Like a thousand frozen comets, the crystalline facets of Aetherion's spires glinted in the starlight as they pierced the heavens. As he made his way through the city's raised walkways, Ethan Cole's boots rang against the translucent stone. The tremor's echo from the Starlit Sanctum undermined the beauty, which felt fragile despite the air's faint energy and the starlight woven into the atmosphere. The journal's most recent clue, "The tenth gate is forbidden," made his rune-marked hand tingle and made the phrase "Find the tenth gate" a persistent murmur in his mind. By whom is it forbidden? The Council, whose secrecy Marcus's notes denounced, or the High Gods who had sworn him in?
Ethan adjusted Marcus Reed's cloak, which served as both a shield and a disguise due to its weight. Despite Lirien Thalor's confident gatekeeper stride, Ethan's detective instincts were aroused by her questioning of Marcus's journal in the Sanctum. In his borrowed memory, Marcus hummed the warning, "Trust no elder."
Aetherion's citizens, their faces lit by hovering orbs, mixed with gatekeepers in starlit cloaks as they descended into a busy plaza. The crystal walls were covered in posters that read, "Unity Under the Council," in a bold script that screamed propaganda. Ethan's stomach turned. Although the Council had a firm hold on everything, Marcus's journal, which was safely tucked away at his belt, suggested that they were concealing information about the tenth gate and possibly even Marcus's demise.
Lirien stopped and pointed to a woman who was coming gracefully like a predator. "This is Sylra Veyne, one of the gatekeepers' wardens. She was intimately acquainted with Marcus.
Sylra's auburn hair glowed like a flame in the starlight as her emerald eyes met Ethan's. The faint runes etched on her blade-dancer's leathers indicated that she was prepared for battle, and the twin swords she carried at her hips glistened with the edge of the starlight. "Marcus," she said in a perceptive, inquisitive tone. "You're… unique. You were unshaken by the void-tremor?"
Ethan feigned a nod in imitation of Marcus's rough voice. "I am rattled by more than just a tremor." Even though she gave him a thorough examination, her use of the word "different" hurt because it brought to mind his dangerous actions. Sylra didn't know his secret, but she suspected Marcus's death wasn't a coincidence.
As she watched Ethan's reaction, Lirien stated in an impartial voice, "Sylra believes Marcus was murdered." "He was banished as a gatekeeper by the Council and had been investigating a traitor prior to his downfall."
Even though Ethan's heart was pounding faster, he kept a poker face that detectives had perfected on Earth. Murdered. Hints from the journal, like "The Council hides the truth," took on greater meaning. "A traitor?" he asked, inquiringly. "What makes Marcus's death desirable to anyone?"
Sylra's jaw tightened. Someone with a position of power. Marcus was asking questions that were deemed inappropriate by the Council by entering through restricted gates. Is that something you've heard before? Staring at him, she challenged him to make a mistake.
As Ethan hurried through Marcus's memories, he saw a cloaked figure warning, "The traitor's closer than you think," and a whisper in a dark hallway. The recollection was short and fragmentary, but it held Marcus's fear, a warning that Ethan sensed in his bones. He wanted to push Sylra, but Lirien's green eyes were too close. Because of the looming shadow of Valthor, he was unable to afford the luxury of trust.
He opened his mouth to respond, but a deep voice cut through the plaza. "Marcus Reed. Living and wreaking havoc as usual."
Ethan turned to see a broad-shouldered man approaching him with forging-scarred hands holding a hammer with glowing runes etched on it. The eyes of a Pyrehold gatekeeper named Torren were molten iron, steady but wary. Ethan thought Torren kept his own secrets, despite the fact that his beard was speckled with embers, suggesting his fire-soul ancestry.
Ethan made the statement, "I get into trouble," to see how Torren would react. The man's gaze flickered to Lirien and back again, and he asked a question without saying anything. Like Sylra, Torren saw Marcus without understanding the transmigration, but his caution proposed that he knew who Marcus's enemies were.
Torren's voice was lowered. "Marcus, keep your head down. You are in the sights of Valthor Drayce. The elders of the council do not like gatekeepers who pry into their secrets."
Ethan felt his blood cool. Valthor. Marcus was reminded of a cold, hard stare at the mere mention of the elder's name. The rune pulse that Ethan has is a warning linked to the mystery of the tenth gate. His question was lighthearted: "Valthor's watching?"
Torren looked at the posters of the Council and said, "Always." Under him, there are spies in every spire. Marcus was making too much noise about the gates. Don't follow his example.
As she stepped forward, Sylra's voice hissed. "Not that Valthor is just watching. He's hiding something. Maybe it's that forbidden gate you don't talk about, but Marcus died because he got too close to the truth."
Ethan took on the defiant attitude of Marcus and slowed his heartbeat. "I'm not a moron, which is why I'm quiet." Should Marcus have been killed, I'll look into it. But I require time. Not because she suspected his secret, but because she was right about the gate, she made the accusation. The High Gods warn us to be cautious of the forbidden gate, which is the journal's "forbidden" clue.
With her hand resting on her blade, Lirien's smile was thin. "Be careful, Sylra. Accusing elders without proof is dangerous. There would be more knowledge in Marcus—our Marcus."
When he noticed the subtle jab, Ethan's identity was put to the test. Looking into her eyes, he remained steady. "I am here to carry out my responsibilities, Lirien. Keep the gates secure. Nothing more."
She had the instinct of a predator, and her eyes flitted to the journal, but her smile did not waver. A faint void-tremor rippled through the spires, and before she could speak another word, the plaza shook. Blades were drawn by gatekeepers, who gazed up at the sky while orbs flickered and people gasped. In a silent alarm, Ethan's rune burned, as if the tenth gate itself were stirring behind the veil.
Torren mumbled, clutching his hammer, "There are too many tremors these days. The condition of the gates is deteriorating."
Sylra narrowed her eyes and fixed them on Ethan. Marcus would have said the same thing. I'll find the traitor myself unless you prove that you are him.
Even when the tremor lessened, the tension remained. "The Council's lies run deep," Ethan said, sensing Marcus's memory again, a hint of betrayal.