The first streaks of dawn cast a red sheen across the sky—too much for Erith’s eyes to take in. He rubbed at them, squinting against the light as the world came slowly into focus.

Before him stretched an ancient city, flattened by massive stones that lay like the bones of giants—blown outward in every direction. Where the silhouette of the tower reached the heavens in Erith’s mind, only ruin remained.

Around him, a loose ring of carriages stood. Horses snorted and shifted as riders dismounted, their boots crunching against dew-soaked grass. Thirty, perhaps more, quickly formed a makeshift camp amid the ancient rubble.

The healer approached again, stepping close enough for Erith to smell the bitter herbs on his leather gloves. He leaned in, studying Erith’s eyes.

“Mura works quick, then. Anything off?”

Erith shook his head.

“Keep drinking. It’ll dull the pain but won’t fog your senses.”

The healer tossed a log onto the fire and walked toward the barrier cart, where Maeric and Cerus stood speaking in low voices. The unease that clung to Erith should have been suffocating, yet the outline of the fallen tower—of whatever might still lie beneath its ruin—kept the tension at bay.

Erith’s gaze drifted over the wagons, to Cerus’s apprentices moving about the camp. He had heard whispers back at the academy that each Illuminary trained their own wielders, and he found himself wondering how many stood within this camp.

But his calm broke as his eyes caught on a carriage at the far end of the camp.

It was no more than a moment when an apprentice had pulled away from the carriage that the canvas swayed—and a flash of pale hair caught the light.

There was no mistaking it.

Rhymera.

She sat upright in the carriage, frail and bound.

Erith's heart lurched into a frenzy, and his eyes darted toward Maeric and Cerus.

Does Maeric know?

The cup in his hands trembled, and warm liquid spilled across his fingers, soaking into the earth.

This isn’t safe.

He drew a slow breath, forcing his mind to steady. Then he reached outward—letting his Kaida ripple through the camp in a pulse.

It met resistance everywhere, emanating from the gems each apprentice wore.

This camp is full of wielders.

His eyes flicked to the horses, searching for escape, for bearings.

Moranthal… that was only days ago, wasn’t it? Was it that far from Esira?

Movement pulled his attention back to Maeric and Cerus. They were approaching another carriage, helping an older man step carefully down from within. His robes shimmered dimly in the dawn light. Ornate, ceremonial, not like the apprentices.

His heart skipped a beat as Cerus turned, gesturing toward him. The three men—Cerus, Maeric, and the elder—started across the camp in his direction.

Cerus whistled as he came, and several apprentices dropped what they were doing to fall in line behind him.

He stopped before Erith with a familiar, confident smile, then motioned toward the ruin.

“The wonders of our world await, Erith. Are you ready to see them with your own eyes?”

Erith’s gaze lingered on the older man beside Cerus. His robes were heavy with embroidery, eyes sharp despite the years. The Illuminary, perhaps? Whatever his rank, the reverence in Cerus’s tone made it clear the man mattered.

Cerus followed Erith’s glance but let it pass, his smile never wavering.

Erith turned toward Maeric, despite his efforts not to, and for a heartbeat, their eyes met.

Unguarded, fragile, carrying the weight of too many things unsaid—it all blurred together behind his trembling composure. It was unlike any Maeric Erith had ever seen

He couldn’t tell if Maeric knew about Rhymera, but the thought that he might hollowed something inside him.

He tore his eyes away and looked back to Cerus.

Without a word, Erith lifted his hand.

Cerus grasped it at once, his grip firm, almost triumphant, pulling Erith to his feet.

“Excellent,” Cerus exclaimed, satisfaction woven through his words. “Let us set out, then.”

He led the group through the encampment, Erith at his side, the others falling in behind as they made their way toward the start of the ruins.

“The ones who came before us,” Cerus said, his voice carrying over the crunch of grass, “built with purpose and great beauty. I imagine this structure was among their proudest when it stood.”

They passed a vast slab of white stone, its surface unnaturally smooth, half-buried in the earth—a relic of the forgotten age.

Erith glanced toward it. “And what purpose did it serve?”

Cerus smiled faintly. “Perhaps a solution. Though in its current state, it is hard to tell if it solved anything at all. You will see when we enter.”

Erith’s brow furrowed. “There’s something left to enter?”

The old man answered before Cerus could. “The tower did not only touch the skies,” he said, his voice thin but steady, “it reached deep into the earth as well.”

The outline of what might have been the tower’s base came into view. A faint circular perimeter traced in the same pale stone loomed ahead, its pattern half-swallowed by grass and decay.

Rubble lay scattered between the cracks. The group pressed forward, stepping between broken slabs as they crossed into the ancient ring.

Beneath their feet, the ground was mostly overgrown, but in places the grass thinned, revealing a dull marble sheen.

Erith’s steps slowed as they reached the center. There, a small stone dome remained—its top shattered, as though it had been torn open from within. Around its circumference, the earth sloped downward, where weathered steps had been carved into a spiral descent.

Cerus studied the ruin with quiet admiration. “It must make you wonder what lies beneath,” he said softly, “if such beauty once stood above.”

He turned to the group, his tone sharpening. “Come. Let us see it for ourselves. And be warned—do not touch anything that is not stone, if you value your life.”

At his command, apprentices lit lanterns and struck torches, their glow spilling across the white stone.

The warmth of fire brushed his face as the nearest apprentice handed him a lantern. From the steps below, a breath of cool air rose to meet it, bending the light. It was damp, carrying the stale taste of stone.

Together, they stepped onto the weathered stairs beside the dome and descended, one after another, into the dark beneath the tower.

✦☽✧❖⨁☼✺☼⨁❖✧☽✦