Ashara had awoken, but its people had not. Many wandered the streets in confusion, unsure why the city seemed alive, why memories they had never lived flickered in their minds. Zafira moved among them, ring hidden beneath her sleeve, feeling the pulse of the Covenant guiding her.
Above her, in the highest tower of the palace, Sultan Kadir the Fourth watched through sharpened glass. His face was pale, his eyes wild. The awakening of the city had shaken him to his core, but pride—and fear of appearing weak—kept him rooted to his throne.
He summoned his council: generals, sorcerers, and the oldest advisors of the realm. All were loyal, all were terrified, and all were scrambling to comprehend what had happened.
"The girl," he hissed, pacing the marble floor. "She has turned the city against me. She wields what should have been mine."
One of the older sorcerers, Vehran, bowed low. "My Sultan, the Covenant has awakened. It is… alive. It sees truth. It cannot be controlled with guards or decrees."
Kadir slammed a hand on the table. "Then we shall control her! Bring me Zafira alive. If she dies, the Covenant dies with her!"
Below, Zafira felt the shift before it happened. The ring pulsed violently; the city itself whispered warnings through cracks in the streets and walls. Shadows began to stretch toward her, as though watching for betrayal.
A group of the Sultan's soldiers emerged from a side alley, weapons drawn, eyes wide with fear. Zafira smiled faintly and lifted her hand. The ring glowed. Blue fire leapt along the cobblestones, creating barriers that twisted and bent reality, preventing them from reaching her.
The soldiers shouted, but their voices were swallowed by the hum of the Covenant. The city had chosen a protector, and it would not allow harm without consequence.
From the palace tower, Kadir's voice boomed magically, amplified by sorcerous runes. "Zafira! Surrender now, or Ashara burns!"
She laughed softly. "Ashara cannot burn. Not when it remembers itself."
The ground beneath the soldiers trembled. Buildings shifted, opening passages to swallow them into labyrinths of stone. Shadows guided them away from Zafira, leaving her standing alone in the square.
But she knew this was only the first strike. The Sultan would not relent. His allies in the court, his loyal generals, and the shadowed sorcerers who had survived centuries of secrecy—they would all act to reclaim control.
And somewhere beneath the city, the Covenant pulsed brighter, sensing danger and choice intertwined.
Zafira lifted her gaze to the palace. "Then let the game begin," she whispered. "The Sultan may command armies, but he does not command history. Not anymore."
The city trembled in agreement. Ashara had remembered, and the reckoning was only beginning.