Chapter 104

Rebecca’s POV

The city refused to decay.

Morning light was up across the streets as we ventured deeper, and the ruins looked less like ruins and more like something preserved deliberately. Buildings that should have collapsed centuries ago still stood tall, their walls should have cracked down but nothing had happened to them. Wooden doors didn't rot, insects didn't even spoil them. Metal frames too stayed firm, untouched by rust.

The air felt fresh and familiar. I was still thinking about how I could have possibly been here before when Matthew's voice brought me out of the thinking.

“Cities don’t survive like this.”

Nobody disagreed.

We got to a place that looked like a public square. The ground was uneven, stones shook and shifted, but in the center, the remains of a monument was standing. Only the part below survived, its upper half shattered long ago.

I moved closer, noticing carvings made into the stone that were now a little faint. My eyes tried to trace the lines, but instead of reading them, I placed my hand against the cold surface.

Nothing magical.

But for a split second, the square changed.

Blurred figures walked past me — children running, merchants calling out, wolves and witches conversing freely. The air was alive with voices, laughter, footsteps.

Then it was gone. I stumbled backward, my breath catching.

“Rebecca?” Ezekiel’s voice was sharp.

Matthew frowned. “What happened?”

I shook my head quickly. “Nothing…”

But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure I believed myself. Ezekiel began noticing something else. Symbols. Not words, but a crest of different forms.

It appeared to be everywhere — carved into walls, etched into broken pillars, painted a little on old shields, even beside fountains where water still flowed.

He brushed his fingers across one. “This symbol repeats.”

Matthew scowled. “What does it mean?”

Ezekiel shook his head. “I don’t know.”

But I felt it. The mark on my shoulder warmed up a bit every time my eyes landed on the crest.

Matthew suddenly stopped. His golden eyes closed halfway, his wolf started becoming restless under his skin.

“Someone’s here.”

The words made us stand still. Weapons came out. Silence pressed in, but nothing appeared, from that moment onward, every step felt watched.

Tyler was the first to break away later, he was drawn toward a house at the edge of the square. He pushed the door open, and we followed him inside.

The air smelled faintly of herbs. Dried bundles of the herbs stood from the ceiling. Wooden furniture stood intact, a woven blanket folded neatly across a chair.

It didn’t look abandoned.

It looked lived in.

Tyler looked up and saw a framed portrait above the fireplace. The painting had faded almost entirely, colors washed away by time.

Except for the eyes.

The eyes remained, sharp and unyielding, staring back at us.

Tyler shivered, stepping away. “Let’s go.”

None of us argued.

I found myself kneeling beside one of the white flowers growing through the cracks of the street. Its petals glowed faintly, almost luminous.

Without thinking, I brushed dirt away from its roots.

“Why are you still alive?” I whispered.

No answer. Just the wind blowing softly.

But the mark on my shoulder warmed again, stronger this time.

“Rebecca.”

Matthew’s voice rose from across the street. We gathered quickly, drawn to the massive stone building that was ahead.

Unlike everything else, its enormous doors were intact. Perfectly intact. No cracks. No weathering. No sign of age.

Across the doors, carved deep into the stone, was the same symbol Ezekiel had been seeing all day.

We stood in silence, staring.

I felt the mark burn beneath my skin. Not painfully but expectantly.

As if it had been waiting for this moment. I stepped forward slowly, my breath shallow.

The doors made a little noise.

And then, without anyone touching them…

They opened.

The city was inviting me in.