Kaelith's breath came in ragged gasps as she slipped through the jagged ruins of Drah'zel, the sealed city swallowed by shadows and fractured echoes of time. The air hummed with the pulse of forgotten moments bleeding into the present —
seconds folding over themselves like broken glass, each fragment shimmering with half-truths and erased histories. Somewhere ahead, buried beneath layers of time's fractured veneer, lay the hidden map — the last key to a rebellion the Architects desperately sought to silence. The city itself seemed alive, a labyrinth where every step twisted reality,
where the past whispered warnings and the future threatened to unravel before her eyes. Kaelith's fingers brushed ancient runes etched into crumbling walls, feeling their silent hum as she pieced together the fractured puzzle before the Architects' rewrite could sweep it all away. Behind her, the faint sound of erasing echoes —
a creeping shadow that consumed memories — quickened her pace. There was no time to lose. If the map was lost, so too would be the hope of reclaiming what had been stolen.
Far away, beneath the cold weight of a fractured sky, Ashardio stood at the entrance of the memory-crypt of the Celestials. The air here tasted of dust and forgotten promises, a tomb where ancient betrayals festered beneath layers of silence and spellbound shadows. The glyphs on his arms flared once more, pain and purpose mingling in their fire as he stepped into the dark, the cold stone pressing against his skin like the weight of all the lies he had yet to uncover. Around him, the faint pulse of old souls throbbed in the shadows
— echoes of the Architects' deepest secrets, waiting to be unearthed. With every step, Ashardio descended not only into the crypt but deeper into the betrayal that had shaped the fate of gods and mortals alike. His fingers traced the cracked walls, feeling the ancient wounds bleed anew, and he whispered into the darkness,
"Show me the truth Tirameon tried to bury. I am ready."