"You wanted to learn about the Flesh Architect," Veyra said softly, sitting closer. "You will get your wish soon enough. But you will need to have enough power to survive the next steps. Real power."
He glared at her. "And you just happen to know where to find it, don't you?"
Her grin widened, sly and dangerous. "Of course. But knowledge has a price."
He narrowed his eyes. "And what price is that?"
She shrugged, chains clinking faintly. "Trust, Trust is the most valuable price."
Aelric gave a bitter laugh. "In you?"
"In me," she said simply. "Or die here, hunted and broken before you even glimpse the Architect's domain."
He said nothing for a long time. Finally, he turned away from the Hollow Crown and started walking towards the distant exit, away from the cathedral, away from the dead Grove, and away from the nightmare he had almost accepted as truth.
Veyra silently followed by his side. With a smile on her face. The darkness swallowed them both again.
And somewhere beyond sight, beyond sound, ancient forces shifted in response to the Hollow Crown's new heir. Their hunt had begun.
The oppressive silence of the Abyss was never empty. It throbbed like a living wound, the shadows twitching at the edge of sight, whispering things which are not understood by any language.
Aelric stepped forward slowly, his footfalls softened by centuries of dust. Beside him, Veyra moved like a ghost, her eyes unreadable, her steps were very careful not to disturb the silence.
They have been traveling for a long time since he became the heir of the Hollow Crown. They have recovered quite a bit. Soon, they reached a vast open space.
Before then lay a city swallowed by shadow and time. Blackened spires jutted out from the cracked stone, towering monuments to ambition long since devoured.
The streets were wide, once grand thoroughfares, now choked by rubble and twisted remnants of buildings. Arches bore carvings of winged demons locked in solemn poses. Guardians, rulers of mourners, it was impossible to tell.
The Voice of the Abyss spoke softly within Aelric's mind, as though even if feared disturbing the dead.
[This is the city of Draz Kurhaal. Once the beating heart of the Thirteenth Abyssal Court. Its glyphs predate the fall of the Flesh Architect. It was not simply abandoned, but was erased.]
Aelric's eyes narrowed as he moved towards the ruins. The scent was strange. It was not decay, not rot, but something different. Like burnt incense over dried blood. This place had been touched by a great power of something unimaginably strong. And then everything returned to silence.
He crouched near a fractured obelisk inscribed with curling glyphs, still faintly glowing in places where time had failed to completely erase the enchantments.
Aelric placed a hand on the stone, feeling the pulse beneath the surface. A heartbeat. No, it is not, this is impossible slow. Maybe my imagination.
The glyphs shimmered, and the Voice began parsing them aloud.
"'Let the veil break not, lest the stars remember their chains.' This is a warning scripture. They feared something greater than even the Abyss."
"Or they worshipped it," Aelric muttered. "And it demanded silence."
He stood, glancing back at Veyra. She had not spoken since entering the city. Her eyes scanned the ruins as if she were familiar, which was unsettling to him.
She brushed her fingers along a half-shattered mural carved into the wall. A depiction of demons kneeling before a robed figure cloaked in flames.
"Veyra," he said sharply. "Tell me, you have been here before, right?"
She did not answer right away. Instead, she walked past him, her long hair brushing the stones like spider silk. She moved toward the vase of a collapsed tower, where a stone daks lah cracked but still mostly intact.
"I remember the smoke," she said finally. "The screams. This city died in fire, but it wasn't cleansed. It was… consumed."
She knelt at the edge of the dais, her hand resting in a melted chain embedded in the stone. "They built this place with ambition and arrogance. Thought they could chart the depths. Map the Abyss like a kingdom. The rulers opened a gate they couldn't close."
Aelric stepped beside her. "You said nothing of this before."
"I don't remember," she replied, her voice strained. "Or I don't want to."
The Voice spoke again. [Cognitive dissonance is a common side effect of surviving events involving dimensional distortion or memory fragmentation. Her recollection may be incomplete or protected.]
Aelric looked at her a moment longer. "Or she is hiding something."
Veyra turned her head. Her violet eyes glimmered as she covered her head with a hood. "Wouldn't you, if you had seen your world turn to ash?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. They both knew the truth of survival.
The pair moved deeper into the ruins, the streets narrowing into labyrinthine alleys. Lined with the husks of statues and doors that opened to nothing.
There was no sign of life here, no beasts, no demons, not even insects. Just stone and stillness and memory of fire
Aelric paused before a massive gate partially buried in the collapsed wall of what had once been a citadel. Its surface was scorched, but glyphs still pulsed beneath the ash, dull red like dying embers. He reached out, and the glyphs flared in recognition.
The gate shuddered.
The stone around them trembled, and a gust of bitter wind hissed from the broken archway beyond. It carried no sound. There was only a presence, and the presence felt like watching and waiting.
The Voice's tone shifted. [This is not just memorization. Something remains. Neither alive nor dead, but it is dormant.]
Aelric clenched his fists. "Then we tread carefully."
They passed through the gate. Beyond lay the city's heart. A vast, open courtyard surrounded by spiraling towers and ceremonial plinths.
A statue lay shattered at its center. Its head cleaved from its body, arms reaching skyward as if in supplication. Bloodless bones lay in scattered patterns around its feet, untouched by time.