But beneath the noise and light, there was always a hum—a low, constant pressure that settled into the bones of everyone who lived here. It was the tension of a city built beside a gate that could either give you everything… or take it all away.
Kael Ardyn moved through the crowd like a shadow slipping between brighter things. His cracked backpack hung from one shoulder, its frayed strap rubbing against his collarbone, but he didn't adjust it. Nobody paid him any attention, and he preferred it that way. His black hair was unkempt, curling slightly at the ends as if he hadn't looked in a mirror for days, and faint bruises marked his arms—souvenirs from part-time jobs that paid too little and demanded too much.
He should have been in university.
He should have been sitting in lecture halls, arguing theories, planning a future that stretched farther than the end of the month.
Instead, folded neatly inside his bag were medical bills.
Bills he could no longer afford.
Bills that pressed down on his chest every time he remembered they existed.
He crossed a busy street, the pedestrian light blinking as hover-cars slowed reluctantly. Above him, a massive holographic billboard flickered to life. A handsome young man stood proudly in glowing armor, confidence carved into his smile. A majestic spirit beast floated behind him, translucent wings spread wide like a guardian watching over its chosen.
"Join the Spirit Elite!" the booming voice announced. "Enter the Veilworld and return with power!"
Kael looked away before the image could burn itself deeper into his thoughts.
Everything in Arcadia was like that—screens, posters, announcements. The message never changed.
Your worth is decided by the spirit you bond with.
But Kael knew better than most how ugly reality was beneath the promise. People died in the Veilworld. Some returned missing limbs, memories, or pieces of themselves they never got back. Others never returned at all, their names quietly erased once the excitement faded.
The crowd thinned as he approached Arcadia General Hospital, a gray structure that looked permanently tired. Of all the buildings in the city, this was the one he visited most often.
The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss. Cold, sterile air rushed out to meet him, carrying the sharp scent of disinfectant. It was a smell that clung to his clothes and followed him home no matter how many times he washed them.
He walked down the long hallway, passing elderly patients in wheelchairs, exhausted nurses hurrying between rooms, and doctors studying holographic charts with furrowed brows. The lights flickered overhead, briefly dimming before stabilizing again. Hospitals in the outer ring never received the same power priority as those near the rich districts.
Room 402 sat near the end of the hall.
Kael stopped outside the door.
He always did.
Not because he didn't want to see her, but because every visit carried the same fear—that this time, the doctors would have news he wasn't ready to hear. He inhaled slowly, steadying himself, then pushed the door open.
His mother lay on the bed, her body thin beneath the blanket. Her skin was pale, almost translucent under the dim lights, but her eyes softened the moment she saw him. She was thinner than last month. He could tell immediately. Her cheeks had hollowed slightly, and her fingers rested lightly against the sheets, fragile as paper. The oxygen machine beside her hissed quietly, rising and falling with each careful breath.
She turned her head toward him. "Kael…?"
He forced a smile, one he had practiced too many times. "Hey, Mom. I'm here."
"You came earlier than usual today."
"I finished work early," he replied smoothly, the lie sliding out without effort.
She smiled—the kind of tired, knowing smile only a mother could give.
Kael moved to her bedside, adjusting her pillows and smoothing the blanket. He handled her gently, as if she might break if he wasn't careful.
"Kael," she whispered, "sit."
He pulled a chair closer and sat beside her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, trying to look relaxed.
"Did you eat today?" she asked.
"Yeah."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Kael."
He sighed. "I'll eat later."
She shook her head weakly. "A growing boy needs strength."
"I'm not a boy anymore," he said quietly.
Her gaze softened. "To me, you'll always be the little child who dragged rocks home, insisting they were treasure."
He chuckled despite himself. "I was five."
"You were ridiculous," she said with a faint laugh. "But you believed everything you touched could become valuable."
His smile slowly faded.
Her eyes drifted toward the window.
From her bed, the Veilgate Tower was visible in the distance, rising above the city like a colossal monument of glass and light. Bands of radiant energy spiraled endlessly within it, mesmerizing and terrifying all at once.
They stared at it together in silence.
"Kael…" she said softly. "One month."
He swallowed. "Yeah."
"In one month, you'll turn seventeen."
"Yeah."
"And then you'll face the Gate."
He didn't answer.
She turned back to him, studying his face with an expression filled with quiet understanding. "You're scared."
"A little."
"A little?" She tried to laugh, but it dissolved into a cough. Kael reached for water immediately, but she waved him off after a moment.
"Kael," she whispered, "do you think I don't see how tired you are? You work two jobs. You barely sleep. You dropped out of university…"
His body stiffened.
"I didn't want to," he said, his voice low.
"You were always top of your class," she continued gently. "Your teachers adored you. They said you could become one of the brightest minds in Arcadia."
"That doesn't matter now."
"It does matter."
He clenched his fists, staring at the floor. "It was just school, Mom."
"It was your dream."
"It was a luxury," he corrected. "You're my responsibility."
She reached out and took his hand.
"You shouldn't have sacrificed your future for me."
"I didn't sacrifice anything," he said firmly, meeting her eyes. "You gave me everything. You fed me when you didn't eat. You clothed me when you had nothing. If I can't take care of you now, what kind of child does that make me?"
Tears welled in her eyes.
The lights flickered again, and the oxygen machine let out an alarming sound. Kael adjusted it quickly, his movements practiced. The machine stabilized, returning to its steady rhythm.
"Kael," she whispered, "promise me something."
"Anything."
"When the time comes… don't run from the Gate."
He froze.
"You want money for treatment," she said softly. "You want a cure. Then you need power—and power comes from the Veilworld."
He remained silent.
"You're afraid of being veilless," she said gently.
His body went still.
She knew.
The veilless were the lowest of the low—those rejected by the Gate, those who failed to bond, those too afraid to enter. People society pretended not to see. Kael had seen them often enough.
"It's okay to be afraid," she whispered. "Just don't let fear stop you."
Her voice cracked. "Your father faced the Gate too."
Kael looked up. "What happened to him?"
She closed her eyes. "That's a story for another day."
Later, as she ate the simple meal he brought, they laughed softly. For a brief moment, everything felt normal.
When she finally drifted to sleep, Kael stood by the window, staring at the glowing Gate.
One month.
In one month, everything would change.
"I'll make it," he whispered. "I have to."
For her. For their future. For everything he had left.