The wind of Eclipsera carried no warmth.
It whispered through the hollow towers like a dying memory, brushing over cracked glass and the rusted veins of forgotten machines. The city once dreamed of eternity — now, it merely survived the passing of its own shadow.
At the center of the old district, beneath a sky that refused to turn blue, stood a man watching the silent skyline. His coat fluttered in the still air, dust gathering at his boots. His name was Ryn Kael — philosopher, exile, and the last man who still believed the mind could rebuild a city.
Around him, the marketplace had long been empty. The stalls were bones; the streets, veins drained of ambition. And yet, to Ryn, this silence was not despair. It was a question waiting for an answer.
"A city dies not when its heart stops beating," he murmured, "but when its people forget what it means to think."
He closed his eyes. The world of Eclipsera unfolded behind his eyelids — a place where leaders chased thrones, where knowledge was currency, where emotion was weakness. Every nation around this city thrived on deceit and blood, yet they called it "progress."
Eclipsera had no army, no god, no hierarchy. Only the ruins of ideals.
And in that void, Ryn saw possibility.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a torn notebook. Its cover bore one phrase in fading ink:
"Eternal Balance — The Ethereal Framework."
The theory that had cost him his name.
A belief that knowledge and emotion, together, could reshape reality itself.
The world called it heresy. The city, however, called it hope.
The clocktower in the distance struck once — hollow and uncertain.
Ryn looked up at it and smiled faintly.
"Let them chase their crowns and gods," he whispered.
"We will build something they cannot steal — understanding."
He took his first step toward the heart of the city.
Dust rose in slow motion, catching the dim light like fragments of thought reborn.
That night, as Eclipsera slept under its colorless sky, a single lamp in the old district began to glow — pale, uncertain, yet alive.
And from that flicker, the forgotten city began to breathe once more.