that carried far beyond its sound. Steel boots. Darker armor than any dark color could imitate. Etched markings along its surface pulsed faintly, glowing with something that was not meant for the living world.

“Spectral Knight…” someone whispered.

“Why is one of them here?” another said frightened.

“He looks—” they stopped.

“Don’t.” The people already know of this mysterious knight roaming the streets of Blackvale. yet only have been present recently.

The murmurs died quickly as the figure continued forward, unmoved by the presence of anyone around him. His face was hidden behind a full mask, smooth and unbroken. No eyes. No expression. Nothing that seemed human but his form. As he took his final step forward. Not for the crowd. But as if something unseen had drawn his attention.

“…Blackvale,” he said quietly.

The voice carried.

Measured. Certain.

"City filled with vile creatures. Such as yourself." The knight raised his sword from its sheath. And pointed at the white haired human with the tip of his blade.

“Target confirmed.”

Amelia's voice felt faint. "Target... Confirmed?" Her hand slipped back to her pistol on her lower back and hip.

"What in the devils are you talking about." Grace stepped between them before the knight could answer. "You're Spectral Knight, right?" Grace asked him.

The knight said nothing. His sword slid from its sheath with a low metallic scrape. "Step away from this creature." Grace glanced back at Amelia briefly.

"Creature? “She looks human to me.”

“Move, Bounty Hunter,” the knight replied coldly. “Or I’ll cut you down with her.” The Knight's response was brutal. Grace exhaled through her nose, unimpressed.

“I’ve never fought a Spectral Knight before,” she admitted, drawing her eastern blade. “But I’m not letting you kill some random woman in the middle of the market.”

“A hunter from the East barking at me,” the knight muttered. “At least this one has a spine.”

The crowd finally broke into panic. Civilians scattered through the market streets as steel left its sheath all around them.

The knight moved first.

His blade came down in a crushing overhead strike strong enough to split stone. Grace dodged with Amelia close behind her, both narrowly avoiding the impact as the cobblestone beneath them cracked apart.

Grace twisted into a quick deflection, knocking the knight slightly off balance. Amelia drew both pistols instantly. Custom-made. Silver-lined. Built for her hands alone.

She fired. The knight recovered fast enough to raise a dark shield against the shots before turning in a violent slash toward Grace. She barely avoided it, sliding backward across the stone while drawing her own pistol in one smooth motion. Gunfire echoed through the market. The knight cut through the shots with frightening precision.

Grace’s expression finally shifted. “Impossible…”

The knight rushed her before she could recover. Steel flashed repeatedly through the air. Slashes. Thrusts. Relentless pressure that forced Grace entirely onto the defensive. She parried what she could, but a few shallow cuts still slipped through.

Then her hand reached into her coat. “A Sigil…” Amelia whispered. Warm light burst outward from Grace’s hand as she raised the artifact.

“Please,” Grace said quietly, gripping it tighter. “I could use the help.”

The change was immediate. Radiant energy wrapped around her movements, sharpening them. Faster. Cleaner. Confident.

The knight’s dark aura pressed against the light violently as the two forces collided.

“I told you,” Grace snapped, surging forward, “you don’t get to do whatever you want.” Her blade caught the knight across the chest with enough force to chip the black armor beneath his cloak. Using the momentum, she drove a kick into him and sent him crashing through the wall of a nearby building. Wood and stone exploded inward. People inside screamed and fled.

Amelia stared for a moment. “I’ve never seen a bounty hunter fight like that before.”

Grace smirked slightly without taking her eyes off the rubble. “Yeah? Then maybe you should tell me why a Spectral Knight wants you dead.” She questioned her almost instinctively.

Amelia hesitated. "I don't have the faintest idea." Grace glanced at her briefly. That answer didn’t convince her.

The knight stepped back through the dust and broken stone. Aside from the damaged armor across his chest, he looked untouched. A low laugh escaped from behind the mask.

“You think Radiant Sorcery is enough to stop me?” The darkness around him thickened again, heavy enough for Grace to feel pressing against her skin. She tightened her grip on the Sigil.

“Guess we’re doing this the hard way.”

Before either side could move again, armored voices suddenly cut through the chaos. City guards flooded into the market from every direction. Shields locked. Spears raised. Archers and Gunmen with crossbows, compound bows, and rifles alike positioned themselves above the surrounding rooftops.

“BLACKVALE GUARD!” One of the Guards as they gathered around them shouted. Amelia immediately lowered her weapons. Grace followed a second later. One of the guards stepped forward cautiously, eyes fixed on the knight. “A Spectral Knight…” he muttered under his breath.

Even the guards looked uneasy.

“By order of Blackvale,” the captain called out firmly, “stand down immediately. You’re endangering civilians.”

The knight relaxed only slightly. “I am here for a target. Nothing more.”

The guard answered back, “It becomes our concern when half the market is destroyed.”

“I don’t answer to city guards.” His eyes for what Amelia can gather is locked on to her. "Who is this knight..." She thought to herself. As if trying to unveil his mask metaphysically.

“Then perhaps a prison cell will change your mind.” A faint scoff came from behind the knight’s mask. “I am here for the Veil-spawn.”

The word immediately changed the atmosphere. Grace’s eyes fixed on his words in her thoughts.

“Veil-spawn?” The guards shifted uneasily.

The captain looked toward Amelia.

“You,” he said carefully. “Where are you from?” Amelia paused for half a second too long. “Blackvale,” she answered. “I’ve lived here my whole life.” The knight tilted his head slightly.

“A creature pretending to be human. Its quite pathetic. Is it not?” Amelia’s expression seemed to have hardened.

“However, I was ordered to kill you,” the knight continued. “And my Order does not hunt humans.”

Then— “Pale Huntress.” He uttered the name softly. Grace immediately looked toward Amelia. Her eyes widened slightly before she could stop herself. “How do you know that name?” Grace asked.

“A Voidwalker hiding among mankind,” the knight replied. “One that hunts her own kind.”

“Enough!” the captain barked. Every guard in the square raised their weapons once again. As the Knight finally makes his step towards the guard. “Veil-spawn or not, nobody’s dying here today.” The Captain with resilience stood his ground.

Then in a flash of space and light. The world split open.

Space twisted violently in the center of the market.

A Veilbreach tore itself into existence with a shriek that sounded more felt than heard. Violet energy flooded outward, warping the air around it.

Everyone froze. “A breach…?” someone whispered.. Amelia is stunned by this. “No…” Amelia breathed. The guards immediately scrambled into formation. “SHIELDS UP!” the captain roared. “Form a defensive line! The breach widened further the more actions they took. A massive hand dragged itself into the world first, malformed fingers scraping against the stone before the rest followed behind it. The creature that emerged barely resembled anything alive.

The Veil-spawn shifted and swayed. Its limbs bent in impossible directions. Bone shifted constantly beneath stretched flesh. Faces formed and disappeared across its body in seconds, each one twisting apart before it could fully exist. Vertebrae constantly unsettling and realigning.

The sight alone made several guards recoil. Blind yet highly perceptive of its surroundings. Hoof-like structure despite the anatomical inconsistencies. Its hideous nature distorted the sight and sound near it. Then it screamed. Unable to be heard beyond human detection. The sound ripped through the market hard enough to bring archers crashing from rooftops while others dropped to their knees clutching their heads.

Grace stumbled immediately.

"What in the blaze's is that thing!" She shouted. Amelia grabbed her before she fell completely, shielding her from the worst of the sound.. The Veil-spawn finally ended its violent noise. Grace looked up at her in confusion. "How are still standing?" Amelia didn’t answer.

Her eyes remained fixed on the creature. The knight still standing ready to attack at any time.

For the first time since arriving, even he looked unsettled.

“An Unskinned Witness… Here of all places?” he muttered. Amelia slowly reached for her weapons again. Then, with a pulse of violet-white sorcery, both pistols fused together in her hands. The air distorted around the weapon the moment it formed.

The knight took a step back. “What… is that?”

Amelia raised the firearm toward the Veil-spawn. “Emerge Now.”

Violet light crawled across the barrel. “Repentance.”

______________

Chapter End