The silver City alexendria

Chapter 5: The silver City alexendria

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The gates of Sanctorum groaned open, revealing a tunnel of pure silver.

Through the Silver Gates

Lucian stepped into the tunnel of silver, the weight of the fortress pressing around him.

The walls stretched endlessly, polished metal etched with runes that pulsed faintly with an ethereal light. The air inside the corridor was still, cold. Too clean, too sterile. It was the opposite of the ruins outside—where the world had been broken, left to rot, this place had been preserved, frozen in time.

It was suffocating.

For nearly a full minute, they walked in silence.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, the entrance swallowed behind them. The deeper they went, the more Lucian felt like he was crossing into something beyond him.

Then—the passageway ended.

And Lucian stopped in his tracks.

---

The moment he stepped out of the gate, he froze.

He had expected more walls. More barriers. A stronghold like the ones he had read about in books—cold, small, built for survival.

But what lay before him was something else entirely.

A city.

A city of silver and stone, fog and light.

A City Within a Fortress.

The first thing Lucian noticed was the sky.

Nocturnal had always been a world of endless black, an eternal night with no sun, no stars—just shadow. But the moment he stepped through the gate, the sky above him shifted.

A perpetual dawn.

Pale gold stretched across the heavens, frozen in time, casting a soft light over the landscape. The sun never fully rose, never fully set.

Then came the city.

Lucian's breath hitched.

Towering silver spires loomed over him, their smooth surfaces reflecting the dawnlight. Buildings of engraved stone and metal stood tall, stretching into the sky like relics of a forgotten age. Runes pulsed faintly along their edges, as if the entire city was alive.

People—warriors, smiths, scholars, merchants—walked through the mist-covered roads, their silhouettes drifting in and out of sight like ghosts. Some wore armor, some robes, but all carried the same air of purpose.

Above them, the sky remained locked in perpetual dawn, the golden hues mixing with the fog, creating a surreal, dreamlike atmosphere.

Lucian had never seen anything like it.

He swallowed hard.

A city.

A true city in a world he thought was lost.

He tried to speak, but his words failed him.

That's when Eris turned to him.

She stood in front of him, her golden eyes glinting in the soft light. The dawn caught her silver hair just right—waves of metallic silk cascading down her back. The light framed her face, sharpening her already striking features, making her both fierce and hauntingly beautiful.

Lucian felt a heat rise to his cheeks before he forced himself to look away.

She smirked slightly.

"Welcome to Alexandria," she said. "First of the six remaining cities in the world."

Lucian exhaled slowly.

Six cities.

That was all that was left?

Lucian swallowed hard, his mind catching up.

The weight of it settled in his chest, heavy, suffocating.

This world was dying.

And yet, even in its final hours, places like this still remained.

was it just humanity clinging to the last threads of existence?

---

As Walked Through the Fog

Ronan clapped a hand on Lucian's shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts. "Don't look too awestruck. The city's impressive, sure, but you'll get used to it."

Lucian's instinct was to recoil from the contact. He stopped himself just in time, instead stepping out from under Ronan's grip with a forced chuckle. "Right. Just a massive silver city in the middle of a wasteland. Completely normal."

Ronan grinned. "That's the spirit."

Eris nodded, leading them forward. "Most outsiders assume Sanctorum is just a fortress. They don't realize it houses one of the last true cities."

----

Lucian followed beside them, forcing himself to observe more carefully.

The streets were wider than expected, built from smooth, engraved stone, lined with torches filled with liquid silver instead of fire. The dense fog curled around the city like a living thing, concealing distant structures, making everything feel half-real.

Small shops were tucked between larger buildings, selling weapons, silver artifacts, and even books—remnants of knowledge from before the fall.

Despite its grand appearance, Alexandria felt… empty. despite the city's size, there were so few people.

Lucian frowned. "You said this was the first of six remaining cities. Does that mean…?"

Eris's expression darkened slightly. "It means that before the creatures of darkness, the deanageours came, there were hundreds. Now, there are six."

Lucian's caution sharpened. How many people had lived here before? How many were left?

"How many are here?" he asked quietly.

Eris glanced at him. "Fifty thousand."

Lucian's stomach dropped.

That was nothing. A single city on Earth could have held millions. But here… in the last safe havens of humanity…

That number meant they were losing.

Lucian frowned. "And how many did there used to be?"

Eris hesitated. Then, softly, "Over a million."

Lucian's mouth went dry.

A million.

And now—fifty thousand.

A slow extinction.

He clenched his fists. "Then the war is worse than I thought."

Ronan exhaled, rubbing his jaw. "The war is all we've ever known."

Eris didn't say anything to that. She just kept walking.

Lucian followed, his mind a storm of thoughts. the reality of it all weighing down on him.

---

As they neared the headquarters of Sanctorum, Ronan suddenly spoke.

"How much do you remember?"

Lucian blinked. "What?"

"Your past." Ronan shot him a sideways glance. "Your life. How much of it do you actually remember?"

Lucian tensed.

A simple question. A dangerous one.

He wasn't sure what answer they expected.

So he gave the truth.

"Some things." He exhaled. "Not everything."

Ronan hummed, watching him carefully. "It's only natural."

Lucian frowned. "Natural?"

Ronan smiled, but there was something behind it. Something too knowing.

"After what was inside you?" Ronan murmured. "Yeah. It's natural."

Lucian stiffened.

Why is he talking in riddle. A warning?

Eris didn't react, but Lucian could tell—she had heard it too.

Something inside him coiled.

He had already known—he wasn't normal. The Shade had seen it. The vampire had sensed it. Even Eris had looked at him differently since the moment they met.

But now, Ronan was confirming it.

What the hell did he mean?

Lucian wanted to ask. He wanted to demand answers, to pry apart whatever secrets they were keeping.

But he didn't.

He held his tongue.

Not because he wasn't curious.

But because it was safer to wait.

Lucian was beginning to learn. He couldn't trust anyone yet.

Not fully.

---

After weaving through the misty streets, they reached the heart of Alexandria.

Lucian looked up, it was impossible to miss.

The Headquarters of Sanctorum stood at the very center, a massive structure of silver and stone, its towers stretching higher than anything else in Alexandria. The entire building pulsed with energy, its engraved runes shifting faintly.

The entire building hummed with power, as if it wasn't just a place, but a living entity.

Lucian exhaled.

This was it.

Where he would meet the High Council.

Where he would be judged.

Where he would have to prove he belonged.

Eris finally turned to him, her gaze unreadable.

"This is where we leave you."

Lucian hesitated. "And then what?"

"You answer to them." Ronan smirked. "Good luck, kid."

Lucian took a breath, stepping forward.

Eris stepped aside, allowing him to pass. As he moved forward, he felt her eyes on him.

And for some reason, he couldn't tell if she was watching out for him.

Or watching him.

As if he was the real threat.

And for the first time, he wondered—

Would he ever step back out?

--------

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The moment eris and ronan left and Lucian stepped forward, a figure emerged from the mist.

He hadn't heard footsteps. No indication that anyone had been waiting for him. One moment, the path leading to the fortress was empty. The next, someone was standing in his way.

A man, tall and clad in a flowing silver cloak that draped around his form like mist clinging to a mountainside. His hood was pulled low, concealing his eyes, leaving only the lower half of his face visible. His features were sharp, his skin pale, but what caught Lucian's attention were the silver vine-like markings running along his jawline and disappearing beneath the fabric of his cloak.

Lucian stiffened.

Those weren't tattoos.

They were alive.

They pulsed faintly with energy, as if something beneath his skin was moving.

silver veins! Those were not scars—something else entirely.

The man tilted his head slightly, studying Lucian. Then, in a smooth, measured voice, he spoke.

"You are the outsider."

It wasn't a question.

Lucian swallowed. "I guess I am."

The man regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded.

"I am Mianro," he said. "I will escort you to the High Council."

His voice was soft but heavy, like metal being bent beneath careful hands. It carried no hostility, no warmth—just a calm certainty, as if he already knew how this was going to end.

Lucian kept his fists clenched , keeping his expression neutral. He didn't like this. He was being led deeper into unknown territory, surrounded by people who didn't trust him—who might not even want him alive.

But there was no turning back.

So he followed.

---

The Grand Hall of Sanctorum

The moment they stepped into the main hall, Lucian forgot how to breathe.

It was enormous.

A cathedral of silver and stone, stretching so high above him that he could barely see the ceiling. The walls were carved with intricate, shifting patterns, ancient symbols glowing faintly, as if the very fortress was breathing.

Columns lined the hall, each one thick enough to hold up a mountain, their surfaces covered in layers upon layers of silver script. The script didn't stay still—it moved, reshaping itself as if the words were alive.

And at the very center of the room stood a massive crystal chandelier, hanging from a silver chain thick as an iron bridge. But it held no candles, no flames—instead, inside the crystal, thousands of tiny silver motes floated in suspension, casting a soft, ghostly glow throughout the hall.

Lucian barely noticed that he had stopped walking.

Mianro turned his head slightly. "You are not the first to be overwhelmed."

Lucian forced himself to move again, keeping his face neutral. He hated how easily they could read him.

They crossed the hall in silence, their footsteps echoing through the vast chamber.

Lucian's nerves tightened.

He wasn't just in any fortress.

This was the heart of the Silver Order.

And he was being led to its highest authority.

---

At the very end of the hall, a single narrow corridor stretched into darkness.

Mianro stepped forward without hesitation. Lucian followed, but the moment he crossed the threshold, everything changed.

The air was heavier here. Not physically—there was no pressure, no force keeping him in place.

But something was watching.

The corridor was long, dimly lit by silver lanterns embedded into the walls, casting shifting shadows along the smooth stone. The path seemed to stretch forever, the space eerily silent, the hum of the city outside completely absent.

Lucian's heartbeat quickened. The world felt thinner here, like he had stepped between the cracks of something ancient.

Mianro continued forward, his pace steady, unbothered. "This path leads only to one place."

Lucian kept his voice even. "And what place is that?"

Mianro did not turn his head. "Judgment."

Lucian felt his throat dry.

---

At the end of the corridor, a lift awaited them.

It wasn't made of metal or wood—it was entirely silver, its frame engraved with unfamiliar symbols. No ropes, no pulleys, no gears. Just a circular platform, floating slightly above the floor.

Mianro stepped onto it, motioning for Lucian to do the same.

Lucian hesitated for only a second before stepping onto the platform.

The moment both feet touched the surface, the lift moved.

There was no lurch, no motion of gears—it simply rose, as if the fortress itself had willed it to ascend.

Lucian clenched his fists.

This entire place felt like it wasn't just built by people.

It felt designed.

As if it had been made by something else.

He pushed the thought aside. He needed to stay focused.

The lift ascended in silence, the walls outside passing in a blur of silver and shadow.

Then—they stopped.

The platform gently halted, and before them stood a massive door.

---

The Door to the High Council

It was colossal.

Dark brown, carved from what looked like wood—but not ordinary wood. It had a strange, metallic sheen to it, like it had been hardened over centuries.

Embedded into its surface were ancient symbols, not silver, but something older, deeper.

Two guards stood on either side, clad in black and silver armor, their weapons resembling long halberds with crescent-shaped silver blades.

Lucian's stomach tightened.

This was where he would be judged.

Where they would decide if he belonged.

Or if he needed to be removed.

He exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, but his nerves were creeping in.

He had spent so much time reacting to this world, trying to keep up, trying to survive.

But now—

Now, he was walking into something he couldn't escape.

For the first time, he wasn't just a survivor.

He was a question.

And if he didn't have the right answers—

He clenched his fists.

Then the doors began to open.

---

End of Chapter 5