A few days later—just as the world seemed to find a fragile moment to breathe—the calm was shattered by breaking news that rippled across nations like a silent scream.
Modsey was gone.
Not destroyed. Not besieged. Not reduced to rubble or ash.
The city itself still stood. Its towering casinos remained lit by enchanted crystals. Marble streets lay uncracked, immaculate as ever. Ports were still crowded with unmoved ships, their sails furled as if their crews might return at any moment.
Taverns, bathhouses, and pleasure halls stood intact, doors ajar, tables set, wine left half-drunk. Yet Modsey—once the most infamous city of sin in the Hyades Republic—had become a perfect ghost town.
There were no corpses.
No signs of struggle. No bloodstains, broken doors, or scorch marks.
Every bed was empty. Every street is silent. Not a single cry had been recorded, not a single alarm triggered.
