The air above Orahm shimmered with peace. Silver domes glistened under morning light, casting radiant halos over the quiet streets. It was the kind of fragile calm only the gods envied—and fate would soon shatter it.
Shin stood atop the central overlook, his gaze sweeping the horizon. Something was wrong.
He felt it first. A tremor—not in the ground, but in the air. A pulse of corrupted ki, laced with hunger and ancient resentment.
"Laverna," he said without turning. "Raise the veil. Now."
Laverna's eyes widened. "Already?"
Before he could respond, a scream echoed from the eastern spire.
They moved in sync, the whole party converging on the upper domes.
Falzath cultists appeared like shadows born from nothing. Clad in living robes that pulsed and wept black ichor, they slipped through weak seams in the city's reformed illusion barrier.
At their center floated a tall figure in ornate Hi Okami warlock garb—his robe embroidered with ancestral symbols now twisted with Falzath runes. His long silver hair was braided with bone beads, and at his belt hung a scroll tube identical to the one carried by Shin.
He pointed a staff tipped with a jagged obsidian crescent toward the plaza.
"Take the Silver Thread," he hissed. "Leave none whole."
Spirits shrieked, their translucent forms recoiling from the corruption.
The cultists surged.
Zera and Maika met the cultists at the nearest stairwell. Clarent gleamed with sapphire flame as it clashed against void-infused blades. With each strike, Zera moved like a storm of discipline and fury, deflecting curses mid-air and cutting down foes who tried to flank. Maika blurred between enemies, her sunfire kunai carving arcs of searing gold that burned through enchantments like parchment.
Laverna arrived on the upper terrace just as a new wave emerged. Her jamadhars pulsed with arcane energy, no incantations needed. She whispered only one word—"Ashen"—and a wave of heatless crimson flame erupted from her hands, sending three cultists screaming over the edge. The fourth charged her directly, but she caught his strike mid-swing, jamadhar tearing through corrupted armor like a hot knife through butter. Her movements were a blur—precise, brutal, efficient.
"I don't need chants," she growled, plunging a blade into the final cultist's throat. "Just resolve."
Meanwhile, Alexandra stood at the fore of the main thoroughfare, defending a group of child-spirits. Her voice rang with layered harmony, each note a command that shattered the magic of the approaching cultists. Her body moved like a dancer trained in war—her lance spinning in sweeping arcs that caught sunlight and wove it into streaks of radiant energy.
With each thrust and parry, Alexandra created a whirling defense, her movements both graceful and deadly. The lance spun like a banner in a storm, her strikes measured but powerful, reminiscent of a color guard in the midst of battle. As her feet slid across the marble street, her cloak fanned behind her like royal wings.
"Stay behind me," she told the spirits.
One of them—a small girl—tugged her sleeve. "You're still our Queen. You didn't leave us."
Alexandra's heart broke and healed in the same moment.
"Then stand with me," she said, her voice thick with pride and fire.
Her next song carried layered harmonics, each note laced with both pain and triumph. Enemy spells fizzled in midair, while her allies—Laverna nearby and Maika further up the path—moved with sudden clarity and renewed speed. The very ground hummed with resonance as Alexandra's melody bent light and air around her into protective currents.
The spirits began to glow brighter, their presence stabilizing. Spectral artisans conjured barriers. Children sang lullabies that dulled the cultists' dark magic. Emboldened, the citizens of Orahm—dead but not forgotten—stepped forward, united behind their queen who had never truly left them.
The warlock moved toward the loom.
Shin intercepted him, blade drawn, orb glowing. The warlock's corrupted aura collided with Shin's in a burst of spiritual pressure.
"You are the Fox-Heir," the warlock snarled. "You will serve Falzath. Or be unmade."
"You'll choke on your heresy," Shin said, eyes flashing.
The warlock only smiled, an expression too calm for the battlefield. "You think yourself chosen. But you do not see the whole weave. We know more than you and your precious Servants ever will."
The orb pulsed, and Shin roared.
Foxfire ignited.
In a breath, Shin's form shifted—his kitsune form manifesting. Golden rings danced in his ears, chiming like bells that ring the end of evil, and his tails unfurled behind him like black thunderclouds.
The battle between them was a blur. Arcs of crimson lightning split the sky dome. Each strike of Yoshimatsu cracked crystal walkways. The warlock summoned void-serpents and barriers of twisted bone, twisting space to deflect attacks. Shin responded with blazing speed, shattering magic with each strike and turning bone to dust.
For one moment, time slowed.
Shin blurred past the warlock, leaving a trail of fire. He drove Yoshimatsu into the staff, splitting it in half.
But the warlock was grinning.
From his sleeve, he drew a scroll fragment—torn from one of the tapestry spools in the loom hall.
"You protected the city," he hissed. "But you missed the thread. You do not yet understand what this war truly is."
And with that, he vanished, reality warping behind him like a broken mirror folding inward.
The remaining cultists were defeated, their ichor dissolving in the city's new resonance field.
Laverna and Tessara regrouped with the others. Alexandra returned to the spirits, who now stood taller, anchored.
"You gave us strength," one said.
Alexandra knelt. "You gave me purpose."
Shin stood in silence. In his hand, the Silver Thread pulsed. But something was missing—its resonance was uneven.
He stared at the loom, where one scroll was now clearly torn.
"A piece of the prophecy," Zera said, approaching. "They know more than we hoped."
"They're coming faster than expected," Maika added.
Shin looked at each of them. "Then we'll move faster still."
They turned toward the city's west gate, where the next archive waited beneath buried crystal.
Behind them, the spirits bowed in reverence.
The war had truly begun.
The city's first assault proves its rebirth cannot remain hidden. Shin's transformation marks the return of the Light-Born. Alexandra's acceptance as queen rekindles Orahm's will to fight.