The gates of Solgrath rose before them like the jaws of a sleeping titan—ancient, gilded with time, and far too quiet.
Raiken stared through the wooden slats of the wagon, his fingers numb against the splintered frame. Behind him, the forest they'd fled from was a smudge of smoke and distant screams. Ahead lay safety. Or something like it.
He didn't trust it.
The wheels groaned as the caravan passed through the checkpoint. Armed guards in golden armor waved them through with disinterest, their helms shaped like lion jaws. Beneath the beauty of Solgrath's gates lay something cold. Clean. Controlled.
This was no village.This was a kingdom of stone and silence.
Ren stirred beside him.
Raiken glanced down. His little brother was awake now, eyes barely open, lips dry. But he was alive. That was enough. For now.
"Where are we?" Ren whispered, voice hoarse.
"Solgrath," Raiken said. "The capital."
Ren blinked."It's big."
Raiken managed a dry smile."Yeah. It's… big."
The wagon rumbled into the city proper. Raiken had never seen so many buildings stacked so high. Towers shimmered with stained glass and silver-paneled roofs. Banners bearing golden crests fluttered in the wind, their meaning unknown to him. People passed in robes and armor, their faces masked or shadowed, eyes avoiding the refugee carts entirely.
They were guests here.Unwanted ones.
Raiken held Ren close as the wagon pulled into a long, covered courtyard filled with other survivors. Most of them were silent. A few wept. Some stared blankly at the stone floor.
A tall woman in emerald robes stepped forward, flanked by guards. Her bearing was rigid, practiced—more functionary than noble. She looked over the group like someone assessing broken inventory, not with cruelty, but with indifference sharpened by routine.
"Names," she said.
"Raiken. And my brother, Ren."
She nodded once."You'll be assigned housing in the Lower Rings. Food is rationed. You'll be evaluated later."
"Evaluated?"
"Standard for all incoming survivors. Magical exposure. Memory trauma. Contamination risk."
Raiken frowned."Contamination?"
The woman moved on without answering.
They were led through narrow alleys into the Lower Rings, where the true face of Solgrath revealed itself—damp stone, rusted pipes, iron grates over doors. The glamour faded here. The walls were too close together, and the sky looked farther away.
The capital wasn't built for kindness.It was built for endurance.For survival.
Raiken noticed how even the people who lived here walked differently—shoulders hunched, eyes averted, always glancing back. No one stood still for long. Whispers moved faster than carts. And though he didn't understand most of them, one thing became clear:
This city didn't welcome strangers. It endured them.
They were taken through the Lower Rings—Solgrath's poorest district, a place where the stonework was crumbling and the sky looked more like a crack in the world than a source of light.
Eventually, they reached a refugee center, tucked behind rusted gates and flanked by silent guards. No banners. No smiles.
Just rules.
Inside, they were processed quickly. Names. Ages. Health. Blood-check.Then handed a slip of paper with a room number and a mark Raiken didn't recognize—half a circle wrapped in thorns.
Their room was small.A cot.A bucket.A shuttered window.
But it was safe.
Raiken helped Ren onto the cot and sat beside him, head in his hands. His thoughts spun uselessly—Kael, their mother, the creatures in the forest, the swordsman who moved like fire and vanished like smoke.
And her.
The girl. The one who had held his hand. The one who died screaming.
He had held her. He had seen the light leave her eyes. And then—he let go.
The memory made him clench his jaw. His hands trembled faintly.
"I should've done more," he whispered to no one. "I should've protected her too."
The words hung in the stale air.No one answered.
The night passed slowly.
Outside, the city hummed with distant noises—bells, boots on cobblestone, a faint wind that carried no warmth.
Sometime after the third bell, Ren finally spoke.
"Raiken?"
"Yeah?"
Ren sat up, legs pulled to his chest."Do you think… they made it out?"
Raiken looked over. Ren's voice was soft. Afraid.
"Kael. Mom. Maybe they escaped, right?"
Raiken wanted to say yes.He wanted to believe Kael's blade still burned through the forest, that their mother's voice still whispered stories to the wind.
But he didn't know.
"I don't know," he said, voice rough. "But they'd want us to keep moving. To survive."
Ren was quiet for a long time.Then he whispered:
"I don't want to lose you too."
Raiken noticed something glinting faintly against Ren's chest—half-tucked under his shirt.
"You still have it?" Raiken asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ren nodded and pulled the chain out just enough to reveal the pendant resting against his chest.
It was oval-shaped, cradled in a delicate golden arc—like a teardrop turned upright—and at its heart sat a deep yellow gemstone that caught even the faintest light and held it like a star. Their mother had always told them it belonged to their father—a keepsake from a time they weren't old enough to remember.
"I kept it hidden," Ren said. "Even when we ran."
Raiken reached out and gently pressed it back against his brother's chest."Good. Hold onto it."
He didn't know why the pendant mattered so much.
But something about it felt… alive.
Even after that Raiken didn't sleep.
Even after Ren dozed off against his shoulder, even after the wind died and the city quieted—he stayed awake.
There was something in the air of Solgrath he couldn't name. Something heavy. Watching.
Every time he closed his eyes, flashes came back. The crimson-cloaked man. The silent monsters. The girl's blood on his hands.
And the promise he'd made.
His chest tightened.
Ren shifted beside him in sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. Raiken adjusted the thin blanket around him, brushing a hand through his hair.
They had survived the night.
But for how long?
From the hallway came footsteps—light, deliberate, just once. A pause. Then fading again.
Raiken stiffened.
He reached instinctively for the small dagger hidden under his coat, the same one he'd carried from Endora. It wasn't much. But it was something.
His eyes remained on the door for a long while.
Then he relaxed. Slowly.
Just guards. Probably.
But doubt lingered.
Eventually, morning crept through the cracks in the window. Grey and cold, like the stone that surrounded them.
Ren stirred.
Raiken looked down and saw his little brother watching him, eyes tired but alert.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
In silence, they both understood:
Whatever this new world was—Solgrath, its towering walls, its Seers and silence, its hidden laws and golden masks—they were no longer children of Endora.
They were survivors now.
And survival in this world came at a price.
Today, someone would come to decide whether they were worth keeping alive inside these walls—or cast out to die beyond them.