The days after the battle passed in long, dust-filled hours of rebuilding.
Stone was reset along the southern gate under the watchful eyes of the Flame Guards. Damaged timber was replaced along with ash swept from the streets. What could not be restored was memorialized, names etched into glass, walls marked with flame-scripts of remembrance.
But Phoenix City endured and so did its people.
Ryu, Yan, Kalavan, and Elyra spent the week assisting where they could restore Qi flows through the inner sanctum, re-sealing broken spiritual arrays, reinforcing key buildings with newly learned script work.
Yan moved through the work like a commander reborn. No longer just an heir, she was now a survivor seen on the front lines, her hands still marked with soot and fresh Qi.
Ryu found her once more in the Flame Garden, sleeves rolled up, laying new runes into the stone paths. She caught his eye and offered a faint smile exhausted, but steady.
"Everything's different now," she said. "But maybe it was always supposed to be."
General Oliver Phoenix had recovered faster than the physicians predicted, much faster.
By the sixth day, he was standing, armoured, and giving orders in the courtyard, leaning only occasionally on a carved cane he clearly hated but the fire in his voice was no weaker.
"I'm not finished yet," he'd told the council. "Not while the city breathes."
It was clear he would remain behind to govern while Yan left, but the truth of the matter is he didn't mind this. He had never decided to contest for the mantle of emperor but somewhere in his heart he knew he could do the job. Mainly he knew that his brother was better for the role than him and it gave him the freedom he needed in his earlier years.
When she visited him that evening, he'd pressed a sealed scroll into her hand.
"Take the old flag," he said. "You don't need it but it'll remind people what blood built the cities you're about to see, this is my personal flag and emblem, I have friends that stretch beyond this kingdom, if they could help you, I am sure they would."
By the eighth day the group was ready.
Their supplies were gathered, maps, provisions, enchanted fabrics to protect against long-distance Qi strain. Kalavan had acquired a set of light plate armour tailored for quiet movement. Elyra replaced her fractured staff with one crafted from hollow-laced alloy and crystalline wood.
Ryu packed quietly, scrolls tucked into his satchel, blades carefully wrapped along with other essentials on behalf of the group and entered them into his Void to call upon later when he needed them.
His void pocket was now around 5 cubic metres, large enough to store a lot of equipment.
Their destination lay far to the southeast to the place ships would try to avoid, the Sea Without Name.
It had no place on modern maps. Sailor's spoke of it only in passing, if at all. Storm-wrapped, fog-draped, it sat like a scar at the edge of known waters. And now, a survivor had come from it bearing a mark not unlike Ryu's.
A girl, alone, marked in reverse.
They departed at dawn.
Yan stood beside Ryu at the harbour cliff, the city behind them bathed in early gold. Below, the ship prepared to sail the banner of Ayon now flying alongside the Phoenix crest.
"You ready?" she asked.
Ryu looked out toward the mist-covered horizon. "Not even a little."
She laughed. "Good. That means you're sane."
He looked at her. "And you?"
She smiled, her phoenix blade at her side.
"I've never been more ready."
Below the cliffside harbour, the ship awaited. A sleek hybrid vessel of polished wood and reinforced steel alloy. Twin stabilizer fins curved out from its sides like the wings of a bird mid-glide, and at the stern, a propulsion core hummed gently for emergency use.
The deck was wide, clean, inlaid with anti-slip panels and tinted glass panels that revealed glimpses of the well-furnished interior below, soft couches, a round navigation table and compartments lined with folded maps, ration kits, and combat gear.
The sails unfurled with a hiss of air and a low chime echoed as systems calibrated themselves for long-distance sea travel.
The four stepped aboard, boots thudding softly against the padded deck.
Beneath them, the harbour stones glowed one final time, a slow, warm pulse of Qi rising from the roots of the city. A farewell from the land that had seen them through.
The ship turned eastward, gliding past the outer breakwaters.
Then far beyond, beyond the fractured horizon and mist-cloaked tides, the Sea Without Name stirred.
The journey was underway and as they approached Sea Without Name they quickly understood that the sea did not welcome them.
The moment Phoenix sails cut across its threshold; the wind changed. The sun dimmed behind low clouds, and the waves shifted erratic, unpredictable. and deliberate.
As if the ocean was watching.
For three days, the voyage was uneasy.
The ship creaked unnaturally. sonar needles twitched. Birds vanished. The crew grew quiet, and none dared to speak the sea's name aloud after the first night, the more modern technology stopped working at they delved further into the unknown.
Even Elyra, who had travelled fractured timelines and known the weight of fading worlds, stood long hours at the bow without speaking.
"It's thinner here," she murmured. "The world, I mean. Like someone peeled back a layer and never placed it back."
On the fourth morning, the mist opened.
And there it was.
A temple, drifting alone on the waves.
Massive and ancient, built from stone long darkened by time and tide. It floated impossibly, with no visible anchors, no connection to seabed or sky. Carvings along its sides glowed faintly with dormant Qi, echoing glyphs none of them had seen before.
The ship slowed.
Ryu's hand burned.
The star-mark pulsed.
They approached slowly, pulling alongside a lower platform that jutted just above the waterline.
silence and the slow hum of active Qi resonated deep within the structure.
Ryu stepped off the boat first, boots thudding softly against slick stone.
Yan followed, one hand on her sword hilt, eyes scanning every crevice.
Kalavan dropped behind them, quiet as a shadow, while Elyra remained near the edge, examining the carvings.
"These weren't meant to be read by us," she said. "They were meant to be read by an older tongue, This temple wasn't built for mortals. It was built for... the gate touched."
Inside the halls were dry.
Dustless.
Preserved.
As if time hadn't dared enter.
They moved through great corridors, passing faded murals of stars, oceans, and spiralling shapes that seemed to shift when not looked at directly.
At the temple's heart, they found a great chamber.
A circular room with a domed ceiling painted in constellations, many of which mirrored those that appeared when Ryu activated the first gate.
And at its centre sat a girl.
Barefoot, cloaked in damp textured cloth. Her back to them. Her skin pale, her shoulders marked by scars. A glowing inverse version of Ryu's mark shimmered faintly along her upper spine, nine stars orbiting a black hole, not a flame.
She didn't turn as they entered.
"I felt you coming," she said. Her voice was soft yet empty.
Ryu stepped forward. "Who are you?"
She tilted her head slightly. "They called me Lira. I think I was the first."
"The first what?"
Her eyes a teal silver and hollow met his.
"The first to survive touching the gate from the other side."
Elyra froze.
"That's not possible."
Lira shook her head. "It wasn't meant to be. But I didn't fall through alone. Something... followed me back."
She looked at Ryu now.
"It's watching you, too."
The stars in the ceiling shifted, faint lights moving of their own accord.
And deep beneath the temple, something stirred.
Not quite a beast or a guardian it was something that needed to be seen than explained.
Older than kingdoms.
Hungrier than rot.