The Hall of Soulwardens rose from the heart of Alsira, carved from living stone and shaped by soulcraft older than memory. Fortified over centuries, it loomed like a silent judge above the city—its towers watching not for enemies, but for transgressions yet to be committed.
Asher, Emilia, and Liaen stood at its gates, flanked by royal sentries clad in polished armor and bearing the crest of the realm. Emilia's gaze lingered on the runes etched into the walls—each one humming with dormant power, like sleeping eyes waiting to open.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked quietly.
"No," Asher replied. "But we don't have time for doubt."
They had come seeking an audience with Lord Marshal Dareth Valen, commander of Alsira's Soulwardens. Once known for his honor and incorruptibility… though recent whispers painted a different picture.
Inside, the hall was a monument to authority—and something beneath it. The marble floors shone with ceremonial polish, yet the air hung heavy, thick with layered power and suspicion. Soul-torches flickered as they passed, their flames twitching unnaturally, casting shadows where there should have been none.
Elira hovered beside Asher, her glow faint but unwavering. "Something's wrong here," she murmured. "Behind the walls. Below."
"I feel it too," Emilia whispered.
They were ushered into a vast chamber beneath a hanging tapestry of the Four Realms. Lord Marshal Valen stood at its center, clad in ceremonial armor adorned with gold and sigils. Yet his eyes—his eyes were hollow.
"You return to the capital after all these years, Asher Reed," Valen said, voice cold and sharp as forged steel. "The ghost hunter turned ghost bearer."
"I didn't come for pleasantries," Asher replied. "The Cult is here. I have survivors. Witnesses. Evidence."
Valen raised a hand, silencing the room. "We are aware of recent disturbances. But to suggest infiltration among the wardens? That borders on treason."
Emilia stepped forward. "It's not a suggestion. It's the truth."
Valen's gaze narrowed. "And you are?"
"Elira Gray. My parents were killed by the Cult. My village burned. I carry soul-essence from my mother—one of the old weavers."
His brow twitched—almost imperceptibly.
"So she speaks truth," Elira whispered to Asher. "But he wears a mask over it."
Later, in a side chamber, Liaen pulled Emilia aside.
"That man was stalling. We weren't in a meeting—we were being measured."
"You think he's part of it?"
"No," Liaen said. "I think he's afraid. Or worse—compromised."
That night, Elira led Asher into the city's deep underlayers, beneath the Hall itself, toward the Sanctum Vaults—a forbidden place, sealed off for centuries, where relics and records too dangerous to destroy were hidden.
"You can't go down there," she warned. "But I can."
Asher dropped to one knee, pressing a hand to his heart. "Don't go too far."
Elira smiled softly. "You would."
Then she vanished—slipping through the walls like breath through frost.
Within the vaults, shadows stirred—shadows that remembered screams. Relics wrapped in soulcloth throbbed with forgotten power. Seals bled energy into the air like wounds that never closed.
And deeper still, Elira found it.
A hidden chamber.
The rot of decay pressed in from all sides. At its center stood a throne—not of stone, but of bone. A mask rested upon it. A name carved into the altar, now scratched over and defaced by symbols of the Cult of Shattered Names. Above it, pulsing darkly, floated a fragment of a soulcore—black as pitch, alive with ruin.
Then something turned to her.
Something saw her.
A whisper curled around her soul like frostbite:
"Hello, widow of the ghost-bound. I remember you."
Elira screamed.
Back at the safehouse, Asher jolted awake.
Elira burst into the room, pale and trembling, barely holding form.
"It's here," she gasped. "A core fragment—hidden beneath the city. And something guarding it… something old."
Asher steadied her. "What did it say?"
Her voice cracked. "That it remembers me. From the day I died."
Silence fell.
Emilia clenched her fists. "Then we strike first. Before they finish whatever they've started."
Asher rose, blade already in hand. "Then we go to the roots of Alsira."
Liaen checked his crossbow, eyes hard. "And tear them out."