The gates loomed above them, ancient and immense.
Lucas walked beside Lyss in silence as they crossed beneath the arched entryway. The stone was dark, veined with faded gold, and towered over them like a sentinel from a forgotten era. Even time had struggled to leave its mark—the carvings, though dulled, still traced elegant patterns across the surface.
The air was heavy once they stepped inside.
No wind. No sound. Just the distant echo of their footsteps on cracked stone roads. Buildings lined both sides of the wide avenue—some crumbling under the weight of centuries, others still pristine as if frozen in time.
Lucas let his eyes wander, absorbing the details. Every structure was more intricate than the last. Towers twisted skyward like petrified trees, windows shaped like leaves and feathers. Vines had claimed some walls, growing thick and tangled, but the architecture beneath remained visible—elegant and strange.
'Looks more like a cathedral than a city,' he thought.
Lyss walked slightly ahead, her posture tense but steady. One hand hovered near her hip, ready to summon her blade if needed.
Lucas kept pace, glancing at the looming buildings that stretched into the mist above them. The quiet unnerved him.
"You feel that?" he asked softly.
Lyss nodded without looking back. "Yeah."
There was something in the silence—too complete, too deliberate. Not just the absence of life, but something deeper. Like the city was holding its breath.
Lucas reached out and touched a nearby wall. Cold stone. Smooth.
Still.
'Whatever happened here... it wasn't loud.'
They moved on, deeper into the city's heart, the mist swallowing their figures as they disappeared between the tall silhouettes of forgotten homes.
Their footsteps echoed through empty streets.
The deeper they went, the more surreal the city felt. It wasn't just the silence or the way the air pressed against their skin—it was how everything looked untouched. Like whoever had lived here had vanished all at once, mid-step, leaving no time for decay to settle properly.
Lucas passed by a small plaza. A dry fountain sat at its center, shaped like a twisting dragon curling around a crystal orb. The orb was cracked. The dragon wasn't.
"It's too clean," he muttered.
Lyss knelt near one of the buildings, brushing her hand along a discarded ceramic bowl resting beside a doorway. No dust. No vines.
She frowned and stood up. "Some of these places look like someone still lives in them."
Lucas didn't like that thought.
His eyes scanned the rooftops, the shadowed windows, the misty alleys. Nothing moved—but he couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched.
They continued down another wide path, then turned into a narrow alley. The road twisted, leading them into what looked like a residential cluster—smaller homes, some with wooden signs hanging above doors. Faded symbols. Unreadable.
Lucas paused at one of the doors, pushing it open with his boot.
It creaked.
The sound echoed louder than expected, but nothing stirred inside. Dust swirled through the beam of light filtering in behind him.
He didn't step in.
Instead, he turned to Lyss. "We sure about this?"
She nodded. "Just the edge. One step at a time."
The interior of the house was intact.
Stone walls lined with carved patterns. Furniture that hadn't collapsed under time. A chair still upright beside a table. A cracked mug resting on it, as if someone had placed it there and never returned.
Lucas stepped inside cautiously, his boots brushing over a rug that was more ash than fabric. The air was still. Heavy. He didn't like it.
"This place… feels too strage," he muttered.
Lyss didn't answer right away. She walked toward the table, eyes narrowing.
There was no dust.
She touched the mug. Warm. Only slightly—but enough to make her freeze.
"Lucas."
He turned instantly. "What?"
She lifted the mug. Inside, there was still liquid. Not much. But it shimmered faintly under the light.
"Someone's been here," she said quietly.
Lucas looked around, his body tense. "You sure?"
She placed the mug down slowly, her expression tightening. "Yeah."
Lucas moved to a nearby window and peered outside. The street beyond remained empty. No movement. No sound.
But the tension in the air had shifted.
Like something had just left.
Or was still close by.
"Great," he whispered. "This just got interesting."
Lucas crouched by the window, fingers tightening around the edge of the broken sill. His eyes scanned the narrow alley beyond, searching for movement—anything that might suggest someone was still nearby.
Nothing.
Just silence.
Behind him, Lyss moved without a word, inspecting the rest of the small house. A single bedroom. A cracked mirror on the wall. A wooden wardrobe with its doors left slightly ajar. A glass sitting on the floor beside the bed—half-filled with the same faintly shimmering liquid.
"There's more," she said quietly. "Another glass."
Lucas turned his head slowly. "Someone slept here."
Lyss nodded once, kneeling beside the bed. She ran her fingers across the blanket. The sheets were undisturbed, but a faint indent remained—like someone had been lying there recently.
"Not weeks ago," she murmured. "Days. Maybe less."
Lucas stood and stepped into the room, brow furrowed. "So… they're still here. Somewhere."
He glanced out the back window now, catching a glimpse of another open street, this one leading deeper into the city's interior.
A chill ran down his spine.
"We're not alone."
Lyss didn't argue. Instead, she stood and faced him. "No. We're not."
For a moment, neither spoke.
The quiet held them like a vise.
Then Lucas exhaled through his nose and muttered, "I fucking hate cities."
Lyss gave him a faint look, half-exasperated. "You said that about forests too."
"Yeah, well… forests don't usually have ghosts with warm drinks."
The two stepped back out into the quiet street, boots crunching softly against stone and broken glass. The weight of what they'd found—warm ashes, used cups, a bed that hadn't cooled—hung heavy in the air.
Lucas kept his hand near his weapon, eyes flicking from shadow to shadow.
Everything looked the same.
Too still.
Too silent.
No birds. No wind. No insects. Just the faint whisper of the breeze sliding through cracks in the ancient buildings, like a breath that didn't belong.
He hated it.
Lyss walked a few steps ahead, her movements more deliberate now, cautious. She didn't say anything, but Lucas could tell she was on edge. She always was when something didn't add up.
"Any tracks?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head. "Streets are too clean."
"Too clean?"
"Too clean for a ruined city," she clarified. "Even if someone's living here, it doesn't make sense. There should be dust, rubble. But the paths look like someone sweeps them."
Lucas frowned. "You think someone lives here? Like... still here?"
Lyss paused. "Maybe someone who ended up like us. Random teleportation. Wrong place, wrong time."
He nodded slowly. "Or someone who didn't want to be found."
She didn't respond.
They passed a crumbling statue—its face eroded by time, but the pose still regal. A hand outstretched, reaching toward the sky, fingers cracked but proud.
Lucas slowed for a second, watching it.
'This place isn't abandoned. Not really.'
He didn't like the idea that someone might be watching.
Or worse—waiting.
They stopped just outside one of the half-collapsed buildings near the perimeter of the street, the last structure before the path curved deeper into the city. The moonlight from the false sky above washed over the cobblestones in pale silver, and the distant shimmer of the river cast ghostlike reflections on the worn stone walls.
Lucas sat down on a block of fallen stone, his back against the smoother surface of a broken column. Lyss stood nearby, scanning the rooftops and the alleyways one last time before settling down as well.
"We rest here tonight," she said quietly.
Lucas nodded. "I'll take first watch."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Fine. Wake me if you hear anything strange. Or… feel anything."
He didn't ask what she meant by that.
The shadows were thick in this part of the city. Not because of poor lighting, but because the buildings towered high and leaned close—blocking out the stars in certain places, trapping the dark in narrow corridors.
Lucas leaned back against the stone, trying to stay alert.
His mind, though, wandered.
To the warm ashes in that fireplace.
To the way the beds looked used.
To the way that light—whatever it was—had moved.
Someone else was here. Or had been. And there was no telling when they'd come back.
He rubbed the pocket watch in his palm, feeling its cracked cover under his thumb.
'No more surprises.'
Across from him, Lyss had closed her eyes, but her weapon—Starlight Fang—remained unsheathed by her side.
The flames from their small campfire flickered softly between them, casting faint shadows against the ruined walls. The city around them remained still… but the stillness didn't feel safe.
It felt like holding your breath before something broke.
Lucas scanned the darkness again and again.
He wouldn't sleep tonight.
Not until they knew who else was walking these streets.