The City of Veridion

Elias nodded and turned toward the horizon. As he walked away, the melody returned, faint but persistent. The nomads' warnings lingered in his mind, but his resolve was stronger now.

Veridion was his next step. And he would not stop until he found the woman in black.

The first thing Elias noticed about Veridion was the walls—massive sandstone barriers etched with intricate carvings, their surfaces glittering faintly in the sunlight. The city rose like a mirage from the desert, a stark contrast to the endless dunes. Its spires shimmered as though crowned with gold, and beyond the walls, a haze of bustling life seemed to hang in the air.

As he approached the gates, the melody in his mind grew softer, almost imperceptible, as if the city itself muffled its call. Two guards flanked the entrance, their armor burnished from the desert sun, spears crossed before them in a silent challenge.

"Halt," one barked, his voice firm. "State your business."

"I'm… looking for someone," Elias said, his voice hoarse. His days in the desert had left him ragged, his clothes torn and stained, his skin baked by the sun.

The guard gave him a once-over, his lip curling in mild disdain. "The market's full of wanderers. You'll find no charity here."

"I don't need charity," Elias said, pulling himself up straighter despite his exhaustion. "I need answers."

The guard raised an eyebrow but eventually stepped aside with a gruff wave. "Don't cause trouble."

Elias stepped through the gates, and the world transformed.

Veridion was alive in every sense of the word. The streets were a maze of winding alleys and open squares, crowded with traders hawking their wares and citizens haggling over prices. Stalls overflowed with exotic goods: spices that painted the air with their pungent aroma, bolts of brightly colored fabric that shimmered like liquid, and strange artifacts whose origins seemed impossible to guess.

But beneath the vibrant exterior was an undercurrent of unease. Soldiers patrolled in pairs, their eyes scanning the crowd for any hint of trouble. Whispers passed between merchants, and more than one set of eyes darted nervously toward the massive tower that loomed at the city's center.

The tower was an anomaly, its black stone an unnatural contrast to the golden hues of Veridion. It stretched high into the sky, its surface smooth and featureless, save for faint runes that pulsed faintly in the dimming light.

Elias felt the melody stir within him again, faint but deliberate. He didn't know why, but he was certain the tower held some connection to the harp—and to the woman in black.

As he wandered the streets, Elias kept his ears open, hoping to catch any mention of the harp or its legend. Most of what he overheard were mundane conversations about trade routes and taxes, but occasionally, a whisper of something darker crept into the air.

"They say she's here again," one merchant murmured to another as Elias passed.

"Who?" the other asked, his voice low.

"The woman in the black cloak. The one who—"

The voices dropped too low to hear, but Elias froze. His pulse quickened as he turned to confront the merchant, but when he looked, the pair had already disappeared into the crowd.

He clenched his fists, his frustration mounting. If she was here, he needed to find her.

As night fell, Veridion transformed. The bustling marketplace gave way to shadowy corners and dimly lit taverns, where the murmur of secret dealings replaced the daytime chatter. Elias found himself drawn to one such place: a small, unassuming tavern tucked away in a narrow alley.

The air Inside was thick with the scent of smoke and spilled ale. A group of men sat at a corner table, their laughter loud and grating, while a lone minstrel plucked a melancholic tune on a lute.

Elias approached the bar, where a grizzled man was wiping down a mug with a dirty rag. "Looking for someone?" the barkeep asked without looking up.

"Maybe," Elias replied. "Have you heard of a woman in black? A harp?"

The barkeep paused, his movements slowing. He looked up, his eyes narrowing. "That's a dangerous question, stranger."

"I'll take the risk," Elias said, his tone firm.

The barkeep glanced around, then leaned closer. "People say she's been seen near the tower," he whispered. "But if you're smart, you'll stay away. That place… it's cursed. Always has been."

Elias's jaw tightened. He had expected danger, but hearing the confirmation only solidified his resolve. "How do I get in?"

The barkeep shook his head. "You don't. The gates are sealed, and the soldiers won't let anyone near it. Even the brave ones don't come back."

Before Elias could press further, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He turned sharply, ready to fight, but stopped when he saw the figure before him.

She was young, her face half-hidden by a hood, but her piercing green eyes locked onto his with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

"You're looking for the woman in black," she said, her voice low and steady. "I can help you find her."

Elias studied her, wary. "Why would you help me?"

"Because I want her dead as much as you do," the woman replied, a flicker of pain flashing in her eyes. "Meet me by the western gate at dawn. If you're serious, we'll talk then."

Before he could respond, she slipped into the crowd and vanished.

Elias stood there for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. The woman in black was here, and now he had an ally—or so it seemed.

As he left the tavern, the melody returned, louder and more urgent than before.

Dawn came swiftly..

Elias waited at the western gate as the first light painted the desert in hues of gold and crimson. The streets of Veridion were quiet now, the bustling chaos of the day replaced by a stillness that felt almost unnatural. He leaned against the sandstone wall, his walking stick resting beside him, and scanned the empty alleyways for any sign of the woman.