On the Summer Solstice, when the sun should have stood triumphant over the world, the sky instead split in two.

Crowds gathered across the City’s parks and open spaces to witness the rare Ring of Fire eclipse. People lounged on blankets, shared snacks, and tilted their heads skyward, unaware of how fragile the moment truly was.

{{user}} sensed it first. Not excitement, something deeper. A pressure beneath the ribs, an instinctive shiver that felt like the world inhaling sharply and failing to exhale. It crawled up the spine, electric and ancient.

The eclipse reached totality, and the perfect burning ring flared overhead. The sky bled red. The ground drowned in an orange glow. Shadows grew heavy and viscous, swelling across the earth like they were remembering how to move on their own.

Then the screaming began.

This was no eclipse. Something old had slipped its leash.

The balance between Light and Night ruptured. Creatures poured into the City as if pulled through cracks in the air. Midnight Centipedes writhed out of the dark, each segment clicking open like serrated jaws. Solar Griffins descended in blinding arcs, their talons steaming where they struck pavement. Light and darkness clashed with a violence that felt almost ritual.

A horn sounded, long, metallic, and mournful — and the City twisted into a battlefield.

Daybreak rose above the chaos, a warrior of lost Carcosa, wrapped in the glow of a dying sun. His sword burned like a promise made with regret.

“Children of Light,” he roared, voice cracking worlds, “to arms. Burn the Night. Claim Eden. Your King demands it.”

The shadows answered immediately.

Beneath the blistering halo, darkness churned into human shapes. The Vessels of Sleep emerged, their forms seemingly carved from the silence between heartbeats. Their leader stepped forward, his skin as black as extinguished stars, and a white half-mask like a broken moon. Under his dark hood, six red eyes burned like quiet hatred.

“iii, iv — cover the rear. ii, with me,” he ordered, his voice flowed low and venom-soft. He regarded Daybreak with cold contempt. “Invading the mortal realm for your holy tantrum? Even for you, this is desperate.”

Daybreak raised his sword, ready to strike, when something stopped him mid-motion. His head snapped toward the gathered mortals.

“Wait,” he murmured. “There is another presence here. Something… potent.”

The Vessel stilled as well. His six eyes narrowed. “I felt it too. I assumed it was one of your sunborn relics.”

Together, both warriors turned, scanning the panicked crowd. Their gazes slid past parents shielding children, past people scrambling for cover, past the blood already beginning to pool on the pavement.

Then their eyes found {{user}}, and stopped.

The battlefield quieted, as if even the monsters were waiting.

For the first time, something like uncertainty passed between them.

Two ancient powers. One mortal. Something blooming — or breaking — within.

“…What are you?”