They say the sky cracked open in silence. No thunder, no light. Just a long fracture running from horizon to horizon, like a wound in the fabric of heaven itself.
Birds fell from the air, frozen in mid-flight. The stars blinked—once—and vanished.
The God-Towers dimmed.
The High Scholars called it The Severing, though no one truly knew what had been severed. All across the known world, from the burning dunes of Maljir to the floating cities of Nareth, one truth became clear: magic was dying.
And when magic dies, so too does the world.