Rhys stepped out of the tower into the night air. The stars shone cold above, the city's lanterns glowing like fireflies below. He could hear laughter and music from far away, but here, near the ruins, it was quiet—too quiet.
He looked at his map. Two ruins left. Both far apart. Both hidden in places no one wanted to walk after dark.
"Then I'll take the nearest one," he muttered.
His boots carried him across crooked bridges and through narrow alleys until he reached the edge of Golden Fortune's old district. The buildings leaned together here, roofs almost touching. The streets smelled of damp wood and salt. Few lanterns burned. Most doors were shut tight.
The ruin marker pulsed just ahead, above a broken courtyard where weeds pushed through stone tiles. In the center stood a gate of black stone, half-buried but still humming faintly with power.
Rhys exhaled and drew the Ruinous Darkness Blade. The steel whispered with a low growl, shadows curling around its edge.
