The road crested the final ridge, and Soren's breath caught in his throat.
The City of Spires sprawled beneath them, impossibly vast, a creature of stone and timber that had devoured the valley floor. Massive walls studded with watchtowers encircled the metropolis, their pale stone catching the midday sun.
Countless banners snapped in the wind, crimson and gold, azure and silver, colors Soren couldn't even name, each marking territory, proclaiming allegiance, demanding recognition. Through the heart of it all, a silver river cut like a blade, spanned by bridges that looked like the stitches of some giant's needle.
The shard against Soren's chest stirred, a faint warmth pulsing once, twice. Not Valenna's voice, not exactly, but something deeper, recognition, perhaps. Memory. As if it knew this place.
