She wakes up tangled in the sheets, the faint glow of sunlight peeking through the curtains. Mara's hand instinctively reaches for the phone on the nightstand, and she grins as an idea pops into her head.
"A vlog," she mutters to herself, already feeling the excitement bubble up. "The day in the life of a Heart Citizen. Perfect."
Swinging her legs off the bed, her feet hit the cool floor, and she stretches her arms above her head. The bed is a mess—blankets half on the floor, pillows everywhere—but there's no time to fix it. Her phone buzzes with notifications.
She's already halfway to the closet when she freezes, snapping her fingers. "Oh, right! That Aether kid!"
Mara darts back to the counter next to the bed, grabbing the phone and pulling up the app. The headline flashes on the screen: "Who is Aether, and Did He Actually Fight a Dragon?" She taps the video, and there he is—Aether, mid-battle, leaping backward with impossible grace, his sword flashing as he slashes at some unseen foe. Her eyes widen.
"He's quick... and surprisingly easy on the eyes amidst the chaos," she says aloud, tilting her head as she watches.
A glance at the time snaps her out of it. "9:00?!" she yelps, bolting to the closet. Grabbing a towel, she rushes to the bathroom, the sound of water hitting the tiles filling the room. She scrubs her face, runs a hand through her hair, and catches her reflection in the mirror. Blue eyes stare back, sharp and alert. She pokes at her cheek, muttering, "Gotta manage till tomorrow," before rushing out, still drying her hair.
Mara throws on her uniform—the slim-fitting top clinging a little too tightly—and adjusts her glasses. The livestream starts, and she takes a deep breath. "Alright," she thinks, stepping toward the window.
One viewer pops in almost immediately. "Yo! I'm the only one here. Might as well show your face," they type.
She glances around her room, hesitating. Standing on the edge of the window, she looks up at the sky, careful not to reveal too much of her neighborhood. "I'll show everyone after a million followers," she says with a smirk, her blue tie fluttering as she leaps out the window.
The wind rushes past her, and for a moment, everything feels weightless. Then she lands gracefully in front of a Flint guardian with a tower insignia, their towering figure casting a shadow over her.
They raise a massive, gray-armored hand toward her shoulder, and she quickly mutters: "All hail Zephyros!"
The hand freezes mid-air, then retracts.
"What—" the first viewer types, clearly confused.
"All hail Zephyros!" the other 450 viewers chime in, their messages flooding the screen.
Mara grins, adjusting her glasses. "451 viewers already," she thinks, her heart racing. "Today's the day, I suppose."
She steps forward, boots clicking softly against the cracked pavement of the highway. The air is thick with fog, curling around the towering skyscrapers that stretch endlessly into the gray sky. Above, another highway looms, suspended in the mist—maybe for walking, maybe for something else. Mara squints, trying to make out the details, but the fog swallows everything beyond a certain point.
"I have no idea," she says, responding to a viewer's question about what's up there. Her voice feels small against the vastness of the layer. She adjusts her glasses, already starting to fog up from the damp air, and keeps walking.
The crowd around her moves in a steady, silent flow—hundreds of people, their faces obscured by hoods, masks, or the haze itself. Messages flicker across her glasses, one after another: "Where in the Heart are you?" "Why does it look so dark?" "Is it always like this?"
She smirks, though no one can see it. "That I can't tell," she replies, voice low. "Let's just say it's a… darker version of the Heart."
She walks the streets of Tenebris, the informal name of the third layer. The reason her room is so bright hits her again. Out here, everything is muted—gray skies, gray buildings that seem to levitate in the fog far from the highway, gray faces. The gloom is suffocating, and Mara finds herself missing the warm glow of her neon lights back home. She shakes the thought away and keeps moving.
The statues emerge slowly from the fog, their massive forms materializing like ghosts. They're ancient, weathered things, their stone surfaces cracked and worn. Each one seems to hold up the highway above, their arms outstretched as if bearing the weight of the city itself. She pauses for a moment, tilting her head up to study them. "Hmm," she mutters, more to herself than to the viewers.
Mara glances down, and through a gap in the fog, she catches a glimpse of an ending, where the fog seems to be more obscured. The layers of the district seem to go on forever, stacked one on top of the other like some kind of labyrinth. Here might be worse than Solmara.
The houses start abruptly, their sharp edges cutting through the fog. They're small, boxy things, crammed together in tight rows. Her house is the last one before the cutoff point—the final outpost before the city shifts into something else entirely. She glances over her shoulder, back toward where she came from, then forward again. Another point is about to begin.
"Not gonna lie to you, cadet!" a viewer's message flashes across the screen, bold and impossible to ignore. "You're about to jump into a place the rest of the guards would rather run away from! I've seen your videos—you've been itching for something, anything! I'm glad to have you on our faction, but that lone wolf stuff stays out of here. Welcome—"
The message is followed by a cha-ching sound as they donate 100,000 Silk. Her eyes widen. I might be able to get to the second layer with this, yes bribe a flint guardian.
"What?!" someone else types, and suddenly the chat explodes. Hundreds of messages flood the screen, a chaotic mix of shock, excitement, and disbelief. Mara can't help but grin.
"Godfavouriteheadofdepartment123," she says, her voice cutting through the noise. "Welcome to the deepest string of the Heart."
Without another word, she takes off running down the edge of the highway. Her heart pounds in her chest, the wind whipping past her face as she leaps into the open air. For a moment, everything is silent—just the rush of cold air against her skin and the endless gray abyss stretching below.
"God help you," Godfavouriteheadofdepartment123's message pops up again, and Mara laughs, the sound swallowed by the void. "Let's see how far the ground goes!" she screams, her voice echoing as she plummets. The city blurs around her, a dizzying mix of fog, steel, and light.
"She actually jumped," someone types, their username reading AetherRocks—probably a new account. "Jumping off the highway? Oh, She's actually dead," another adds, followed by a string of laughing emojis.
Mara spreads her arms wide, letting the air rush past. Just as the ground seems to rush up to meet her, an unseen force catches her—a massive gust of wind surges from below, lifting her back up. The chat erupts again, messages flying faster than she can read them.
"He's going back up!"
"What the hell?!"
"How?!"
She can't help but laugh, the sound wild and free. "You all are dumb!" she shouts, her voice carrying over the wind. "Don't you get it? The light only comes from above, and the ground below is sealed tight. There's no open space for air to rise naturally. So where's the wind coming from? Think about it—it's not just air. The Heart itself is breathing. The city's layers are pressurized, cycling air upward like a giant, endless system. That's what's keeping me up!"
The chat goes wild. People post videos of themselves jumping off ledges, their laughter and screams filling the feed. Others tear down posters of Zephyros from their houses, the sound of ripping paper crackling through their microphones. "She actually tore it," Mara mutters, watching one of the videos. "Even if she leaves the layer, she'll die."
As the wind carries her higher, she stretches out her hand, making a three-part gesture of the Free Dominion: a middle finger, followed by a fist thrust upward, then her hand opening wide—and the chat goes absolutely insane.
"The central district—often referred to as the heart of the city—is divided into three distinct layers: the Underground, the Mid Layer, and the Top Layer. Each layer has its own unique personality, secrets, and challenges, making the district a labyrinth of intrigue and power."
Godfavouriteheadofdepartment123 leans back in his chair, closing his monitor with a faint smirk. "The central district is the largest in the city," he begins, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and authority. "So vast, in fact, that it extends deep underground—a fact unknown to most. Gaining access to its network was no small feat, but I managed. So, tell me, Zephyros," he pauses, laughter bubbling up, "if your wheels were broken, eaten away by ticks, would you sit and wait? Or would you charge forward with everything you've got?"
His laughter echoes, sharp and knowing, as if the question itself holds the weight of Zephyros' future actions.