…Somewhere in the shadowy recesses of Terra, where devastation and despair reign, a calm and soothing voice rises like a gentle breeze through the storm…
"…Promise me you'll be my consort…"
…As the words linger in the air, they gradually dissolve into the surrounding chaos, leaving only an echo of hope amidst the turmoil…
**Chapter 1: The Fall.**
The city of Hira buzzed with life, a symphony of sounds that painted the air with urgency. Vendors shouted prices for vibrant fruits and fragrant spices, their voices rising above the warm scent of smoke wafting from metal carts grilling succulent meat skewered on long, thin sticks. Children darted between the narrow cobblestone streets, brandishing sticks they fancifully called swords, their laughter mingling with the calls of merchants. Beyond the patchwork of rooftops, sunlight illuminated the Spiral, a colossal structure that twisted endlessly skyward, its surface shimmering like polished marble against the backdrop of pale clouds. It pierced the sky, reaching into the stratosphere of the vast land known as Terra.
From where Lyra stood, the Spiral seemed to stretch into infinity, a magnificent wall of stone and light vanishing into the mist that hung like a veil over the horizon. It was said that every few decades, the Spiral shifted, its layers grinding like titanic gears, reshaping pathways that had not been tread by human feet in generations.
The people of Hira hardly acknowledged it anymore. The Spiral had morphed into a silent sentinel, a background presence in their lives, a mountain wrought from improbability. Yet Lyra felt her eyes drawn to it, her imagination alight with questions about whether anyone had ever dared to reach its summit or dared to approach it closely.
"Lyra, don't dawdle!" her grandmother called out from their humble medicine stall, her gnarled hands deftly brushing dried petals into a weathered mortar. The vibrant colors of herbs mixed with the earthy smell of spices create an inviting atmosphere for passersby.
"If you keep staring at that thing, you'll turn into stone like the rest of the dreamers," her grandmother teased, a twinkle in her eye.
Lyra grinned, hastily making her way through a throng of bustling patrons and slipping past a woman skillfully selling roasted nuts, the aroma wafting around her in tempting waves.
"I was just looking," she replied, picking up a bundle of dried mint, its sharp scent refreshing her senses.
"It looks different today. Brighter, maybe?" she added, her curiosity bubbling to the surface.
Her grandmother sighed, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "That's just the sun. The Spiral doesn't change for anyone. It just… watches."
Lyra tilted her head, pondering. "Do you think anyone's ever been to the top?"
Her grandmother hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-grind as if the question had cut deeper than expected. "Some tried. None came back," she whispered, casting a wary glance toward the Spiral.
Then, softening, she handed Lyra a small pouch filled with fragrant herbs. "Now, take this to Maren's stall before the leaves wilt. And no distractions, understand?"
Lyra nodded obediently, though her gaze flickered back to the Spiral as she stepped into the lively street. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spice and salt, the chatter of voices weaving a tapestry of sound harmonized with the relentless hum of insects. She caught sight of Maren, the vibrant woman who sold fabrics dyed in deep blue and green tones that captured the essence of the sea and sky.
"Running errands again, Lyra?" Maren chuckled, her laughter warm and welcoming. "You'll make a fine merchant one day."
"I think I'd rather be an explorer," Lyra replied shyly, handing over the pouch, her heart fluttering at the thought.
Maren raised an eyebrow, her laughter booming and causing nearby pigeons to flutter in surprise. "An explorer? You and half the boys in this city! Best keep your feet on the ground, girl. The Spiral eats the brave first."
Lyra smiled but didn't offer a rebuttal. The idea of climbing those endless layers still tugged at her heart like a hidden melody begging to be played.
Just then, a voice rang out from somewhere near the plaza: "They've returned! The explorers from the first layer!"
The words spread like sparks on dry grass, igniting a wave of curiosity and anxiety among the market-goers. People began to shift toward the plaza, their murmurs bubbling with excitement and trepidation. Lyra felt her heart race, drawn into the swell of bodies as she weaved through the gaps between taller frames.
She rushed toward the commotion, past a pair of stern guards clad in dark uniforms, and paused beside a cracked stone pillar to watch intently.
A group of ten weary explorers stood there, waiting for the guardian of the first layer to approve their continuation. Dressed in reinforced vests and breathing masks, their clothes were caked in fine dust and flecked with streaks of colorful minerals. They exchanged hushed words with an imposing inspector, trading sealed containers filled with glimmering blue ore that scintillated in the sunlight. Lyra strained to catch fragments of their conversation.
"Permission to extract from the next crevice."
"Pressure variance has increased since the last descent."
"Two missing, confirmed… we mark it red."
Their faces were drawn and weary, lacking triumph; they appeared as if they had fought a ceaseless battle, grappling with challenges far beyond what anyone on the surface could imagine.
Lyra's imagination danced with the possibilities of what the first layer must truly be like. It was said to be a place of paradox: one side a massive cave filled with twisting mazes and crystals growing from the walls like veins of light reaching for the dark; the other, a wild jungle alive with gargantuan mushrooms and strange, spectral creatures. The allure of experiencing it herself was intoxicating, even though her grandmother's warnings echoed in her mind that curiosity could lead to perilous paths.
Just then, the guardian of the first layer, Sylvan. Known as the protector and savior of Hira, spoke in a voice as cold as stone.
"Permission denied. You've already lost two of your people. Deposit your findings, and your team is not allowed to go back up. Understood?" His expression was inscrutable, and the weight of his authority pressed upon the explorers like an iron shackle.
"Yes, sir! I—I will report back!" the leader of the team replied quickly, his voice trembling slightly as he began moving the containers filled with shimmering crystals back to safety.
As the team of explorers passed by her, the dust of the first layer clung to their boots, leaving pale imprints on the cobblestones as they departed. Lyra turned back toward the bustling marketplace, still lost in thoughts of the Spiral, when a loud screeching sound split the air, igniting a surge of alarm throughout the crowd.
It wasn't thunder. It wasn't even an explosion. It was something sharper, more ominous, like the sky itself cracking open.
Everyone halted mid-activity, heads snapping upward. At first, Lyra saw nothing but the blinding glare of the sun reflecting off the Spiral's distant layers. Then, a streak of fiery brilliance cut across the sky, growing larger and larger, trailing ominous fragments of glowing debris that danced like falling stars. The sound echoed in Lyra's chest, a deafening howl that sent flocks of birds screaming and scattering from the rooftops in a frenzied rush.
The object hurtled downward from the blackened sky, spiraling in on itself like a doomed firework, fragments peeling away like burning autumn leaves caught in a violent gust. Then, with a deafening crash that sent a shockwave rippling through the plaza, it struck a weathered food stand, once vibrant with the colors of fresh produce.
Wood splintered violently, splintered shards flying like shrapnel, while pieces of the falling object were torn apart and scattered throughout the plaza, engraving the grim scene into the minds of the onlookers. Tendrils of steam billowed upward from the wreckage, mingling with the acrid smell of smoke. For a brief, harrowing moment, the world tilted on its axis, trapping the crowd in a surreal hush before the sound of panic erupted.
Lyra's ears rang painfully, the haunting silence shattered by the cries of the terrified crowd. She blinked rapidly, her vision swimming in a haze, and stumbled toward the smoldering crater that marked where the cart had once been, now a chaotic heap of charred wood and debris. People screamed in horror as they scrambled to escape, some running for their lives, while others stood frozen, eyes wide with shock as the reality of the scene set in.
"EVERYONE EVACUATE NOW—QUICKLY! AND SOMEONE CALL THE BUREAU CREW IMMEDIATELY!" Sylvan's voice thundered across the plaza, imbued with authority that sliced through the panic and made people scatter in every direction. He armed himself with his legendary weapon, known as Khaldrake, a magnificent blade said to house a spirit that had formed a bond with him through ancient pacts, lending him strength and clarity in moments of chaos.
Amidst the wreckage, through the haze of acrid smoke and chaos, lay something that stirred dread in Lyra's heart; it wasn't merely debris. It was a person, motionless, their silhouette dim against the backdrop of destruction.
He was small, perhaps as tall as Lyra's height, but his body was twisted and broken in ways that made her stomach clench, making her throw up on the ground next to her. His Skin was torn by shards of wood and debris, bones showing through, blood splattered everywhere as it started to steam and bubble from the intense fall. His hair was dark and matted with blood. For a moment, she thought he was already dead. Until his chest jerked with a weak breath.