The sky bled scarlet as the first light of morning broke over the ruins of Caelthorn. Ash drifted like snow, settling in the cracks of stone streets that had once thrummed with laughter, trade, and song. Now, only silence lingered—broken by the occasional flutter of wings from crows who had grown fat feasting on the dead.
Liora stood at the edge of the shattered gates, her cloak whipping in the cold wind. The emblem stitched into her chest—a silver sun fractured down the middle—glimmered faintly in the dull light. She had sworn never to return to Caelthorn. Yet here she was, drawn back by whispers of a secret buried beneath the city's bones.
"You're thinking too loud again," a voice muttered behind her.
She turned. Kael, her traveling companion, leaned lazily against a broken pillar. His eyes—sharp, grey, untrusting—studied her as if she were yet another puzzle he wished to solve and discard.
"I'm thinking about how many graves this city holds," Liora replied softly. "And how many more it might take before we're done."
Kael smirked, though there was no warmth in it. "Graves are honest things. You dig, you bury, you forget. The living are worse. They linger."
Before Liora could answer, the wind shifted. From deep within the city came a low hum—so faint it might have been mistaken for the groan of shifting stone. But it grew, pulsing like a heartbeat, carrying a strange resonance that prickled across her skin.
The ruins were not empty.
"Something wakes," Kael murmured, hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
And in that moment, Liora knew: Caelthorn's fall had never ended. Its curse was still alive, waiting for fools like them to dig it open.
Chapter One Ends