Rowan crested the final hill as the dawn broke, casting its golden light over the sprawling city below. Kethra rose from the land like a living tapestry, its towers and domes woven together in a harmony of stone, metal, and magic. A shimmering barrier of pale light encircled the city, faint glyphs pulsing along its surface. The barrier flickered at the gates, allowing caravans and travelers to pass through before resealing itself.
Rowan paused, his gaze sweeping over the sight. This was nothing like the ruins he had passed on his journey or the twisted remnants of civilization in the Riftwood. Kethra was alive—vibrant, bustling, and teeming with an energy that set his teeth on edge.
The shard in his pocket pulsed, urging him forward.
As Rowan approached, the diversity of life at Kethra’s gates became apparent. Humans weren’t the only ones seeking entry. A towering orc-like creature with obsidian skin and tusks stood in line, his arms laden with crates of rare herbs. A pair of avian beings with feathered arms and legs flitted overhead, speaking in musical tones as they carried a shimmering crate between them.
The guards at the gate wore polished armor inlaid with glowing runes. One of them, a tall woman with bright orange eyes and intricate patterns etched into her skin, inspected a merchant’s papers. Her voice was calm but firm, her movements precise.
Rowan adjusted his cloak, blending into the crowd as best he could. He kept his head low, his hood casting a shadow over his face. The shard pulsed again, faint but insistent, as though urging him not to linger.
Inside the gates, the streets of Kethra unfolded like veins of a living creature. Cobblestone roads twisted and turned, lined with shops and stalls displaying wares from across the realms. A merchant barked out prices for enchanted fabrics that shimmered like liquid moonlight, while another demonstrated a floating crystal that played haunting melodies when touched.
The air hummed with magic. Glyphs etched into the walls of buildings glowed faintly, their light shifting with the time of day. Floating lanterns bobbed above the streets, their flames changing color as they moved. In the distance, a towering spire pierced the sky, its tip crackling with arcs of blue energy.
Rowan passed a fountain where a group of children—human, elven, and even a small, scaly drake—splashed and played. The water cascaded upward instead of down, forming intricate patterns before dispersing into a fine mist.
“Welcome to Kethra, stranger,” a voice said, pulling Rowan from his thoughts.
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He turned to see a young man with pale green skin and a mane of silver hair. The man’s eyes glowed faintly, his smile easy. He wore loose, flowing robes and carried a staff topped with a cluster of crystals.
“First time in the city?” the man asked, tilting his head.
Rowan nodded, his voice measured. “What gave it away?”
The man chuckled. “You’ve got that look—half awe, half suspicion. Most new arrivals do.” He gestured to the bustling streets. “Kethra can be overwhelming, but you’ll get used to it.”
Rowan didn’t respond. His gaze shifted to the spire in the distance, its crackling energy drawing his attention.
The man followed his gaze. “That’s the Nexus Spire. It’s the heart of Kethra’s magic—keeps the barrier strong, powers the glyphs, and controls the weather. You won’t find anything like it anywhere else.”
Rowan’s lips pressed into a thin line. The shard in his pocket pulsed again, faint but steady. The spire felt important, though he couldn’t say why.
As Rowan moved deeper into the city, the layers of Kethra revealed themselves. The upper levels glimmered with wealth, their streets lined with elaborate gardens and mansions adorned with gilded glyphs. Airships hovered above, their sails shimmering as they docked at floating platforms.
The lower districts were less polished but no less alive. Crowded markets spilled into narrow alleys, where street performers juggled fire and told stories of distant realms. Rowan paused briefly to watch a pair of performers—a human woman and a feline-like creature with fur that shimmered like starlight. They danced in perfect harmony, their movements punctuated by bursts of magical light.
Not all of Kethra sparkled. Rowan passed an alley where shadows lingered longer than they should, and figures whispered in low tones. A pair of guards passed by, their expressions tense as they exchanged quiet words.
The shard pulsed faintly, pulling Rowan forward. He followed its rhythm, his steps careful as he moved through the crowd.
Rowan felt the weight of the Riftwood more acutely here than he had in the wilderness. The city’s vibrant magic was almost too much, its energy grating against the darker power within him. The shadows at his feet writhed faintly, their movements sluggish but restless.
He passed a group of scholars discussing glyph theory, their robes marked with the sigil of a phoenix. One of them—a young woman with copper hair and glowing eyes—paused, her gaze lingering on Rowan as he passed. He felt her eyes follow him, her curiosity palpable.
“Shadow-bound,” she murmured, her voice too low for anyone but Rowan to hear.
Rowan didn’t look back, but his grip on the shard tightened. The Riftwood might have been far behind him, but its mark lingered. And in a city like Kethra, there were eyes everywhere.
The shard’s pulse grew stronger as Rowan approached the Nexus Spire. The streets narrowed, their paths winding upward in a spiral toward the tower’s base. The air grew cooler, the hum of magic more pronounced. Guards patrolled the area in pairs, their armor glowing faintly with protective glyphs.
Rowan stopped at the edge of a plaza, his gaze fixed on the spire. It loomed above him, its arcs of energy casting shifting patterns of light across the ground. The shard pulsed insistently now, its rhythm aligning with the hum of the spire’s magic.
Whatever had drawn him to Kethra, it was here. But Rowan could feel the weight of unseen eyes, the tension of a city that buzzed with life—and danger.
