The Citadel rose like a scar against the horizon.
From above, Lucian could see the fractured city wrapped around it—streets being cleared, towers half-repaired, people moving like ants trying to stitch Earth back together. The air was cleaner now. Not perfect, but no longer thick with smoke. Children ran where soldiers used to march.
For the first time in years, there was peace.
Lucian stepped out from the Nova Sanctum's docking bay, Kaelis perched silent on his shoulder. The dragon's golden eyes scanned the towers, the streets, the bridges. But Lucian's gaze went only to the Citadel itself.
He walked through the empty halls, the sound of his boots echoing. The banners of Class Zero still hung, though some were torn at the edges.
Something felt wrong.
The Citadel had always been alive with sound—footsteps, laughter, voices bouncing off the walls. Now, silence pressed against his ears.
He reached the control room.
Empty.
