The dusk above the Screaming Spires was the color of dying embers, casting long, blood-colored shadows across the ragged cliffs. Vara stood at the edge of a rusted platform, her coat torn, Core pulsing faintly beneath her ribs. She stared down at the ruins of the once-revered city of Cantira—a forgotten metropolis now devoured by nanite storms and haunted by echoes of old songs.

  Ayara knelt beside a stone idol, whispering a Nomad prayer. “This place… was sacred once. The Choir used to sing from the rooftops. Their voices could calm storms.”

  Vara tightened her grip on her blade. “And now the storms sing back.”

  Behind them, Auren paced with unease. “You sure this is where the Echo Vault is? I don’t hear anything but wind and ghosts.”

  Ayara stood. “The Vault lies beneath the city, hidden in the Choir’s catacombs. But if Telthar’s Wroughtborn already reached it—”

  A shriek cut through the air.

  A shadow plunged from the upper spires, slamming into the ground with a wet crunch. A monstrosity of flesh and rusted metal writhed, its limbs jagged with bone-metal spikes. A corrupted former priest, now fully assimilated into the Codex’s hive.

  “Runescarred!” Vara snapped.

  The creature surged forward. Vara charged.

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  Their clash was brutal. Steel sang against chitin. Nanites sparked and screamed. Vara’s Core surged with rage and resolve, her senses sharpening into a crimson haze. She ducked under the beast’s strike and drove her blade deep into its throat, tearing free with a burst of nanofire.

  Breathing heavy, she wiped the ichor from her face as the creature dissolved into black mist.

  Ayara reached her, eyes wide. “The Codex isn’t just awakening… it’s remembering.”

  Auren stared at the fading mist. “What does that mean?”

  Vara’s voice was low. “It means we’re running out of time.”

  They descended into the depths of Cantira, passing shattered song-machines and melted stained-glass windows. Faint whispers followed them, voices from another time.

  In the heart of the catacombs, they found it—The Echo Vault. A spherical chamber of polished obsidian, etched with glowing runes. Inside, a pedestal held a fragment of the Codex, humming with forbidden power.

  Ayara stepped back, eyes filled with sorrow. “This fragment… it’s part of the Choir’s soul.”

  Vara approached slowly. The moment her fingers touched it, the Vault trembled.

  Visions flooded her mind—of the world before Athon fell, of a people who had tried to sing the Codex into submission… and failed. Of a goddess whose voice fractured the sky.

  And of a new song—unfinished, untamed, waiting to be heard.

  The Vault began to collapse. Auren shouted for them to run. They fled through falling stone and screaming echoes.

  As they escaped the city, Vara held the fragment close to her chest. The Codex had given her a piece of its memory—but also a warning.

  The Choir had failed.

  Would she?