The city basked in mana.
Since the reactivation of the ley grid, the air itself shimmered. Shopkeepers found sigils forming in the corners of their stalls. Children left handprints glowing faintly on the walls. It was as though Duskfall had begun to remember its ancient self.
But not all memories were kind.
Marketplace - Two Hours Before Dusk
Selene walked openly through the bazaar. Not in disguise, not in fear. The people had begun to greet her with cautious respect. A nod here. A whispered thanks there.
She passed beneath a cloth awning strung with silver charms. A boy offered her a flower. She smiled, and took it.
And that was when the knife came.
A blur from the crowd.
She turned just in time to avoid a killing blow—but not fast enough to escape the gash across her ribs.
Blood spilled.
The crowd screamed.
The assassin lunged again.
But this time Selene caught the blade.
With her bare hand.
She whispered a binding glyph and the assassin froze mid-motion, every nerve seized by her will.
She pulled off his hood.
He was no soldier.
A boy. Maybe fifteen. Eyes full of fear and conviction.
"Why?" she asked.
He spat.
"Because you're replacing one tyrant with another."
Forgehouse - Infirmary Room
Altharion arrived moments after the alarm sounded.
Selene sat on a cot, shirt bloodied but stable. Her wound glowed with a golden seal.
She met his eyes.
"He wasn't Dome-trained. Not marked. Just… convinced."
Altharion folded his arms. "A seed of doubt can bear a thousand knives."
He turned to one of his lieutenants. "Find out who put him up to it. Quietly."
The lieutenant nodded and vanished.
Selene sighed. "We knew it wouldn't be easy."
"No," Altharion replied. "But betrayal this early is alarming."
He glanced at the obsidian ring.
And for the first time in days, he felt the weight of consequence.
Celestial Dome - Chamber of Masks
Helios knelt before a dais of silver thrones.
Each seat was occupied by a figure shrouded in shadow—The Silent Triune.
He spoke.
"Duskfall is lost to us. The people rise in flame. The Archon walks freely."
The central figure's voice echoed like wind through bone.
"You were warned."
"And I have learned," Helios replied. "I no longer seek to control the city. I seek to burn it."
The Triune conferred in silence.
Then, the verdict:
"Summon the Pale Choir."
Helios smiled.
City Outskirts - The Arrival
Far beyond the ley-lit slums, near the poisoned riverbanks, a boat emerged through the mist. A pale, silent vessel, crewed by figures draped in white linen and iron masks.
The Pale Choir.
They spoke no words.
They left no footprints.
Where they walked, songs of forgetting filled the air.
Not just assassins.
Not just enforcers.
Erasers.
Forgehouse Rooftop - Nightfall
Selene leaned on the railing, her side aching.
Altharion stood beside her.
"You were lucky," he said.
"We won't always be."
She looked out over the city.
"You gave them hope, Altharion. But hope draws fear. And fear always sharpens blades."
He nodded slowly.
"Then we will answer their fear with flame. But not indiscriminately. We burn only what corrupts. Not what doubts."
She looked at him sideways. "You really believe that?"
He met her gaze.
"I have to. Or I become the very thing I swore to destroy."
In the distance, drums began to sound. Slow. Hollow.
The Pale Choir had entered the city.