Chapter 8: The City Beneath the Sun’s Eye

  A dreamless sleep.

  Aeor woke to find his companions still resting.

  Light was trickling in slowly, dusk approaching. He rose quietly and glanced over what little they had left. No sign of his spear.

  Probably need to get one when we reach the city. That thought unraveled into another. What do they used to barter here? Coin? Essence? Aeor exhaled softly. Another question for Gurz.

  Frowning, he scanned the cave, stepping lightly to avoid waking the others, but his effort was wasted.

  He heard a faint rustle behind him. Dregor stirred.

  "You're up early," the stone-skinned warrior said, voice rough with sleep. "Looking for something?"

  "Morning, Dregor. Do you know where my spear is?" Aeor kept his voice low.

  Dregor blinked, thoughtful. "Your long weapon?"

  Does he not know what a spear is? Aeor nodded. "Yes."

  "I apologize. It didn’t occur to me to retrieve it. When Gurz saw the construct down in the crater was spawning again, we didn’t think, we just ran."

  "The Scorch Titan was making another spawn?" Aeor’s voice spiked.

  Zoey groaned in her sleep and turned away.

  "Let’s talk outside," Dregor said.

  They stepped toward the mouth of the cave. Light poured in from above, reflected across a dozen puddles scattered just outside. Aeor shielded his eyes against the glare.

  And froze.

  The air was cold. It cut through him, refreshing in a way he hadn’t felt since arriving. No scent of ash. No shimmer of heat. Only wind.

  Above, the sun was no longer crimson. A pale blue-white orb hung in a brilliant sky, its light softened by drifting clouds, offering no fury. Just stillness.

  Forests blanketed the valley in waves of pine and moss, broken only by snow-capped ridges and wild outgrowths clinging to stone. Birds darted through branches. A stream glimmered far below, winding its way across the landscape. For the first time since his awakening, Aeor felt the world breathe.

  And there, on the horizon, rose a city.

  Built into the face of a distant mountain, it stood like a sacred bastion, stone walls and spires etched into the cliffs, shrouded in wisps of mist. Its upper towers pierced the sky, and though it bore the shape of a fortress, it radiated something deeper.

  Not war.

  Faith.

  Véurr, guide me. Where am I? The question pulsed quietly in his thoughts as he stood there, jaw slack, the wind tugging at his cloak.

  Looking at Aeor's expression, Dregor chuckled. "Quite the change, isn't it?"

  "I... What... Where are we?" was all Aeor could manage.

  "On the outskirts of Vaelkarreth."

  "But the land, it's so vibrant."

  "Most of this world looks like this, or so I've been told. When that dragon died about a thousand years ago, it tore the mountain range apart. Split it in half. Changed everything."

  "Gurz mentioned something like that last night, but I didn’t expect it to be this... drastic." Aeor’s eyes were still fixed on the valley. "Also, dragon? Wasn’t it supposed to be a descendant of the sun?"

  "Dragons and the royal bloodline both carry that title. Descendants of the Sun. They’re seen as demigods here. When the dragon died, people began coming from all over to pay tribute. That little trading post over there." Dregor pointed to the city on the distant horizon. "It became a holy city."

  "You know a lot for an outsider."

  Dregor shrugged. "People in that town have little else to talk about. I’ve heard this story a dozen times."

  Aeor arched a brow. "Still couldn’t remember the city’s name?"

  "You win some, you lose some."

  Aeor turned to look at him. Now, in the morning light, he noticed the fractures, thin cracks running along Dregor’s stone-hardened skin.

  "Your skin. You’re injured."

  "We all are," Dregor said, glancing at him. "Well, most of us. But it’ll pass. I should be healed by midday. The Stone Essence flows strong here. Not corrupted like the lands back in Vaelkarreth."

  Dregor sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes. Moments later, tiny shards of stone rose into the air, orbiting him in slow, steady circles.

  Not wanting to interrupt, Aeor settled onto a nearby rock. The wind brushed past him, cold, clean, and fresh. For a long while, he said nothing. Just watched the valley breathe.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  After what felt like an hour, faint sounds drifted from the cave behind him.

  The others were waking.

  Zoey complained about the leftover meat from the night before, but no one had the energy to argue. After a quiet meal, they gathered their gear and began the final stretch toward Thar’Ezun.

  Their journey to the city was uneventful. They took frequent breaks and chose longer paths to avoid shorter, riskier routes. Only Gurz and Aeor were truly in fighting condition, no matter how much Dregor insisted otherwise.

  By midday, they reached the base of the mountain. It was over two-thirds of the journey, but the last stretch, steep and winding, consumed the rest of their daylight.

  "What do the Custodians have planned for initiates like us in the city?" Velora asked.

  "There are no Custodians here," Gurz replied, adjusting his pack, scanning the ridge behind them. "Only five arrived in this world. They’re housed in the five major cities. Here, the clergy speaks in their place. The Custodians relay their messages through them."

  Zoey squinted. "Wait, like... middlemen priests?"

  "That’s one way to put it," Gurz said. "However, don't consider them powerless."

  "Didn’t you say the Custodians issued a thread to gather otherworld initiates like us? Where would you turn that thread in?" Velora asked.

  "To the clergy," Gurz said, as if it were obvious.

  Zoey, still catching her breath, spoke next. "This clergy, do they actually run the city?"

  "This place is sacred. People come here for pilgrimage. To pay tribute to Vaelkar for their sacrifice. It was decided that the clergy should have administrative control."

  Zoey took a moment before asking again, "And what are we supposed to do once we get there?"

  "That’s up to you," he said, stepping around a loose stone and waited for them to catch up. "Some Otherworld Initiates help the locals. Most are just waiting it out. With the Initiation being a day away, the best thing you can do is rest."

  He looked at Zoey, who was half-dragging her feet.

  "My sister runs an inn. You’re welcome there. All of you."

  Zoey glanced at Aeor, who shrugged, then at Velora, who remained unreadable.

  "I’ll take you up on that," Zoey said. "But can we rest now? I’m exhausted."

  Gurz turned to glance behind them. "We can rest here. Or we can make it past that ridge and sleep in the city."

  Zoey’s expression shifted in an instant. Renewed energy sparked in her eyes.

  With quiet resolve, the group pressed forward.

  The path narrowed, carved into ice-slick stone, bordered by silence. As they crested the final ridge, the clouds broke, revealing the city behind.

  Thar’Ezun stood high on the bones of the world.

  The city clung to the mountainside, shaped into tiers that spiraled upward toward frost-crowned spires. Mist drifted around the lower terraces, curling through archways and ancient stairs. Snow fell in soft threads, catching on the faded banners of the sun that hung limp from the towers.

  A long stone bridge extended from the cliff below, narrow and arched. It led directly to a massive gate flanked by cloaked figures. The terrain itself protected the city. No entry was possible aside from the main bridge.

  The group stopped.

  And for a quiet moment, they simply took it in.

  Noticing their procession crest the ridge, one of the cloaked figures stepped forward. The figure lowered their hood, revealing a pale-skinned human around Aeor’s age, dressed in a weathered leather armor, dyed in a muted off-white, the same shade as their cloak. A sun emblem was stitched into the chest.

  Crossing the bridge, the guard spoke. "Gurz, you made it back," relief shown on their face.

  "Barek, it's good to see you," Gurz replied with equal warmth.

  There’s something about him. Aeor thought to himself, A certain weight to his presence... if that even makes sense.

  He focused on Barek. A faint shimmer passed through his vision.

  Name: Barek

  Race: Human

  Essence Tier: Awakened

  Essence Stability: Stabilized

  Class: Embergrave Sentinel

  Class Rarity: Flicker (E)

  He’s stabilized, like Velora. Didn’t Dregor say that was rare?

  Barek looked at the group. His gaze pausing on Velora for a moment. Surprise and quiet wonder flickered across his face at her undead appearance, but he said nothing.

  Then his eyes dimmed slightly. "What happened to the other two Otherworld Initiates?"

  Gurz gave a small shake of his head.

  "I... see. I’m glad you made it back, Dregor."

  Dregor nodded. "Good to see you again, Barek."

  "To the rest of you, welcome to Thar’Ezun."

  Gurz and Barek went to discuss their arrival with the other cloaked individual.

  His musings were cut shot as he heard a whisper.

  "Dregor," Zoey whispered, nodding toward Barek, who was chatting with the other guard. "Who is that guy?"

  "That’s Barek. Gurz’s sister’s husband."

  Aeor and Velora leaned in.

  "So, like, brother-in-law."

  "Yeah. That’s what I said."

  Zoey looked briefly puzzled, but let it drop.

  "He’s a good man," Dregor added. "Can be a little gullible, though."

  "His essence stability matches yours, Velora," Aeor said.

  "I noticed," Velora replied. "Didn’t you say stabilized individuals are rare, Dregor?"

  "They are." Dregor said, scratching at a hairline crack on his arm. "Even members of the high clergy rarely reach that point. He’s the only one in this city. Might be the only one for leagues.

  He paused, then added, "Gurz says he’s strong, but I’ve never seen him fight."

  Their conversation trailed off as Gurz returned after speaking with the guards.

  "I’ll head to the sanctum to report to the Exarch. Dregor, can you take the others to the inn?"

  "Sure."

  Gurz lowered his voice. "The mood in the city’s tense. Tomorrow, the Archives will reveal what lies ahead."

  The gates of Thar’Ezun groaned open.

  What greeted them was not the bustle of a city, but the hush of something older. The streets beyond were broad, stone-carved, and silent. Lanterns hung from wrought-iron arms along the walls, their flames low and steady, as if untouched by the wind.

  Upon entering, Gurz and Barek broke off while the others continued toward what Dregor called the Old City.

  This district was carved directly into the mountainside, tiered and sloped, with narrow staircases climbing ridges and winding alleys branching toward the upper terraces. It was the oldest part of Thar’Ezun, once built to shelter the faithful who came to honor the flame and the mountain.

  No voices echoed from windows. No carts clattered across the stone. Only the sound of their boots and the faint wind descending from the higher sanctums. Somewhere nearby, prayers drifted from a shrine, soft, rhythmic chants that seemed to instill a peace in the area.

  "This feels empty," Velora said.

  Dregor grunted. "Most pilgrims have returned to their home cities. No visitors lately. Not since the Custodians announced the trial that is to come. The faith is still strong, but this place... it’s quieter than it used to be. Or so I’ve been told. Gurz would’ve been better for this tour, I only arrived a month ago."

  Aeor scanned the walls. Not a single one was plain.

  Every building, every arch and ledge, was etched with curling lines and solar sigils that flowed like veins through the stone, weaving doorframes to rooftops, gates to courtyards.

  The craftsmanship here is unreal. Even the most beautiful cities back home can’t compare. These patterns... they’re deliberate. They feel connected. How did they build this? And at this height?

  They followed a wide causeway until it opened into a stone plaza, and there, at its heart, stood a statue.

  Three stories tall. Black-veined granite. It shimmered faintly in the twilight.

  A coiled dragon dominated the base, wings furled and head bowed. Its body wrapped around a stylized sun that hovered above its claws. The sun bore twelve flame-spokes, each marked with a different sigil. Standing atop it all was a robed figure, arms raised, head crowned in curling solar fire.

  "That’s Vaelkar," Dregor said quietly.

  The plaza was empty, but offerings lay at the base, charred scrolls, melted candles, and a single broken sword resting across the dragon’s claws.

  "Vaelkar is the dragon that died, right?" Zoey asked.

  Dregor nodded.

  "And the person?"

  "The first descendant. Vaelkar’s bond."

  Aeor stared up at the statue, a strange weight pressing against his chest.

  "What is this pressure?" Velora asked.

  "You feel it too?" Aeor asked.

  Zoey and Dregor exchanged glances. "What pressure?"

  Velora’s voice was tight. "The statue has... something. I can’t explain it. Let’s move on."

  Aeor glanced at her. Her jaw bone was clenched. She’s feeling it worse than I am. I just feel a whisper of it.

  They continued on. The statue remained behind, silent and watching, as night climbed the walls of Thar’Ezun.

  A pair of priests passed along the opposite path, robes trimmed in soft red and embroidered with golden thread that echoed the emblem worn by Barek and the other guard. They moved with quiet grace, hands folded, heads slightly inclined.

  As they neared, one paused and raised a hand to his chest.

  "May the light of the Sol guide your step," he said, voice calm and steady.

  The second priest, older and more heavily cloaked, mirrored the gesture. His eyes passed over the group.

  When they landed on Velora, there was no gasp. No fear. Just stillness.

  "I see that even the dead walk the path laid down by the Archives," he said. "It brings me comfort. Perhaps there is still a journey for our dead, even if it follows a different shape."

  He bowed, deeper this time, directly to Velora. "May your path be lit by Sol’s grace."

  With that, the two priests moved on.

  "What was up with that?" Zoey asked in her usual dialect.

  Dregor shrugged. "I don’t know everything."

  They passed shuttered inns, taverns with empty porches, and shops where faint light flickered behind closed windows. Yet despite the silence, the city didn’t feel lifeless.

  It felt... paused. As if something deep beneath it was holding its breath.

  They turned into a narrower lane. The wind eased. Warm light spilled from narrow windows, and the scent of smoke curled in the air.

  Dregor pointed toward a sturdy stone building nestled beside a terraced courtyard.

  "This is it. Zura’s place."