The three trusted heads stood on the barren cliffs overlooking the forgotten edges of the Mortal World, each clutching a compass etched with runes no longer found in common time. Their needles, blazing faintly with shadowfire pointed in three different directions: Jo's to the north, Harua's to the east, and K's unwaveringly south.
For days, they had wandered beneath fractured skies and through lands where the winds whispered names not meant to be heard. Now, their paths had finally converged, drawn by fate, perhaps, or something far older at the edge of a city.
Jo's gaze never left the horizon, where monolithic iron gates rose like ancient sentinels before a city wrapped in silence.
"This is it," he said, voice steady. "She's here."
They could feel it. Not in the earth beneath their feet, but in the stillness, the charged tension in the air. The city wasn't just abandoned. It was watching.
"What's the name of this city?" Harua asked, his usual lightness replaced by something quieter, heavier.
K stepped forward, his expression unreadable, the compass now still in his hand. "A city with weight in its name," he murmured. "The shadows call it... Turf City."
Even the air felt different here, thicker, older, as though every breath pulled them closer to something irreversible. This wasn't just a waypoint. It was a crossing.
"We should inform Nicholas," Jo said after a beat, eyes flicking to the compass again. "Whatever's here... it's not ordinary."
But K shook his head, sharp and certain. "He entrusted us with this. We won't burden our King with just something like this." He paused. "Let's find my old woman and quickly bring her to him,"
Harua gave a small nod, uncharacteristically solemn. None of them spoke further. There was no need.
They passed the final crest, standing before the gate that marked the boundary between shadow and myth.
They were almost at the threshold when a figure stepped out of the mist, graceful, otherworldly, and unmistakably divine.
A celestial nymph.
"Shadowers… stop. This is a city cursed by silence and rot. No sun has pierced its skies, and no flame has lit its hearths for moons. Turn back, if you value your soul."
Harua tilted his head, unfazed. A crooked grin danced at the edge of his lips. "You speak like we're scared."
K narrowed his gaze, eyes reflecting the swirling darkness beyond the gates. "So this is the Turf City. The cursed heart of the west... No wonder the shadows whispered."
Jo didn't speak. Instead, he raised one hand, letting the black fire crackle to life across his fingertips. It grew and spread, a living flame that cloaked the three of them like a second skin, each flicker whispering defiance against the unseen horrors ahead.
"No curse forged in shadow or time can pass through me nor the Shadow flame that burns," he declared, and with a sweep of his arm, the city gates groaned open before him.
The nymph stared at them, gaze lingering not in warning, but in recognition. As if she knew something they didn't, but had no right to say.
She stepped aside in silence.
Jo placed his palm on the iron gate, now warm beneath his fire-touched hand. With a low groan, the doors of Turf City creaked open, revealing a city swallowed in eternal twilight. Smoke hung low in the air, curling like fingers over broken towers and forgotten streets.
They crossed the threshold, shadow-bound and resolute.
"It's cold," Harua muttered, his breath visible despite the steady warmth of Jo's shadowflame cloaking their bodies.
The frost still bit through.
"What the hell happened to this city?" K asked, eyes scanning the ghostly landscape. Frost-covered houses leaned against each other like forgotten relics. "Is this a curse, Jo? Something you can read?"
Jo narrowed his eyes, inhaling the air thick with silence. "It's strong," he finally said. "But strange. Foreign. Not like the ones I've burned through before."
Their boots crunched over the iced stone roads, echoing in the quiet like whispers. Then, they stopped, frozen not by the cold, but by what lay ahead.
Melted ground. A trail of melted snow, carved by a presence stronger than the cold.
"Celestial energy," Harua said, his voice laced with tension.
K clicked his tongue. "Damn it. Them again?" His shoulders tensed, memories of recent run-ins still fresh and bleeding. "They just don't stop."
But even as he cursed, they all understood. A cursed city would inevitably draw the celestials. This was their brand of battlefield. The real question now, were there any lives left to save?
Their footsteps continued, more cautious now, until the air shifted.
Warmth flickered ahead—familiar, intimate. A shadowflame not born of Jo.
K's breath caught. "That's my old woman."
His voice cracked slightly, not with fear, but recognition. He surged forward, faster now, eyes burning.
"Can you track it?" he called over his shoulder.
Harua gave a sharp nod before leaping into the air, wings unfurling with a soft whoosh as he vanished into the clouds above.
—--
"Before this city was cursed," Gretha began, her voice low, almost reverent, "there used to be a furnace at the city's center."
"A flame?" Maki echoed, brows furrowed.
Gretha nodded. "Yes. A celestial flame. It burned day and night without ever fading. But a few months ago, a group of merchants came, claiming to sell herbs and remedies."
"They were kind at first," Sara interjected, her voice brittle. "Helpful, even. Until one night, they performed a ritual around our Goddess. That's when everything changed."
EJ listened closely, his gaze flickering to the horizon as if he could already see the cursed square, the lingering embers of something divine, now defiled.
The flame they spoke of had once roared at the city's heart, not just as a symbol—but as a goddess. A sacred flame that watched over the villagers, pulsing with warmth and guidance.
And EJ remembered. A story passed down through training halls, whispered between pages of forbidden texts. A legend of a celestial, once revered, who wielded flame like breath. But she had committed a grave sin, one the heavens would not forgive. She descended, cast out, burning bright in exile.
"Celestial Mara," EJ murmured, piecing the memories together.
Taki and Maki turned toward him, surprise flashing in their eyes.
"You know her?" Taki asked.
EJ nodded slowly. "Only from the old texts. When I was still training to become a Legacy, I heard the name... Mara, the Flame-bearer who fell."
"Then we should investigate the city center," Taki said, his voice sharp with urgency. "There might be ruins, maybe even forbidden ones. Something must be hidden beneath all this frost."
Gretha rose from her seat, her presence commanding as shadow flames curled at her fingertips. With a sweep of her hand, the fire wove itself into thick, dark coats – three in total, warm and pulsing with protective energy.
"As you get closer to the furnace," she began, handing the coats to them, "the air turns bitter, as if the cold comes from something beyond this world. I tried once to reach it myself... but my body failed me. I barely made it halfway before the cold began stealing my strength. Most of my energy has gone into keeping the city from freezing over completely."
Taki accepted the coat and frowned. "Will this be enough?"
Gretha shook her head. "Only partially. You'll need to channel your celestial energy as a second layer, let it wrap around your soul. That fire within you is your only real defense. Without it, the cold won't just numb your skin, it'll bury you."
Maki's brows knitted together. "And what about the people you mentioned earlier? The ones you were waiting for?"
"They're nearly here," Gretha replied, her gaze turning toward the gates as if she could already feel their approach.
EJ's fingers curled tightly around the coat, the weight of it anchoring him. "Then we're not alone."
The three set out toward the Furnace, the heart of the city where the bitter cold pulsed like a living curse. Shadow coats wrapped tightly around them, flickering with Gretha's flames, while the glow of their celestial energy shimmered beneath, forming a second skin of light and defiance.
They moved quickly but cautiously, eyes darting toward the ghostly houses lining the narrow streets. Windows, once frosted over, now held flickers of movement—shapes watching in silence. Maki paused for a moment, pressing his hand against the frame of a shattered door. Behind it, a small figure disappeared into the dark.
"There are people," EJ whispered, his voice both solemn and awed. "Still alive."
"They're waiting," Taki murmured beside him, fingers tightening around his blade. "Waiting for someone to break the curse."
That thought alone gave them the strength to press forward.
When they finally reached the Furnace, its towering form rose before them like a monument to everything that had gone wrong. The structure was wrapped in thick coils of frost and soot, its core pulsating with a dying light, as if the last warmth of the city had retreated inside it. But before they could get any closer—
Something lunged from the shadows.
A mass of darkness darted toward them, shrieking with unnatural rage. More shapes emerged around the furnace, circling it like sentinels. The shadows weren't mindless—they were guarding it.
"Get ready!" EJ shouted, drawing his sword.
Maki didn't hesitate. With a burst of force, he lunged forward, slamming into the nearest shadow with sheer strength, sending it hurtling back into the icy ground. Taki and EJ flanked either side, blades drawn, celestial energy flaring as their coats ignited in defense. The fire Gretha had woven into their coats responded, growing brighter as their celestial essence surged to the surface.
But the curse that clung to the city made every swing heavier, every movement slower. It was like trying to fight underwater, their strength drained by the very air they breathed.
"These aren't just shadows," Taki growled, parrying a strike. "They were once people, warped by the cold."
"We can't kill them," EJ said, deflecting another blow. "But we can hold them!"
Just as the shadows began to overwhelm their defenses, a ripple of movement tore through the battlefield.
A sharp whistle cut through the cold.
From the eastern road came three figures cloaked in dusk-colored robes, their presence radiating calm yet formidable strength.
K moved first, blades dancing in a blur of speed and precision. Jo followed close behind, summoning a shield of shimmering starlight that pushed back the encroaching dark. Harua knelt low, driving his staff into the frozen earth, light bursting from the impact, casting away the shadows that clung to the furnace's edge.
"It's nice to see you again," K said, his voice steady as his eyes locked onto EJ. "Looks like we got here just in time."