The City of Glass

The first thing Kael felt was cold.

Not the sharp cold of winter wind, but something deeper — a biting, soul-aching chill that wrapped itself around his lungs and refused to let go. He coughed, staggered, and hit his knees on hard crystal ground. His breath fogged in front of him, curling in unnatural ways.

A second later, Elira landed beside him with a dull thud, rolling to break the fall.

"Stars," she gasped, clutching her ribs. "You weren't kidding about it hurting."

Kael didn't answer right away. His eyes were fixed ahead.

They stood at the edge of a massive plain made entirely of translucent crystal. Towers stretched skyward, impossibly tall, refracting the pale violet light above. The sky here was warped — no sun, no moon — just streaks of glowing mist floating like rivers above their heads.

The City of Glass.

He had seen it in memories, fragments of a life before this one. But memory was nothing like this—nothing like the feeling of being inside a realm that had never belonged to mortals.

"Elira," he said, standing. "Don't touch anything."

She raised an eyebrow but nodded.

---

As they walked, Kael noticed things were wrong — subtle things. Footsteps echoed too long. Sounds didn't travel straight. The city was beautiful, yes, but hollow. Silent in the way a tomb is silent.

And worse… it was watching them.

Statues lined the streets. Each one perfectly carved — warriors, mages, kings, children — all preserved in mid-motion, eyes wide, mouths open. Not just statues.

People.

"Elira," Kael said, voice low. "This city… it remembers."

She touched her dagger. "They're frozen?"

"No," he whispered. "They're trapped."

---

The deeper they went, the stronger the pressure grew.

Kael could feel the gauntlet reacting—heating slightly, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

They reached a courtyard filled with glass thrones, each one shattered differently. In the center stood a monument: a man frozen mid-scream, hands outstretched, reaching toward nothing.

Kael recognized him.

"Theren," he muttered. "He was the first Flamebearer. Before me."

Elira looked at the man's face, studying the pain carved into it. "What happened to him?"

Kael's voice was distant. "He came here looking for answers. Like we did. But he came alone. And he underestimated the Warden."

"The what?"

Before he could respond, the ground beneath them shifted.

Not crumbled — rearranged. Tiles moved like puzzle pieces, forming a path that led toward a grand palace made of mirrored glass.

Kael looked up.

At the top of the palace stood a throne, and on it sat a figure draped in flowing robes of silver and shadow. Its face was a blank, mirrored surface, reflecting only Kael and Elira.

The Warden had awakened.

---

"Don't run," Kael said quietly.

"Wasn't planning on it," Elira answered, though her grip tightened on her blade.

The Warden didn't move. It simply watched, head tilted, like a child observing something interesting before deciding whether or not to break it.

Kael stepped forward. "I seek the Vessel. The one bound beneath your city."

The Warden's voice entered Kael's mind — not through ears, but directly, ancient and cold.

> "Then you must pay the price of memory."

Without warning, glass around them shattered upward, forming into figures — warriors with swords made of light, eyes glowing with violet fire.

Kael raised his gauntlet.

Flame burst from his fist, swirling around his arm like a living creature.

"Elira—left side!"

She was already moving, ducking beneath a swing and slicing through a soldier's knee. The figure shattered into shards that hovered mid-air before reforming.

"They don't stay down!" she shouted.

"They're constructs! They rebuild!" Kael shouted back, dodging a blow and unleashing a wave of fire that turned three attackers into ash.

The gauntlet thrummed violently, feeding off his focus, his rage.

He burned brighter.

But the Warden was still watching. Not interfering. Judging.

---

After what felt like an eternity, the soldiers stopped.

Frozen mid-strike, their forms turned to dust. Kael stood in the center, breathing hard, cloak scorched, gauntlet smoking.

The Warden finally spoke aloud, voice ringing across the city:

> "You are not as he was."

Kael spat on the glass.

"I'm not supposed to be."

The throne cracked.

Glass spiderwebbed across the palace. A staircase unfolded in silence.

> "Then enter," the Warden whispered. "Take what you came for… if you can hold it."

---

Inside the palace, everything was too bright. Walls mirrored their every movement, but in each reflection, Kael looked… different. Older. Angrier. Burning.

He ignored them.

At the heart of the palace lay a single cage, suspended above a pool of liquid light.

Inside it: a girl. No older than fifteen. Eyes closed, skin glowing faintly. Flames curled softly beneath her feet, though she didn't seem to notice them.

Elira whispered, "That's the Vessel?"

Kael nodded. "The next one."

"She looks… asleep."

"No," Kael said. "She's dreaming. And if we wake her wrong…"

"She'll burn everything," Elira finished.

Kael reached forward, the gauntlet glowing bright gold now. Fire met fire. The cage began to dissolve.

Then her eyes opened.

And the world changed.