Chapter 108 The Capital Fractures
The capital of Aeloria used to hum with magic.
Now it wheezed.
The ley lines that once ran beneath its marble streets were frayed, bleeding energy into the air like a wound that refused to close. Buildings flickered between states—solid, spectral, forgotten. The palace loomed like a ghost, its spires cracked, its banners burned.
And Milo’s influence was everywhere.
We arrived at dawn.
Not that it mattered.
The sun didn’t rise here anymore. Everything was dark and tainted with evil.
It just hovered, confused, like it wasn’t sure it was welcome.
Every breath you took here in the capital was suffocating.
It felt like the air was too thin, you couldn’t gain enough oxygen, and every time you breathed, you quickly tried to suck more and more air in quicker than he last. It left us almost hyperventilating.
Thessa surveyed the damage. “Well, this is cheerful.”
Kael kicked a broken statue. “I give it a solid two stars. Would not recommend for romantic getaways.”
Zeke was adjusting Gerald’s armor again. “I wouldn’t recommend this place at all, romance or not.”
Gerald snorted.
Quacknor flew above.
Yuel was already scribbling. “The ley lines are collapsing inward here. We might have fixed Emberwild, but here is another story. Milo’s rewriting the capital’s magical architecture.”
Ellira and Lira were sketching a stabilizing glyph, their hands moving in perfect sync. Sweat dampened their brow their faces pale with their efforts.
Aine stood beside me, her silver flame steady. “We need to anchor the ley lines before they collapse completely. The capital has become horrible.”
I nodded.
But my heart wasn’t in it.
Milo used to love the capital.
He said it felt like the city was singing.
Now it was screaming.
We moved quickly.
The Flameborn split into teams.
The Kindlers began healing the leyline fractures.
The Embercallers whispered to the wind, trying to coax it back into rhythm.
The Cindersworn anchored the glyphs with emberlight.
And I continue to help where I could.
Talon joined me at the edge of the plaza.
He was quiet.
He was always quiet.
But today, he looked tired.
“Mo,” he said. “He’s not coming back.”
“I know.”
“But you’re still hoping.”
“I have to.”
He nodded.
Then turned away.
The ground trembled.
The sky dimmed.
And the Void surged.
Great, just what the capital needed, another creature to mess things up.
A creature emerged from the palace gates.
The Void-forged creature was unlike anything we’d faced before.
It didn’t shimmer like Milo’s echoes. It didn’t whisper like the Rift-born shadows. It roared—a sound that tore through the ley lines and made the glyphs flicker like dying stars.
Its body was stitched from broken flame and shattered memory. Its limbs moved like smoke, but struck like steel. Its eyes—if they could be called that—burned with the same black fire that now lived in Milo.
We barely had time to react.
Thessa charged first, blade drawn, shouting something defiant and probably profane. Kael hurled a glyph that fizzled midair. Zeke fired a bolt that passed through the creature as if it were shooting at grief. Gerald tried to headbutt it and was thrown aside like a toy.
Quacknor dive-bombed its shoulder and was swatted into a wall with a squawk and a puff of feathers.
Yuel screamed something about “dimensional collapse” and “unbound resonance,” which was probably important but drowned out by the sound of the creature tearing through the plaza.
And Talon—
Talon ran.
Straight into it.
No hesitation.
No spell.
No shield.
Just him.
I screamed his name.
He didn’t stop.
He didn’t look back.
He just moved—faster than I’d ever seen him, his blade glowing with emberlight, his eyes locked on the creature like he’d already made peace with what was coming.
He struck.
The blade pierced the creature’s chest.
It screamed.
And then—
It exploded.
The shockwave hit like a tidal wave of flame and silence.
I was thrown back, crashing into a pillar that cracked beneath me. Thessa slammed into the ground, Kael rolled across the cobblestones, Zeke shielded Gerald with his body, Quacknor landed in a fountain with a splash and a groan.
Ellira and Lira’s glyph shattered, knocking them both through the building's window.
Yuel’s journal caught fire.
Aine caught herself before she smashed into the ground.
And Talon—
Talon didn’t move.
I crawled to him.
Shouting his name.
The world was spinning, the air thick with ash and magic, but I didn’t care.
I reached him.
His body was broken—his armour cracked, his blade shattered, his chest rising in shallow, painful breaths.
His eyes found mine.
And he smiled.
“I remembered,” he whispered.
“What?” I asked, choking on the smoke and the grief.
“That you always believed in him.”
“I still do.”
He nodded.
His hand found mine.
“I’m glad I got to see you again.”
“Talon, don’t—”
“I’m not afraid.”
His voice was fading.
“I just wish I’d had more time.”
“You’ll have it,” I said. “We’ll fix this. We’ll bring him back.”
He smiled again.
Soft.
Sad.
“Tell him I tried.”
Then—
He was gone.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Thessa knelt beside me, her face pale, her blade forgotten.
Kael didn’t speak.
Zeke held Gerald close, tears streaking his soot-covered face.
Quacknor perched on Talon’s chest, silent for once.
Yuel closed his journal, his hands shaking.
Ellira and Lira wept openly.
Aine placed a hand on my shoulder.
“He saved us,” she said.
“He shouldn’t have had to,” I whispered.
The ley lines pulsed.
The glyph cracked.
And Milo’s voice returned.
“You’re too late.”
I looked at Talon’s body.
At the ash.
At the broken blade.
And I felt something inside me fracture.
Not like a wound.
Like a promise.
I felt the sting in my eyes seconds before I felt the tears slide down my face.
The plaza was silent.
The creature was ash.
And Talon was dead.
“He shouldn’t have had to.”
Milo’s voice echoed
“You’re too late. How many are you going to lose before you figure out that it isn’t worth it?”