The path to Duskwatch was long, winding through barren hills and half-sunken valleys where even the crows feared to tread.
Alan led the way, katana sheathed at his hip, his presence alone parting the heavy mist that clung to the ground like living hands.
Behind him, Seris and Kraevok followed in silence.
The world around them seemed… wrong.
The trees twisted unnaturally, their bark scarred with ancient runes.
The wind carried faint echoes—cries, songs, screams—that didn't belong to any living thing.
And above it all, the broken sky loomed like a wound.
*****
Seris quickened her pace to walk beside Alan.
"Duskwatch… it's dangerous," she said cautiously. "It's built on old ruins. Cursed ones."
Alan didn't turn to look at her. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon.
"That's why we're going," he said simply.
Seris grimaced. "You know, most people hear 'cursed' and turn around."
Kraevok snorted from behind. "We're following a guy who just beat a god's champion to death with a magic sword. 'Cursed' probably sounds like 'fun' to him now."
Alan gave a small, humorless smile.
Maybe they weren't wrong.
The call he had heard—the whispers—were leading him toward Duskwatch.
There, beneath the city's crumbling towers and poisoned waters, lay something hidden.
A key.
To unlock the next gate.To break another chain.
*****
By midday, they reached the outskirts of the city.
Duskwatch was unlike anything Alan had ever seen.
A sprawling ruin stitched together by stubborn survivors.
The outer walls were broken in places, patched with mismatched stones and salvaged wood. Towers leaned dangerously, and shadowy figures patrolled the ramparts, their eyes glowing faintly in the twilight gloom.
The city reeked of desperation—and power.
Alan could feel it in his bones.
The old magic slept here, restless and hungry.
"We're not going to be welcome," Seris muttered.
Alan nodded. "Good."
He stepped forward, leading them down the cracked path toward the gate.
As they approached, guards emerged from the shadows—half-human, half-something-else.
Their armor was a patchwork of bone, metal, and cloth, their weapons wicked and cruel.
One, a tall figure with horns curling from his skull, stepped forward and leveled a pike at Alan's chest.
"State your business," the guard growled.
Alan's voice was calm, steady.
"I seek the ruins beneath your city."
The guard sneered. "And why would we let you live long enough to find them?"
Alan's hand drifted to his katana.
Seris tensed beside him.
Kraevok flexed his fingers, ready to draw steel.
Alan spoke again, voice cold as winter steel.
"Because if you try to stop me…""I will tear this city down stone by stone."
The guard hesitated.
There was something in Alan's eyes—something ancient and merciless.
A reminder of older times, when kings bowed and gods bled.
Slowly, the guard lowered his pike.
"Fine," he spat. "But if you cause trouble, we'll feed you to the deep."
Alan smiled, a slow, deadly thing.
"I'm counting on it."
*****
As they passed through the gates, the people of Duskwatch watched them.
Some with fear.
Others with dark curiosity.
Alan ignored them all.
His path was clear.
Beneath Duskwatch, buried in forgotten crypts and shattered temples, something awaited him.
A secret the gods had tried to erase.
A piece of the truth.
And Alan Grey was done being a pawn.
He would find it.
He would claim it.
No matter the cost.