"The city is alive. And the alive do not sleep."
Prince—still Nasir outwardly—walked through Irsia as twilight bled into night.
The city was no longer normal.Every street he passed seemed to shift slightly when he looked away.Buildings leaned farther, walls stretched and narrowed, corners bent toward him like the city itself was curious… or hungry.
He realized the Cult of Shadows' courtyard was gone.Yet the echo of their whispers lingered in his mind:
"One identity. Many faces. Many fates. Survive or break."
The fog thickened along the streets, grey with faint violet sparks—tiny fragments of reality unraveling.
The First Surreal Encounter
A man appeared before him.
At first glance, normal: street clothes, a satchel over his shoulder.But when Prince focused, he noticed:
His shadow was behind the man, moving independently.
His eyes were slightly too large, reflecting not light but darkness.
His mouth moved, but no sound emerged.
The man raised a hand and pointed at Prince.
Suddenly, the street behind them elongated infinitely.Buildings twisted into impossible shapes.The cobblestones undulated like liquid.And the man—still silent—repeated the gesture.
Prince blinked.The street returned.
But in his mind, a whisper:
"Observe. Every street is a reflection. Every shadow a warning."
He realized the city was teaching him without words.
Prophetic Visions in the Alleyways
Turning down a narrow alley, Prince stumbled into a small square.Lanterns flickered, casting no shadows—only reflections.
Every reflection showed a different version of himself:
One wielding a silver scepter, sitting on a throne of fog
One dissolving into mist, consumed by shadows
One watching the city collapse, eyes hollow
One smiling, calm, yet terrifyingly inhuman
A whisper echoed:
"Choose. Every path is a debt. Every face is a mask. Every city has its keeper."
The alley seemed endless.The walls pulsed like living tissue.Graffiti twisted and moved, forming letters he could almost read:
"The watchers are patient. The Veil notices. The debt grows."
Prince shivered.He understood clearly: the city itself was alive.Not merely buildings, not merely streets—the entire city was a labyrinth built by the Veil to test him.
The Eyes Behind the Fog
The mist in the square thickened.Shapes floated in the fog—eyes, geometrical patterns, fragments of impossible structures.Some eyes blinked.Some followed his movements.Some knew him.
A whisper curled inside his mind:
"You are being measured. Your presence distorts reality. You are anomaly… and the city has learned your name."
Prince's heart raced.A street dog passed—but its eyes were glowing blue.It turned its head slowly, staring straight at him.
Then it spoke—not aloud, but inside his mind:
"Survive. The city watches, the Veil waits, the shadows will remember."
The Clocktower of Forgotten Time
Prince moved toward a distant bell tower.Time itself felt… wrong.The hands of the clock spun backward.The chimes echoed before striking.
Inside, staircases spiraled impossibly.Steps doubled back, leading him past hallways he had never seen.Windows showed streets he had already walked—but changed:
People moved in reverse
Shadows stretched impossibly long
Lanterns floated midair, dripping smoke like water
He understood:This was not architecture.It was a labyrinth of prophecy.
Every step was a test.Every turn a vision.Every reflection a warning.
Whispers of the Veil
At the top of the tower, the city unfolded below.Twisted, impossible, alive.
And the whisper returned—direct, insistent:
"One identity. Many faces. Many fates. Consume. Observe. Survive. Ascend."
Prince felt a pull from the shadows around the city.He realized the Veil was feeding from him, observing him, testing him.Every heartbeat synchronized with a pulse far beyond his comprehension.
He understood then—the city was alive with the Veil's will.It would teach him, torment him, shape him.
And he would either master it—or be devoured.
Closing Mystery of Chapter 7
Prince exhaled.The lanterns flickered.Shadows bent closer.
He felt the faintest tug in his chest:the first hint of his future Avatars syncing to his consciousness.
The city had spoken.The Veil had acknowledged him.
And Prince—smiling faintly, calm yet unnervingly poised—whispered:
"…So be it.I will learn your rules.And then… I will write my own."
The fog swirled around him.The labyrinth of shadows shifted.And the city waited, patient.
Because the game had only just begun.
End of Chapter 7