Silas walked for what felt like days.
The sand beneath him never changed. Pale and silent, it shifted with every step, yet left no lasting trace of his passage. The sky remained still, veins of red lightning threading through clouds that did not move. There was no sun, no moon, only the constant low glow of light that seemed to come from the air itself.
But the world was not empty.
It watched him.
Not with eyes, but with presence. The dunes whispered sometimes, too softly to understand. Shapes moved far off in the mist, always just outside his vision. He saw spires rise on the horizon and vanish when he blinked. He heard humming beneath the ground. Rhythms that matched his heartbeat exactly.
He kept walking.
Eventually, he found the wall.
It stretched across the horizon like the spine of a fallen god, black stone reaching higher than any building he had ever seen. Strange carvings marked its surface. Spirals, eyes, hands, and something that might have been wings or fire. At the center stood a single gate. Not wood. Not iron. It was made of glass so clear it was nearly invisible. Behind it, the faint outlines of towers shimmered in the heat.
He approached.
As he neared, the gate began to glow. Lines of light traced along its edges, pulsing in time with his steps. When he stood before it, it whispered.
You are not ready
He raised his hand and touched the surface.
The gate melted away like smoke.
He stepped through.
The city was alive.
Buildings of crystal and steel twisted around each other like living things. Streets curved into impossible loops. Light fell upward from glowing stones embedded in the ground. People walked those streets, but none of them looked normal. Some had too many eyes. Others moved without touching the earth. Their faces blurred when he stared too long. And all of them turned away as he passed.
They knew what he was. Or what he would become.
He wandered for hours before someone spoke to him.
A girl sat on the edge of a fountain made of humming glass. Her hair was silver, eyes the color of deep water. She wore a robe like his, though hers bore three glowing lines instead of two. She watched him approach and did not look away.
"You walked through the gate," she said.
Silas nodded. "I had no choice."
"There is always a choice. You just did not see the others."
He sat across from her. "What is this place?"
She tilted her head. "This is the City Without a Name. It appears when it is needed. It vanishes when it is not."
"Why does it feel like it is watching me?"
"Because it is."
Silas looked down at his hands. The golden lines beneath his skin flickered again. "What is happening to me?"
"You are waking up," she said softly. "The seed inside you is beginning to bloom."
He frowned. "I did not plant anything."
"No," she said, "but someone did."
Silas stared at her. "Who are you?"
She smiled. "A traveler like you. My name is Aelira."
"Do you know what I am becoming?"
Aelira's smile faded. "Not yet. But I know this. The Abyss does not waste its touch on mortals. If it reached for you, it means something in you is vast. Dangerous. Divine."
Silas looked around at the strange city, at the people who avoided his gaze, at the towers that seemed to lean closer when he spoke.
"This world is broken."
"All worlds are," she replied. "The difference is whether the people within them notice."
Silas stood.
"I need answers."
Aelira stood too.
"Then come with me. There is one who can explain more. He does not speak in riddles. But be warned. He charges a price."
"What kind of price?"
"Memory."
Silas hesitated.
He had already lost so much.
But the silence in his blood was becoming a voice now. A voice he could almost understand.
He nodded.
"Take me to him."
Aelira led the way through winding alleys and upside-down bridges, past markets that sold fire in glass jars and music written on air. The city pulsed as they walked. The sky shifted from red to violet. Doors opened without hands. Lights bent toward them.
At last they reached a stairway of bone-white stone that spiraled deep into the ground.
At the bottom was a door with no handle.
Aelira placed her hand on it and whispered something Silas could not hear.
The door opened.
Inside sat a man without eyes.
His skin was covered in tattoos that moved like ink in water. He sat cross-legged on a platform of floating stone, surrounded by scrolls that wrote themselves.
He turned toward Silas and smiled.
"Ah. The god who does not yet know his name."
Silas stepped forward.
"I want the truth."
The man nodded.
"Then let me peel back the first veil."