They moved in silence, save for the soft crunch of boots over broken stone and the faint hum of old air moaning through the cracks of the City of Silence.
The camp appeared like a dream at first—its faint fires flickering through the mist, its crude shelters of bone and tarp clinging to the ruins like fungi. As they approached, the shapes resolved into people. Six of them. Firstborn.
Nira slowed. Her eyes scanned them cautiously. Riven's limp forced them to approach slowly anyway.
As they stepped into the camp's light, one of the shadows rose. His armor was scratched raw, a deep crack running along his chestplate. But he moved with authority.
"Still alive," he said, his voice dry, a faint hint of something like relief in it. "Glad to see you, Nira."
Orun. The Warden. Another Veiled
She nodded but didn't smile. "You too, Orun."
Riven caught the glance exchanged between them, but said nothing. He was too tired to care.
The others gathered slowly. The second Phantom stepped out of the shadows near the camp wall. He was tall, lean, with a blade strapped across his back and a mask shaped like a sharp fang.
"Any survivors behind you?" he asked.
Nira shook her head.
The silence that followed was cold. Heavy.
One of the Firstborn—young, barely grown into his armor—started humming something under his breath. It was soft, tuneless. His eyes didn't seem focused on anything. Just the fire.
Another Firstborn paced in tight circles, muttering to herself. Her nails were bloodied—not from battle, but from scratching her own palms raw.
"The darkness is getting to them," Nira said quietly.
"They've been down here too long," Orun replied. "No light. No rest. Monsters in the walls. We lost three two nights ago."
Riven looked around. The shadows pressed in like teeth. The cold made his bones ache. He wasn't surprised. He felt it too—something gnawing at the edges of his mind. Hunger, maybe. Or grief.
A girl stepped forward. Her mask was different—plain, smooth, unadorned. No edge to it. No flair. Just bone.
"This is Ila," Nira said. "Slave-type mask."
"A what?" Riven asked.
"Healer," Orun said. "Rare. Indispensable."
Ila knelt beside him without a word. Her fingers were warm, but the light in her eyes was distant, like she'd been somewhere else for a long time.
"You're hurt," she murmured, brushing fingers over the cloth around his leg.
"No shit," Riven muttered.
The others didn't laugh.
"It won't heal fully," Ila said. "I'm not strong enough. But I can dull it."
Riven didn't protest. The pain had eaten into his nerves, turning every step into a stab. Anything was better than nothing.
She placed a hand on his leg. A faint glow shimmered beneath her palm, then faded. The edge of the agony receded like a wave.
"Better?" she asked.
He grunted. "Better."
They rested for a time. The fire crackled softly, casting flickers across the walls.
Etched into the stone were strange symbols—old, almost childlike carvings, curling in shapes that made no sense. And yet, as the fire shifted, Riven swore he could hear something faint.
A hum.
People humming.
He turned to Nira. "What is this place, really?"
Her eyes remained on the carvings. "You've heard the name."
"City of Silence."
"Not just a name," she said. "There's a reason we don't shout here. A reason we move like ghosts."
"And what's that?"
She glanced at Orun. The Warden gave a short nod.
"There's something beneath this place," Nira said. "Something that should never have heard us."
"The seal?"
Her silence was answer enough.
"It's just a story," Riven muttered.
"Stories don't whisper back," Orun said.
Ila shivered.
Beyond the firelight, something howled faintly. Not a monster. Not quite. Just... sound.
The Phantom near the wall stirred. "We'll leave at first light. If there is light."
"We'll move through the lower ruins," Orun added. "Fewer echoes."
"You didn't chain him?" the male Phantom asked, nodding toward Riven.
"There's no need," Nira said without turning. "If he wanted to run, he would have. If he could, he already would have."
Riven smirked faintly. "Nice to know I'm trustworthy."
"Hardly," she replied.
They let the fire burn low.
Around them, the City of Silence breathed.
And somewhere, deeper than any voice could reach, the ruins remembered a song that had never ended.