The city burned behind us.
No...
It breathed.
Each collapsing tower sounded like the final heartbeat of a dying giant, sending clouds of glowing embers into the heavens. The streets of Eldan Roa—once alive with merchants, children, and songs carried by the morning breeze—had become rivers of ash.
I walked beside Veyra without speaking.
Words had become useless.
Every step crunched against broken stone, shattered glass, and the remains of lives that would never be rebuilt.
The fire had swallowed everything.
Yet somehow...It still wasn't enough.The mask was restless.
Its heat pulsed against my skin with every heartbeat, spreading beneath the porcelain like molten veins beneath cracked earth.
I could hear it.
Not clearly,Not yet.
Only whispers.
Soft.
Patient.
Hungry.
"More..."
I shut my eyes for a single breath.
Not now.Not while she was beside me.
Veyra finally broke the silence.
"You've been bleeding."
I looked down.Blood dripped slowly from my left arm where an assassin's blade had sliced through the leather.I hadn't even noticed.
"It's nothing."
"It never is."
There was frustration in her voice.
Not because I was injured.Because she knew.
Every drop of my blood made the curse stronger.
She had watched it happen before.
Long ago.
Before everything changed.
Veyra hated looking at him now.
Not because of the mask.
Because every time she did...
She saw the boy who used to laugh beneath the cherry trees outside the Citadel.
The boy who challenged Kaelen to wooden sword duels.
The boy who promised they would grow old protecting the kingdom together.
That boy no longer existed.
Only Uriel remained.
And every battle stole another piece of him.
She wondered...
How much was left?
"You've been quiet."
She looked away before answering.
"I'm thinking."
"Dangerous."
A small smile escaped her.
The first one I'd seen all day.
"You still joke."
"It's easier than screaming."
The smile disappeared.
We continued walking.
The deeper we entered the city...
The quieter it became.
That frightened me more than the fire.
No soldiers.
No screams.
No steel.
Nothing.
It was as if the flames themselves were holding their breath.
The Citadel stood ahead.
Even burning...
It was magnificent.
White stone blackened by smoke.
Golden banners reduced to ribbons of ash.
Statues of forgotten kings lay shattered across the grand staircase.
One of them had lost its head.
Another still reached toward the sky.
Begging.
I stopped walking.
Something wasn't right.
Veyra noticed immediately.
"What is it?"
I didn't answer.
The mask had gone silent.
Completely silent.
For the first time in years...
Nothing.
No whispers.
No hunger.
No fire.
Only...
Cold.
An impossible cold.The hairs on my arms stood.
Someone was watching us.
Not from above.
Not ahead.
Below.
Beneath the Citadel.A slow clap echoed through the ruined courtyard.
One.
Two.
Three.
Neither of us moved.
From the shadows beneath a collapsed arch stepped an old man wrapped in charcoal robes.
His beard reached his waist.
His eyes...Were entirely white.
Blind.
Yet somehow...
Looking directly at me.
"The Keeper."
His voice sounded ancient.
Like parchment dragged across stone.
"So..."
"You survived."
Veyra drew her sword immediately.
"Who are you?"
The old man ignored her.
His gaze never left me.
"I wondered which face the mask would choose this time."
The words struck me harder than any blade.
"This time?"
The old man smiled.
"You don't remember."
"I don't know you."
"No."
"You don't."
"But once..."
He tapped his own chest.
"...you knew everyone."
The mask flared.
Pain exploded behind my eyes.
Images flashed—
A throne engulfed in white fire.
A dragon with four enormous wings circling the heavens.A child crying beneath burning stars.
Kaelen.
Smiling.
Then...
Screaming.
The vision vanished.
I dropped to one knee.
Veyra grabbed my shoulder.
"Uriel!"
"I'm..."
I couldn't breathe.
The old man sighed.
"So the memories are returning."
"No..."
"They're breaking free."
Before either of us could react...
An arrow tore through the air.
It pierced the old man's chest.
He looked down.
Almost amused.
Blood spread across his robes.
Then...
He laughed.
A deep, broken laugh.
"They've found me."
Another arrow.
Another.
Another.
Black-fletched.
The mark of the Black Blades.
The old man looked back at me one final time.
"When you reach the throne..."
"Do not believe..."
"...the first face you see."
His body collapsed.
Dead before he touched the ground.
Silence.
Then...
Dozens of footsteps.
The rooftops surrounding the Citadel filled with figures dressed in black.
Not five.
Not ten.
Nearly thirty.
Every one of them wore an iron mask.
Every one of them pointed a blade toward me.
Then, above them all, a calm voice drifted across the burning city.
"Still protecting him, Veyra?"
I froze.
That voice.
I would have known it anywhere.
Kaelen.
He stood atop the highest tower of the Citadel, untouched by the flames. His black cloak billowed behind him, and in one hand he held a shard of obsidian that glowed with a sinister violet light.
Even from that distance...
I could see him smiling.
Not with hatred.
With sadness.
As if he mourned the man I used to be.
"Hello, Uriel."
His voice carried effortlessly across the ruined city.
"It's been a long time."
The fire inside my mask awakened with terrifying force.
For the first time...
It did not whisper.
It spoke.
"Kill him."