[Leif's POV—Aurelius Outer Gates—Nightfall]
The corruption didn't just stop at the city borders.
It bled through them.
By the time Zephyy descended toward the cracked stone road leading to Aurelius's northern gate, the sky had turned a bruised purple—thick clouds swirling like something alive was coiling beneath them.
Zephyy landed with a trembling thud, wings folding in tightly.
"Master…" he whispered, voice thin. "I—I don't feel safe here."
"None of us do," Luminael's voice came, and Alvar slid off Zephyy's back with his hand already on his sword.
I hopped down beside him, my boots sinking slightly into the blackened, ash-like dust coating the ground.
The smell hit me.
Rot.
Iron.
Magic gone wrong.
Alvar stepped in front of me automatically—protective, sharp-eyed, his posture coiled like a predator ready to strike.
