The Capital of Aethelgard was a masterpiece of arrogance. It didn't sit on the land; it floated above a massive crater on "Gravity-Plates" of enchanted silver, connected to the earth by four colossal, swinging chains. Every link in those chains was the size of a farmhouse.
"Look at it," Silas whispered, his hood pulled low. They stood on a ridge overlooking the valley. "The King calls it 'The Ascension.' The people call it the 'Gallows of the Sky.'"
Kael stood beside him, his face hidden behind a mask of grey Varg-matter that mimicked the texture of a scarred traveler. His handsome youth was buried under a layer of artificial age.
"It's a fortress for a man who is afraid of the ground," Kael said.
He remembers the mud, Skane's soul growled within him. He remembers the day he put a blade in my back while my feet were in the dirt. Now he thinks the sky will save him.
To get in, they couldn't fly. The sky-patrols of Griffon-Knights would shred a lone flyer in seconds. They had to take the Low-Bridge—a massive, winding stairwell built into the side of the crater, used by the "Lower-Caste" servants and merchants.
At the gatehouse, the air was thick with the smell of incense and ozone. Two guards in white-and-gold plate held crystalline scanners that hummed as they passed over each traveler.
"Next!" a guard barked.
Kael stepped forward. He felt Varg tighten around his skin, suppressing his mana-signature until it looked like a flickering, weak candle.
"Name and Business?" the guard asked, bored.
"Einar. Mercenary looking for work in the Pits," Kael said, his voice roughened by the Shifter's modulation.
The guard waved the scanner over Kael. The crystal glowed a faint, dull yellow—the sign of a Low-Tier "Trash" spark. The guard snorted. "Another 'iron-rank' dreaming of gold. Move along, old man."
Kael walked through. He felt a surge of dark amusement. If the guard knew that the "Iron-Rank" he just dismissed carried a World-Eater Shifter and the soul of a Warlord, he would have had a heart attack on the spot.
Inside, the city was a maze of white marble and flowing water. But beneath the beauty, Kael could feel the rot. The mana-tree in the center of Aethelgard wasn't natural; it was being fed by massive siphons that drained the surrounding countryside.
"We need a place to hide while I track the Norns," Kael said, his eyes scanning the crowds.
"There's an old contact of mine," Silas muttered. "A former Hunter who lost an arm and started a tavern in the Sinks—the district right under the gravity plates where the grease and waste fall."
As they descended into the Sinks, the light grew dim. The "Gilded City" above cast a perpetual shadow. Here, the people were thin, their eyes hollowed out by the constant vibration of the plates above.
"Wait," Kael whispered, stopping dead in his tracks.
"What? Did you see a scout?" Silas hissed, hand on his dagger.
"No," Kael said, his eyes fixed on a small, crumbling stone shrine at the corner of a dirty alley.
It wasn't a shrine to the Spirit-Gods of this world. It was a stack of three stones, carved with a faint, jagged symbol of a Raven's Wing.
A Viking waymarker.
Kael walked to the stones. He felt Varg ripple in recognition. He touched the top stone, and for a split second, the Sinks vanished. He saw a woman with long, silver hair braided with iron rings. She was sitting in a pool of golden thread, her eyes missing, replaced by black voids.
"The Bone-Breaker is late," her voice echoed in his mind. "The tapestry is already half-burnt."
The vision snapped. Kael pulled his hand back as if the stone had burned him.
"They're here," Kael whispered. "The Norns. They aren't hiding from the King. They're working for him."
"How do you know?" Silas asked.
Kael looked up at the floating palace, his silver-blue eyes piercing the gloom.
"Because that shrine wasn't a prayer. It was a lure."
Suddenly, the shadows in the alleyway began to move. Four figures in grey, hooded robes stepped out from the darkness. They didn't have beasts. Instead, they held long, curved needles made of silver light.
"The King doesn't like ghosts in his basement," the lead figure said.
Kael didn't look for an exit. He reached into his shadow, and the blue ice of the Winter-Heart began to coat his fingers.
"Good," Kael said. "I've always liked clearing out the trash before I move into the house."