The air outside the Library of Echoes had turned from a shimmering silver to a suffocating grey. As Azeal and Vaelora hurried through the marble streets of Aethelgard, the city no longer felt like a sanctuary; it felt like a trap. The white stone beneath their feet, once warm and welcoming, now pulsed with a rhythmic tremor that shook the very foundations of the valley.
Since they have now officially left the sanctuary of the White City.
"Kaelen said the spies were everywhere," Azeal muttered, his hand white-knuckled on the hilt of his sword. He felt the weight of the rusty iron key in his tunic, a cold reminder of the burden he now carried. "But how did they find us so fast?"
"The Book," Vaelora gasped, struggling to keep pace. Her eyes were fixed on the obsidian cover. "It didn't just wake the city, Azeal. It woke everything. The darkness in Zhalver... it can feel the light."
A deafening roar suddenly tore through the atmosphere, echoing off the ivory peaks. It wasn't the sound of a beast of flesh and blood, but the sound of grinding stone and tectonic fury.
From the shadows of the Great Gate emerged a monstrosity that looked like a living landslide. It was a Grave-Crusher, a titan sent from the rocky wastes of Mordaen. Its skin was composed of jagged obsidian and granite, and its eyes glowed with the sickly violet fire of Draeven's "Ever-Flame."
"Behind me!" Azeal commanded, drawing his blade. The steel sang as it cleared the scabbard, but against the mountainous creature, it looked like a toothpick.
The Grave-Crusher slammed its massive fists into the ground. The shockwave sent cracks sprinting across the marble plaza, throwing Vaelora to her knees. Azeal lunged forward, his movements a blur of gold and steel. He swung his blade with all the strength of his royal lineage, aiming for the creature's joints, but the sword merely sparked against the stone hide.
"It's no use!" Vaelora screamed, the Book of Origins flaring in her lap. "Conventional steel won't bite through Mordaen stone!"
The titan swung a massive arm, catching Azeal in the chest. He was flung backward, crashing into a marble pillar. Blood bloomed in his mouth, and for a moment, the world spun in shades of red and grey. He saw the beast looming over Vaelora, its stone fist raised to crush the "True Flame" out of existence.
"No!" Azeal roared, trying to stand, but his ribs screamed in protest.
Vaelora didn't run. She didn't hide. As the Grave-Crusher's shadow fell over her, she felt a heat rising from her core—a fire that didn't burn, but commanded. She held the Book of Origins high, her voice ringing out in a language that hadn't been spoken in a thousand years.
"By the First Fire, I command the earth to remember its master!"
A blinding white light erupted from her palms, striking the titan's chest. The Grave-Crusher froze. The violet glow in its eyes flickered and died, replaced by the pure gold of Aethelgard. Slowly, the rock began to crumble. The jagged obsidian softened, turning back into harmless dust. Within seconds, the mountain of stone was nothing more than a pile of rubble at Vaelora's feet.
The silence returned, heavier than before.
Azeal watched her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He saw the power she wielded—the power he was supposed to have. He felt the rusty key in his pocket, a silent promise of a different destiny, but his heart was heavy. They had survived the first attack, but Draeven had three more kingdoms and a Void to unleash.
We have to move," Vaelora said, her voice sounding hollow, as if she were speaking from a great distance. "The path to the Vault of Souls is open."
Their horses were standing there as well.
Azeal nodded, wiping the blood from his lip. He extended his hand to her—not as a prince, but as a soldier to a queen. They mounted their Luminars horses and rode across the rubble of the Mordaen titan, disappearing into the mist, leaving the White City behind as it slowly faded into the shadows of history.