The chime from the mountain’s heart was not a sound of mechanical decay, but a harmonic call. A low, resonant frequency that bypassed the ears and settled into the marrow of the earth. Malphas stood on the ethereal balcony, the translucent edges of his silhouette flickering against the starlight. Beside him, Lyra’s form was sharpening, her amber glow stabilizing into the likeness of the woman who had once navigated the political labyrinths of a dying empire. They were anchors, yes, but they were also targets, glowing brightly in a universe that favored the dark.
"That wasn't the sound of a closing door," Lyra whispered, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the mountain spires were beginning to pulse in sync with the subterranean chime. "That was a summons."
Malphas felt the world beneath
