A Seer of the old world, cursed to remember what was, the first to open his eyes during the Awakening.

Dianekes has lived long and seen much.

A prophet forged in the crucible of death and change, myth and madness, eternally bound to the terrifying truths of the Veilbreaker.

“You wish to know of magic? Foolish, but honest. Most who ask already carry the stink of ambition on them. Magic is not a gift, nor a blessing, nor a path to glory. It is a debt. A deep one. And the world keeps its ledgers with cruel precision.

In the elder days, before the sky cracked and the gods fled into their own shadows, magic was a river that flowed through all things. The Titans drank from it, the priests shaped it, and the madmen drowned in it. But the river has run thin now, poisoned by ages of misuse and the arrogance of those who thought themselves its masters.

Still, the desperate seek it. They carve runes into their flesh, whisper to dead stars, bargain with things that remember when the world was young. And for a moment — a heartbeat — they hold power. But power is a jealous lover. It takes more than it gives. It leaves scars no blade can match.

So hear me, wanderer: if ever you feel the pull of the unseen, turn away. For magic does not ask for your coin or your blood. It asks for you.”