Chapter 7: The Ghost City

What lay beyond the veil was not the scorched wasteland the Council had preached and it was not an uninhabitable ruin swallowed by time. No, before them was a city stretched into the horizon that was bathed in an unnatural twilight.

Massive spires that were sleek and spiky like the fangs of a slumbering beast, reached toward the darkened sky with a humming energy from unseen sources. Bridges of translucent metal wove between towering structures were suspended as if gravity itself bent to the will of this place. The streets were paved with smooth and dark stone that reflected the strange glow of the city's dormant veins, pulsing faintly beneath their feet.

Rhea was the first to break the silence. "I feel like I'm dreaming, this is impossible."

Elias who was still clutching his side where Vaelen's blade had found his flesh, let out a shaky laugh. "The truth is right before us, and i've never been so happy."

Kieran took a slow step forward. His whole life, he had been taught that nothing survived beyond the Spire's storm barrier, that the world outside was supposed to be lifeless and a graveyard for those foolish enough to escape and yet—here it stood. A city untouched by time.

"All these years, we were led to believe the only thing that existed beyond that veil was darkness but they really lied to us." His voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper. "The Council knew."

Rhea glanced at him. "They definitely knew. Do you really think they'd let us leave if we had anywhere else to go?"

Elias let out a quick breath, his unsteady hand resting against one of the towering pillars that framed the city's entrance. "There's power here. Do you feel it? The air is charged, like—like it's alive."

Indeed, the very atmosphere thrummed with an unseen force, a presence neither welcoming nor hostile, but very aware. The subtle vibration of energy resonated beneath them, akin to the pulse of a living being.

Rhea shook her head tightening her grip around the rifle strapped to her back. "Just because it seems fine doesn't mean it is." She had a point; who would invite three unknown individuals appearing out of thin air without understanding their intentions? They needed to be ready in case they encountered any locals.

Kieran's gaze lifted to the tallest spire, its tip disappearing into the swirling mist overhead. "It means there are answers as to why we were caged in that living darkness of a world they deceived us to believe in."

A soft chime resonated through the deserted streets, lingering in the air—distant, yet tangible. It bounced off the vacant buildings, reminiscent of a bell ringing in a forsaken cathedral.

Elias stiffened. "Did you hear that?"

Rhea reached for her weapon. "Yeah. And I don't think we're alone."

Kieran exhaled slowly, squaring his shoulders.

Whatever lay within this city, they had already stepped beyond the threshold. There was no turning back now.

The footsteps of Kieran, Elias, and Rhea echoed against the cold, metallic streets of Vareth. The city was an enigma—towering structures pulsed with faint blue light, veins of energy humming like whispers beneath the ground. The place was filled with silence, too absolute, as though the city itself was holding its breath.

Elias glided his gloved hand along the surface of a pillar, his fingers following delicate designs that appeared to be carved by neither human hands nor the passage of time. "This place... it feels alive, yet I can't quite figure it out. There's an unmistakable presence here."

The city of Vareth that they had come to was empty as much as it seemed lively, this was what terrified them the most. 

"And where exactly is that living thing? Because I can't see anyone or anything walking or running past these streets" Rhea asked, her voice hushed as though afraid to disturb the stillness.

Kieran pressed forward with his sharp instincts. The emptiness unsettled him more than ruins would have. "Whatever it is, we don't have time to marvel at ghosts. We need to find shelter and figure out our next move."

"No, Kieran. We need to understand. A second city—hidden beyond the storm? This is no accident. The Council lied. The storm wasn't meant to keep things out—it was meant to keep us in." Said Elias with his boring repetitive theories, as if it wasn't enough that they left that place already, why did he insist on revisiting the past when they could live in the present but he was logical, they couldn't move forward without understanding why they were caged as a means to lie that it was about protecting them.

Rhea gestured toward a glass-like panel embedded in a building's exterior. At her touch, it flickered, revealing rows of symbols, shifting in real-time. "This is no mere relic," she murmured. "Someone has been maintaining it."

Kieran exchanged a look with Elias before stepping closer. The symbols rearranged themselves as though sensing their presence. Then, with a faint chime, a voice that was soft and mechanical, but eerily human—whispered through the air:

"Echo detected. Accessing last recorded memory."

A shimmer of light merged before them. The image of a figure—cloaked and indistinct—stood at the heart of the street. It flickered, as though it was caught between existence and oblivion.

"They are coming. The tide will break. We must choose."

Static swallowed the rest, and the projection faded, leaving only a chill behind.

Kieran stepped back, gripping the hilt of his sword more firmly. "What on earth was that?" he exclaimed.

Elias's face was pale when he said. "That was a message left behind. A warning. But against what?"

A strange noise pierced the silence before anyone had a chance to respond—deep, throaty, and utterly unnatural. It wasn't the howling of the wind or the creaking of the city.

Kieran drew his weapon. "I think we're about to find out."

"Then let's hope we're ready." said Rhea with a determined look.

The stillness was overwhelming. Kieran could hear the faint echo of his own breath trapped within his mask, the muted thud of footsteps on the unnaturally smooth pavement of Vareth's deserted streets. Beside him, Elias walked with a slight limp, gripping his injured side, while Rhea forged ahead, her keen gaze scanning every shadow.

"Stay close," Rhea whispered, her voice barely audible. "Something doesn't feel right."

Kieran tightened his grip on the dagger's hilt, nodding in agreement. The twilight haze enveloped the city, bathing it in an eerie, unchanging light that neither dimmed nor brightened. Towering buildings of glass and metal stood sentinel, seemingly preserved in time, yet the streets were devoid of any signs of life. It felt as though Vareth had been suspended in the very instant it was deserted.

Elias let out a quick breath, pointing at a series of peculiar, shimmering lights set into the walls of a nearby building. "These conduits… they still have energy. After all these years."

"That means someone—" Kieran stopped mid-sentence as a cold gust of air swept through the street, bringing with it a noise that sent a chill through his bones.

A whisper.

It was not the wind and it was not the shifting of metal or stone. It was a voice that was hollow and distorted almost as if it had been spoken through water.

The three of them turned in unison. The street behind them was empty.

Then, a shape materialized from the shadows.

It moved with a slow, deliberate grace, with a humanoid form. Cloaked in tattered remnants of armor, its skin shimmered like liquid metal, eyes glowing with a ghostly silver light. A Wraithborn.

"Run," Elias breathed.

The creature moved.

Kieran had just enough time to push Elias out of the way before the creature lunged, its clawed hand swiping through the air where he had been moments before. He hit the ground and rolled, narrowly escaping a follow-up attack. Rhea took aim with her shock pistol, the flash of the shot lighting up the street for an instant—but the Wraithborn evaded with an eerie swiftness, causing the energy bolt to slam into a far-off wall instead.

"Dammit," Rhea hissed. "It's fast."

Kieran unsheathed his dagger and charged ahead, pretending to move left before striking at its flank. The blade made contact, but rather than slicing through flesh, it scraped against a hard, unyielding surface, sending a jolt of pain reverberating through his arm. The Wraithborn barely reacted.

It twisted toward him, and for the first time, Kieran got a full view of its face.

There was an essence of humanity hidden beneath the flowing silver, a form that seemed almost familiar—prominent cheekbones, a defined jawline—but it was masked by something… otherworldly. The features danced in and out of focus, oscillating between sharpness and blurriness, as if it were struggling to determine its true identity.

Then it spoke.

"You should not be here."

Kieran froze. The voice was layered, both deep and whispering at once. It was not the guttural growl of the feral Wraithborn he had fought before. This one… understood them.

Rhea and Elias were momentarily frozen in shock, and in that fleeting moment of uncertainty, the Wraithborn launched another attack. Kieran just managed to dodge as its clawed hand sliced through the air, severing the strap of his pack.

Elias stumbled back, raising his hands. "Wait! You can speak—"

"Leave." The Wraithborn's head twitched as if struggling to maintain its form. "Before… before you become… like us."

Kieran clenched his teeth. "What are you?"

The Wraithborn let out a sound—half sighing and half growling. "Forsaken."

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it melted into the shadows, vanishing into the city's endless twilight.

Silence fell once more, but this time it was different. It felt heavier and oppressive.

Elias exhaled shakily. "Did you hear that?"

Rhea holstered her pistol with trembling hands. "Not just hear it. I saw it."

Kieran stood slowly, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs. "It wasn't just a monster." He turned toward Elias, his voice low and filled with dread. "That thing… was once human."

No one argued. Because deep down, they all knew it was true.