Tracking the fourth key led the resistance fighters through Zephyr's shadowy underbelly—gambling dens where fortunes and lives were wagered with equal abandon, black markets trading in forbidden artifacts, and finally to an ancient temple long thought abandoned.
The Floating Markets of Zephyr had been a maze of chaos and color, but the deeper they delved into its hidden layers, the more the vibrancy gave way to shadows. The air grew heavier as they descended into the underbelly of the floating city, where whispers carried secrets and danger lurked behind every corner. The medallion pulsed faintly against Arin's chest, a constant reminder of their purpose even as tension coiled tighter with every step.
"This place reeks of desperation," Pyx muttered, her freckles dimming as she glanced around the dimly lit gambling den they had entered. The room was filled with smoke and murmurs, the clatter of dice punctuated by occasional cheers or groans. "And bad decisions."
"Focus," Lysander said sharply, his silver eyes scanning the room with predatory precision. "The key is close—I can feel it."
Arin followed Lysander's gaze to a figure seated at a corner table, their face obscured by a hood but their movements deliberate as they passed a small object—a music box—to another robed individual. The medallion pulsed harder, confirming what Arin already suspected.
"That's it," Arin said quietly. "The key."
Before they could act, the robed figures rose from their seats and slipped through a side door, disappearing into the labyrinthine corridors that wound through Zephyr's underbelly.
"After them," Kairo ordered, his celestial mask shifting to patterns of urgency.
The chase led them through twisting alleys and hidden passageways, past stalls selling everything from glowing crystals to forbidden tomes. The air grew colder as they approached their destination—a crumbling temple built into the side of one of Zephyr's floating platforms. Its once-grand facade was now covered in vines and decay, but the symbols etched into its stone walls still radiated faint power.
"They're inside," Liora said, her braids glowing softly as she studied the temple's entrance. "But this place… it feels wrong."
"It's a trap," Lysander said bluntly, his hand already on the hilt of his blade. "They want us to follow."
"We don't have a choice," Arin replied, tightening his grip on the Eclipse Blade. "If they get away with that key—"
"They won't," Seraphina interrupted, her golden eyes narrowing as she stepped forward. "Stay close."
Inside the temple, shadows danced across walls inscribed with ancient Celestial symbols. The air was thick with tension, each step echoing ominously in the cavernous space. At its center stood a dais surrounded by flickering torches, and atop it was the music box—the fourth key.
But they weren't alone.
Crimson Hand agents emerged from the shadows, their corrupted Qi crackling like static electricity as they surrounded the resistance fighters. At their center stood a figure clad in crimson robes and a jade mask carved with intricate symbols—a presence that radiated both power and malice.
"The Crimson Priestess," Seraphina said softly, her voice laced with both recognition and dread.
The Priestess tilted her head slightly, her mask catching the torchlight as she regarded them with cold amusement. "You've come far," she said, her voice smooth and mocking. "But you're too late."
She gestured toward the music box on the dais. "The key is already ours."
"Not for long," Arin said fiercely, stepping forward with the Eclipse Blade flaring brightly in his hand.
The Priestess laughed—a sound like shattered glass. "Bold words for Azrael's broken fragment."
With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a wave of corrupted energy that sent Arin and his companions scattering. The room erupted into chaos as Crimson Hand agents clashed with resistance fighters, their battle illuminated by flashes of Qi and firelight.
Arin fought his way toward the dais, cutting down agents with precise strikes from the Eclipse Blade. Each swing sent stars and nebulae swirling along its edge, its power carving through corrupted Qi like paper. But for every enemy he defeated, two more took their place.
Pyx moved like lightning through the fray, her spatial manipulation creating barriers that deflected incoming attacks while allowing her to strike back with deadly accuracy. Liora unleashed bursts of cosmic energy from her glowing braids, each strike sending agents reeling while protecting those around her.
Lysander faced off against two elite agents simultaneously, his silver blades moving so quickly they seemed to blur into streaks of light. His expression remained calm even as he dispatched them with ruthless efficiency.
But it was Seraphina who drew the Priestess's attention.
"You shouldn't have come here," Seraphina said coldly as she stepped onto the dais to face her opponent directly.
"And yet here we are," the Priestess replied smoothly, raising her hands to summon tendrils of dark energy that lashed out toward Seraphina like living whips.
Seraphina countered with golden light that flared from her palms, each burst meeting the tendrils mid-air and dissipating them before they could reach her. Their clash sent shockwaves rippling through the temple, shaking its already crumbling foundations.
Arin reached the dais just as Seraphina faltered under another wave of dark energy. Without hesitation, he lunged forward with the Eclipse Blade aimed directly at the Priestess's chest.
The blade connected—shattering her jade mask into fragments that clattered onto the stone floor.
What lay beneath stopped everyone in their tracks.
The Priestess's face was strikingly similar to Liora's—so much so that they could have been sisters. Her features were sharp but elegant; her expression cold yet tinged with something unreadable.
"Hello, niece," she said calmly to Seraphina, wiping blood from her lip with casual elegance. Her smile was cold as winter frost. "How fitting that the Oracle's chosen vessel should bring us together again after all these years."
Seraphina's golden eyes widened in shock and recognition. "You…"
"Yes," the Priestess interrupted smoothly before turning her gaze toward Arin. "Family reunions are always so… messy."