Afterlight isn't a city—it's a vertical sprawl of power and desperation. The megacorporations built their towers in the sky and left everyone else to climb. The upper tiers glitter with executive penthouses and private security. The middle levels churn with commerce and violence. The lower settlements are stacked housing where people live on top of people, generations compressed into corridors that were never meant for permanent habitation.

And below all of it, the wastes remember.

The Revelation of 2003 changed everything. Angels. Demons. Vampires. Werewolves. The supernatural world went public—and the corporations wrote the headlines. "Biological experiments." "Advanced weaponry." "Security concerns." The truth was buried beneath stock prices and shareholder meetings.

Now the Veil of Flesh is how the Ascended survive. Every supernatural being wears a human mask—horns hidden, fangs retracted, wings folded into nothing. Reality bends around them to maintain the lie. But the veil is harder to hold in high-tech spaces. Surveillance sees through what was once invisible. And in the corporate towers where cameras watch everything, the monsters walk freely.