Paris – November 11, 1937 – 4:37 AM
The first mirror exploded by the banks of the Seine.
It wasn't an accident. Nor a ritual. It was a signal. And the answer came with force.
The Light Guard had crossed the Veil.
White hoods, light armor, eyes glowing with glyphs tattooed into their irises. They didn't march — they glided over cobblestone, guided by one purpose: to destroy what remained of the Brotherhood.
On Rue Saint-Antoine, the first spells collided with lampposts, shop windows, and bones. A Containment Guard was hurled against a wall. A group of young mages — rebels from the Quartier Magique — tried to fight back. One conjured a salt barrier.
It wasn't enough.
A beam of light sliced through the boy's chest. His body turned to silver dust.
The Parisians still slept.
But Paris was already bleeding.
---
Versailles – 4:39 AM
Claire felt the heat of the rupture like a fever. Every connection to the Veil now vibrated — calling, warning. Solène watched from the window.
— "They actually started..."
— "The Light Guard doesn't make threats," Claire replied. "They make history."
She turned to Armand.
— "Are you going to stop them?"
— "No."
— "Are you going to help them?"
He hesitated.
— "I don't know who I'm helping anymore."
Claire took a breath.
— "Then for the first time, you'll follow someone. And today, you'll follow me."
---
Paris – Le Marais – 4:41 AM
An underground temple of the Brotherhood, sealed since 1904, was broken into by force. It was empty — except for a symbol drawn in ash on the floor: a divided rose.
A Light Guard agent smiled when he saw it.
— "She's awake."
Outside, arcs of magical energy danced across rooftops. The gargoyles of Notre-Dame began to glow. And in the alleyways... shadows gathered. Forgotten members of the Veil were stirring.
The city had broken.
And what would rise from it... no one knew.