The west side of Kyrbane rose like the husk of a once-great dream—its towers bowed but unbroken, its roads cracked beneath the weight of siege and time. Fire had rolled through here not long ago; the stones still bore the bite of heat. The smell of scorched rootstone and scorched blood clung to everything.
Pag moved cautiously, staying close to the broken line of collapsed arches, the others following in quiet formation. Toula prowled at the front, sharp-eyed and silent, her armored mantle trailing the dust without sound. Andromeda took the rear, one hand always brushing the haft of her spear, her gaze scanning rooftops and empty doorframes. Maverick meandered somewhere between, his usual smirk dulled into a thin, tight line.
The city around them whispered.
In this quarter, it wasn’t just war’s ruin they stepped through—it was something worse. Survival, yes, but also resistance. Half-burned murals had been redrawn in chalk. Crude barricades stood silent as graves. Entire rows of homes had been gutted not by siege, but by calculated fire, the kind meant to leave a message.
They were close.
Pag’s HUD pinged quietly:
He stopped.
“Toula,” he whispered. “We’re standing on a live quest event.”
She didn’t look back. “I know. I’ve been seeing signs for the last three blocks. Crows drawn on doors. Paint smeared beneath the flagstones. Someone’s leading us somewhere.”
Pag blinked. “You’re saying the resistance wants us to find them?”
“They want to know if we’ll follow,” Andromeda added. “And if we’re smart enough not to fall into a trap trying.”
A sudden whistle—sharp and avian—pierced the stillness. Toula froze.
Another whistle answered, this one lower, drawn out like a sigh.
“Code call,” Toula murmured. “Right on top of us.”
Without warning, part of the wall ahead shifted. A slab of false masonry pulled aside, revealing the narrow barrel of a homemade crossbow—and the gleaming gold eyes of a bipedal tiger-faced figure staring them down.
The Altacian’s voice was low and tense. “One at a time. Hands visible. If you’re here to sell us out, you won’t live to regret it.”
Pag stepped forward, hands raised. “No loyalties. Just travelers. I came from the Drowned Archive with… something I think you need to see.”
The Altacian’s striped ears flicked. His golden eyes narrowed. Then he stepped back and opened the hidden entry fully. “Inside. Quickly.”
They passed into a long, narrow crawlspace between crumbled walls. The stone here smelled of mold, copper, and ash. They emerged into what had once been a tea hall—now a makeshift shelter braced with scavenged beams and armored with scrap metal and canvas. A glowing lichen garden pulsed gently in a corner. Charred planks formed a central table littered with scrolls, maps, and cracked lenses.
At least two dozen survivors crouched in the chamber—half of them humans wearing patchwork armor, the other half Altacians in worn cloaks and rust-spotted weapons. Faces turned as Pag and the others entered, suspicion thick in the air.
The Altacian who had opened the wall stepped forward. He had a thick silver stripe across his muzzle and a burn scar curling beneath one eye. “You tripped three rooftop watchers,” he said. “We thought you might be another sweep. Until you reached the old watchtower and didn’t run screaming when the roof hissed.”
Pag tried not to wince. “That was a warning?”
“Memory gas,” a human woman said from beside the map table, arms crossed over a reinforced vest. “Crow patrols can’t handle it. Makes them panic. But you didn’t panic.”
Andromeda stepped forward. “We’re not affiliated. Not with Draggor. Not with anyone. We’re just trying to understand what the hell is happening here.”
“Then start talking,” the Altacian said. “What did you find beneath the Archive?”
Pag stepped forward, pulled the fragment from beneath his robe, and set it gently on the map table.
Silence swallowed the chamber.
The crystal pulsed—faint but steady. It cast fractured light onto the faces of everyone nearby. Reflected in their eyes was awe, and something older.
Fear.
An older Altacian limped forward from a sling near the fire. Her fur had grayed to the color of storm clouds, and she wore a ring of carved wood across one arm like a bracer. “That’s the Seal,” she said softly. “From the Temple of Echo. We thought it lost. Broken during the Searing.”
Toula looked sharply at Pag. “You didn’t say it was that important.”
“I didn’t know,” Pag said. “I just knew it called to me. The memory inside it—it felt like it was trying to escape. Or reach someone. Something.”
“Something,” murmured the old Altacian. “Something still buried. This city remembers everything it’s lost. And now it’s remembering you.”
The resistance commander—an Altacian with copper rings in both ears—rested a hand on the table. “You’ve brought something sacred into our war. That makes you valuable. It also makes you a threat.”
Toula’s hackles rose. “Is that a warning?”
“It’s a reality,” he replied. “But there’s a way to earn trust.”
Maverick arched a brow. “Here we go.”
The commander tapped the map with a clawed finger. “There’s a crow patrol scheduled to sweep the library ruins in two hours. We’ve staged two decoy trails, but we’re down a runner. Someone fast, capable, and already marked by the Archive. Guess who just walked in?”
Pag stared.
“You want me to run decoy?”
The old Altacian’s whiskers twitched. “You’ve already disturbed the echoes. You might as well see where they lead.”
Pag looked down at the fragment in his hand. Then up—at the faces watching him, guarded but hopeful.
He sighed. “Fine. But if I end up dead, I’m haunting you.”
Maverick smirked. “I’ll bring flowers.”
Andromeda rolled her shoulders. “If he’s going, we’re covering his escape.”
Toula just nodded, eyes sharp.
The copper-ringed commander grinned. “Then let’s see if the Archive’s ghost can outrun the living.”
Pag crouched behind the shattered base of a once-grand statue—its torso still clutched a scroll, its head shattered, its meaning lost. The wind here carried the dust of burned vellum, rusted sigils, and bitter incense. Around him, the ruins of Kyrbane’s great library rose like bones from a fallen colossus.
He exhaled slowly and checked the glowing edge of his HUD.
