The plaza was alive with ghosts of light.
Jun had led Mateo through the twisted arteries of the ruined city, deeper than before, past scavenger haunts and broken shrines where neon prayers flickered like dying fireflies. At last they reached an open square where dawn seemed eternally caught, the air shimmering as if some fragment of morning had been trapped within its stones. Broken statues of saints and heroes ringed the plaza, their faces worn, their eyes carved with glyphs that pulsed faintly in rhythm with a heartbeat Mateo could almost hear beneath the earth.
Jun's voice dropped to a whisper. "We shouldn't be here."
"Why?" Mateo asked softly.
"Because she lives here," Jun muttered, his fingers tightening on his satchel strap. "The witch of dawnlight. Archmage. Guardian. Whatever name you give her. She doesn't like strangers."
Before Mateo could answer, the air changed. The statues glowed, their eyes kindling like embers as runes flared across their bodies. A low hum filled the plaza, and the fractured morning brightened into blinding radiance.
From the center of the square she appeared — not stepping but descending, as if the light itself had taken form.
Liwayway.
Her presence was both terrible and beautiful, clothed in robes woven with glyphs that shimmered like the first rays of sunrise. Her staff was taller than she, crowned with crystal and circuitry entwined, pulsing with dawnfire. Her hair flowed like strands of light, her eyes hard as tempered glass. She gazed at Mateo, and the plaza seemed to hold its breath.
"You carry relics," she said, her voice like sunlight breaking cloud. "You carry danger. Leave them — or be purged."
Jun swallowed hard. "Told you. She doesn't play."
Mateo stepped forward, unshaken. "Relics are not danger. Ignorance is."
Her eyes narrowed. "Then prove it."
The statues stirred. Glyphs burned brighter. The duel began.
Liwayway raised her staff and spears of dawnlight formed in the air, dozens of them, spinning like a halo. With a flick of her wrist they shot forward, blazing across the plaza.
Mateo did not run. He lifted the Analyzer Lens to his eye, and the world shifted. Most spears dissolved into nothing, illusions meant to overwhelm. Only a handful were true. Calmly, he stepped aside, letting the false light pass through him like smoke.
Jun blinked, his jaw dropping. "He just walked through light…"
Liwayway's eyes flickered with surprise but hardened again. She slammed her staff against the ground. Cracks spread across the plaza like a spider's web, glyphs bursting open, and from them surged a shockwave of radiant fire. Statues shattered, dust and sparks raining.
Mateo pressed the Singing Circuit shard into the ground. The fragment hummed violently, singing a low, sorrowful note that swelled into resonance. The shockwave struck — and was redirected upward, exploding into the sky like a bell-note shattering glass.
Liwayway tilted her head. "You wield prayer as shield? Clever. But fragile."
The shard trembled in Mateo's hand, its edges hot, nearly breaking from strain.
With a sweeping gesture, Liwayway conjured a sphere of dawnfire, pulsing with molten gold. She hurled it, and as it flew the air distorted, the plaza itself bending as if reality was caught in its wake.
Mateo raised the Beacon of Starlight. Its glyphs flared desperately, a stabilizing field rippling outward. The dawnfire struck, but instead of detonating, it dissolved into a mist of golden sparks, raining harmlessly over the plaza.
"Light can burn," Mateo said, his voice steady, "or guide. Which do you wield?"
Her grip on the staff tightened.
The statues began to move. One by one they stepped down from their pedestals, glowing eyes fixed on Mateo. Liwayway raised her staff, splitting herself into three mirror-images, each one mirrored by a dozen statues. The plaza became a labyrinth of illusions, glyph-rain falling from above like shards of glass.
Mateo lifted the Analyzer Lens again — but this time it betrayed him. Too many truths overlapped, his vision overwhelmed. The rain of glyphs burned into his skin. He stumbled, breath sharp.
Jun panicked. "Do something!" He fumbled in his satchel and hurled a relic core at the illusions. The core exploded chaotically, a blast of raw energy cracking the plaza and knocking Jun backward. Liwayway herself flinched, her illusions rippling.
She glared. "The boy nearly killed us both."
Mateo steadied Jun with a hand. "Even folly teaches."
Jun groaned. "Yeah, well, next time I'll let folly stay in the bag."
The illusions closed in. Mateo drew the Chronometer of Shards. Its runes glowed, and time thickened, the rain of glyphs slowing to a crawl, falling like snow. In the frozen stillness he searched — one Liwayway breathed mist into the cold air, while the others did not. He walked toward her.
Time snapped back. Her staff was already descending, lightning and dawnfire interwoven.
Mateo raised the Singing Circuit — but it cracked, its song warbling in pain. He lifted the Beacon — its light flickered, unsteady. One by one his relics failed beneath her raw power.
So he did not resist. He let the staff strike his shoulder, the blow grazing, tearing cloth, drawing blood. He staggered but did not fall.
Jun shouted, horrified. "Why aren't you fighting back?!"
Mateo's voice was quiet but carried across the plaza. "Because victory is not in destruction. It is in understanding."
For the first time, Liwayway hesitated. Her staff hovered mid-air, trembling.
Mateo raised his relics not as weapons but in harmony. The Analyzer Lens, the Beacon, the Circuit shard — each glowed faintly, their tones weaving together. The plaza filled with resonance, a symphony of light and song. The glyphs on the statues flickered, no longer hostile but calm, as if lulled by memory.
Liwayway's illusions dissolved. Her eyes widened as the resonance merged with her dawnfire, not resisting it but harmonizing.
Her staff lowered. The statues dimmed. The plaza grew still.
"You…" she whispered, breathless. "You endure my trial not by force, but by restraint."
Mateo bowed his head slightly. "And you wield light with mercy, even when tempted by wrath."
Jun exhaled loudly, throwing his hands up. "So… we're alive. That's new."
Liwayway approached, her staff now resting against the stone. She studied Mateo with piercing eyes. "Few survive my judgment. Fewer answer it with humility. You are not what I expected."
"And you are not what I feared," Mateo replied.
For a moment, the three of them stood in silence, the ruined plaza glowing faintly around them. Somewhere beyond, the city shifted, its hum carrying warnings of beasts and cults stirring in the distance.
Liwayway spoke again, voice sharp but no longer hostile. "The city rots with corruption. Priesthoods twist faith into chains. My wards keep survivors safe, but I cannot hold them forever. If you walk beside me, you must wield wisdom like a blade."
Mateo's hand tightened on his relics. "Then let our blades be tempered in truth."
Jun groaned. "Blade, shield, prophet — I don't know what you are anymore. But fine, if she's with us, maybe we stand a chance."
Liwayway allowed the faintest smile. "We shall see."
And so, beneath the fractured sky of dawnlight and ruin, the first bond of fellowship was forged — in duel, in trial, and in understanding.
The myths had awakened, and with them, allies