Weight of the veail
In a world smothered by the Great Veiling, the concept of "vision" has transitioned from a memory to a myth, and finally, into a whispered heresy. For three centuries, a milky, impenetrable cataract has settled over the eyes of every living creature—from the lowest scavenger to the High Gods themselves. This is the Velvet Age, a civilization built on the tactile and the auditory, where city streets are navigated by a complex web of guide-ropes and the "truth" is felt through the vibration of a cane. To the people of Oakhaven, the return of sight isn't a miracle; it is a nightmare of sensory chaos that would shatter their fragile, rhythmic peace.
In the center of this sensory fortress lives Kael, a sixteen-year-old who treats the world like a private gymnasium. Kael is the antithesis of the "Grip"—the name given to the structured, fearful lifestyle of the blind. He refuses the ropes, mocks the canes, and sprints across moss-covered rooftops with a terrifying, intuitive grace. To the village Elders and the High Priests, Kael is a walking blasphemy—a boy who lacks the "holy humility" of the dark. While they fear the "Demons of Image," Kael finds joy in the scent of cedar and the bite of the mountain wind, possessing a free-willed spirit that refuses to be tethered by superstitions he cannot touch.
Yet, high above the clouds in the Pillar of Aether, the blind Gods are trembling. They sit on thrones they can no longer see, ruling through booming echoes and the fading memory of their own grandeur. They know the truth: their power is derived from the mortals’ imagination. If humanity regains its sight, they won't see majestic protectors; they will see the rust on the divine armor and the cracks in the celestial marble. The Gods have become the ultimate gatekeepers of the dark, weaving prophecies that paint the return of light as an apocalyptic fire, all to ensure that no one ever looks up and sees the frailty of their masters.
But the atmosphere is thinning. A strange, stinging warmth has begun to pulse behind Kael’s eyelids—a "headache" that the ancient texts call the First Spark. As the celestial film begins to tear, Kael becomes the unintended focal point of a cosmic revolution. He is a boy who never asked to be a savior, yet he is the only one bold enough to face the searing beauty of the first sunrise.
Caught between a society that clings to the safety of the shadows and a pantheon of Gods willing to commit deicide to remain hidden, Kael must navigate a world that is suddenly, violently, becoming visible. In this story of perception and power, one carefree boy will discover that being the only person who can see doesn’t make you a king—it makes you a target.
