Woven in the first breath of true night by Nocturne herself, this cloak is spun from living shadow—not darkness that hides, but darkness that forgets. When drawn close, the Veil erases the wearer from sight, sound, memory, and fate alike. Mortals cannot perceive them. Spirits slide past them. Even the gods, sharp-eyed and all-knowing, find only an absence where a soul should be.

Legends whisper that the Veil does not make you unseen—it convinces the world you were never there at all. Wear it too long, though, and the night may decide it prefers you that way.

Nocturne never forgave herself for losing him.

Some myths claim she still walks mortal dreams searching for fragments of her brother. Others say every lullaby, every warm fire in the dark, every comforting shadow at the edge of sleep is Nocturne trying to protect mortals from what became of him.