The city loomed in the distance, its spires reaching high into the sky, cloaked in a shimmering haze that distorted its features. As Azarion and Sera approached, the air grew heavier, the faint hum of magical energy crackling all around them.
"It doesn't look like any city I've ever seen," Sera muttered, adjusting her quiver. "What's with the haze?"
"It's a veil," Azarion said, his tone laced with suspicion. "A magical barrier. It's meant to keep people out—or trap them in."
"That's comforting," Sera said dryly, though she tightened her grip on her bow.
The path leading to the city was strangely barren, the earth cracked and lifeless. As they walked, the faint outline of gates became visible through the haze, massive and ornate, carved with intricate runes. The closer they got, the more oppressive the air became, until each step felt like wading through water.
When they finally reached the gates, a voice echoed around them, deep and resonant, though no figure could be seen.
"State your purpose, wanderers."
Azarion stepped forward, his voice steady. "We seek entry to your city."
The voice responded, cold and unyielding. "Only those who bear the mark of worth may enter. Do you carry it?"
Sera looked at Azarion, confused. "Mark of worth? What does that mean?"
Azarion didn't answer. Instead, he unsheathed his blade. The golden light from the fragment embedded in it illuminated the runes on the gate, which began to shimmer in response. The oppressive air lightened slightly, and the voice spoke again, this time softer.
"You carry the mark. You may pass."
The gates groaned as they swung open, revealing a city unlike any they had ever seen.
---
The Veiled City was a masterpiece of architecture and magic. Its buildings glowed faintly, their surfaces etched with luminescent runes that pulsed in time with the magical energy in the air. Streets of smooth, white stone stretched out in every direction, populated by figures shrouded in flowing cloaks. The inhabitants moved with purpose, though their faces were obscured by hoods or masks.
"This place is... eerie," Sera said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Azarion nodded, his hand resting on his blade. "Stay close. We don't know who—or what—we're dealing with."
As they ventured deeper into the city, the inhabitants barely seemed to notice them, their attention focused elsewhere. The city pulsed with an almost rhythmic energy, and Azarion couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.
They reached a plaza at the city's center, dominated by a towering obelisk made of black stone. The obelisk shimmered with the same silvery light as the fragment Azarion had claimed, and runes spiraled up its surface.
"That obelisk," Sera said, pointing. "It's connected to the fragments, isn't it?"
Azarion nodded. "It's a nexus of power. If there's another fragment in this city, it's tied to that obelisk."
Before they could approach, a figure stepped into their path. It was tall and regal, clad in ornate armor that shimmered like polished silver. Its face was hidden behind a smooth, featureless mask, and its voice carried an air of authority.
"Outsiders are not welcome here," the figure said, its tone sharp. "State your business, or leave."
"We're searching for something," Azarion replied. "A fragment of power."
The figure tilted its head slightly, as if studying him. "The fragments are not for the unworthy. Prove your strength, or you will be removed."
Without warning, the figure raised its hand, and the ground beneath Azarion and Sera cracked. From the fissures emerged constructs made of stone and metal, their forms humanoid but jagged, their eyes glowing with a dull red light.
"Test time," Sera muttered, drawing her bow.
Azarion unsheathed his blade, the golden light flaring to life. "Stay sharp. These things aren't ordinary constructs."
The constructs charged, their movements swift and unrelenting. Azarion met the first one head-on, his blade clashing against its stone arm. Sparks flew as he parried its strikes, each blow heavier than the last.
Sera loosed arrows at the constructs, but the projectiles barely left scratches on their stony surfaces. "These things are tough!" she called out, dodging a swing from one of the constructs.
"They're powered by the obelisk!" Azarion shouted, blocking another strike. He glanced at the towering structure, its runes glowing brighter with each passing moment. "We need to disrupt its energy flow."
"Easier said than done!" Sera retorted, firing an arrow that managed to lodge itself in a construct's eye, causing it to stagger.
Azarion broke away from the fight, dodging and weaving through the chaos. He made a beeline for the obelisk, his blade glowing brighter as he approached. The constructs seemed to sense his intent, several of them breaking off to pursue him.
"I'll cover you!" Sera shouted, firing arrows to draw the constructs' attention.
Azarion reached the base of the obelisk, its energy pulsing violently. He could feel the fragment's power within it, but it was shielded by layers of magic.
"There's always a weakness," he muttered, scanning the runes. His eyes locked onto a faint crack near the base, where the light was dimmest.
With a swift strike, he drove his blade into the crack. The obelisk shuddered, its light flickering. The constructs froze mid-attack, their bodies crumbling into dust.
The armored figure stepped forward, its posture tense. "You have disrupted the balance," it said, its voice tinged with anger.
"The balance was already broken," Azarion replied, his blade still lodged in the obelisk. "We're here to fix it."
The figure hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Very well. The fragment is yours—but know this: claiming it will draw the attention of powers far greater than you can imagine."
Azarion pulled his blade free, and the obelisk shattered, releasing a burst of light. The fragment floated toward him, its energy fusing with his blade, which now pulsed with both golden and silvery light.
Sera approached, her expression wary. "What now?"
Azarion turned to her, his gaze steady. "We prepare for what's coming."