The rain had eased, but the mist still clung to the ruins like a second skin.
I stood before the restored Pillar, its golden light cutting through the gloom.
For the first time in what felt like eternity, the City Beyond seemed... still.
But I knew better.
The hunters would return.
And worse things would come for me now.
The vision from the Pillar still burned in my mind — endless towers falling, rivers of flame, the sky itself weeping ash.
A thousand Pillars once held the world together.
Now, only a handful remained.
And I alone could not save them.
The crystal in my hand dimmed, its purpose spent. I tucked it away beneath my cloak, steeling myself for the journey ahead.
A low cough broke the silence.
I spun, relic-sword raised, ready for another fight.
But what stood before me was not a hunter.
It was a boy.
Maybe sixteen summers old, thin as a reed, with wild black hair and mismatched eyes — one green, one silver.
He wore a patchwork coat stitched from a dozen different fabrics, and he carried a satchel stuffed with scrolls and broken gadgets.
He raised his hands quickly.
"Whoa! Easy, Warden. I'm not here to fight!"
I narrowed my eyes.
"Who are you?"
The boy grinned, a little too brightly.
"Name's Finn. Finn Thrice-Lost, if you believe the old stories. But me, I'm just good at staying alive." He glanced at the relic-sword. "And from the look of things, you're gonna need someone who knows these streets."
I kept my stance ready.
"Why are you following me?"
Finn shrugged.
"Not following. Watching. You made a lot of noise back there. Woke half the dead districts with that Pillar stunt. Word spreads fast in the City Beyond."
He stepped closer, unafraid.
"And besides... the Council's dogs are hunting you now. You'll never reach the next Pillar alone."
I studied him carefully.
There was something about him — a slyness, yes, but also a strange honesty.
A survivor's honesty.
And he was right.
The Herald's forces would not stop.
I needed help.
Even if it came in the form of a street rat with too many names.
I lowered the relic-sword slightly.
"You know where the next Pillar is?"
Finn's grin widened.
"I know where a lot of things are. But information ain't free."
Of course.
Nothing ever was.
I sheathed the relic-sword and crossed my arms.
"What do you want?"
Finn tapped the side of his nose.
"A favor. Someday, when I ask, you help me. No questions."
It was a dangerous bargain.
But the world was ending.
And I had no time to waste.
"Fine," I said.
Finn's face lit up like the morning sun.
"Excellent! Come on, then. We gotta move. Council agents will be sniffing around soon."
He turned and disappeared into a narrow alley, moving with the confidence of someone who had lived his whole life among the ruins.
I followed.
The city grew darker as we descended into the lower tiers — abandoned tunnels, shattered marketplaces, forgotten temples swallowed by decay.
Everywhere, the remnants of the old world whispered of greatness lost and sins unpaid.
As we walked, Finn talked.
Not about himself — he was careful about that — but about the city.
He spoke of the Iron Tribunal, the masked judges who ruled the eastern districts.
Of the Bone Choir, a cult of necromancers who sang to the dead.
Of the Hollow Market, where memories were bought and sold like coins.
Each tale painted a picture of a world teetering on the edge of madness.
Each tale made me realize how little I truly knew.
Finally, we reached a vast underground chamber — a collapsed metro station from the age of kings.
Ancient trains rusted on their tracks, vines and fungus claiming their broken shells.
At the center of the platform, a great stone obelisk jutted from the floor, covered in glowing runes.
"The Mapstone," Finn said proudly, patting its side. "Old magic. Still works, if you know how to wake it."
He pulled a jagged shard of crystal from his satchel and pressed it against the obelisk.
With a low hum, the runes flared to life.
An image bloomed in the air — a sprawling map of the City Beyond, shifting and pulsing like a living thing.
I stared, awe tightening my chest.
The city was even bigger — and more broken — than I had imagined.
Hundreds of districts, each darker and more twisted than the last.
And somewhere within that labyrinth, the remaining Pillars waited.
Finn pointed to a flickering light near the edge of the map.
"Next one's there. Deep in the Gloam Wastes. Nasty place. Mutants, plague-burned zones, worse things too."
He glanced at me sideways.
"Still want to go?"
I tightened my grip on the relic-sword.
"I don't have a choice."
Finn whistled softly.
"Well then, Warden. Looks like we're both suicidal."
He grinned again.
But there was a glint of respect now.
A silent understanding between the desperate.
The Mapstone flickered and died, plunging the chamber back into shadow.
Somewhere far above, the horn of the Herald sounded again, a mournful note that shook the bones of the earth.
Time was running out.
And the real nightmare had only just begun.