The air hung heavy over the dirt road leading west. Cloud sighed, the sound brittle in the afternoon stillness. "Let's move," she urged, her emerald eyes scanning the distant horizon. "Sunset City isn't far now. It's the last major stronghold of the Sunset Empire we haven't searched. If the Princess Petal isn't there..." Her voice cracked, the unspoken horror hanging thick. "Two years. If we don't get her back soon, when the Purity runs out..."
Dunce stepped closer, his massive frame a quiet bulwark beside her slender form. His usually slow eyes held a flinty, unwavering resolve. "Sister," he said, the word thick with reassurance. "We *will* bring Princess Petal Stella home." The conviction in his low rumble was solid, an anchor in the sea of Cloud's fear.
Four figures pressed on, boots stirring dust on the western road. Sunset City – the Empire's grim, sea-battered capital – lay ahead. What kind of crucible awaited them within its shadowed walls?
**Sunset City.** Named for its proximity to where the sun seemed to drown beneath the endless Obsidian Ocean, it perched on the far western edge of the continent. Massive walls, fifty meters high, loomed like the molars of some ancient beast. Solarian sentinels, armor glinting dully, patrolled the ramparts with hawk-eyed vigilance. The main gate yawned wide, capable of swallowing two dozen men abreast. Behind it sprawled a metropolis dwarfing even the infamous Shadow Metropolis, its back turned defiantly against the churning sea. Despite the imposing military presence, the drawbridge was down, pulsing with a stream of carts, traders, and weary travelers – a deceptive illusion of normal life.
Guarding the entrance were dozens of sharp-eyed soldiers. Their gazes swept the incoming tide of humanity like searchlights, pausing on any face that looked even remotely out of place. Suspicion was their currency here.
Dunce's rough hand instinctively brushed against a worn leather strap hidden beneath his tunic. He frowned, leaning towards Rock Girln, his voice a low murmur barely audible over the crowd noise. "Brother, the Compass... it's inert. No resonance."
Rock, his sharp features tight with focus, stiffened. "Nothing?" Dunce's grim nod confirmed it. Rock thought fast, his pragmatic mind sifting possibilities. "The city is immense. The Compass's range might not penetrate its depths. We go in. This is the Sunset Empire's final stronghold. Brother Mystic Moon Scar's intel pointed here – it nailed ninety percent of their operations. Those slave traders *had* to be Solarians. They wouldn't move the Princess Petal far from their core power… and Sunset City? It's the spider at the center of this filthy web. We've looped westward, hitting every major hub. She *has* to be here."
A flicker of hope, fragile and desperate, lit Cloud's face, quickly extinguished by pragmatic dread. "Rock's right. We enter. If Sunset City yields nothing... if the Kindred's heir is lost..." She trailed off, the catastrophic implications – the slow extinction of her people – choking her. The Purity wasn't just lineage; it was their future incarnate.
"We'll find her, Sister," Dunce rumbled, his big hand hovering near Cloud's shoulder but not quite touching. "We search inside." His gaze swept the scrutinizing soldiers as they approached the gate.
They barely crossed the threshold when a gruff shout halted them. "Hold it!"
A guard captain, eyes narrowed to calculating slits, blocked their path. His gaze swept over them – three rugged men and a cloaked woman radiating an aura that screamed *out of place*, despite their drab travel clothes. "Where you from? What brings you to the Capital?"
Rock stepped forward, offering a practiced, disarming smile. "Outlands," he answered smoothly, shoulders slumping slightly into a peasant's posture. "Looking for honest work. Muscle for hire." He kept his weapons hidden; Dunce carried nothing visible either. Their gear was tucked away in Dunce's dimensional pouch – a necessary precaution in hostile territory.
The captain snorted, unconvinced. "Search them. Thorough search. Look for contraband."
Six soldiers moved in, hands outstretched. Rock's heart hammered against his ribs. A pat-down would be disastrous. Cloud's identity was a death sentence. And hidden beneath Dunce's tunic… *Hades Sword*. Panic, cold and sharp, sliced through him. He stepped between the soldiers and Cloud, pulling a handful of silver solars from his pouch with lightning grace, pressing them firmly into the captain's hand. "Brother," he murmured, his voice conspiratorial. "Bit of trouble for my wife here, with strange hands all over? Perhaps, for the comfort of good men…?" He let the implication hang, coins heavy in the captain's palm.
The captain weighed the silver, then gave Rock a curt, knowing smile. "Right. Nothing suspicious here. Move along." A lazy wave dismissed his men. Relief washed over the four as they hurried into the maze of Sunset City's unnaturally wide streets.
Dunce Girln, radiating barely contained fury, growled under his breath. "Since when are city gates this tight? Rest of the Empire wasn't half this jumpy."
Rock scanned the imposing buildings lining the unnaturally clean avenue. "This is the Imperial seat, Dunce. Paranoia runs deep here." He spotted Cloud adjusting her wide-brimmed hat. "First things first: find a bolt-hole. Keep low. We've had Killers Guild tails too many times already; we're marked." His eyes scanned the storefronts – conspicuously absent were the gaudy brothels and raucous gambling dens common elsewhere. Strange. "This place feels… sterile."
Suddenly, Dunce froze, stock-still in the bustling street, a hand clapped over his heart. A jolt seemed to run through him. Cloud gasped beside him, sensing it simultaneously. "The Compass?" she hissed.
Dunce nodded curtly, veering sharply into a grimy alleyway thick with refuse stench. He pulled the Elf Bangle from its pouch under his tunic. The jade band pulsed with a fierce, vibrant emerald light. Life Rockforce. Resonance. Elven life nearby.
Dunce grinned fiercely. "Yes! Got a ping! Princess Petal must be close!"
Hope surged in Cloud, but it was short-lived, crushed by grim realization. "It confirms she's *in* Sunset City," she breathed, her voice tight. "But… the signal's too strong. The Princess Petal's Purity amplifies it beyond any useful directional guidance. Like trying to find a needle in a continent... only the needle *shouts* it's nearby. How do we search this labyrinth? Room by room? That's impossible! Time is the enemy we can't beat. If we're found scouting… we'd be lucky to make it three blocks, let alone rescue anyone!" Defeat, heavy and chilling, settled upon them.
"Damn," Rock muttered, leaning against the damp brick wall. "If only *I* could sense the Purity like our Queen..."
Dunce's eyes suddenly sharpened. "Wait." He rummaged in his pouch, fingers closing around a slender, ancient scroll case sealed with intricate elven script. "The Queen… she gave me this." He recounted the story – the enchanted scroll, the single use summoning.
Cloud's face transformed. "Lirelia! By the Ancients…" She gripped his arm. "Then we summon her! With Her Majesty's power, pinpointing Xyria would be child's play!"
Rock, his mind already racing ahead, grabbed Dunce's wrist before the seal could be broken. "Not yet! Find cover first. Who knows what spectacle a royal summoning creates? Sunset City's crawling with eyes. And the Queen's time here is limited – two hours? Less? We need to be ready to move *instantly* once she's here. Plan the strike *first*." He met Cloud's gaze, his dark eyes serious, recognizing her earlier impulsiveness born of desperation.
Cloud flushed slightly, nodding gratefully. "I… you're right. I wasn't thinking clearly. My focus… Thank you, Rock." She pulled her cloak tighter, the simple gratitude masking a complex swirl of emotion – gratitude, shared dread, and something else she carefully avoided examining.
The unspoken tension between them lingered as they moved deeper into the city. Rock's gaze followed Cloud, a silent vigil etched on his face. Since Beggar's death and the brutal losses they'd witnessed, a part of Rock had thawed, pulled from the frozen depths of his own grief by Cloud's quiet strength and compassion. She was a beacon, a reflection of a lost light. Yet, the ghost of Cloud held him back, shackled his tongue. He protected Cloud fiercely in every skirmish, shielded her with his body – unspoken devotion screaming from every action. Dunce saw it. Dunce saw it. Cloud felt it as plainly as the sun on her face… but chose to look away, her own spirit scarred by relentless loss. Rock wasn't unwelcome; the path was simply too treacherous for her heart to tread right now.
Rock dropped his gaze, clearing his throat. "Look there," he pointed to a nondescript building tucked between gaudier fronts. 'Harmony House'. It looked cheap. Plain.
"It'll do," Rock stated, masking his worry.
Inside, they stopped short. The squalid exterior lied. Velvet carpets swallowed their footsteps. Columns of dark polished wood soared towards a crystal-chandeliered ceiling. Opulence screamed from every gilded corner and polished surface. Only a handful of well-dressed patrons drifted near the reception desk.
Two bored-looking bruisers, their muscles straining expensive silk shirts, swaggered over. "Help you?" one sneered, looking them up and down like dung stuck to his boot.
Dunce blinked. "This *is* a hostel, right? We need rooms."
Snickers. "Fresh outta the filth farms, eh?" The other smirked. "Harmony House ain't for the likes of *you*. Take your stink elsewhere before we *make* you leave."
Dunce Girln saw red. "Who you calling *filth*, you lumbering sack of—?!" He didn't finish. With startling speed for his compact frame, he lunged, catching the insulting thug's expensive shirtfront and hoisting him a foot off the ground one-handed.
The thug gasped, face purpling with shock and fury. "Put me down, runt!" He flailed uselessly.
Rock caught Dunce's thick forearm. "*Dunce*. Not here. Not now. Ground him."
Dunce snarled, but lowered the spluttering man. The thug stumbled back, aided by his partner, fear momentarily overshadowing rage.
Rock didn't wait. Eyes cold, he strode forward. "Filth calling others filth?" He thrust a finger towards the manager materializing from the shadows. "*This*," he slapped a crystalline credit chip onto the manager's immaculate chest, "is what we use to wipe off *your* bullshit."
The manager caught it, face blank. "We require significant—"
"Check the chip," Rock cut in, voice icy. "Then tell me if we're worthy."
The manager paused, recognizing the unique SolariBank seal. He palmed the chip, glancing at a discreet reader on the reception desk. His eyes widened minutely. He spun on his thugs. "Idiots! Standing around gaping? Can't you recognize quality?" The switch was seamless. He bowed unctuously to Rock. "My profound apologies, honored guests. My staff are regrettably… unobservant. Please, allow me." He waved them past the stunned muscle, towards the decadent interior humming with hidden energy.
Rock understood the price tag instantly. Harmony House was a chameleon – elegant hostels weren't the real business. The manager babbled as they walked: "My apologies, honored guests! Of course, we offer rooms! Exquisite suites! Three, you said? Absolutely. They will be the epitome of tranquility! Please know, Harmony House offers a full spectrum of... *discreet diversions*. Perhaps later...?"
Rock cut him off sharply. "Rooms. Secluded. Absolutely quiet. Now." Three rooms at an extortionate daily rate. The cost confirmed it; this place was as much a haven for empire's elite criminals as it was for weary travelers seeking high-end shelter. They needed anonymity.
They navigated corridors throbbing with unseen vice – glimpses of high-stakes card rooms through mirrored doors, the clinking of chips and smoky laughter, another wing exuding perfume and murmured promises. Dunce gave the leering women at that entrance a disdainful sniff. Past the obvious debauchery lay a quieter annexe. The 'Harmony Residence'. Their rooms were luxurious cocoons.
The manager bowed deeply. "Anything at all, call your attendant."
Rock ushered him out firmly. "We will."
Silence descended in the plush room. Dunce flopped onto the enormous bed. "We moving now? Call the Queen?"
Rock shook his head. "No. Daylight makes a beacon. Mystic Nightfall only." He looked at Cloud. "When Her Majesty arrives… we hit fast. Two hours is barely enough."
Cloud removed her hat, her pointed ears twitching. She looked fragile despite the steel in her spine. "Tonight it is then." The unspoken fear was palpable: *Will she be whole? Can we even save her now?*
Dunce suddenly spoke, his voice flat and grim. "There's a shadow… Over us now. Tonight feels… wrong."
Cloud blinked, surprised. "Why? Between us, Elf Queen, the Elder Leaf Guard… nothing in Solaria can stop us!"
Dunce met her gaze, his own unusually intense. "A feeling. A bad one. Rest. We face this sharp." His blunt certainty carried weight; he'd been their shield countless times.
Cloud nodded, trusting his instincts honed in battle. "I'll be next door." She slipped away, avoiding Rock's somber, lingering stare. The door clicked shut.
As soon as she was gone, Rock rounded on Dunce. "What's eating you?" he demanded. The false calm Dunce wore for Cloud was gone, replaced by a profound, chilling bleakness.
Dunce didn't meet his eyes. "Dunce, wait outside. Guard the door." Dunce, sensing the gravity, nodded and left. Alone, Dunce slumped. "The Princess Petal…" he rasped. "I see their faces. Every time. The ones we found too late. Broken. Empty." He closed his eyes, haunted by ghosts. "Three times we tried… that last one. She wanted to die, Rock. Begged for it. Kept finding ways… until she did." He shuddered. "If we find the heir like that… What's the point? Why fight?"
Rock's throat tightened. He understood the corrosive horror. "Hope lies in the Purity, Dunce. Lirelia swore it guards her body… her spirit." He gripped his brother's shoulder. "We *have* to believe it."
"But the Solarians!" Dunce exploded, a tempest of suppressed fury bursting forth. Darkness flickered deep in his eyes. "Filth! Monsters! What haven't they devised? Drugs? Torture? Can *anything* truly hold against that? If Xyria is ruined…" His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. "If she is broken… this whole empire burns! Every noble, every bastard who profited… *cinder*!" The air crackled with a palpable, chilling malevolence, freezing the warmth from the plush room. Rock instinctively summoned his aura, bracing against the sudden wave of psychic frost radiating from his brother.
"Brother!" Rock barked, his grip tightening. "You're bleeding darkness! Can't you feel it? *Hades Sword* is getting its hooks deeper!" It wasn't just rage; it was the chilling touch of the cursed blade they both feared.
Dunce flinched, the murderous haze receding slightly, leaving behind bone-deep weariness and self-loathing. "I know!" he spat, voice raw. "Every fight... it feels… *good*. Simplifies. But it feeds… *him*. In my sleep… voices…" He clutched his chest instinctively. "The Light... my energy… the only thing keeping it leashed… but it fights me too. When I try to push to the final breakthrough… the dark coils tighter. Like chains." He looked broken. "I hate it! But… when they stand there… laughing… the faces of the dead elves behind them… what choice is there? What blade cuts fast enough? Deep enough? *Hades Sword* does."
Rock felt a shiver unrelated to the room temperature. The cost was spiraling out of control. "No choice is worth losing *you*," he said, voice heavy with dread. "Those you cut down… deserved their end, yes. But cutting them down turned them into husks… just husks. That wasn't you. It was the sword. How many weren't even threats, brother? You pulled the blade because it was... *easy*? Quick? And the bodies… Gods, Dunce! They weren't just dead, they were… *drained*. Soulless sacks. Does that not chill you *now*?" He remembered Old Cult Leader Lin's terrifying warning all too clearly. They couldn't fail this. Couldn't lose him.
Dunce recoiled as if struck. Rock's words painted a horrifying picture he'd deliberately avoided seeing. The ease. The efficiency. The chilling lack of visceral horror afterward. The subtle barrier blocking his ascension. Sweat beaded his forehead. "I… I need air." He practically fled the room, leaving Rock alone with a suffocating sense of impending doom.
Dunce slipped back in, his face grim. "That bad?"
"Worse," Rock whispered hoarsely. "It's not just a tool anymore, Dunce. It's becoming… part of him. Whispering." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "We have to stop him using it. Somehow. No more, unless it's the *only* way. Our fault… if we were stronger…" Guilt warred with resolve. "Train harder, Dunce. Stellating now."