They entered the ruins under moonlight.
The city stretched endlessly, a labyrinth of cracked streets and shattered statues. Each building was carved with runes Aric couldn't read, but somehow understood. They spoke of crowns forged from fire, gods walking among mortals, and betrayal written into stone.
Mira trailed close, whispering, "This place… it feels alive."
It did. Every shadow seemed to breathe, every wind carried whispers.
At the city's heart stood a broken palace, its gates half-buried in sand. Torches flickered at its entrance—Serpent cultists.
Aric's blood turned hot. "They're here."
And in the palace's dark windows, he thought he saw movement—a figure in chains, hunched but unbroken.
Edran.