Thereth was not on any map.
It wasn't hidden because of some spell or illusion—it had simply been forgotten. A city devoured by its own ambition, swallowed by the ley-line during the Second Breach and sealed away. Legends said the mages of Thereth tried to channel raw ley-energy directly into the bones of the city, seeking to make it eternal.
They succeeded.
And in doing so, trapped themselves in a loop where time, death, and magic broke their boundaries.
Lucian and Laila arrived at twilight, standing atop a ridge overlooking a sunken basin. Below, the ruins of Thereth sprawled in spiraled tiers, architecture warped by generations of unstable energy. Towers curved like horns. Roads broke and reformed in midair. And in the center, rising like a jagged tooth, stood the cathedral of the Spiral Eye—where the third shard pulsed beneath twisted stone.
It looked empty.
It was not.
🜂
They descended the outer steps carefully, weapons ready, magic humming in their blood. The city was eerily quiet. Not silent—but too quiet. No birds, no wind, no shifting stone. Just the subtle crackle of ley-flux—like fire muffled under a thick blanket.
Lucian scanned the streets. "The energy here… it's alive. It's moving."
Laila paused beside a rusted archway. "These buildings aren't abandoned. They're asleep."
They made it three blocks before they encountered the first one.
It looked like a man—draped in ceremonial mage robes—but his skin shimmered like water, transparent and blue-white. His eyes were hollow, glowing faintly. He didn't walk so much as float, feet inches above the ground, bound by strands of ley-energy that dragged behind him like broken chains.
Lucian held still. "A specter?"
Laila frowned. "No. A looped echo. He's trapped in the moment of his death. Forever replaying it."
The ghostly figure looked directly at them. Then screamed.
Not a human scream—something warped by magic and memory. A piercing, static-sharp sound that split the air.
Dozens of glowing eyes flicked open in the shadows.
"They've seen us," Laila whispered.
They ran.
🜂
They dodged down an alley of curving towers, the ghost-creatures swarming behind. Some walked, others crawled or flew. All were trapped in some broken iteration of what they once were—soldiers, scholars, children. Not dead. Not truly alive.
Lucian gritted his teeth. "If they're caught in a loop, maybe we can break it."
"Or get dragged into one ourselves," Laila said, throwing a wave of magic behind them that swept several phantoms off their feet.
They reached the inner ring of the city, where the streets began to spiral. Each step hummed underfoot. Glyphs blinked to life across the walls, reacting to their presence.
Lucian stopped.
"Wait."
He looked down.
"This is a pattern."
Laila narrowed her eyes. "You mean the roads?"
"No, the sequence. Look." He crouched and traced the path of the ley-light. "Each tier of the spiral aligns with a different elemental phase. Earth here. Water there. Fire, air, spirit…"
Laila caught on. "It's a ritual. The city is a spell."
"And the cathedral's the focus."
They looked ahead.
The Spiral Eye loomed.
🜂
Getting inside wasn't easy.
The entrance was guarded by a trio of larger ghosts—knights, or what remained of them, clad in armor that cracked and reformed with every movement. They wielded spectral blades, their bodies leaking fragments of memory.
Lucian stepped forward. "Let me try something."
He knelt, placed both palms on the ground, and concentrated. The shard inside his pouch pulsed.
"I'm not trying to harm you," he whispered. "Just let us pass."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the knights stepped aside.
Laila blinked. "You communicated with them?"
Lucian stood slowly. "No. I think I resonated with the ley-loop. Like tuning to the same frequency."
The doors creaked open.
They entered the Spiral Eye.
🜂
Inside was worse.
The cathedral's interior had collapsed inward, creating a vertical shaft lined with floating platforms and mirrored staircases. At its very center hovered a massive crystal sphere—fractured, bleeding light—and embedded within it, barely visible, was the third shard.
It looked like a black thorn.
Laila pointed. "We have to get up there."
Lucian nodded, focusing on the ley-energy beneath his feet. "Help me channel. We'll use earth and water to build a lift."
They fused their magic, stabilizing the air into a spiral of rising stone and water—like a blooming flower made of petrified mist. Step by step, they climbed, dodging the occasional swipe of uncontrolled magic bursting from the cracked core.
As they neared the top, a voice rang out.
"You should not be here."
A figure stepped from the light. She was draped in robes of shattered glass and humming ley-thread. Her eyes were pools of ink. Her skin was pale, streaked with symbols.
"I am Caltra," she said. "Last Warden of Thereth."
Lucian raised his hands. "We don't want to take what isn't ours. But that shard—"
"—must not be removed," she said sharply. "It anchors this city. Without it, the loop collapses. The souls here will unravel."
Laila looked torn. "But they're suffering."
"They exist," Caltra said. "That's more than death."
Lucian stepped forward. "We're not trying to destroy them. We need the shard to stop something worse."
Caltra studied them. "Fusion twins. I felt your arrival. You're both echoing far louder than you should be."
"We're trying to understand our purpose," Lucian said. "Not control it."
Caltra's face softened. "Then let me show you what will happen if you fail."
She raised her hands—and the world rippled.
They saw a vision.
Flashes of the gate breaking.
Of a figure rising from the Spiral Throne—faceless, but vast, wrapped in armor made of nightmares and sorrow.
Of ley-lines snapping like broken veins.
Of cities crumbling.
Of stars bleeding.
Then it ended.
Caltra was pale. "That is He Who Waits. And he is not merciful."
Laila stepped forward. "If we don't take the shard, we can't stop him."
Caltra looked at the crystal. "Then… promise me. Free them after. Come back. Let this place rest."
Lucian placed a hand over his heart. "I swear."
Caltra touched the sphere.
The crystal cracked.
The shard fell into Lucian's hands.
The cathedral began to collapse.
🜂
They escaped just before the tower crumbled, racing across stone that shattered behind them. The moment the shard left its anchor, the loops began to fail—ghosts breaking apart into light, walls collapsing, sky bending.
At the city's edge, they turned.
Thereth was gone—only ley-smoke rising from the crater remained.
Lucian held the shard tightly.
Three down.
Three to go.
"We're running out of time," Laila said quietly.
Lucian looked at her. "Then we go faster."
Together, they stepped into the spiral again.