From outside, the city looked less like a settlement and more like a mountain carved from timber. It was like a vast, vertical labyrinth where the horizon dissolved into a forest of stacked dwellings.
Walkways and bridges crisscrossed the air, groaning under the weight of countless footsteps. Pheo craned his neck, tracing the impossible height.
How do you even find your way here?
Adam's gaze was harder, calculating. "We keep moving," he said, stepping forward onto the planked bridge that swayed under their weight. Beneath them, a gap dropped into darkness broken only by the dim flicker of lanterns.
As they crossed into the city, the smell hit them. Smoke, oil, and the faint sourness of rot, all woven together in the heat. Narrow alleys between buildings were choked with hanging laundry and the glint of watchful eyes.
Children darted past, their bare feet drumming on the boards, disappearing into slits between walls as quickly as they appeared. Above, traders shouted from platforms stacked three or four stories high, their voices bouncing through the maze.
The deeper they went, the less sky they could see, until the only light came in fractured shafts from far above. Every sound was amplified, hammering, footsteps, muttered deals. Yet somewhere beneath it all was a low, constant creak, the sound of an old city bearing its own weight.
They walked for nearly an hour, weaving through the upper walkways until the press of people thinned and the buildings around them grew taller, sturdier, and cleaner.
Here, the timber was polished and reinforced with dark iron bands. The lanterns burned with steady glass-shielded flames instead of naked, sputtering flames.
Adam finally stopped before a wide-fronted building with a carved wooden sign of a coiled serpent. The structure loomed three stories high, its balconies lined with potted plants that somehow still clung to life in the dust-heavy air.
A pair of guards in brass-trimmed leather stood by the entrance, watching passersby as they came and went. Inside, the air shifted from the outside's choking dryness to a faintly perfumed warmth.
The lobby was lit by a cluster of hanging glass orbs, their glow reflecting off varnished floors. A desk made from deep red wood stood at the far wall, behind which a sharply dressed clerk waited, posture stiff but eyes sharp.
"We'll take a room," Adam said before the clerk could speak. He reached into his coat and withdrew a small leather pouch, the faint jingle of coins drawing the clerk's gaze like a hawk to prey.
Adam tipped the pouch just enough for the golden disks inside to glint in the light. The clerk's demeanor shifted instantly. His polite smile became genuine, his voice warm.
"Of course, sir. We have several suits available. Would you prefer something with a balcony view or more... privacy?" Adam gave a half-smile. "Privacy."
They were led up a polished staircase to the second floor. The suite they were shown had walls paneled in dark wood, a pair of wide beds covered in crisp linen, and a table set by a shuttered window.
In the corner, a washbasin sat beside a ceramic jug of clean water, a luxury in the city. As the clerk discreetly counted the coins Adam had slid into his palms, Pheo wandered to the window and peeked through the slats.
From there, he could see the endless layering of the city. Bridges, towers, and rooftops stacked so high they blotted out the sky. Adam tossed the room key onto the table and leaned back in his chair.
"We've got a place to sleep. Now we use the daylight." Adam told him, "Just like you, I have something personal to finish." His words made Pheo study him.
There was no ease in Adam's shoulders, his gaze was fixed somewhere far past the walls of the room. It didn't take much for him to tell that he wanted him out of it. "We meet back at this room by sundown," Adam added, fastening the clasp on his coat. "No later."
They stepped out of the hotel together, the noise of the city wrapping around them again, going off their separate ways without looking back.
Pheo drifted through the maze of upper walkways, letting the crowd carry him. He passed by market stalls stacked with jars of pickled roots, shelves of oil lamps in every size, and trays of strange metal tools whose purposes he couldn't guess.
A brass-bell chime caught his ear, drawing him toward a shaded alley where the air felt cooler. There, crouched on a low crate, was a boy roughly his age.
He was sketching in a leather-bound notebook with quick, precise strokes. He had sharp eyes that moved between the street and the page, as if cataloging everything at once.
When he noticed Pheo watching, he gave a small, knowing grin. "You're not from here," the boy said, his tone equal parts observation and test.
"Neither are you." Pheo replied, crossing his arms. The boy chuckled. Pheo felt cautious of him, he didn't look entirely friendly. It was like he'd already taken Pheo's measure and decided where he ranked at a glance.
"What gave it away?" Pheo asked him. "The way you walk is too careful. Locals don't bother." His voice was light and confident, as if he had it all figured out.
"Is that all?" Pheo asked him, sounding as if he was disappointed. The grin on his face widened, "I can tell more than that. But we just met. No need to ruin the mystery so soon."
He closed the notebook halfway, tapping the cover. "Name's Kael. Detective. People pay me to find answers they can't, or won't, find themselves."
Pheo arched a brow. "Sounds like trouble." He smirked, "Trouble's just another word for opportunity." Kael leaned forward slightly, as if sharing a secret. "Most people bumble through life blind. Meanwhile, I prefer to observe from above."
He said it casually, without arrogance in his tone, but Pheo could feel the unspoken weight. It was as if Kael truly believed that he was operating on a level most others couldn't reach.
Despite that, Kael's manner was oddly easy to be around. They talked for a while, trading bits of their own stories in the way strangers sometimes do. Care and guarded, but with just enough shared humor to keep it going.
Then a shadow broke the moment. "Kael," a voice said, calm and precise. Both boys turned to see a tall man standing at the mouth of the alcove.
His posture was impeccable, his black coat tailored to perfection. White gloves covered his hands. His short, neatly combed hair caught the light, and a silver watch chain gleamed against the dark fabric of his vest.
Despite his youth, his presence carried the poise and control of someone raised in disciplined service. "Thorne," Kael said, snapping his notebook shut with a sigh. "You've got impeccable timing... As always."
"We have work to do." Thorne replied evenly. His eyes shifted briefly to Pheo as if assessing him before returning to Kael. "Now." Kael gave Pheo a half-smile, tingled with apology and intrigue. "Another time."
The two moved with quiet precision, every glance deliberate. Thorne had the composure that made him stand out even more among the chaos, yet the crowd barely noticed his existence in the crowd.
Pheo lingered in the alcove for a moment after Kael and Thorne had left, the noise of the street slowly flooding back in. He didn't know what to make of either of them, but he knew that he couldn't afford to waste the day wondering.
He set off again, taking note of every landmark he passed. The market square where iron tools clanged on display tables, the narrow bridge with a sagging rope rail, the crooked tower that was topped with three turning weather vanes.
The city's layout was a maze, but the more he walked, the more the chaos began to make sense. Pheo tried to blend in, listening without looking like he was.
He stopped at food stalls, lingered at smithies, browsed around goods that he had no intention of buying, all while picking up scraps of conversation.
It wasn't until the afternoon, while he lingered near a shaded archway, that he caught the low voices of two men seated on a bench, their mugs of watered wine in hand.
There, he caught fragments of a conversation between them. "...The Emberlight Athenaeum," one of them muttered, swirling the last of his drink. "Ha. Useless place." The other snorted.
"Useless? It's worse than useless. Half the people in this city can't even read." He took a swig of his drink before he continued, "You think people go there to study? Hell no, most just take whatever books they can find and sell 'em for a coin there. Cheaper than breaking your back for a week."
The first man leaned in. "Still... don't cause trouble there. Trust me on that." Pheo stayed quiet, pretending not to listen but interested in the topic.
"Because of the librarian," the second replied in a lower tone, eyes darting around before speaking again. "Doesn't matter who you are, or how tough you think you are. If you cross them, you disappear. No shouting, no scene... You just don't come back."
The first man gave a grim nod. "Best you stay far from that place unless you've got a death wish." They drank in silence after that, making Pheo go elsewhere to see if he could get any more information.
He made sure to file the name away in his mind, The Emberlight Athenaeum. As Pheo moved on, he heard a sudden crackle echo through the streets. The distorted hum of a loudspeaker system came alive, snapping everyone's attention toward the market square.
A voice, confident and commanding, boomed over the noise of the city. Curiosity pulled Pheo along with the growing crowd. He ended up at the square, with the sight making his stomach knot.
"People of the City!" The man on the platform called out, his arms wide as though to embrace the crowd. He stood with the poise of someone who knew every eye was on him.
He was tall, sharply dressed in dark crimson and black. His gaze was piercing, yet it was warm when it fell upon the audience. "My name... is Elion, and I stand before you not as some ruler, not as some distant official, but as one of you."
"One who has had enough." The crowd's murmur quieted from his words. Even the hawkers paused mid-sale. Elion took a step forward, his voice dropping just enough to make the audience lean in.
"For too long, this city has been chained to systems that do not serve us." He took a step forward, "Concordist, bureaucratic, noble, guild-run, it doesn't matter the name. They have all rotted from within. They talk of stability, yet that stability is just the corpse of progress, embalmed so the powerful can pretend it's alive."
A ripple of agreement ran through the crowd, a few people nodding vigorously. "That is why The Ember Pact exists," he continued, his tone growing sharper, more urgent. Pheo could see that he had successfully captivated everyone's attention.
"We are not here to reform a broken structure. No, that wouldn't be enough. We are here to burn away what is dead, what is parasitic. So that something new, something better, can take its place."
"Ashes make fertile ground, my friends. And The Free City will rise from them." The words 'Ashes make fertile ground' were echoed by voices in the crowd, some chanting it as though it were a prayer while others shouting it like a battle cry.
Elion began to pace slowly along the edge of the platform. "We believe in merit over legacy. No bloodline should dictate your worth. No paper of birth or seal of office should decide if you lead or follow. The brightest mind, the strongest spirit, the boldest heart, they must shape the city's future. Not those who inherit dusty titles."
A few older men in the crowd exchanged uneasy glances, but most faces were lit with excitement. "We believe in innovation over tradition. No more clinging to ancient ways just because they are old. Technology, art, culture, these must move forward. And fast. Because justice and freedom mean nothing if the city itself stagnates. Progress is survival."
His voice rose to a commanding roar. "And we believe in revolutionary change through action. Talk alone will not save us. Negotiation will not save us. Those who cling to their old systems will not release them willingly. They need to be shown that their time is over, whether by the pen..."
He paused, taking a moment to flex his arm and make a fist, "...or by the flame." The cheer that erupted was loud enough to shake the air. Hands shot up, fists clenched, voices joining together chanting his name.
Pheo stayed low behind a stack of crates, his eyes narrowing as he spotted familiar figures guarding the stage. There, he saw Don, with Wing standing beside him.
They looked to be Elion's bodyguards, standing nearby while looking out to the crowd. Pheo's chest tightened, he dared not move, his gaze fixed on Elion as the man raised his hand for silence.
"Remember," Elion said, his voice dropping again into that dangerous warmth, "The city's rebirth is coming. You can choose to be a part of it... or be swept away by it."
The crowd roared again. Meanwhile, Pheo stayed hidden, with every instinct in his body telling him that getting too close to the crowd would only cause trouble. He decided to stay somewhere low, at least until he needed to meet back up with Adam.