In an instant, Zuka, Noir, and Elyndris materialized in the heart of Jordan. The shimmer of teleportation magic faded quickly, leaving them standing in a city that seemed to exhale a long-held breath of darkness.
The air hit them first—dense and suffocating, carrying the metallic tang of decay and something colder, sharper. Jordan was unchanged in form, yet everything felt wrong. Shadows stretched unnaturally, pooling in the cracks of the cobblestones and crawling along the walls like living things.
Zuka scanned the streets, his golden eyes narrowing. "Something's not right," he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his hand twitched toward the hilt of his blade.
Noir said nothing at first. His crimson eyes glimmered faintly as they swept over the surroundings, his expression devoid of its usual sardonic amusement. He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something beyond the range of mortal hearing.
"It's awake," he said finally, his tone devoid of levity.
Elyndris turned sharply to him, his silver hair dimmed in the strange light. "What is?"
Noir didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, his movements precise, almost calculated. His gaze lingered on the street ahead, on the faint cracks glowing with a dull red light beneath the cobblestones. "The city," he said at last, his voice quiet but weighted. "It's no longer pretending."
They moved through the streets, the oppressive aura growing heavier with each step. Zuka kept his focus ahead, though his sharp eyes caught the subtle changes in their surroundings. Statues they'd passed before now appeared warped and faceless, their forms twisting as if caught mid-transformation.
Elyndris stopped suddenly, his gaze fixed on a peculiar sight. Blackened vines snaked up the side of a building, their thorns gleaming faintly in the dim light. Dark liquid oozed from the thorns, dripping onto the cobblestones and leaving smoldering pits where it landed.
"What is that?" Elyndris asked, his voice tense.
Noir paused, his expression unreadable as he crouched beside one of the vines. He reached out, his clawed fingers brushing against its surface. The thorns retracted slightly, as if recoiling from his touch.
"It's feeding," Noir said simply, his tone flat.
"On what?" Zuka asked, his voice tight.
Noir straightened slowly, his crimson gaze fixed on the distant spires of the Duke's palace. "Everything."
They continued onward, the streets growing darker and quieter. The faint hum beneath their feet was more pronounced now, vibrating through their boots and into their bones. The architecture around them seemed to shift subtly, as though the buildings themselves were alive, watching.
The occasional figure hurried past, their faces pale and gaunt. Most kept their eyes averted, but a few glanced at the trio—expressions flickering between fear and something darker, almost like recognition.
"They see us," Elyndris muttered, his voice taut.
"No," Noir corrected, his voice low and cold. "They remember us."
Zuka shot him a glance but said nothing.
As they approached the palace gates, the change in the atmosphere was palpable. The once-golden gates were tarnished and streaked with black, their intricate carvings now warped into jagged, chaotic patterns.
The guards stationed there were a pale mockery of life. Their hollow eyes stared unblinkingly, and their movements were stiff, unnatural. They opened the gates without a word, their arms moving with the precision of marionettes.
Zuka's gaze lingered on them, his expression hardening. "They're not alive," he said quietly.
"I do not think they ever were." Noir replied, his tone devoid of emotion.
The path to the palace doors was lined with more of the blackened vines, their thorns larger and more twisted. The faint whispers that had followed them through the city were louder here, forming almost-coherent words that dissipated as soon as they were understood.
Zuka's hand tightened on the hilt of his blade, his sharp gaze sweeping the surroundings. "This isn't just corruption. It's… deliberate."
Noir's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "You mentioned something about the Beast of Gévaudan."
The palace doors loomed ahead, towering and crystalline. Their surface shifted with faint patterns that seemed to twist and writhe. The light they reflected was unnatural, casting warped shadows that moved without cause.
The massive crystalline doors of the Duke's palace creaked open slowly, revealing two figures standing in the shadowed entryway. The guards stepped forward, their forms illuminated by the faint, distorted light that filtered through the warped patterns of the crystal.
Both guards were imposing, though in different ways. The first was tall and gaunt, his frame almost skeletal beneath his blackened armor. The metal plates clung tightly to his body, their surface tarnished with streaks of crimson that seemed to pulse faintly, like dried blood awakened to life. His helmet bore no visor, and where his eyes should have been, there was only an abyssal darkness that seemed to drink in the light around it.
The second guard was shorter but broader, his presence no less unsettling. His armor was a patchwork of dark metals, jagged and irregular, as though forged in haste or repurposed from fallen enemies. A massive blade hung at his side, its edges serrated and uneven, etched with runes that glowed faintly with an ominous red light. His face was partially obscured by a mask crafted from what appeared to be bone, the hollow eye sockets carved too wide, giving him a perpetual look of horror.
Both moved with an unnatural stillness, their motions fluid but wrong, as if some unseen force guided their steps.
"Follow us," the taller guard said, his voice deep and distorted, resonating as though it came from the bottom of a well.
Zuka exchanged a brief glance with Noir, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. He said nothing, but his hand shifted subtly toward the hilt of his blade.
Noir's expression remained calm, though the corners of his lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "How charming," he murmured, his tone low but cutting.
The guards did not react, their hollow stares fixed ahead.
Elyndris hesitated, his silver hair dimming as he stepped closer to Zuka. "They're not alive," he whispered, his voice tight with unease.
"No," Noir replied, his crimson eyes glinting faintly in the dim light. "But they serve."
The guards turned in unison, their movements eerily synchronized, and began to walk down the long, shadowed corridor. The sound of their armored boots against the stone floor echoed hollowly, each step sending faint vibrations through the ground.
The trio followed, their own footsteps quieter, more deliberate.
As they walked, the guards' forms seemed to shift slightly in the flickering light of the palace's sconces. The shadows cast by their figures stretched unnaturally, their shapes warping and twisting against the walls like something alive.
Zuka's sharp gaze lingered on the taller guard's back, noting the faint etchings on his armor. The patterns seemed almost familiar—ancient symbols he had seen once in the forbidden texts of their royal archives. His expression darkened, but he said nothing.
Noir's gaze drifted briefly to the shorter guard's blade, his smile fading as he recognized the runes etched into its surface. His crimson eyes narrowed, though his expression betrayed nothing of the thoughts racing through his mind.
"They've been marked," Elyndris muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
As they continued down the corridor, the air grew colder, the oppressive aura thickening with each step. The walls around them seemed to ripple faintly, as though the palace itself were alive, watching.
The guards stopped abruptly before a set of double doors carved from the same crystalline material as the entrance. The intricate patterns on the doors shimmered faintly, their jagged shapes shifting as though responding to the presence of the guards.
"The Duke awaits," the shorter guard said, his voice harsh and grating, like metal scraping against stone.
The taller guard stepped aside, his hollow gaze fixed on the trio as he motioned for them to enter.
Zuka's expression remained unreadable as he stepped forward, his movements deliberate. Noir followed, his crimson gaze flicking briefly to the guards before shifting to the doors ahead. Elyndris hesitated for a moment, his silver eyes darting between the guards and the doorway, before finally following.
As the trio passed through the doors, the oppressive atmosphere intensified, the whispers from the city outside now faint murmurs in the back of their minds. The guards remained behind, their forms still and silent, like statues watching over the threshold.