The transition through the Waystone gate was instantaneous and jarring. One moment they were standing in the familiar, brightly lit Grand Hall of the Thornhaven Guild; the next, they were plunged into a cold, damp darkness. The air was thick with the smell of sea salt, mildew, and a faint, cloying scent like ozone and burnt sugar. The swirling silver-blue portal snapped shut behind them with a sound like tearing fabric, leaving them in a profound and unnerving silence.
They had arrived.
"Light," Astraeus commanded, his voice a low whisper. A small, steady sphere of blue-white light bloomed in his palm, pushing back the oppressive darkness. They were in a small, circular stone chamber, the walls covered in a thin sheen of moisture. In the center of the room, the Waystone—a large, flat, circular stone identical to the one in Crane's hidden chamber—was now dark and inert. Their bridge was gone. They were alone.
"Everyone, sound off," Darius said, his voice the calm, steady anchor in the disorienting darkness. His new shield was already on his arm, its polished surface reflecting the light from Astraeus's hand.
"Lyra, here."
"Thomas, here."
"Kira, present."
They were all here, all safe. The first hurdle was cleared. They began to investigate their immediate surroundings. The chamber was a hidden basement, accessible only by a steep, narrow stone staircase. As they ascended, they emerged into the main cellar of the Port Veridia Guild Hall. It was filled with crates of supplies, barrels of ale, and racks of aging wine. But everything was covered in a thin layer of dust, and the air was unnaturally still. There were no signs of the usual scurrying rats or dripping pipes. The silence was absolute.
They moved up to the ground floor, their footsteps echoing unnervingly in the vast, empty space. The main hall of the Port Veridia Guild was a grand, two-story atrium with a soaring, vaulted ceiling. But it was a scene of chaos, frozen in time. Tables were overturned, scrolls and books were scattered across the floor, and a half-eaten meal sat on a plate at the reception desk, a fork still sticking out of a piece of dried, moldy bread. It looked as if everyone had simply vanished in the middle of their daily routines.
"No bodies," Darius observed, his voice a low growl. "No signs of a struggle. They just… left."
"Or they were taken," Kira whispered, her eyes wide with a horrified awe.
Astraeus moved to the massive, oak-and-iron doors that led out to the city. He peered through a small, grime-covered window, and his breath caught in his throat.
Port Veridia was a city of ghosts.
The sky was a bruised, sickly violet, a swirling, perpetual twilight that cast no true shadows. The city itself, a bustling port known for its vibrant markets and crowded streets, was utterly silent. There were no ships in the harbor, no gulls in the air, no people on the streets. The silence was not peaceful; it was the profound, heavy silence of a tomb.
And then he saw them.They were moving through the streets, but not with the hustle and bustle of a living city. They moved in slow, shambling, aimless patterns, their heads bowed, their feet shuffling through the debris-strewn cobblestones. They were the people of Port Veridia. The merchants, the sailors, the mothers, the children. And their eyes, their vacant, staring eyes, glowed with the same sickly violet light as the sky above.
"They're not dead," Astraeus said, his voice a low, horrified whisper. "They're… puppets."
The rest of the team joined him at the door, their own gasps of horror echoing his. The entire population of the city had been transformed into mindless, shambling drones, their wills subsumed by the dimensional anomaly.
As they watched, a small group of the puppets, perhaps a dozen of them, seemed to notice the faint light from Astraeus's hand filtering through the window. As one, their heads snapped up. Their vacant eyes, glowing with that terrible violet light, fixed on the Guild Hall. A low, monotonous hum, the sound of a thousand discordant voices humming a single, maddening note, began to emanate from them. And then, with a slow, inexorable purpose, they began to shamble towards the doors.
"They see us," Lyra breathed, taking a step back.
"Barricade the door," Darius commanded, his voice snapping them out of their horrified trance. "Now! Thomas, Lyra, help me with this table!"
They heaved a massive, solid oak table against the main doors, the heavy wood groaning in protest. Kira and Astraeus began to reinforce the other windows and entrances, using overturned furniture, heavy crates, anything they could find to create a makeshift fortress.
Outside, the humming grew louder as more and more of the puppets were drawn to the Guild Hall. The slow, shambling walk of the first group was joined by others, and soon, a crowd of hundreds of glowing-eyed figures had surrounded the building. They did not attack. They did not pound on the doors. They just… stood there. And hummed.
The sound was a physical pressure, a psychic weight that pressed in on them from all sides. It was a song of utter, absolute despair, a promise of the peace that came with the loss of self.
The team gathered in the center of the main hall, their backs to each other, their weapons drawn. They were surrounded, trapped in a fortress of their own making, in the heart of a city of a hundred thousand puppets."
This is bad," Thomas said, his voice tight. "This is really, really bad."
"We knew it would be dangerous," Darius replied, though his knuckles were white where he gripped his sword."
Dangerous is fighting a dozen cultists," Thomas shot back. "This is... this is a nightmare."
"We need a plan," Lyra said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "We can't just sit here and wait for them to break through."
Astraeus closed his eyes, trying to think past the oppressive hum, past the psychic pressure that was slowly crushing down on them. Kha'Zul, any ideas?
The source, the Demon King said. Whatever is controlling them, it has to be somewhere in this city. Find it, destroy it, and the puppets will be freed.
"We need to find the source," Astraeus said, opening his eyes. "Whatever is controlling these people, it's here, in the city. We find it, we end this."
"And how do we do that," Kira asked, "when we're trapped in here?"
Astraeus looked up at the high windows of the Guild Hall, at the violet sky beyond. "We don't go through them," he said. "We go over them. Or under them. This building has to have other ways out. Tunnels, back doors, something."
Darius nodded slowly. "A fighting retreat. We move through the city, find the source, and take it out."
"While being hunted by a hundred thousand mind-controlled civilians," Thomas added. "Fantastic."
Their mission had been to infiltrate the city and find the source of the storm. But as they stood there, listening to the silent, screaming song of a city that had lost its soul, they realized the horrifying truth of their situation.
They had not infiltrated a city. They had walked into a tomb. And now they had to fight their way to its heart.