The light blinded him.
Gray raised a trembling hand against the sun, his frozen skin still stiff and cracked from the last hours inside Glacierfang. For a heartbeat he thought the brightness was another trick, another cruel illusion meant to mock him before shoving him back into the cold. But it wasn't. The glow didn't vanish. It only spread wider as the group emerged one by one into the open.
The forest sprawled below them, stretching far across the horizon, its leaves rich and green, vines dangling like threads of life. Birds darted between branches, their wings bright against the blue sky. The smell of soil, of grass, of water running somewhere far below, was so vivid that Gray felt dizzy just breathing it in.
And then the city.
It rose beyond the trees, enormous and gleaming. Towers speared the sky. Spires glittered. A cathedral shimmered faintly, windows glowing with inner radiance. And there, vast and commanding, a colossal academy loomed, its domes bright as jewels beneath the sun.
Gray's breath caught. His knees almost gave out.
Everything in Nyxterra so far had been rot, frost, monsters, or nightmares that crept out of the dark. But this… this was beauty. It felt wrong somehow, like the continent itself was mocking him. He half expected the city to crack in half or melt into blood the longer he stared.
His thoughts whirled. Is this real? Or another trap?
Just then, the clouds parted, revealing the shape of the massive sun.
The sun however, was...cracked.
He blinked for a second and before he could reply he was cut off.
"The City of Dawn. Known also as the Crown of Delratha." Aurelle's calm voice cut through the air.
Gray blinked, pulling his eyes from the glittering towers to stare at him. "You know it's name?"
Aurelle gave him a nod. "Of course. It is basic knowledge."
His words made Gray's heart jolt. Delratha. He had read that name once, back in the Sanctuary's library, buried in the brittle pages of an old history book. A kingdom, a glorious one, half-legend to him at the time. He hadn't thought it truly existed here, in this shattered world. Yet here it was, carved into reality before his eyes.
His chest tightened, excitement warring with disbelief.' I'm really here. The capital of Delratha. The City of Dawn.'
Behind him, Renn broke the silence. "We… we should move. Sun's falling." His voice trembled, though whether from awe or fear Gray couldn't tell.
They all nodded. Together they began to climb from the cavern's exit. The hole was cut into the side of a mountain, but unlike the cruel, jagged peaks of Glacierfang, these ridges looked alive, soft with grass and lined with sturdy maple trees.
Gray lingered a moment at the back. He saw Lira stop nearby, jamming Orrin's spear into a stone. From a branch she tore down a dangling piece of red cloth and tied it to the shaft, a quiet, wordless marker.
The memory of it was a cold stone in Gray's gut, even now. He'd replayed it a thousand times, each time hoping the ending would change. It never did.
He saw Orrin not just as a hero or partner but as a friend. A real friend.
Gray remembered the exact shade of the dust on Orrin's shoulders, the way he'd braced himself against death itself, not even flinching when it claimed him. It was the calmness that haunted Gray the most. There was no grand last stand, no final roar of defiance. Just a quiet, determined act, followed by a slow slide to the stone floor.
He'd looked back they all had, and seen Orrin's face in the failing light. Not pain. Not fear. Just… completion.
Gray lowered his head attempting to hide his sadness. Holding regret deep in his heart.
He failed. Again. To keep someone close to him safe.
Lira didn't say a thing as she passed Gray, only gave him the faintest nod before descending.
He quietly followed.
Each step down the slope felt unreal. His childhood had been nothing but dirt alleys, smoke-choked air, and rusted walls of the slums. Even in Aurelia, where Ironhold rose like a steel giant, nature was something muted, contained. The only tree he had ever known was the ancient one in the center of Ironhold, a relic that even the dirtiest bowed to. But here…
Golden grass swayed in a breeze sweet with life. Maple leaves burned red and orange in the light, their colors almost too vivid to be real. Insects hummed, birds trilled. Everything shimmered as though he had walked into a painted storybook.
Gray inhaled, slow and deep. His core stirred. The familiar resistance of purifying Vyre felt… softer. Easier. His veins prickled with warmth, filling quicker than they ever had.' It's the air, he thought, awed. Purer. Cleaner.' The energy here, maybe the city itself makes it this way.
He looked down at his hand. The frostbite that had crept across his skin, black-blue and stiff, had already begun to fade. The cracks mended faintly with every breath of this air. Relief flooded him, though doubt lingered. He shook his head and continued to limp forward weakly. Taking deep breaths.
"Keep moving," Korr grunted behind him, his voice stronger now. Gray glanced back to see the larger boy pushing himself upright without help, though his body still trembled. Adel tried to steady him, only for Korr to give her a playful shove.
Adel scowled. "Oh, you're better now, are you?"
"Better than you," Korr muttered, though a crooked grin betrayed his tone.
The chatter loosened the tension that had gripped them since Glacierfang. They spoke as they descended, voices weaving together like threads trying to mend frayed cloth.
"Lira," Adel called suddenly, eyeing the other girl's pale hair. "Why did you dye it white? Didn't suit you?"
Lira glanced back, expression flat. "I didn't dye it."
Adel raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Because it looks like—"
"I burned it." Lira cut her off simply. "It used to be black."
Adel's mouth fell open. "You what?"
Even Korr let out a bark of laughter. "She burned it off, Adel. Not everyone cares about fashion."
Gray almost smiled. The banter felt fragile but real, like the first shoots of green breaking through after winter.
Renn walked quietly near the front, his shoulders hunched. Korr nudged him lightly. "You saved us too you know. Got us through. If it weren't for you we would've been dead a long time ago. Not that bad for someone I thought would faint halfway."
Renn flushed, mumbling something Gray couldn't catch, but a faint smile touched his lips all the same.
They kept walking. Insects buzzed past, wings catching light. Birds skimmed low over the treetops. Every sign of life filled Gray's chest with something he didn't know how to name. Wonder. Hope. A fragile joy that he didn't trust but couldn't ignore.
Hours passed before the forest broke, revealing the muddy path that led straight toward the looming city. From afar it had seemed majestic; up close it was overwhelming. The walls rose like cliffs of carved ivory, etched with patterns that glimmered faintly under the sun. Each block of stone looked fitted with impossible precision, as though no mortal hands could have placed them.
Gray craned his neck until it ached. He couldn't see the top. The gates were colossal, wrought iron and pale steel fused together, tall enough that the tallest mountain trees would vanish beneath them.
Two soldiers stood before the entrance. Even at a glance Gray knew they were stronger than anyone they had met.
Their armor was not the advanced suits they had seen before but the well-worn, practical steel of a men who knew battle, it's surface scarred and polished to a soft, moonlit grey. Over it, they wore a surcoat of deep navy blue, and upon their chests was a crest: a silver griffon, wings flared and claws bared, standing vigilant against a stylized mountain range. One guard had his helmet tucked under his arm, revealing a face etched with the lines of sun and responsibility, and his hand rested easily on the worn leather pommel of the longsword at his hip, a weapon whose plain scabbard belied the deadly, well-honed steel within. He stood as a bastion of tradition and honor, a silent promise of protection in a wild and untamed land.
Their presence pressed against the air, heavy but restrained, like they held back more than they revealed.
One of them stepped forward. His gaze swept the group, lingering on their torn clothes, their bandages, the exhaustion carved into their faces. "Ident-seal," he said firmly.
The words hung in the air, unfamiliar. Gray froze. He had no idea what that meant.
The others shifted uncertainly until Lira exhaled, as if annoyed. She stepped forward, rolling up her sleeve. Ink shifted across her skin, a dark mark that writhed like shadow, the tattoo they had been branded with long ago.
The soldiers' eyes narrowed, studying it. Slowly, one of them nodded.
One by one, the others followed, revealing the same ink but on different parts of their body's.
When it was Gray's turn, he felt his heart lurch as the guard's gaze lingered a fraction longer on him than the others. But the man gave no comment, only stepped back.
The two soldiers exchanged a look, then raised their hands. Mechanisms groaned deep within the walls. The colossal gates shuddered, light spilling through the widening seam.
The City of Dawn welcomed them.
Gray's chest tightened as the doors yawned open. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wondered not just how he would survive, but what he might become in a place like this.