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.
Hours bled together. The hazy sun above the coral ceiling did little to light the deep streets. We were always in shadow. The Starlight Shard's gentle glow was a comfort, but also a risk. I kept the cloak pulled tight, hoping its Night's Concealment would help us blend into the gloom.
We were insects scuttling through the ruins of a giant's home. Every sound was a potential death sentence. Every shadow could hide a predator we had no hope of fighting. This was the Dark City. Not a place to conquer, at least not for us, but a place to endure. And we had only seen its outskirts, a singular path forward. The real heart of the nightmare, the Crimson Spire, still lay ahead of us.
We found a building that was less of a ruin and more of a compact stone box, with only one narrow entrance. It felt defensible. Or at least, as defensible as anything got in this graveyard. Once Sasrir had confirmed it was empty, we slipped inside and blocked the doorway with a collapsed piece of the ceiling.
The silence inside was a relief, but it was short-lived. The constant, low-level dread of the city just outside the walls was a pressure you couldn't escape. I slumped against the cold stone, the Starlight Shard's warmth a small comfort. Sasrir took up a position by the blocked entrance, a silent sentry.
"The Cathedral," I murmured, more to myself than to Sasrir. "It's supposed to be near the centre. A massive structure, taller than the others. Black stone, with spires that look like grasping fingers."
Sasrir gave a slow nod, his eyes closed as he listened to the city's nocturnal sounds. "A fitting landmark for this place."
"That's where the Black Knight is," I continued, the memory sharpening. "A Fallen Devil. And it's guarding Weaver's Mask." I patted a small, cold lump in my pocket—the ornate bronze key we'd retrieved from the Tyrant's remains. The key to claiming the Mask. Theoretically.
The problem was the gap between theory and reality. The Black Knight wasn't some mindless beast. In the story, it took a coordinated assault from some of the strongest Sleepers on the Shore to bring it down. Nephis, Caster, Effie, Sunny...
"We would need Gemma," I said, the words tasting like ash. "We would also need Seishan. But it's just us."
Sasrir opened his eyes. "You have the Crucifix. It is strong against shadow and death."
"It is," I conceded. "But the Knight is a Fallen Devil. We just spent five days killing the Bone Lord, which was one Tier higher but also far stupider, and that was with a perfect counter and a hit-and-run strategy. This Devil is faster, smarter. And determined in guarding its prize. We can't wear it down over a week. It'd be a straight fight. In its own territory, bolstered by True Darkness."
I let out a long, weary breath. "I'm not saying it's impossible. But with just the two of us? It's a suicide mission. We'd need… we'd need an army. Or at least a few heavy hitters."
The dream of just waltzing in and claiming the Divine Memory was crumbling. We had the key, but the door was guarded by a monster we had no business challenging. Not yet. Maybe not ever, without the allies the story had provided Sunny.
"So, we adapt," Sasrir stated, his voice cutting through my doubt. "The Mask is not our only objective. When the time is right, we reassess. The Mask isn't going anywhere for the next two years, and even if we don't have it by the time Sunny shows up, he can't get it either without the key."
He was right, of course. But sitting there in the dark, the weight of the key in my pocket felt less like a treasure and more like a taunt. We were so close to one of the greatest tools in this world, and yet it might as well have been on the moon. The Dark City was already teaching us its first, hardest lesson: knowing where the treasure was buried didn't mean you were strong enough to dig it up.
The deep, unnatural silence of the city pressed in on our little stone shelter. The adrenaline from the day's close calls had finally faded, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that was more mental than physical. The Starlight Shard was a cosy blanket, but it couldn't keep out the chill of the place.
Sasrir remained by the blocked entrance, a statue of shadow. He didn't need sleep, not like I did. His watchfulness was a constant, low hum in the back of my mind.
"Well," I muttered, shifting to find a slightly less uncomfortable position against the wall. "Day one in the big city. Definitely lived up to the hype."
"It was… eventful," his mental voice replied, dry as dust. "A marked improvement over the scenic views of the Labyrinth."
I let out a weak chuckle that died quickly in the stagnant air. "Tomorrow, the Castle." The words hung there, heavy with implication. Bright Castle. Gunlaug's domain. The heart of the power structure here, such as it was. We'd have to be smarter than today. More careful. We couldn't just skulk through the streets forever.
"We'll figure it out when we get there," I said, more to convince myself than him. "Scope the place out. See what we're dealing with."
"A sound strategy. Assuming what we are 'dealing with' does not decide to deal with us first."
"Always the optimist," I sighed, closing my eyes. The image of the hulking Fallen beasts and the eerie, corrupted streets flashed behind my eyelids. It had been a day filled with the kind of adventure you don't put on a postcard. The deathly kind.
But we were still here. We'd survived the first day. And we would survive many more to come.
Sleep came fitfully, haunted by dreams of silent, watching streets and the feeling of being hunted. But it came. Tomorrow was another day in the nightmare. We'd deal with it then.
....
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