Curious, I willed it into existence. The cloak appeared around my shoulders, but it was more than that. It came with a snug, sleeveless layer that covered my chest and back, like a sturdy gambeson. The main cloak itself flowed down to the back of my knees. The material was incredibly soft and warm, like heated cotton, a stark contrast to the cold, damp Labyrinth.
But the real magic was in the look. Just like in the novel, it shone with a soft, internal light, glittering with what looked like real, captured starlight. It was honestly mesmerizing.
The effect, though, was what really blew me away. It was night, and the fake stars were out in full force. I could feel the Grace of Stars kicking in immediately. It was a surge of well-being, a noticeable improvement to… everything. My senses felt sharper, my mind clearer, and my body felt just plain better. I'd estimate a twenty to thirty percent boost, easy.
The wound on my shoulder, which had been a dull, throbbing ache, started to itch and burn with a healthy, healing sensation. The Crucifix's own healing properties seemed to be getting a major assist from the cloak's stellar energy. Sasrir had said I'd be lucky to use the arm properly in twelve days. Staring at the glittering fabric, I had a feeling I'd be back in action in just a week. This thing was a game-changer.
"You look… comfortable," Sasrir remarked, his voice a dry monotone that didn't hide his amusement. I was practically snuggled into the Starlight Shard, the soft warmth and gentle starlight a stark contrast to our usual grim surroundings.
"Don't start," I said, though I couldn't help a smug grin. "It's called quality. You should try it sometime. Might loosen you up a bit."
He glanced down at his own form-fitting shadow-cloth. "My attire is functional. It doesn't scream 'please shoot the glowing target'."
"Hey, at least I have style," I shot back, gesturing at the shimmering fabric. "You look like you're about to audition for a low-budget ninja movie. All you need is a headband."
"And you look like a celestial disco ball who tripped and landed in a fabric store," he retorted without missing a beat. "Is the infinite trailing hem so you have something to trip over when you're running for your life?"
"It's called a dramatic silhouette! It signifies leadership! What does your… whatever-this-is signify? 'I brood in corners'?"
"It signifies that I am not a walking lighthouse for every Nightmare Creature within a five-mile radius. My 'style', as you call it, is predicated on not dying."
"Fine, but my cloak is softer."
"A compelling argument. When the Corrupted Terror asks for fashion advice before it devours us, I will be sure to mention the superior thread count."
We devolved into a back-and-forth of increasingly petty jabs about material, practicality, and aesthetic value until the fire died down and exhaustion finally overtook us. We fell asleep bickering, the familiar rhythm of it almost comforting. Of course, his every point was moot since the Starlight Shard also provided Concealment, but we didn't bother with facts and logic.
The next morning, as the hazy sun rose, we packed up our meagre camp. We scaled down the Priestess's statue for the last time, a much easier descent with Sasrir's shadowy assistance. When my boots hit the solid coral ground, I turned and looked back up at the colossal, serene stone body.
I placed a hand over my heart, striking a deliberately dramatic pose. "Farewell, noble Saintess! Guardian of this forsaken shore! We shall never forget the sanctuary you provided, the lofty perch from which we planned our glorious campaign! Your stone presence has been a comfort in these dark times!"
Sasrir was already ten paces away, not even looking back. "Are you done?" he called over his shoulder, his tone utterly flat. "The stone is not going to answer you. It is, and I cannot stress this enough, a rock."
"Have you no sentiment? No poetry in your soul?" I complained, jogging to catch up with him. "We lived there for over a week! That's, like, a serious tenant-landlord relationship in nightmare time!"
"It was a convenient vantage point," he stated, his eyes already scanning the path ahead toward the Dark City. "Nothing more. Now, can we please go? The tyrant of Bright Castle is waiting, and I doubt he will be impressed by your heartfelt eulogy for a pile of minerals."
I sighed, casting one last, longing look at the statue. "Fine, fine. But she understood me."
"I very much doubt that," Sasrir muttered, and led the way into the winding coral corridors, leaving the silent Saintess behind.
The trek wasn't a far one, since the Saintess marked the outskirts of the City, but we had to progress far slower. In the Labyrinth, the most common foe was the Carapace Scavenger, only an Awakened creature, while the City itself was rife with Fallen abominations waiting behind every corner. Starting from the outside meant we would have to run, fight and hide our way in.
The moment we left the relative openness near the statue, the Dark City closed in on us. The air grew thicker, heavier. It was no longer just the smell of salt and coral. Now, it was dust, rot, and a cold, metallic tang that stuck in the back of the throat.
The first thing that struck me was the silence. It wasn't the empty silence of the Labyrinth. This was a watchful silence. A held breath. We moved down what might have been a main thoroughfare, now a canyon of crumbling, pitch-black stone. Buildings leaned precariously over the street, their windows like empty, dead eyes.
We didn't get fifty feet before Sasrir froze, his hand snapping up. He pointed a sharp gesture to a side alley. I ducked into the shadows without question. A moment later, a hulking shape shambled into view. It was a Fallen Beast, bigger than any Scavenger we'd faced. Its flesh was bloated and grey, and it dragged a leg made of fused, broken bones.
This was the new normal. The monsters here weren't just Dormant or Awakened. They were Fallen. Stronger, smarter, and infinitely more dangerous. We waited, pressed against the cold stone, until the creature's shuffling footsteps faded.
Our progress became a tense, stop-start crawl. We'd move quickly from one piece of cover to the next—a collapsed wall, the skeleton of a rusted vehicle, the doorway of a hollowed-out shop. At every corner, we'd stop. Sasrir would listen, his head tilted, filtering the city's whispers. I'd peer around, my Spectator's eyes scanning for movement in the deep shadows.
The city itself was a corpse. Everywhere was ruin. Houses had been torn apart from the inside out. Streets were buckled, as if something massive had burrowed beneath them. We passed a plaza where a great fountain now held only dust and shattered statues. This wasn't just a city that had fallen. It had been slaughtered.
And then there was the Corruption. It was harder to see than in the Labyrinth, but you could feel it. A greasy film on the stone. A faint, violet sheen in the darkest corners. A sense of something fundamentally wrong seeping up from the ground. This place wasn't just dead. It was infected.
We couldn't avoid every fight. A pack of sleek, six-legged predators with needle-filled maws cornered us in a dead-end street. There was no running. Sasrir's shadows became a whirlwind of defensive spikes and lashing whips, holding them back. I focused the Crucifix's light, not to kill, but to blind and disorient. We fought in frantic, brutal silence, not daring to make a sound that might draw something worse. We won, but we were left panting, new scratches stinging on our arms.
Another time, a creature that was little more than a floating, diseased cloud drifted across our path. It emitted a low hum that made my teeth ache and my thoughts slow. We didn't even try to fight it. We just ran, scrambling through broken buildings until the horrible sound faded.
We learned to read the signs. Piles of fresh bones meant a recent hunt. Strange, phosphorescent fungi growing on walls indicated a high concentration of Corruption. The faint sound of scraping stone often meant something was moving just out of sight.
The Azure Blade's Wishing Star was useless here. My desire was just to survive the next five minutes. The enchantment glowed constantly, a dull, confused light. The entire city was a threat. It had no single direction to point.