Most wars are fought in daylight. They leave scars you can point to-burned cities, broken bodies, names carved into stone so the living remember what was lost. But there are older wars, quieter ones, fought at the edge of perception. They shape the world not through conquest, but through omission-by deciding what is seen and what is allowed to remain unseen. This story lives in that silence. The Veil has always been there, stretched thin between what is and what might be. A boundary not meant to be crossed, yet never meant to be absolute. For centuries it held, not because it was strong, but because most people never pressed against it hard enough to notice. Until one boy did. Murlor was not chosen by prophecy, nor born to greatness. He was simply able to hear what others could not-and unlucky enough to survive when the world tore itself open around him. In the ruins of his village and the shadow of ancient spirits, he became something new: a guardian not of justice or power, but of balance. This is not a story about saving the world in a single, shining moment. It is about what it costs to keep the world standing-quietly, imperfectly, and again tomorrow. It is about the burden of knowing that some doors must remain closed, even when what waits behind them promises answers. And it is about the dangerous truth that sometimes, the greatest threat is not chaos... ...but control. Turn the page. An adventure is waiting.
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