The road stretched out before them, cracked and forgotten, swallowed by creeping vines and dust. Kaelen had never seen this path on any of Dromar's maps. Then again, she was beginning to understand that most truths weren't drawn in ink — they were buried in silence.
They had been walking for two days.
Tareth said little, speaking only when necessary. But his eyes moved constantly — scanning the woods, the shadows, even the clouds. He didn't walk like a traveler. He walked like a man expecting the ground to betray him at any moment.
Kaelen kept up, though the ache in her legs was relentless. Each night brought dreams — stronger, clearer. She saw firelit towers crumbling, heard bells tolling in a language she didn't speak but understood. And always, that name whispered beneath it all:
Elrath-Ven.
It wasn't a word she knew.
But it was the city they were seeking.
---
On the morning of the third day, the forest ended abruptly. A field of brittle grass stretched before them, sloping down into a shallow valley. Mist clung to the earth like ash, and the sky above looked drained — too pale, too still.
"There," Tareth said.
Kaelen squinted. There was nothing.
Just open space. Empty air. Wind.
But the longer she stared, the more the emptiness felt wrong — like a gap in memory rather than a lack of matter. Her breath caught in her throat.
"I feel it," she whispered.
Tareth nodded grimly. "Elrath-Ven. Capital of the Moon Accord. Lost for 87 years. Erased in a single breath."
Kaelen stepped forward.
And the world shivered.
For a split second, her vision split — doubled — and in that instant, she saw it: towers of ivory, market streets veined with silver, murals carved in pale obsidian. A city of light and curve and song.
Then gone.
"I— I saw it!"
Tareth's hand was already at her back, steadying her. "Don't focus with your eyes. Remember with your will. The sigil is your key."
Kaelen looked at her hand. The spiral mark glowed faintly, responding to the presence of the city-that-wasn't.
She took another step.
And this time, the world bent around her.
---
One moment they stood in a dead field, the next, among ghostly streets. Elrath-Ven was there, but flickering — stone fading in and out, people reduced to wisps of memory, sound distorted like music underwater.
"What… is this?" Kaelen whispered.
"A memory echo," Tareth said. "The city's soul. What's left behind after the Hollow God feeds."
"Why are we here?"
"To find the anchor," he said. "Each vanished city has one — something rooted so deeply in memory, it resists erasure. Find it, and you restore the city's voice."
Kaelen moved through the echo of a marketplace. A stall shimmered beside her, full of translucent fruit. A woman's laugh danced through the air, hollow and distorted.
Then — a whisper.
"Kaelen..."
She spun. The whisper came again. Soft, familiar. Her blood turned cold.
"Mother?"
Tareth was suddenly beside her. "Don't follow voices here. They're not real."
But Kaelen was already running — chasing the echo of a voice she didn't remember knowing, but couldn't bear to lose. It led her to a broken archway, then down stone steps into darkness.
At the bottom, in the deepest chamber of the flickering city, she found it.
A mirror. Black as night. Cracked down the center.
And behind her, a second voice.
"Thank you for returning, Kaelen."
She turned.
A woman stood there. Skin like moonlight. Hair drifting as if underwater. And eyes like hers.
Kaelen opened her mouth, but no sound came.
The woman smiled.
"I am what you left behind."
The mirror shivered. Cracks spread.
Kaelen reached for it.
And the city screamed.