LOGINThe wooden stairs creaked under Lady Escuridade’s boots as she ascended to the watchtower’s platform. The morning sun cast long shadows across the stone walls, and she could hear the distant sounds of their army forming ranks below. Amelia stood near the railing; spyglass pressed to her eye as she scanned the city and the surrounding landscape. “Morning,” Amelia said without turning, her voice carrying a note of nervous energy, not just because of the upcoming battle,
Estrela stood up and gestured toward the four arms of the device. “We will probably need both of us to turn it. On three?” Escuro nodded and they both turned the mechanism, the cable moved and the sound of moving parts behind the walls echoed in the chamber. Then there was the sound of rushing water, which grew louder and vibrated through the stone floor beneath their feet. She jumped slightly at the sudden noise, her haze green eyes darting toward the veiling as if expecting water to come crashing down. “It is working!” she whispered, a grin breaking across her face. “The mechanism is actually moving!” the sound was not a trickle; it was a heavy, rhythmic flow, like a pipe being opened wide. It seemed to be coming from somewhere deep within the walls, echoing through the chamber with a hollow resonance. She grabbed the edge of the pedestal, her knuckles white. “That is not just a fountain, Escuro. That is a lot of water
The humidity inside the cave was thick, pressing against their skin like a warm blanket. Estrela led the way, holding a flickering lantern aloft. The light danced off the damp walls, revealing slick surfaces and jagged formations that dripped with slow, rhythmic water. “The river is deeper than I expected,” she said, her voice echoing slightly off the low ceiling. She stepped carefully over a cluster of smooth stones, her boots squelching in the shallow water that pooled around their ankles. “But the markings her– the match the ones in the northern corridor perfectly.” She paused, holding the lantern high to illuminate a series of carvings etched into the cave wall just above the waterline. They were fresher than the ones in the ruins, almost as if they had been maintained. “Escuro, look,” she whispered, beckoning him closer. The carvings showed an image of the river flowing into the cave. The lines were detailed and artistic. There was
Mestre Escuro stood on one of the watchtowers near the burned and collapsed cathedral. He looked out at the city below, the smoke still lingering in the air. As the sun set, the lights coming from some of the houses and the embers from burned down houses became clearer to see. His gaze was distant and unfocused, as he recalls the past.“You must be Escuro,” Estela Astuta said cheerfully. “It is very nice to meet you.” She shook his hand. Escuro smiled shyly at her cheerful tone and shook her hand. “Thank you, I am glad to be here,” he said with equal friendliness. “I look forward to working with you.” She pulled her hand back, her hazel green eyes bright with excitement as she gestured toward the crumbling stone pillars surrounding them. Vines snaked around the weathered masonry, and the air smelled of damp earth and old dust. “I have already made some progress with the eastern corridor,” she said, stepping close
Luz moved around the tub, kneeling in front of Amelia so he could look directly into her green eyes. The steam curled between them, softening his features, but the hardness in his jaw remained. “No one touches you,” he said, each word measured and final. “Not while I am breathing.” He reached out, his large hands framing her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the steel in his voice. “I know,” she said with a steady look. “So, we are even. I treat you like a person and you do the same for me.” Her hand moved to his chest. “Now will you join me in this tub already? There is plenty of space.”Luz let out a short, huffed breath– something close to a laugh, though his expression remained soft. He looked down at Amelia’s hand resting against his chest, his heart eating steady and strong beneath her palm. “Even,” he repeated, the word tasting
A decorative tapestry hangs on the far wall. Its heraldic design suggests the bath chamber might have belonged to a wealthy merchant, or noble family. The tapestry also helps insulate the room by covering the cold stone surface. “There,” Luz said, turning to face Amelia. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and looked at her, his amber eyes softening. “Thank you very much,” she praised with a genuine smile and pocked up one of the buckets with cold water standing against the wall and poured it into the tub. She used a wooden spoon to mix the water in tub. He leaned against the stone wall, watching her work. The way she moved– so domestic, so normal– was almost painful to witness.It was a world Luz had forgotten how to live in, yet here Amelia was, rebuilding it with wooden spoons and buckets of cold water. “You are very efficient,” he remarked, his voice low and warm. He stepped closer, reaching out to take the wooden spo
Luz pulled Amelia closer, his arms wrapping around her as if he could shield her from the very world, he was a part of. His fingers brushed against the greyed white ribbon on his wrist. “But we can’t,” he murmured into her red hair. “Mestre Escuro… he is not patient. And I have things have to do. Things I have to finish.” He opened his eyes, and for a moment, the amber flickered– just once– before settling back into a steady, warm glow. He kissed her temple, a lingering, aching touch. “I know,” she said understandingly. “But one day maybe, right?” he did not answer immediately. He just held her, his chin resting on top of her head, his breathing finally levelling out into something steady and calm.The room was quiet, the only sound that occasional crackle of the dying fire and the distant, muffled echoes of the Corrompido army outside. “One day,” Luz finally said. He said it like a promise,
Mestre Escuro’s distant expression as he recounted his past brought a flicker of something unreadable across Luz’s face. The image of Mestre Escuro– the leader of the Corrompido and his former enemy– as a young history student, driven by academic curiosity, was jarring. &l
“I did not get hurt,” Amelia defended confidently. “And I already told you I am not leaving you.” Luz’s amber eyes searched her face as her confidence settled something within him. “You are impossible,” he said, a hint of his old warmth creeping into his
The fighting continued for several hours before Cidade dos escravos was official concurred. Hours of brutal combat later, the sounds of battle gradually faded into the distant echoes of corrompido shouts and the crackle of flames consuming surrounding houses. Luz stood amidst the carnage, his bla
At the same time, Amelia slipped through the shadows, the dagger Luz gave her in her hand. Ahead, two guards watched as Luz and Cassandra fought, their attention focused on the fight. One guard hear the faint scraped of her boot and turned. Before he could call out, the girl darted forward with s







