Eryx stepped cautiously through the narrow streets, the pale glow of the fissure still faintly etched in his memory. The city sprawled before him, massive and towering, yet strangely silent compared to the distant echoes he had imagined. He felt the pulse of mana under his skin, sharper now, a reminder that the power inside him was alive—and hungry.
He did not know the name of this place. Nothing on the stone walls, nothing in the scattered signs gave him a clue. Every step was measured, every shadow suspicious. Something was watching, he could feel it, though the watchers remained unseen.
The wind whispered through the alleys, carrying fragments of language he could not understand. One phrase lingered longer than the rest: "Vey… Vey…" He frowned. Perhaps it was part of a name, a clue woven into the language of this city. He committed it to memory, uncertain why it felt important.
A sudden movement caught his eye—a figure slipping between the buildings, just a shadow. He froze. His heartbeat raced, and the blue pulse under his skin flared slightly. The mana responded to the presence, a warning signal that surged through him like electricity.
The shadow did not approach. It vanished just as quickly as it appeared, leaving only the echo of movement and the scent of ozone and stone. Eryx's hands trembled. Not alone. Definitely not alone.
He moved forward, forcing himself to breathe steadily. The streets widened into a plaza, open yet strangely enclosed, towers arching overhead like fingers pointing to the violet sky. Statues of forgotten figures loomed on pedestals, their features worn by time—but one statue had strange markings along its base, glowing faintly as if in response to his presence.
Curiosity overrode caution. He crouched to study the symbols. They pulsed faintly as his fingers traced their shapes. Each curve and line hummed with latent energy. The letters seemed almost alive. Then one fragment caught his eye: "Veylora."
His lips parted. Veylora… so this city has a name. But even as he spoke it aloud, a cold shiver ran down his spine. The word felt heavier than he expected, as if it carried a warning or a promise.
Before he could dwell on it, a sudden tremor shook the plaza. Dust and loose stones rattled. A distant roar echoed through the towers, a guttural sound of something immense. Eryx staggered backward, pulse quickening, mana surging in response. He could sense it—a predator, massive and intelligent, yet unseen.
Instinctively, he raised his hands, and a faint blue light flickered between his fingers. Just a spark. Nothing more. But it was enough to feel alive, enough to know he could touch the energy around him, however weakly.
Then came the shadows. He did not see them clearly—never fully—but they were there, moving just beyond his vision. In a blink, one swept past his shoulder, brushing him with a cold whisper, protective yet silent. Another shifted across the plaza, hiding him from some unseen gaze.
Eryx's chest tightened. Who—or what—are you? he thought, even as the shadows responded to his fear and need without acknowledgment. They were allies, of a sort, though he did not yet know it.
The roar returned, louder this time, shaking the plaza violently. A figure—or several—emerged from the mist that rolled in from the alleyways. Silhouetted against the violet sky, they moved deliberately, slow but purposeful. Eryx could not make out their features, but the energy around them screamed danger. His pulse quickened, mana thrumming like a drumbeat through his chest.
He crouched low, instinctively blending with the shadows himself. I have to survive. One wrong move could reveal him, could trigger the unknown power he barely controlled.
The figures stopped at the far edge of the plaza, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch. The roar had ceased, replaced by a tense silence that pressed down like stone. Eryx's heart pounded against his ribs, his gray-blue eyes darting between the glowing symbols on the pedestal and the approaching danger.
A faint whisper brushed against his mind, soft, unintelligible, but comforting. The shadows were close, protective, unseen, guiding him without revealing themselves. He did not understand why—or how—but he knew the warning was real.
Then, as if sensing his resolve, a flicker of light traveled through his chest. He focused, trying to push the mana outward, just a small pulse. The glow around his hands brightened, enough to illuminate the symbols briefly.
The figures recoiled slightly, hissing in confusion. Eryx's heart leapt—not at fear, but at understanding. His power was no longer passive. He could interact with this world. He could defend himself.
The shadows shifted again, barely visible now, brushing past his feet and shoulders. Always here… always watching…
And then a single, deafening impact shook the plaza. One of the towers crumbled, stones raining down. Dust and smoke filled the air, choking, blinding. Eryx stumbled, hands raised, blue light flaring wildly.
As the debris fell, a single voice, sharp and human, shouted from the ruins, carried by the wind: "Watch the boy!"
Eryx froze. For the first time, someone—or something—knew he was here.
His chest heaved, mana pulsing stronger than ever. The city of Veylora had revealed its name, and with it, the first true test of survival.
The shadows brushed past him once more, protective, guiding, hidden. He understood now: allies existed in the darkness, unseen but present. And the danger… was far from over.
Eryx straightened, fists clenched, gaze steady. The city waited. The first real battle for survival had begun, and every choice from this point forward would shape the destiny of the Sealed Heir.