The capital burned.
From the tallest spire of the Conclave to the lowest streets of the Black Market, the city shivered under a new darkness that swallowed the moonlight whole. Screams rose from every district, some human, some not. It wasn't fire this time—fire was predictable, containable. This was something far worse.
It was Umbra.
The shadow entity's presence twisted reality itself, turning familiar streets into labyrinthine nightmares where buildings bent at impossible angles and the sky bled black ichor. Citizens fled in terror as their own shadows turned against them, writhing like living serpents before detaching entirely to hunt their former hosts.
