Kael's group left the cathedral at dawn, heading toward the fabled City of Glass—Glassmoor. But even before reaching its glittering skyline, they felt its power. The air shimmered unnaturally. Bells tolled without hands. Magic thickened like fog.
"Something watches us," Mira said.
"Not something," Lyssa replied. "Someone."
Inside the city, glass towers loomed—beautiful, fragile, deadly. A single wrong move could collapse entire streets. Ronan looked uneasy.
"This place was built for illusion," he said. "A prison without bars."
They split into pairs. Kael and Mira took the high road toward the palace. Lyssa and Averin searched the lower sanctum for access points. But the deeper they went, the more they saw signs—sigils of the old Queen. Of Kael's mother.
Then came the Crimson Bells.
Glass cracked. Buildings distorted. Shadows took form—sentient illusions born from memory.
Mira gasped. "That's... Father?"
Kael turned. Before him stood a vision of his former self. Not broken. Not betrayed. The Prince who had everything.
It smiled. "You'll never become more than me."
Kael raised his hand, Veinweaving surging. "You're right. Because I've already become something else."
He shattered the illusion.
But Mira's scream followed.
She stood over Lyssa's illusion—dead, her heart pierced. And in Mira's hands... a blade.
"She made me do it," Mira sobbed. "She made me see..."
Kael looked up at the palace, its heart glowing. His mother was close.
But so was something far worse.