Night fell over Alsira like a suffocating shroud. From the ruined tower, the city's true state could no longer be denied—soul-lamps extinguished, wards fractured, and silence thick in every alley. The capital hadn't just fallen into decay—it was under siege by fear itself.
Asher stood at the jagged edge of the Circle's tower, staring down at the flickering remnants of the once-glorious city. Distant fires cast a dull glow across rooftops, while dark shapes circled high above—vultures with wings of shadow.
"They're nesting above the palace spires," Liaen said, pointing toward indistinct shapes in the clouds. "Winged shades. At least a dozen."
Emilia stepped beside him. "Then we're surrounded."
"Not just surrounded," Elira murmured, her translucent hand brushing the ancient stone. "They've woven a soul-siphon web. The city's energy is being drained—channeled beneath the palace."
Asher's jaw tightened. "The cult's already inside the capital."
They took shelter in a hidden chamber beneath the Broken Circle—once a sanctuary for soul healers. Elira lit the dormant glyphs carved into the walls, forming a faint soul-shield to cloak their presence.
Emilia sank onto a bedroll, her aura dimming with exhaustion, though her eyes still burned with defiance.
"I felt something during the fight," she said. "Not eyes. Intent. Watching me."
Liaen folded his arms. "They know what you are now. The moment you destroyed that Wyrmshade, you became a threat."
"She's more than a threat," Elira said softly. "She's becoming soulbound. But not the usual way."
Asher stayed silent, staring at Emelai—haunted by the memory of Elira's own awakening. What it cost. What it demanded.
"We don't have time to train her," he said at last. "If the cult strikes again, she'll be the target."
"Then we strike first," Liaen said. "The old armory's still beneath the palace. We get in, arm ourselves, and destroy the soul anchor feeding their siphon."
Emilia hesitated. "What about the High Council? Shouldn't we warn them?"
Elira's expression turned grim. "The Council chamber was destroyed months ago. If anyone survived, they've gone silent."
They moved before dawn.
Navigating the tunnels beneath Alsira was like walking through a city of ghosts. Shadows pooled in corners. Whispers stalked each step. Elira led the way, her soullight barely holding back the curses woven into the walls.
They passed shattered barracks, desecrated sanctuaries, and silent halls before reaching a vast obsidian gate beneath the central spire.
"The armory," Asher said quietly. "Still sealed."
He pressed a hand to the stone. It responded with a soft glow, then groaned open, revealing rows of weapons gleaming with dormant power—blades etched with memory-glyphs, staves pulsing with elemental force, and relics long thought lost.
One by one, they stepped inside.
Liaen claimed twin curved daggers that shimmered with wind-energy.
Emilia hesitated—until her hand was drawn to a soulwood staff, its core pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
"It chose you," Elira whispered.
Asher took nothing. His sword remained sheathed on his back.
"I have what I need," he said.
Then the wind changed.
A cold gust swept through the chamber.
Torches sputtered.
A voice echoed from the dark.
"You've come far, little ghosts. But the dead have no place in our new world."
A figure emerged—cloaked in crimson shadow, face hidden behind a crown of bone. Behind him loomed two massive beasts, bound by soul-chains and twisted limbs.
"Name yourself," Asher demanded, stepping forward.
The figure bowed with mock grace. "I am Sareth. Herald of the Shattered Names. And you, Asher Reed, are a relic of a broken age."
Sareth lifted a skeletal hand.
Chains of soul-fire lashed out.
Liaen blocked one. Emilia raised her staff—summoning a shield—but it shattered under the strike.
Asher surged forward, blade flashing. Steel met chain. Sparks flew.
Elira moved next—her ghostly form coiling around Sareth's spell, unraveling it mid-air.
"You don't belong here," she hissed. "This place is still protected."
Sareth's grin deepened.
"Not for long."
The battle ripped through the armory—relics shattered under blasts of soul-fire and soul-light. Emilia struck true, a radiant blast toppling one of the beasts. Liaen pierced the other with a stab to its soul-knot.
But Sareth was something else.
He moved like smoke, flickering through flame. Chains wrapped around Asher's throat, lifting him from the floor.
"I will enjoy watching her break," he said, glaring at Emilia.
She screamed.
And something snapped.
A blast of raw soul-force erupted from her chest—blinding, searing. Sareth reeled. The chains dissolved. The beasts turned to ash.
Elira's voice rang out. "That… that wasn't just soul energy. That was—"
"Memory," Asher gasped. "She's awakened Memory."
The light faded.
Sareth was gone —his laughter echoing like smoke in the rafters.
But the damage was done.
Emilia stood alone in the silence, eyes wide, trembling. "What… did I just do?"
Asher stepped forward, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"You survived. You fought back. And now... you've started a war."