Days passed — or maybe weeks. Cled couldn't tell.
The mountain behind him was silent now, sealed by frost and memory. He walked through endless snowfields until the land beneath his feet changed — from ice to glass, from glass to stone.
And then, finally, he saw it.
A city floating in the distance — suspended in shards of broken clouds, its towers glowing with fragments of golden light. Chains of lightning tethered it to the ground below, each one humming with a strange, living pulse.
"The city that floats…" he whispered. "The remnant was right."
He approached carefully. As he neared the lower gates, strange runes flared on the ground. The energy reacted to him instantly — golden at first, then sickly green.
Guards appeared from behind the barrier, their armor forged from condensed mist, eyes hollow but bright.
> "State your name, wanderer."
Cled hesitated. "Cled. From the Skylands."
The guards exchanged glances. One of them whispered, "Skylands fell a century ago…"
Cled froze. "What did you say?"
> "That place was lost to the Fracture War a hundred years past. You speak of ghosts."
His mind reeled.
I slept that long…?
Before he could respond, the gate sigils pulsed again — this time resonating directly with the ember inside his chest. The light around him surged, shattering the barrier.
The guards staggered back in shock. "Impossible!"
Cled stepped forward. "I'm not your enemy. I just need answers."
But before any could speak, a horn sounded from within the city — deep, ancient, urgent.
> "The Abyss flare!" someone shouted.
Cled turned. Over the horizon, a rift of pure darkness was splitting the sky — identical to the one he'd seen in the mountain.
His pulse quickened.
It was calling him again.