The heavy bronze door opened with a wail from its rusty hinges. Beyond the West Gate, the endless gray void breathed a cold gust inside, as if it were a living thing.
Kaelen looked at the three people standing on the threshold. They were chained. The expression on their faces wasn't fear, but the dull emptiness brought by a long-accepted end. The guard approached Kaelen and placed a heavy ring of keys next to his petrified fingers.
"Unchain them the moment you step outside," the guard said, avoiding Kaelen's grayish hand with his eyes. "If they run, don't chase them. Your job is to go five hundred paces from the gate to the Watchstone and renew the rune there with your blood. If that rune goes out, the city will be plunged into darkness tonight."
Kaelen took the keys. The coldness of the metal didn't even echo in his petrified fingers.
When they stepped outside, the world changed. The artificial warmth of Aethelgard gave way to the acrid, ashy air of the "Belt of Nothingness." Luvia, the False Moon in the sky, looked down like a dim lantern from behind the clouds. There was no ground; beneath their feet crunched a thin layer of centuries-old ash.
"Hey, you!" called one of the chained men. A deep scar ran across his face. "Aren't you going to give us weapons? Did you bring us out here just to be bait?"
Kaelen stopped. The colossal gate behind him closed with a loud boom and locked. There was no turning back now. Sira walked a few steps behind Kaelen, her steps confident despite her bandaged eyes, as if she could see every detail of her surroundings.
"If you want to survive," Kaelen said, gripping the hilt of his sword, "shut your mouth and watch the ash. The smallest noise here awakens a thousand-year hunger."
Just then, the first firework was launched from the city's high walls. The sky flashed briefly with purple light. The festival had begun. But that light caused long, eerie shadows to dance across the dark plain below.
Kaelen's ears rang. From beneath the ash layer came a deep scratching sound. The Watchstone was still far away, and the darkness was impatient to answer the light above.
Kaelen felt that strange ache in his petrified fingers. The Essence was beginning to stir in his veins. This wasn't a battle; this was an impossible march.
"Get ready," Kaelen whispered. "They're coming."