Velvora begins to crack—its name trembling on the edge of collapse. Asher must choose: cleanse it, rename it, or let it fall. And others are watching... including those who built cities on worse lies.
The cracks began with silence.
No earthquakes. No screaming citizens. No demon uprising.
Just... silence.
And then came the sound that split the air like bone under pressure: a ripping. Not of matter—but of meaning.
Asher stood atop the Vault's edge, eyes locked on the streets below. Names flickered above people's heads—visible now to everyone. Not just to seers or awakened ones. Everyone could see the truth bleeding out.
Rosa's name flickered between "Rosa Murn" and something else. A name that had been erased decades ago.
Danya's name shimmered like it was written in water—her lineage, identity, and history blurring together.
Even Lucien, proud and steadfast, stared at his own reflection in a storefront window. His name, once so crisp—"Lucien Varle"... now split in two. One part human. One part monster.
Velvora's name was dying.
Above the city, the air twisted with impossible whispers. Old gods that no longer claimed dominion. Pacts that frayed like unraveling ropes. Street signs morphed, rewritten by invisible hands. People paused in fear as they tried to remember the names of their own children... and failed.
The Fifth Throne's call had not ended. It had only spread.
Asher felt it in his bones—the weight of being the last to carry a name that never belonged to him. The city's curse was no longer contained to its blood-soaked cathedrals or its demon-infested underbelly.
It was everywhere.
And from that curse... watchers stirred.
Not the Watch—no. Those guardians were the ones who remembered. But now came the Others: rulers of distant cities who had built their own kingdoms on careful lies and sealed truths. And Velvora's unraveling had drawn their attention.
"The boy is choosing," whispered one in a city made of copper and steam.
"The Debt is waking," sighed another beneath a frozen city, where the sky never moved.
"If he renames it, he reclaims it," said the Third, masked in red silk. "If he lets it fall, he condemns the rest."
Below, chaos spread like ink in water.
Spells backfired. Contracts turned on their summoners. People whose names were tied to old sins found their flesh burning—a karmic backlash from a world that suddenly remembered.
Asher turned to the Vault's console—the last functioning command node in Velvora's shattered metaphysical infrastructure. The name of the city flashed:
Vey L'vora – The City of ExilesStatus: UnstableIdentity Core: FragmentedAwaiting Decision...
Behind him, Rosa and Danya approached, both trembling.
"We can't keep it like this," Rosa whispered. "If the city's name dies... everything tied to it dies too."
"No laws, no bindings," Danya added. "Even the dead might return if they're unanchored. Do you understand what that means?"
Asher's hand hovered over the console.
He saw three options:
Cleanse — Erase all names tied to Velvora. Purge its corrupted past. Start anew, like a city baptized in fire.
Rename — Forge a new name, a new truth. But doing so would mean accepting the curse into his soul, becoming the city's true anchor.
Let Fall — Step away. Let Velvora collapse under the weight of its sins. Let history swallow it.
Asher closed his eyes—and remembered.
He saw himself as a boy.
The Blackwood orphanage. The endless hunger. The day his "parents" vanished. How he found his name in a ledger—one of hundreds. All scripted. All assigned.
He was never born a Blackwood. That name was a gift. A mask.
And yet... he had made it his.
Asher Blackwood. The boy without a name, who gave meaning to his own.
The weight hit him like thunder: this city—Vey L'vora—was just like him.
A place with no name of its own.
A cursed exile.
But not beyond salvation.
He turned to Rosa and Danya.
"I'm not letting it fall," he said, voice raw.
"Then you'll cleanse it?" Danya asked, already reaching for a glyph.
"No," Asher said. "I'll rename it."
The console pulsed red.
Insert New Name:
Asher inhaled.
He thought of the people he saved. The broken who followed him. The demons he tamed. The Watch who chose him. And the city that bled for him.
He typed:
Noxvallis – City of the Unshamed
The screen shimmered.
Velvora—Vey L'vora—shuddered once. The name was overwritten. The air turned gold. Names above people's heads locked into place, solid and real again.
A new voice echoed through the city's bones.
Not from above.From within.
"It is done."
Far beyond Velvora—now Noxvallis—an envoy stood atop a tower shaped like a clock running backward.
He smiled.
"Blackwood chose," he murmured. "Let's see how many cities follow suit... before they all start remembering."
[End of Chapter 124]
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Next Chapter Preview: Chapter 125 – "The Unshamed"
With Velvora reborn as Noxvallis, a ripple spreads across the map. Asher must now defend the name he chose—because with a new name comes new enemies, and old ones who want it back.