The sun hadn't risen for long. The ancient city was still bleak, wrapped in a dull grey light, but the horrors of the night were gone. In their place, faint shadows moved—fluttering silently into the ruins like forgotten whispers.
Damon's sense of unease grew.
The city itself was changing.
He was beginning to see military equipment—barricades, magic artillery emplacements, reinforced lines.
However, they weren't facing the outer walls. Instead, every barrel and turret was pointed toward the core of the city. It was as if all that firepower was there not to protect—but to contain. As if they were desperately trying to keep something in.
His gaze settled on the distant crystal tower deep in the city's heart. It pierced the skyline like a blade aimed at the gods, reaching so high it looked as if it would pierce the heavens themselves. The city had many tall spires… but none could compare.
"What the hell even is that thing?"
