Veins of discord.

They call me mad, insane. I know too well what has torn this mind of mine. But my heart sees through the cruel, to pierce the veil and resist the nightmares from beyond.
There is no brilliance without madness, no light without dark. No reality without void. It is a ballance, one we need to protect, lest we want everything we know and hold dear slip from our fingers. In the end, all we forever have is ourselves and our dreams. Don't ever let your will be broken.
-The Cursewalker.

Manifestation

The world, it’s such a fickle veil between reality and the land of dreams. So, what happens when your dreams overwhelm impossibility and breaches through reality. The answer is nightmares.
It manifests in the air, like an evil eye, colourless as the void and all empty of anything.
If left unchecked, this veins starts to bleed their tentacle like masses of foul magics, that taint the very world around them, bending, perverting and malforming the very structure of the natural laws themselves.
This may cause sand to float, glass to become liquid, and flowers to turn into tentacles, there’s no telling what utter chaos folds from a broken dream.

Localization

These horrors can manifest anywhere in the world, underneath all the wrong circumstances. If a mystician grows beyond powerful and insane, they can break the very fabric of natural laws itself, and cause a mystical catastrophe to grow.
Now, this power thankfully is impossible for a singular individual, or even a whole empire, to call forth. It requires relics, objects of the past, infused with wild energies. When several of these relics are used in rituals, that shake the very earth, the energy gathered will be of such an amount and force, that it cuts through time itself. It might not even be noticed at first, but a change in the worlds pigment. But it grows, oh it grows horrid.

Type

Metaphysical, Supernatural

The warping:

Why, how or when, everything with the veins are vague. But it's real, oh it is too real.
You want evidence? Look no further than Barrkad. What lies in the zone where no man goes. I've seen it at night, yes I have. How the ground lifts into the sky, how it's roots wiggle like tendrils, from the infected soil. It was all the mysticians fault. A ritual to fend of the elves, to summon uncle Ophala himself. Oh the catastrophe of their ignorance, let it be a lesson to all.