MasukAlejandro The sound was not really a scream. It was deeper than that. Stone vibrated beneath my feet. The water in the channels shuddered, and somewhere above us the third anchor answered with a pressure I could feel in my bones.Asterion looked toward the six roads. “The city is responding.”“To what?”He shook his head. “I don't know.” Mara did.Her face had gone pale. “The people above.”I looked at her. “What is happening to them?”She closed her eyes. For a moment, she seemed to be listening to something far beyond the walls. “They are being forgotten.”My blood went cold. Koa's voice broke through my communicator. “Alejandro, we've got a major problem.”“Talk to me.”“The third anchor is destabilizing.”“How badly?”“Bad enough that the other five are compensating.”I looked at the six roads. “Why?”“I don't know. We haven't touched anything.”Mara whis
Alejandro The voices were not coming from the walls. They were coming from ahead. Asterion stopped beside me. “Do you hear them?”“Yes.”“Can you understand them?”I listened. There were too many. Names.Arguments. Laughter. Children calling for parents. Someone reciting a prayer. Someone else describing the taste of rain. Thousands of ordinary fragments woven together. I took another step. The passage widened.Water flowed beneath a stone bridge, perfectly clear despite the darkness. Beyond it stood the first buildings. Not ruins. Not preserved monuments. Buildings. Intact.Asterion stared. “The city.” I didn't answer. I couldn't. It was impossible.The walls rose from the darkness in pale stone, their surfaces covered with carvings worn smooth by time. Towers stood beyond them, connected by bridges. Gardens had grown through courtyards, but nothing looked abandoned.
Alejandro Malachai was digging. That was worse than any message he could have sent. Koa pulled up the excavation records while Eamon studied the photograph. “How long has Meridian been working there?”“Fourteen months.”I looked at him. “Fourteen?”“That's the registered date.”Eamon's expression hardened. “Which means?”“They may have started earlier.”Asterion remained fixed on the image. “It's underneath a human facility.”“Yes.”“Then they don't know what they're standing on.”I looked at him. “Are you sure?”“No.” He touched the screen without actually touching the image. “I remember this place differently.”“How?”“Above ground.” That caught my attention.“What did it look like?”“A city.” He closed his eyes. “Stone towers. Open courtyards. Water everywhere. People moving between buildings.”“Humans?”“Yes.”“Supernatural?”“Yes.”“T
Alejandro The question stayed on the screen long after the third anchor stopped transmitting.DO YOU?I did not answer it. Not because I was afraid of the question. Because I had learned what happened when ancient things were given answers they had not earned.Koa zoomed in on the three human cities.“Meridian units are moving into position.”“How many civilians?”“Approximately four million across all three.”“Evacuation routes?”“Being blocked.”“By whom?”“Local authorities.”I stared at the map. “Authorities ordered the closures?”“Yes.”“Under what authority?”Koa's expression tightened. “Keeper authorization.” There it was again. My name.Someone was using it to make humans imprison themselves. “Send the correction.”“I already did.”“And?”“They rejected it.”“Why?”“They say your authorization has higher clearance.”
Alejandro The third anchor had activated. Not awakened. Activated. I had learned the difference.The signal rose from somewhere beneath the eastern mountains and travelled through the ancient structure with a force that made every supernatural being around me instinctively fall silent. Koa's screen filled with shifting lines. “It's not behaving like the second.”“How?”“The second was absorbing pressure. The third is redirecting it.”“To where?”He hesitated. Then the map changed. “Toward the unknown conduit.”Eamon's expression darkened. “The scar.”I nodded. Asterion was still staring at the map. “The city.”I turned to him. “You're certain?”“No.”He looked almost angry with himself. “I remember streets. Towers. A river running through the centre.”His fingers pressed against his temple. “There were wolves there. Vampires. Witches. Humans.”“Humans?
Alejandro The golden word remained beneath Malachai's invitation. ...NO. I stared at it. Inferno had not moved. Neither had the earth. Yet every supernatural being around me had felt the answer.Lucien looked toward the trees. “That wasn't you.”“No.”Asterion's expression had gone pale. “I know that mark.”Eamon turned sharply. “You've seen it before?”“Not the word.” Asterion crouched beside the inscription without touching it. “The shape.”I looked down. There was a faint circle around the gold lettering, broken in three places. Asterion traced the pattern in the air.“It appeared once before the Hollow Arc reached my village.”Inferno's presence pressed against my consciousness. "Do not follow that memory." Asterion immediately withdrew his hand. I studied him. “What happened after you saw it?” He looked at the thousands of people behind us. “Nothing.”“That doesn't sou
Zenith’s POV The wards reacted before I did. That was how I knew someone had crossed the outer perimeter, not with alarms or lights or anything as crude as sound, but with a subtle tightening in my chest. Like the air itself had drawn a careful breath. The kind it takes before deciding whether to
Zenith’s POVAlejandro’s breathing changed first. That was always the sign. Not the sudden spike of heat. Neither was it the shimmer of flame beneath his skin. Nor was it even the way the air itself began to lean toward him, like a tide responding to a moon it could not resist. It was the breath. S
Zenith’s POVFor a long moment after Inferno’s voice faded, the clearing felt too silent. Not peaceful but rather...hollow. As if the world itself had drawn a sharp breath and forgotten how to exhale.The Netherborne’s ashes, if they could even be called that, still shimmered faintly in the air, th
Alejandro’s POVThe morning sun slants through the tall windows of the villa’s study, spilling over stacks of books and scattered notes. The scent of ink and old paper mingles with the faint aroma of Zenith’s herbal teas. I watch from the doorway, my arms crossed, a quiet smile tugging a







