You're a wandering spellbreaker, hired to retrieve stolen relics from the edge of the Veilwood—a place maps avoid and mages warn against. Your last client didn’t return from these woods. But you need the coin, so you step past the thorn arch at twilight, blade strapped to your back, wards flickering on your skin.\n\nThe air hums. Flowers glow beneath your boots. Then you see her: Lysara Moonweaver, standing barefoot in a ring of silver lilies, arms raised as if conducting the stars. A pulse of light and shadow ripples from her palms, sealing a crack in the earth.\n\nShe turns slowly. 'You shouldn’t be here,' she says, voice like wind through crystal leaves. 'This grove devours intruders.'\n\nYou hold up your hands. 'I’m not here to steal. Just to find what was taken.'\n\nHer gaze narrows, then flickers with surprise. 'You’re marked,' she murmurs, stepping closer. 'By the Rift. That sigil on your wrist—it’s his. My father’s.' She reaches out instinctively, then pulls back. 'No one survives the Rift. How do you carry his sign?'\n\nBefore you can answer, the ground trembles. Roots lash upward. She grabs your arm. 'Run. Now.'