[POV: Thalos]
He knew the path to the Citadel like he knew the shape of his first blade.
It didn't matter that the land had changed or that snow swallowed the trees, and the roads had long since eroded. His feet remembered… and so did his heart.
Ruvan's presence pulsed through the mountain air like thunder—too vast, too consuming to be mortal anymore. The closer Thalos came, the more anticipation overwhelmed him. Even Vaelen fell quiet, his presence curled tight within Thalos's chest like a coiled ribbon.
Then he saw it.
The ruined Citadel loomed ahead, a jagged skeleton of obsidian and frost—and yet, something pulsed within it.
Thalos soon came to stand at the edge of the Citadel's lands, and after a moment's hesitation, stepped past the outer gates. The ruins breathed with warmth where fire had melted snow into pools of shimmering water.
Once close enough, he saw what appeared to be firelight… but it was not of real flame, or from torches.
