The archway spat them out like a sigh.
Aric and Lyra stumbled forward, blinking against sudden sunlight. The air was warm, smelling of salt and spice and iron — a startling contrast to the cold silver mist of the Vault. For a moment they just stood there, eyes adjusting.
They were on a balcony carved from dark red stone, high above a canyon so deep the bottom was hidden in shadow. Across the gulf rose hundreds of towers and bridges, all suspended by chains anchored in the cliffs. The towers swayed gently, hung like lanterns over emptiness. Below, a sea of wind whispered up from the canyon, carrying snatches of voices, bells, and laughter.
Lyra gripped the balcony rail. "Where…?"
"The Eighth Domain," Aric said quietly. "Its surface city."
She looked out, awestruck. "It's beautiful."
It was. The towers weren't uniform; each was built from a different material — obsidian, bone-white marble, green glass, black iron — and each was draped with banners that fluttered in the updraft. Rope bridges and chainwalks connected them in a chaotic web. Between them, platforms hung on cables like spiderweb strands. The whole city seemed to float, echoing with a thousand tiny chimes.
Aric's eyes narrowed. 'Every sound carries here. Every step can be heard. That's why they call it the City of Hanging Echoes.'
Behind them the archway sealed shut, vanishing into the cliff face as if it had never been. Lyra turned, startled. "We can't go back."
"We're not supposed to," Aric said. "Vault was an entry test. This is the real domain."
Wind curled around them, tugging at their clothes. It carried scents of frying oil, incense, and rust. From a nearby tower came a melody played on something like a xylophone made of glass. The sound skittered across Aric's nerves.
Lyra smiled faintly. "It feels alive."
"It is," he murmured. "Everything here listens."
They followed a narrow stair carved into the cliff, descending toward a chain-bridge that led to the nearest tower. The stairs were crowded with other travellers: robed figures with veiled faces, merchants carrying cages of glowing insects, children with bells tied to their wrists. All of them whispered instead of speaking aloud, yet the air buzzed with unspoken noise.
Lyra whispered, "Why is everyone so quiet?"
Aric's lips curved. "Because echoes here have teeth."
"What?"
He gestured at a warning sigil carved into the stair wall — a mouth with chains for lips. "Shout too loud, the city remembers. And sometimes it answers back."
She made a face. "Great. A haunted library was too tame; now we're in a haunted city."
He chuckled. "Welcome to my world."
They reached the bridge. It was a single chain as thick as Aric's torso, flattened on top to make a narrow walkway. Below, the canyon wind howled. Lyra's stomach dropped as she stepped onto it. "This is insane."
"Strategic," Aric corrected. "No armies up here."
"Strategically insane."
He smiled. "Exactly."
Halfway across the bridge, a group of masked figures blocked their path. They wore black cloaks trimmed with copper bells that jingled softly as they moved. Their leader's mask was bone-white with three vertical slits where the mouth should be. He raised a gloved hand.
"Carriers," he said, voice low but clear. "The Vault marks you. You've passed the first three whispers."
Aric's eyes narrowed. "And you are?"
"The Auditors," the man said. "Keepers of the Echoes. All who enter must register."
Lyra glanced at Aric. 'This smells like trouble.'
Aric smiled pleasantly. "Of course. We're happy to register."
The Auditor extended a scroll of black paper. "Your Names."
Aric's smile didn't falter. "Names have power here, don't they?"
"They always have," the Auditor said.
Lyra shifted uneasily. She still felt the Vault's test on her skin, like faint fingerprints. "We can't—"
Aric cut her off with a small gesture. He took the scroll, dipped a finger into a small pot of silver ink the Auditor offered, and wrote a single word: "Nobody."
Lyra blinked. 'What is he—?'
The Auditor's mask tilted. "A jest?"
"A truth," Aric said mildly.
The Auditor studied the mark, then inclined his head. "Very well. Nobody. And your companion?"
Lyra hesitated. Aric's eyes met hers. 'Trust me,' his look said.
She dipped her finger in the ink and wrote "No-one."
The Auditor stared at the scroll for a long moment, then rolled it up. "So be it." He stepped aside. "Welcome to the City of Hanging Echoes."
They walked past. Lyra hissed under her breath, "What was that?"
"Protection," Aric murmured. "We don't give our real Names here until we know the players. Fake ones buy time."
She exhaled. "Cunning bastard."
"Strategist," he said with a grin.
They reached the tower. A platform elevator built from woven ropes carried them up. As it rose, the city opened below like a map of chains and towers. Lyra clutched the railing, staring. "There must be tens of thousands of people here."
"More," Aric said. "This is the only neutral market in the Eighth Domain. Everyone passes through."
At the top, they stepped off into a wide plaza ringed by stalls and arches. Merchants sold not goods but sounds — bottled laughs, jars of thunder, strings of lullabies. Customers tested them by touching the containers, releasing faint noises like trapped birds.
Lyra's eyes widened. "They're selling… noise?"
"Sounds, echoes, memories," Aric said. "Anything that can be heard can be stored. And traded."
She stopped at a stall where a hunched old woman offered a tray of tiny crystal beads. Each one pulsed faintly. "What are these?"
The woman smiled, showing gold teeth. "Drops of first words. Break one in your mouth, you'll speak it again as if it were new."
Lyra shivered, stepping back. "Creepy."
Aric tugged her along. "Focus. We're here for the fragment."
"How do we even find it?"
He glanced at the blackened edge of the Mirror. It pulsed faintly, pointing like a compass toward a distant spire crowned with wind-chimes. "Follow the sound."
They crossed the plaza. Street performers played instruments with no strings or blew into horns with no holes, producing impossible harmonies. Children chased echoes like butterflies. Overhead, banners fluttered, painted with cryptic symbols: open eyes, closed mouths, chains coiled around bells.
Lyra whispered, "It's like a dream."
"It's like a warning," Aric said. 'Every tower's a trap, every whisper a contract. We need to move fast.'
As they neared the far edge of the plaza, a small figure darted out of an alley and collided with Lyra. She caught it automatically. It was a child — or something shaped like one — with hair like spun glass and eyes like tiny bells. It clutched a torn scrap of parchment.
"Help," it whispered. "They're coming."
Lyra knelt. "Who—?"
A clang of bells cut her off. The same masked Auditors from the bridge emerged from the crowd, moving fast, bells jingling furiously. Their leader pointed at the child. "That one is ours."
Lyra glanced at Aric. "What do we do?"
He looked at the child, then at the Auditors. His mind moved like a blade. 'A stray. Bait. Or real?'
The child's bell-eyes filled with tears. "Please."
He smiled faintly. "We run."
He grabbed Lyra's hand. "Move!"
They bolted through the crowd. Merchants shouted as stalls toppled. Bottled sounds shattered, releasing bursts of thunder and screams. The plaza dissolved into chaos. The Auditors followed, bells clanging, their black cloaks slicing through the throng like knives.
Lyra clutched the child against her chest as they dodged down an alley lined with cages of whispering birds. "Aric!"
"Left!" he snapped.
They turned, racing across a swaying rope bridge. Below, the canyon wind howled, carrying their echoes far. The Auditors were close behind, bells ringing like a swarm of angry insects.
Lyra gasped, "Where—"
"There," Aric said, spotting a half-collapsed tower ahead. Its lower bridge was broken, but a single chain still led across. He grinned. "Shortcut."
"You're insane!"
"Strategist!"
They reached the edge. The chain stretched across a gap wider than any they'd crossed yet, swaying dangerously. The drop below was endless.
Lyra stared. "We'll die."
"Probably," Aric said. "But better than letting them catch us."
He stepped onto the chain, balancing easily. Behind them the Auditors burst from the alley. The leader raised a hand; the bells on his cloak chimed once, and the chain under Aric's feet shuddered.
He hissed. "Move!"
Lyra followed, clutching the child, her knuckles white. The chain swayed violently as a gust of wind roared up from the canyon. She stumbled. Aric caught her wrist, steadying her. "Don't look down."
"Too late!" she squeaked.
They scrambled across, the Auditors in pursuit. Halfway, the leader's bells chimed again. The chain snapped loose from one side, lurching. Lyra screamed as it tilted toward the abyss.
Aric swore. He jammed the Mirror into the chain. The silver veins in its surface flared, anchoring it for a heartbeat. "Jump!" he shouted.
They leapt. The world spun — red stone, banners, wind, the chasm below. They crashed onto the far ledge in a heap. The child rolled away, unharmed. Lyra groaned. "Never again."
Aric laughed breathlessly. "That's what you said last time."
Behind them the Auditors skidded to a halt on the swaying chain. Their leader raised a hand. But before he could strike, a deep gong sounded from the spire ahead — a note so powerful it rattled every tower in the city.
The Auditors froze. The leader hissed a word and withdrew, bells falling silent. They melted back into the crowd like ink in water.
Lyra pushed herself up. "What was that?"
Aric's eyes were on the spire crowned with wind-chimes. The gong echoed again, deeper, older, like the heartbeat of the Domain itself.
"That," he said softly, "is our next problem."
The child with bell-eyes clutched his sleeve. "They'll keep coming," it whispered. "But I can take you to the Chime Lord."
Aric raised an eyebrow. "Convenient."
Lyra glared. "You're not seriously—"
He smiled faintly. "Why not? We were heading there anyway."
Another gong rolled across the city, louder this time. The chains of the towers vibrated, banners twisting. In the canyon below, something stirred, its shadow enormous.
Aric thought, 'So the fragment really is here. And it's waking something up.'
He turned to Lyra, grinning. "Ready for round two?"
She groaned. "I hate you."
"Strategist."
She laughed despite herself. "Fine. Strategist."
They followed the child into a narrow stair spiralling up the spire, the gong echoing around them like the beat of a giant heart.