The city stretched out before us, a silent specter beneath the pale Veil sky. Its buildings, though crumbling and covered in the glittering, sickly crystalline formations, still retained the ornate grandeur of the Belle Époque: facades with elaborate moldings, balconies of wrought iron twisted like dead vines, gabled roofs pierced by time and corruption. It was a melancholic and eerie sight, a postcard of a glorious past frozen in decay by the Painter's magic. The air here didn't hum as it did on the Veil Roads, but it carried a heavy silence, heavy with the dust of history and the sweet smell of corruption.
"A city..." Maelle whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "I thought Lumière was the last."
"According to the Pre-Rift texts, there were many such cities," Sciel explained, his eyes glittering behind his glasses as he took in the architecture. "Capitals of culture and progress. This could be... it could be Aethelburg, or perhaps Veridia. Both were lost after the Rift."
"Lost, yes," Gustave said gravely. "And the Veil found them. There doesn't seem to be... normal life here." His gaze scanned the buildings, searching for movement, for signs of inhabitants.
There was no smoke rising from broken chimneys, no lights in empty windows, no sound of voices or activity. Only the wind whistling through the deserted streets and the occasional creak of a structure yielding a little more to the embrace of time and the Veil.
"The footprints we followed... do you think they led to this place, Lune?" I asked, feeling a pang of apprehension at the thought of who could inhabit a ghost town like this.
Lune, who had been watching the entrance, nodded slowly. "Yes. They're heading toward the walls. It's very likely they entered here."
The main entrance seemed collapsed, a jumble of rubble and twisted metal. However, to one side, there was a gap in the wall, perhaps where an explosion or the simple passage of time had created an access point. Gustave gestured to us. "We'll go in through there. With the utmost caution. There could be traps, or inhabitants who don't appreciate visitors."
We slipped through the gap, stepping on debris and broken glass that crunched beneath our boots. The atmosphere inside the city was even more oppressive. The streets were lined with buildings three or four stories high, their facades darkened by time and grime. Shop windows were smashed, revealing interiors covered in dust and cobwebs. In the main square, an elaborate fountain with statues of cherubs and nymphs was covered in a crust of pulsating crystals, its stagnant water reflecting the pale sky.
As we made our way through the streets, my intuition was on high alert. I wasn't just looking for the rhythm of a potential attacker, but also for the 'feeling' of hidden danger, of traps being set, or of lurking presences. It was as if the city itself had a slow, sick pulse, and I was trying to feel its irregularities.
"We should search them," Gustave said, gesturing to the buildings around us. "There could be supplies... or information. Sciel, look for any text or symbols. Maelle, anything useful or obvious traps. Lune and I will cover the access points."
Splitting up was dangerous, but searching every building would take too long. We decided to explore the most accessible buildings along the main street, staying within sight of each other whenever possible.
I walked into what appeared to be an old bakery. The smell of stale bread and mold was overwhelming. Empty shelves, an overturned cash register, cobwebs everywhere. I scanned the place with my flashlight, looking for anything that might be useful. In the back room, I found a rusty brass box. When I opened it, it only contained a few faded buttons and a thimble. Nothing useful.
I left the bakery just as Maelle was leaving the shop next door, a tobacconist. She was carrying a small box of matches, still functional, and a couple of empty bottles that might work. "Nothing else," she said with a grimace. "All looted... or rotten."
Sciel emerged from what looked like an old-fashioned bookstore. His face was lit by a mixture of disappointment and fascination. "Most of the books are in a sorry state, reduced to dust or illegible," he said. "But I found this." He showed us a fragment of thick paper with a strange symbol drawn on it. "It seems to be a recurring emblem on some buildings in the Upper City. It could be related to the city's founding or to a noble family."
We moved deeper into the city. The streets became narrower, the buildings taller, blocking out even more of the dim light. The atmosphere became more oppressive. The silence wasn't total; sometimes, we heard creaks in the upper floors, the flapping of strange birds, or the distant sound of something crawling. My intuition was constantly on alert; small twinges indicated possible hiding places or directions from which danger might come.
We arrived at a smaller square. In the center was a statue of a bearded man holding a book, also covered in glass. Around the square, the buildings seemed more imposing: what could have been a bank, an art gallery, a town hall. And that's when Lune, who had been staring at the town hall building, raised a hand.
"Footprints," he whispered. "Clearer here. And they seem to lead... inward." He pointed to the large double doors of the town hall, partially open.
The footprints we'd followed along the road and into town seemed to lead to this building. That meant whoever they were, they were inside.
Gustave approached the doors cautiously. He placed a hand on the thick, dusty wood. "It's open. It could be a trap."
"Or wherever they were going," Maelle said, her key ready.
The possibility of finding the people in the footprints, whether allies or enemies, was too important to ignore. After a brief exchange of glances, we made a silent decision. We would go in.
We slipped through the half-open doors of the town hall. The interior was dark and cavernous, the air thick and stale. Dust floated in the beams of our flashlights. The silence inside was even deeper, broken only by the echo of our own footsteps. We saw a grand hall, with a monumental staircase ascending into the gloom.
And there, in the dust of the hallway, the footprints were unmistakable. They were heading toward the stairs. Our imminent meeting would not be on the streets, but in the silent bowels of this forgotten administrative building.
Cautiously, we headed toward the staircase, every sense on high alert. The ghost city had led us to its heart, to this imposing city hall. And whoever came before us was waiting inside, in the darkness of the upper floors. Chapter 7 brought us into the city and to the threshold of the next crucial encounter, immersed in the eerie atmosphere of this place petrified by the Veil.
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