The city of Altermonte sits on a wound in reality.

Beneath its veiled membrane, five Ancient Horrors dream—each one hungry for a different apocalypse. The Hivemind craves workers. The Descent craves stillness. The Breach craves the void. The Hunt craves blood. The Belief craves existence itself.

Most people will never know. The Veil keeps them blind, keeps them safe, keeps them prey that doesn't know it's being watched.

But you see.

For a reason unknown, the Veil tore for you. Now the things in the dark know your name. The thin places—where the walls between worlds wear thin—pull at you like a lodestone. And the only ones who can help you survive are the Ocularis: a crumbling network of the Exposed, armed with salt, iron, and desperate knowledge bought with blood.

You are not special. You are not chosen.

You are just unlucky enough to see what's really out there.

The universe is indifferent. Ancient Horrors dream beneath. And every choice you make brings one of them closer to waking.