Rain fell hard over the Upper District of Caelmire, turning cracked roads into shimmering rivers and fractured rooftops into steady drums of echoing water. It wasn't unusual for storms to brew over Valdera, but this one felt heavier—like the sky was holding its breath.
From the top of the Nova Arcanum outpost overlooking the district, Lyra Veyla watched in silence. Her silver hair, tied in a high ponytail, barely moved under the weight of the rain. Glasses flecked with droplets reflected the warped skyline, but her eyes remained focused on the chaos unraveling below. Magic-induced tremors still lingered at the perimeter where the dungeon had erupted.
She felt it the moment it happened.
Not just the physical quake or the spike in mana pressure—but a deeper, crawling sensation in her chest. Something ancient had stirred. And it wasn't done.
Her gloved hand hovered over the frost rune etched into her side relic, but she didn't activate it. Not yet.
Behind her, the elevator doors hissed open with a muted chime. She didn't need to turn.
"You're late," Lyra said, voice calm.
"Rain slowed me down. Thought you'd be used to it," came the smooth, sharp tone of Saria Vorn.
The guild master of Crimson Warden stepped forward, crimson cloak dragging water along the floor behind her. Shoulder-length red hair framed her sharp face, and those unmistakable red eyes—sharp, defiant, and familiar.
Lyra didn't flinch. "Still dramatic, I see."
"Still frosty," Saria replied, brushing past her to stare down at the broken skyline. "Haven't changed."
"Neither have you."
The silence stretched just long enough to be called uncomfortable.
Footsteps echoed behind them again.
"Guild Master Theron has arrived," announced an aide. "The others are assembling now."
Within minutes, the rooftop meeting space filled with weight. Not voices—not yet. Just presence.
Theron Kaelis was the last to step into the circle, and even though he spoke no word, all turned slightly to him. His blue-and-silver armor bore the quiet strength of decades. Age sat on his shoulders not as a burden but as a mantle.
"Let us begin," he said simply, his voice cutting through the rain.
A crystalline projection bloomed from the central node. It displayed a rotating model of the Upper District—now scarred and pulsing with unstable mana.
"The dungeon break originated from beneath a former transit hub," said Galen Thorne, Guild Master of Glacium Pact. "Initial scans confirm the core is... different."
"Unstable," added Elric Sylvanis of Verdant Chain. "Like something woke up that shouldn't have."
"Or something that was never supposed to be there in the first place," Veyra Duskbane muttered, arms folded casually. Her black-and-red armor shimmered faintly with embedded corestone.
Saria crossed her arms. "Do we have a plan, or are we waiting for it to grow teeth?"
"Containment is no longer viable," Theron replied calmly. "This isn't a confined dungeon. This is a full-scale break."
Lyra stepped forward finally, arms at her sides. "Nova Arcanum had placed multiple suppression arrays beneath the Upper District. All failed simultaneously. This wasn't a natural failure."
"You suggesting sabotage?" Veyra raised an eyebrow.
"I'm suggesting intelligence," Lyra answered. "The break was timed. Precise."
The group quieted. Even Saria didn't counter.
Galen asked, "What lies at the center?"
Lyra turned to him. "We don't know. The readings keep shifting. But something's interfering with scrying attempts—and relic scanning has gone dark."
Elric frowned. "So we walk in blind."
"Then we bring our sharpest blades," Theron said. "Each guild will send one representative. You will investigate the epicenter. Secure data, identify relics, and withdraw. If stabilization is possible, proceed. If not, mark the limits."
Veyra snorted. "Cute plan. And if it bites?"
"Then we burn it," Saria said.
Lyra didn't look at her, but her voice cut across. "You're too quick with fire, Saria."
"And you're too slow with ice."
"Enough," Theron said.
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. Everyone fell silent.
"Guild Master Theron is right," Elric said quietly. "We stand together or we fall apart. This isn't the time for old rivalries."
Saria looked away.
Lyra nodded once, acknowledging Theron.
Theron finished, "We will depart within the hour. A temporary field camp has been set up near the impact radius. Gear up. Keep your comms open. No one dies today."
One by one, they nodded.
And as the others departed into the rain, Lyra lingered behind, gaze locked on the fractured skyline.
She had a bad feeling about this dungeon. One she couldn't shake.
And beneath it all, though she'd never say it aloud, she felt something else.
Something watching.
End of Chapter.
Thank you for reading.