Ashreign's rooftops were not built for the living.
The bridge behind them collapsed into nothingness, and the rooftops that stretched ahead were a jagged puzzle of broken tiles, sagging spires, and half-forgotten monuments. It was like running across the fractured memory of a city.
Cassiel was the first to land, rolling over loose tiles and snapping to his feet.Mirae hit next, lighter, quick to adjust her momentum.Bastion barely managed a controlled crash, swearing under his breath.Elior floated the last few steps down, teeth gritted in concentration, magic wreathing his boots.
Ilyan came last — not gracefully, not quietly, but still moving.He stumbled, gasped, and pressed onward.
"Move!" Cassiel barked. "The rooftops aren't stable!"
Behind them, the Hound still watched from the ruined tower.
Still. Silent. Smiling.
Then he stepped onto the air as if it were solid, and began walking after them.
Cassiel cursed under his breath.
"He's not bound by the city," Elior said, breathing hard. "He's part of it."
"We need cover," Mirae said. "We need a plan."
"We need a miracle," Bastion growled.
They ran.Vaulted over gaps that yawned like hungry mouths.Skidded along slanted roofs slick with moss and ash.Dodged statues that had cracked open like eggs, revealing writhing things inside.
The city stretched before them: towers stitched together by broken bridges, courtyards flooded with stagnant water, spires that leaned drunkenly against one another like dying titans.
Everywhere, the sound of bells.
Not real bells — echoes of bells.Dreams of bells.
Low. Mournful. Endless.
It made their heads pound, their hearts race out of rhythm.
It was Mirae who spotted the opening first: a collapsed bell tower, its upper floors gutted, but its base intact.
"There!" she shouted.
Without waiting for agreement, she veered toward it, the others following in a desperate pack.
Inside, the air was colder. Thicker.The tower had once been grand — stone-carved saints, chandeliers, windows designed to catch the light and trap it.
Now it was a mausoleum.
Dust coated everything.The chandeliers hung like skeletons.And at the very center, resting atop a cracked pedestal, was a small, black bell.
It was no bigger than a man's hand.Unassuming. Plain.
But it thrummed with power.
"The Bell of Sleep," Elior whispered. "They used to ring it when they buried the city's heroes."
"No one's a hero here anymore," Mirae said darkly.
Cassiel moved closer, careful.
"Can we use it?" he asked.
Ilyan limped after him, his face tight with something like recognition — or maybe fear.
"It's a ward," he said hoarsely. "It won't stop the Hound. But it might hide us."
"Might," Bastion repeated skeptically.
Cassiel gave a tight smile. "Better odds than none."
He lifted the bell.
It was heavier than it looked, cold enough to burn.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the sound came: a single, clear note, vibrating outward through the stones, through the city, through the bones of the world itself.
It wasn't loud.It wasn't violent.
But it was final.
The air around them shimmered, warping like heat haze.
And the city above seemed to... hesitate.
The Hound, still walking steadily across the open sky, faltered.Tilted his head.
Sniffed the air like a predator catching a wrong scent.
Then, slowly, he turned away.
Vanished into the mist.
The group sagged in collective relief.
"That won't last long," Ilyan warned. "He'll remember."
Cassiel set the bell carefully back on its pedestal.
"Then we move while he forgets."
They descended into the lower levels of the bell tower.
Stone steps spiraled downward into darkness.
No torches. No markings. Only instinct, and the faint tug of magic woven into the walls.
Elior conjured a small, blue flame that hovered at shoulder height.
The murals changed as they moved deeper.They grew more desperate, more fragmented.
Scenes of a city in revolt.A king weeping molten tears.A tower splitting the sky, bleeding light.
"None of this makes sense," Mirae said, her voice barely a whisper.
"It's not meant to," Ilyan replied. "Ashreign isn't a city. It's a grave."
"And we're walking into its heart," Bastion said grimly.
Cassiel didn't argue.
He could feel it too — a pressure building the deeper they went.Not just air pressure. Something worse.
Memory pressure.
As if the city itself was trying to force them to remember things they'd never lived.
At the bottom of the stairs, they found the true door.
An archway carved of black marble, wrapped in chains identical to the ones that had bound the Bell of Remembrance.
But these chains were not broken.
These chains were waiting.
There was no handle. No keyhole.
Only an inscription:
"Speak the Truth You Fear Most."
The group hesitated.
"What kind of truth?" Mirae asked.
"The real kind," Elior said grimly.
No one moved.
Ilyan stepped forward.
"My truth?" he rasped. "I never wanted to come back."
The chains shifted.
One link fell away, clattering to the floor.
Cassiel swallowed.
"My truth?" he said. "I don't think I'm strong enough."
Another chain snapped loose.
Mirae stared at the door, then spoke, almost inaudibly:
"I don't know if I deserve to survive."
The third chain fell.
Bastion muttered under his breath.Then, louder: "I'm afraid I'll fail them all."
The fourth chain shattered.
Elior closed his eyes.
"I believe in miracles. I just don't think they're for me."
The final chain broke with a shriek.
The door swung open.
Beyond it was a darkness deeper than anything they had ever seen.
But within that darkness, something pulsed.A beacon. A path.
And somewhere far ahead...a secret that could change everything.
They stepped through.
And the city sighed, shifting its endless dreams once more.