The gateway opened before me, a swirling vortex of pale fire and deep shadow. Weary, but unbroken, I stepped through.
The City Beyond welcomed me in solemn silence.
Gone were the grand processions and chanting voices that had marked my first arrival. The great hall was empty now, save for the twelve thrones and the cold gaze of the Council.
Their masked faces revealed nothing, but the tension in the air was unmistakable. Where once I had sensed unity, now there was a rift, subtle but growing.
The woman in silver rose from her seat.
"You have done what many believed impossible," she said, her voice carrying across the hall. "The First Pillar is restored. The Harrowers have been pushed back."
I bowed my head slightly, acknowledging the praise without accepting it.
"It was not without cost," I said. "And it will not be the last battle."
Another councilor, the figure in tattered black, leaned forward.
"You have proven your worth, Caelan. But the war is far from over. The Harrowers will strike again, harder and faster. Their corruption runs deeper than we feared."
The blue-robed councilor, who had spoken softly before, now raised his voice.
"There are whispers," he said. "Rumors that not all threats lie beyond the Pillars. Some fester within our very walls."
A murmur rippled through the Council.
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
The councilor hesitated, then gestured toward the far end of the hall where a wide balcony overlooked the endless expanse of the City Beyond.
"Come," he said. "You must see it for yourself."
I followed him, the relic-sword still humming faintly at my side.
From the balcony, the city stretched out in all directions, a labyrinth of bridges, towers, and floating platforms. Normally, the view was awe-inspiring.
Today, something was wrong.
In the distance, a section of the city pulsed with a sickly light. Dark tendrils coiled through the air, barely visible, like cracks in the fabric of the world.
"That district was once a sanctuary for scholars," the blue-robed councilor said. "Now it is a nest of shadows. Citizens vanish. Lights fail. Ancient wards crumble."
I gripped the balcony railing tightly.
"The Harrowers have infiltrated the city," I said.
The councilor nodded grimly.
"Not just them. There are... others. Factions that seek to use the chaos for their own ends. The Council is no longer united."
Behind us, the other councilors argued in hushed but heated tones. Though I could not hear every word, the meaning was clear.
Fear was taking root.
And fear could tear even the strongest walls apart from within.
The woman in silver joined us, her silver mask catching the light.
"You must go to the district of Veridien," she said. "Investigate the disturbance. Find the source and cleanse it if you can."
"And if I cannot?" I asked.
She turned her masked face toward the sickly light in the distance.
"Then Veridien will fall. And with it, the City Beyond."
I nodded.
"I will go."
The blue-robed councilor placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Be cautious, Warden. You may find enemies wearing familiar faces."
I left the hall without another word.
As I made my way through the corridors of the Floating City, I passed fewer and fewer people. Those I did see hurried by with downcast eyes, clutching charms and muttering prayers under their breath.
The heart of the City Beyond was rotting.
I reached the bridge that led to Veridien.
The air grew colder as I approached. The stones beneath my feet were cracked, and strange symbols had been carved into the walls, symbols that pulsed with a malevolent energy.
I drew the relic-sword once more.
The blade's light seemed dimmer here, as though the shadows resisted its touch.
Crossing the bridge felt like stepping into another world.
The district of Veridien was a maze of crumbling towers and abandoned plazas. The once-grand library at its center now stood dark and silent, its spires broken like the bones of some ancient beast.
As I moved deeper into the ruins, I felt eyes watching me.
Not from the windows or the doorways.
From the very walls themselves.
Whispers curled around me, words I could not understand but instinctively knew were meant to break my mind.
I pressed on, every step a battle against the growing dread.
At the heart of Veridien, I found it.
A massive rift, a wound in reality itself, pulsing with dark energy. Around it knelt a dozen figures, clad in tattered robes, their bodies trembling with each pulse.
Cultists.
They did not look up as I approached, lost in their dark prayers.
Above them floated a creature of pure malice, a thing of claws and wings and twisted thought, its form shifting with every heartbeat.
It was not a Harrower.
It was something worse.
A traitor spirit, born from the despair and fear of the City itself.
It turned its gaze toward me, and I felt its hatred like a blade across my soul.
The relic-sword flared to life in my hand.
The cultists rose, their eyes empty voids.
The creature screamed, a sound that shattered glass and split stone.
And then they came for me.
Battle was joined once more.
But this time, the enemy was not from beyond the stars.
This time, the enemy was born from our own fall.
And it would take everything I had to drive it back.