The corridors beneath Ashara seemed endless, but Zafira and Arman moved with purpose. The ring's blue pulse guided them, illuminating hidden pathways and revealing dangers that ordinary eyes could not see.
"The city is restless," Arman said quietly. "Even now, some factions are stirring. Those who have survived centuries in shadow see your awakening as a threat. They won't act openly… at first."
Zafira tightened her grip on the ring. "We can't wait for them to strike. We need to find them first—and understand what they want."
Ahead, a vast chamber opened, walls lined with ancient symbols and statues of rulers long forgotten. Figures cloaked in black stepped forward from hidden alcoves, each bearing marks of allegiance to powers older than the Sultan.
"You should not have come here, child of the Covenant," one of them intoned, voice echoing unnaturally. "The city remembers, yes… but some memories must remain buried. Power like yours disrupts balance."
Arman stepped beside Zafira. "We are not here to disrupt. We are here to awaken. And Ashara itself has chosen her protector."
The cloaked figures laughed softly, a sound that reverberated in the chamber like wind through hollow stone. "Chosen? The Covenant may bend to you, yes—but it is fickle. Its heart lies in the city, not in the hand of a mortal. You will see its judgment soon."
Zafira lifted the ring. Blue fire flared, casting long shadows that twisted and danced across the chamber. The Covenant hummed, whispering strategies, weaknesses, and histories of these factions—knowledge lost even to the Sultan.
The tallest of the cloaked figures advanced, raising a hand to summon shadowed weapons from the walls. "Then let us test your resolve, Zafira Moore. If you fail, the city will forget everything—and you along with it."
The chamber erupted in chaos. Shadows leapt forward, striking at Zafira and Arman. The ring's light flared, intercepting attacks, reshaping shadows into protective forms. Every strike was mirrored by memories of past battles, giving her insight into how to counter the ancient tactics.
Arman moved with precision, guiding her, his presence steadying her. "Remember, Zafira," he said, voice calm amid the chaos. "The Covenant is not just power. It is judgment. Let it show you the way, but do not let it control you."
Together, they advanced through the chamber, the blue light of the ring striking each shadow with precision, revealing the intentions and weaknesses of the cloaked figures. One by one, the factions' members faltered, their ancient magic countered by the living memory of the city itself.
The last figure, the leader, raised his hands to the ceiling, chanting words older than Ashara. The walls of the chamber began to warp, bending inward, threatening to crush them.
Zafira planted the ring in the center of the chamber floor. The blue fire surged upward, merging with the walls, the ceiling, and the very stones of Ashara. The chamber trembled violently, then stilled.
When the light faded, the cloaked figures lay disarmed, their shadows dissolved, and the leader stared at Zafira in disbelief. "You… you have mastered what should not be mastered."
"I did not master it," Zafira replied, voice steady. "I listened. The city guides me. And it has chosen the truth over lies."
Arman nodded. "The first faction is dealt with. But more are out there. Stronger, older, and willing to kill for control of Ashara's memory."
Zafira looked up, feeling the pulse of the Covenant beneath her. "Then we move forward. Ashara remembers—and we will make sure it never forgets who protects it."
The city thrummed around them, alive and aware. And in the shadows beyond, hidden eyes watched, plotting the next strike.