Chapter 5 The forgotten shadows

The city of Veydris stretched before them, a graveyard of a world that had already been lost.

Elias walked in silence, his boots crunching against the dust-covered asphalt, his gaze tracing the ruins that loomed around them. The air was thick with the scent of burnt stone and decay, a scent that clung to the hollowed-out buildings like the last remnants of life that had once thrived here.

What was once a city of legends—a metropolis of towering spires, grand libraries, and bustling markets—was now nothing more than a labyrinth of twisted steel and fractured stone.

Some buildings stood, but barely, their skeletal frames creaking as if whispering secrets of the past. Others were simply gone, as if a careless hand had wiped them from existence, leaving behind jagged edges that seemed to defy logic—as if the world had been unmade rather than destroyed.

And then there were the worst parts—the places where reality itself seemed fractured.

They passed a street where cars were frozen mid-crash, hovering inches above the ground, locked in a moment that would never end. Further ahead, a street corner flickered between two different states—sometimes whole, sometimes just a crater of nothingness, as if the world couldn't decide what should be there.

Elias glanced toward the sky and felt his stomach churn.

It was broken.

Not like a sky covered in storm clouds, not like a sky that had simply darkened. It was shattered.

Jagged cracks ran through the heavens like veins of black glass, glowing faintly with an unnatural violet hue. Beyond the fractures, there was something else—something that should not be seen.

Shapes moved beyond the sky, vast and distant, things that had no form yet seemed to pulse and shift with every passing second. They weren't stars. They weren't clouds.

They were watching.

Elias tore his eyes away, his breath uneven. How could anyone sleep beneath that?

But sleep would have to wait. They had miles to go.

Callum hadn't spoken since they left the wreckage of their hideout.

His head remained low, his hands clenched into fists, his movements robotic. He walked, but he wasn't there.

Elias had seen men like that before—people who had lost too much, too fast.

Dain was gone. Not dead, not even a body left to mourn. Just erased.

And Callum was still trying to process that reality.

Lyra, on the other hand, was the opposite.

She remained alert, her sharp eyes scanning every broken window, every overturned car, every alley that could be hiding something waiting to kill them.

She didn't speak to Elias unless she had to.

Even when she did, her voice was cold, distant—calculating.

She hadn't forgiven him.

Not for surviving when her brother didn't. Not for knowing things he shouldn't. Not for being something she couldn't understand.

She was walking alongside him, but she wasn't walking with him.

And Elias knew that if he made the wrong move, if he gave her a reason—she would kill him in his sleep.

The wind howled through the ruins, kicking up dust that swirled through the dead streets like ghosts searching for a place to haunt.

They moved past an old apartment complex, one of the few buildings still partially intact. Its windows were shattered, its walls blackened from old fires. But its structure remained—a standing corpse in a city of bones.

Then—Lyra stopped.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around the dagger at her belt.

She was staring—up.

Elias followed her gaze.

Atop the crumbling apartment rooftop, silhouetted against the fractured sky, stood a figure.

Motionless. Watching.

A black outline against the eerie glow of the heavens.

It had no features. No glow, no eyes, no sense of life.

Just a dark shape, humanoid in form but wrong.

Elias' stomach twisted. "What is it?"

Lyra didn't answer. Her breathing had become shallow, her stance tense—like a cornered animal.

"Lyra?" Callum stepped forward, following her gaze.

And then—the figure was gone.

No movement. No sound.

Just… gone.

Lyra's head snapped around to them, her eyes wide. "Did you see that?"

Elias exchanged glances with Callum.

"See what?"

She turned back toward the rooftop, her lips parting slightly.

"It was there," she whispered. "Someone—something—was watching us."

Elias frowned. He hadn't seen anything.

Callum took a cautious step forward, scanning the rooftop. "Lyra, I think you're just—"

"I'm not imagining things," she snapped, spinning to face them.

Her voice was sharp, but there was something underneath it—something shaken.

Elias studied her carefully.

She wasn't the type to jump at shadows.

But Dain had just died. She was exhausted, grieving. Was she just seeing things?

He hesitated before speaking. "You're tired."

Lyra's glare was instant. "Don't."

"I'm just saying—"

"Don't you dare say I imagined it," she growled.

Elias held his hands up in surrender.

Lyra's hands were trembling.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

Elias cast one last glance toward the rooftop.

Nothing.

Maybe Lyra had seen something.

Or maybe—the weight of her brother's death was finally cracking her.

And if that was true, Elias wasn't sure how much longer she'd last.

They walked for miles.

Through the ruins of Veydris. Past empty streets and collapsed skyscrapers. Through the remains of a world that had already been lost.

Eventually, they found shelter in the hollowed-out remains of an old theater. The walls were crumbling, and the stage was broken, but it was defensible.

They gathered what little supplies they had. They would rest here.

Elias sat near the edge of the old stage, staring into the dim glow of the ruined city.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Tell me about the factions."

Lyra, who had been sharpening her dagger, paused.

Callum, still quiet, didn't react.

Lyra exhaled sharply. "Why do you care?"

"Because I don't remember."

A beat of silence.

Then, she scoffed.

"Before the Eclipse, the world was divided. Not by countries. Not by race. By power. The Upper Sects, the Noble Houses, the Bloodlines of Ruinscript—they ruled everything."

Elias listened carefully.

"And the rest?" he asked.

Lyra's expression darkened.

"The rest of us were just pieces on their board."

She tossed the dagger into the dirt beside her. "The Collapse didn't start with the Eclipse. It started long before that. When the factions tore each other apart fighting for control of the Ruinscript. When they killed each other for secrets that don't matter anymore."

Elias frowned. "And you? Which faction were you from?"

Lyra's jaw tightened.

Her eyes flashed, and then—she stood.

"You don't need to know that," she said flatly.

And without another word, she walked away, finding a place to sleep in the corner of the ruined theater.

Elias watched her go, exhaling softly.

He tilted his head up, staring at the broken sky above.

Cracks of violet stretched across the heavens, splitting through the night like fractured glass. Beyond them, distant shapes moved, shifting, pulsing—things that did not belong.

He stared for a long time.

And in the silence, the voice in his head whispered:

"You are running out of time, Elias."