The silence that followed Amazal's touch of the ring did not lighten the weight of the city—it made it heavier.
It was not an empty silence, but one filled with something unseen, as if thousands of voices had stopped at once—not because they had ended, but because they were waiting.
They did not stray far from the Giant.
It was not a conscious decision, nor hesitation. It was something closer to an unseen restraint wrapped around the place itself. His presence imposed itself upon them, slipping into their awareness without permission, until standing near him was no longer a choice… but a state of being.
They sat in a tight circle—closer than usual, as if the space between them had quietly shrunk. Their eyes did not leave Amazal, not out of curiosity alone… but something closer to caution.
As if they were no longer certain he was entirely the same.
His breathing steadied at last—but it was no longer normal. Each inhale came deeper than it should, each exhale heavier, as though the air itself had changed inside his lungs.
Jadig was the first to break the silence.
"Tell us, Amazal… what did you hear?"
It was not merely a question.
It was a test.
Amazal swallowed slowly. For a moment, he hesitated—not because he lacked an answer… but because he did not trust it.
"I heard…" He paused, as though the word itself resisted being spoken.
"Only one word."
Their focus tightened.
"Fleeting… severed… as if it was never fully spoken."
His voice dropped to a near whisper:
"Save us."
But the word did not end at his lips.
It lingered.
It was not just sound.
It was an echo.
An echo of something larger… a call not meant for one person, but for something—or someone—still capable of answering.
A heavier silence followed.
This time, it did not come from the city.
It came from them.
"One word?" Cillian exhaled, but there was no disbelief in her voice now—only unease she failed to hide. "Did you feel anything else? A vision?"
Amazal nodded slowly, though his eyes did not return to them.
They drifted.
"Not yet…" he murmured. "But… there is something."
He stopped.
Then, more quietly:
"Something waiting."
It was not a sentence.
It was certainty.
His hand was still trembling.
Not from fear alone—but from that moment. The faint pulse that had passed through him when he touched the ring. It had not been just a flicker.
It had been a connection.
Brief… but deep enough to leave something behind.
Something that had not faded.
But continued.
Suddenly, a strange pull tightened within his chest.
Not a sensation.
A force.
Something drawing him forward.
His breath caught. His heart slammed violently against his ribs—not the pain that unsettled him, but the direction.
He knew where.
Slowly, he turned.
His gaze locked onto a single column.
Not the closest.
Not the farthest.
But unmistakable.
"There…" he said, his voice no longer entirely his own. "That column."
They followed his gaze.
And the moment their focus settled upon it… something shifted.
It was not merely a column.
It was an anomaly.
Its surface was unnaturally smooth, as if it had not been carved—but formed in a single act. It bore no scratches, no marks of time.
And around it
the roots of the Odyr Tree did not pierce it.
They bent.
They cradled it.
They wove around it in a strange rhythmic pattern, unlike the chaotic sprawl that consumed the rest of the city. There was order. Repetition.
Recognition.
As if… they knew it.
And beneath it
the ground was not broken.
It was absent.
A clean, deliberate void, as though something had been removed from reality itself… leaving behind an unfinished sentence.
Amazal felt the vision flicker again inside his mind.
Not clear.
But enough.
"There is something beneath that column…" he whispered.
"Something that was never meant to be forgotten."
He paused, then added:
"An emergency plan… buried."
These were not guesses.
They were recollections.
"Stay sharp."
Ikida's voice cut through the moment like a blade.
"This place gives nothing freely."
They rose.
They moved.
But this time, it was not just movement.
It was approach.
Toward something that had been watching them from the beginning.
Their steps between the stone giants grew slower, heavier. The silence around them shifted. It was no longer still…
It was aware.
As if the city had begun to notice them.
"Vaelor."
Jadig's voice came suddenly.
"You laughed back there… why? And how do you know the name of that tree?"
Vaelor stopped.
He did not turn immediately.
But his smile came first.
Twisted. Unstable.
And when he looked at them, something in his eyes had changed.
"Because it"
He never finished.
A sharp scream tore through the silence.
"Come here! Quickly!"
Cillian.
This was not just a call.
It was a warning.
They rushed without hesitation, weapons drawn, breaths tightening. When they reached her, she stood frozen.
Pointing.
She did not need to speak.
The stain was enough.
Dark.
Glistening.
Wrong.
Blood.
Ikida approached slowly, as if testing a deception. He knelt, pressing his fingers lightly against the surface.
He stopped.
Then whispered:
"Fresh."
He looked up.
"And not from a beast."
The silence returned.
But now…
it was dangerous.
They followed the trail.
One drop… then another.
Not random.
Fleeing.
It led them into a hollow between the Giants—a place hidden from casual sight. The stone forms around them did not feel like ruins.
They felt like shelter.
As if they had chosen to protect what lay within.
And there
they found him.
Not a corpse.
Not a shadow.
A man.
Curled inward, half-hidden between the bodies of the Giants, as if the place itself had concealed him.
His chest rose… and fell.
Slowly.
But he was alive.
His garb was familiar—rough leather, a light chest plate split open, bindings worn by those who had survived Tizra.
But his face
pale beyond reason.
As if he had not seen light in a very long time.
Or as if light itself had abandoned him.
The wound in his side was not wild.
It was precise.
Cruel.
A single strike.
But enough.
A spear… or a blade.
Not a beast's doing.
But intent.
Someone…
had tried to kill him.