The bells had stopped ringing years ago. But tonight, Ashreign would sing again.
They stood at the foot of the Tower, heads tilted back, gazes lost in the storm-swallowed spires that disappeared into clouds churning like wounded beasts.
"This is it," Cassiel said, voice low.
"The final tear's inside?" Bastion asked, shifting the weight of his shield.
Elior nodded, eyes narrowed. "And something else. Something... old."
Mirae flexed her fingers, knives sliding easily into her palms. "Doesn't matter. We climb. We break it. We get out."
Simple.
Final.
Cassiel pulled his cloak tighter against the rising wind. The Tower of Bells wasn't just tall — it was alive. Each brick seemed to breathe, sighing with the memories of a thousand broken promises. From somewhere above, they heard the faint clang of a bell swaying in the storm, a heartbeat out of time.
They moved.
The climb was a trial by itself.
The staircase had long since collapsed, so they scaled the tower's shell, clambering up crumbling balconies, broken archways, and the twisted bones of statues. Each handhold threatened to tear away under their weight; each gust of wind tried to throw them back to the shattered ground below.
Halfway up, Mirae nearly fell. Bastion caught her by the wrist, pulling her back just as a section of stone sheared off and plummeted into the abyss.
She grinned breathlessly. "Close one."
"Don't make me do that again," Bastion muttered, checking the ties on his armor.
Higher.
The rain turned to sleet, stabbing at them like glass needles. Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the grotesque faces carved into the stone — guardians who once kept watch, now frozen in screams.
Cassiel pushed forward, driven by something he couldn't name.
A certainty.
A need.
Near the top, they found the first bell.
It hung from a cracked beam, larger than a wagon, green with age. Strange symbols crawled over its surface like living veins.
Mirae ran a gloved hand over the metal. "Does it... feel like it's vibrating?"
"It's awake," Elior said grimly. "The bells are part of the seal. We're walking straight into its mouth."
Cassiel reached out and pushed the bell gently.
The sound it made was almost too deep to hear — a vibration that shook her teeth, rattled her bones, and whispered into her blood.
The tower shifted.
Somewhere above, another bell answered.
The way forward split: a spiral stair upward, and a crumbling passage leading deeper into the tower's body.
Cassiel hesitated, then pointed upward. "The top. That's where the tear is."
They climbed.
Near the summit, the walls grew strange.
They were no longer stone but a seamless metal, etched with images of stars, bleeding eyes, and crumbling cities. The very air grew thicker, harder to breathe.
The bells chimed in low, dissonant harmony.
The top chamber was a hollow dome of tarnished silver, open to the sky. In its center hung the Master Bell, suspended by chains too thin to hold its weight.
Beneath it floated the final tear — a wound in the world, stitched together by desperate hands and failing fast.
And waiting beneath the bell was a figure.
Not a guardian.
Not a demon.
A man.
He wore a tattered uniform that might once have been a knight's, but his eyes were filled with nothing human. His skin was cracked porcelain, bleeding silver light.
He smiled.
"Welcome, Seekers."
Cassiel drew her blade. "Who are you?"
He tilted his head."A caretaker. A failure. A punishment."
The Master Bell tolled.
The sound split the air, the earth, the sky.
The figure blurred, moving faster than thought.
Cassiel barely parried the first blow.
Bastion roared, throwing up his shield as the air itself seemed to tear around them.
Mirae darted low, aiming for the figure's legs — but her blades sparked off unseen armor.
Elior moved like a shadow, striking for the head — the heart — the joints.
But the figure danced through them, laughing.
The battle was chaos, a symphony of ringing steel and crackling magic.
Cassiel fought on instinct, matching his heartbeat to the tolling bells, letting the rhythm guide her.
They couldn't win.
Not like this.
The figure wasn't trying to kill them. He was testing them.
"Strike the bell!" Cassiel shouted.
Mirae didn't hesitate.
She leapt, daggers flashing, and struck the Master Bell with the flat of her blade.
The sound that exploded outward wasn't music.
It was memory.
The silver-skinned figure screamed, clutching his head.
The tear shuddered.
The tower buckled.
Cassiel seized the moment, driving his sword into the figure's heart.
There was no blood — only light.
He staggered back, grinning, even as he dissolved into mist.
"You're too late," he whispered.
The tear flared.
The tower screamed.
They ran.
Chunks of stone rained down around them as they fled downward, the spiral stair collapsing beneath their boots.
The bells rang madly now, a death knell for Ashreign.
They burst out into the storm just as the Tower collapsed behind them, a slow, mournful fall that shook the city to its bones.
Ashreign howled.
And at its center, the Breach widened — no longer a scar, but an open wound.
Cassiel layed panting on the cracked street, rain soaking him to the bone.
Above them, lightning slashed the sky.
And standing not ten feet away, framed by the broken bones of the city, was a stranger.
He was tall, lean, wrapped in a coat stitched from places Cassiel couldn't name. His eyes burned with a light too old to belong to this world.
He smiled faintly.
"Lost, are you?"
Cassiel rose slowly, weapon ready.
"Who are you?"
The stranger tipped an invisible hat.
"Call me Ilyan."