The wooden door closed with a dull thud.

  Salome stumbled clumsily into Sileil and had to hold onto her to avoid losing her balance. With the sleeves of her dress rolled up, she inevitably touched Sileil’s pale, cracked skin. It was rough yet soft—and warm. Salome had fully expected to feel cold stone beneath her fingers.

  She stared intently at the arm in front of her nose. Realizing after a few seconds what she was doing, she hastily pushed herself away from Sileil, stumbling backward.

  "I'm sorry… I didn’t mean to—uh…" she stammered, waving her hands awkwardly. Her gaze darted to the ground, unable to meet the tall woman's eyes again. Yet Sileil merely chuckled softly with her deep, raspy voice and waved it off.

  "It’s alright, little one. You're not the first to react this way. I assume today was the first time you saw someone like me?"

  Salome nodded hesitantly.

  Sileil seemed relieved. "I'm glad to hear that," she said. "The fewer of us there are, the better. If you've lived your life without seeing one of us, that probably means we are few—or maybe even nonexistent—in the place you come from. Ah, that would be wonderful..." Her smile was tinged with sadness. "Please forgive the terrible behavior of my friends. They didn't mean to frighten you. Don’t worry, we won't harm you. You're safe here with us."

  "What exactly… are you?" Salome asked, her voice trembling. "Are you truly human? What… happened to you?"

  Sileil took her time answering. "It's a curse," she finally said. "Some call it a disease, but those of us who suffer from it see no difference." She squared her shoulders. "Come. I want to show you something." She began moving and gestured for Salome to follow.

  Only now did Salome become aware of her surroundings. She stood on a broad street lined on both sides by tall houses made of pale gray stone. The worn, uneven paving stones met seamlessly with the three-story buildings, their irregular roofs stretching off into a gentle curve, vanishing from view in both directions without revealing their beginning or end.

  The countless windows and doors were tightly shut. Near ground level, iron rods twisted into intricate swirls protruded from the buildings as though meant to hold signs indicating their purpose or names. Yet the only sign Salome could see hung from a clover-shaped iron rod above the doorway of the building she had just left. It read Wegesend in elegant script. Beneath was a painted symbol: a large sphere in the middle, flanked by three smaller ones on each side—white at the front, black at the back.

  It was the same symbol she'd seen on the palace ruins' floor. Was this place in some way connected to the ruin?

  Particularly strange was the golden light, coming from no distinct source. It was faint, bathing the world in fewer colors than the last rays of a sunset could provide. Yet it was warm and peaceful. Salome looked up.

  But there was no sky.

  Where deep blue and pure white should have competed for dominance, there was only solid gray stone. It was as though she gazed upon the ceiling of an immense cavern, miles above.

  "Watch your step or you'll trip," Sileil teased gently, walking along the street.

  Salome forced herself to tear her gaze from above.

  "What is this place?" she cautiously asked, catching up to the tall woman.

  As her voice echoed off the paving stones and high walls, Salome realized how unusually quiet it was. Only the clicking of their footsteps resonated, dissolving into a profound emptiness, an absence of the sounds she would expect in a street like this.

  Everyday noise. The hum of life.

  Instead, complete silence prevailed—no, that wasn’t entirely true.

  If Salome listened carefully, she could hear pigeons cooing softly in the distance, as well as the gentle flutter of their wings. There was also another sound she couldn't quite place.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "This is a refuge," Sileil answered Salome's question. "A safe haven for those lost in life's turmoil, swept away like ships without anchors."

  After a while, they reached a crossroads so broad that a patch in the middle had been excavated and filled with soil—perhaps for flowers or shrubs, though the earth was gray and lifeless.

  At one corner stood a monstrous building, an ornate stone structure crowned with a tower above the grand entrance gates. Sileil moved toward it, climbing a wide staircase but turning before the main doors, opening a small side door hidden within the wall.

  Behind it was a circular chamber, its walls encircled by a narrow spiral staircase ascending upward. Salome gazed upward in awe at the towering shaft that must have extended all the way to the top of the tower. Higher up, thin slits were cut into the walls, allowing muted golden light to flood in from outside, weaving a tangled network of rays through the air.

  When the stone door closed behind them, a small flock of pigeons took flight high above, shedding a few feathers. Salome watched as they drifted slowly downward, crossing the beams of light repeatedly.

  "Do you think you can manage this?" Sileil asked, nodding towards the stone steps. Salome flexed the toes of her injured leg and swallowed nervously. Did Sileil truly intend to climb all the way up there? There had to be hundreds of steps!

  "I think so," she bravely replied.

  There was no railing or boundary. Each step jutted directly out of the wall, disconnected from the others. One misstep, and she would fall like one of those feathers—only much faster and considerably louder, if she even managed a scream.

  The ascent was exhausting, leaving Salome breathless. Yet she found the climb exhilarating, aware constantly of the emptiness yawning beside her. The higher they climbed, the more uneasy she felt. Each cautious glance down into the shaft made her stomach churn. Whoever had carved these steps out of the stone had clearly relied heavily on the sure-footedness and strength of those who used them.

  Ahead, Sileil climbed effortlessly, her hands gracefully folded at her waist, showing no signs of fatigue. Soon, they neared the ceiling.

  The staircase ended at a wooden trapdoor, which Sileil opened upward. Salome dragged herself into the room beyond, her legs heavy as lead. When she straightened up, her breath was stolen away—not from exhaustion, but by the incredible view before her.

  The roof of the tower was supported by several pillars, and only a low balustrade separated Salome from the drop.

  A city lay at her feet, sprawling beneath them in an immense underground cavern unlike anything she had ever seen. Thick roots hung from the distant ceiling, indicating they were directly beneath the forest where Kiran had led them. A massive wall encircled the city, topped with wide battlements and watchtowers rising like the teeth of a crown. Salome couldn’t see what lay beyond it, as their vantage point was barely higher than the wall itself. What on earth could require such a massive defensive structure?

  Low buildings clustered along the inner wall, separated by a network of winding streets and alleys like fine cracks in the landscape. As the buildings neared the city center, they became larger and more elaborate. Flat roofs gave way to gables; buildings rose to three or four stories, and simple doorways gained elegant columns and intricate decorations until eventually, grand towers topped magnificent estates adorned with sculptures and gargoyles. Hundreds of broad, paved streets interconnected the buildings, punctuated by open squares, often featuring statues or fountains at their centers.

  The city rose in terraces toward the center, but most spectacular of all was what stood at its heart:

  A castle.

  An enormous structure with ornate walls and slender towers, linked by countless stone arches and bridges.

  It hugged a mysterious, irregular pillar rising among the towers, stretching all the way to the distant ceiling. This pillar glowed softly, undeniably the source of the warm golden light suffusing the city. Though it appeared to be made of stone, it radiated an ethereal brilliance from within—a glow so compelling Salome could barely look away, though it didn’t blind her.

  "Welcome to Adamer, the hidden city," Sileil declared solemnly.

  Salome turned to her with wide eyes and mouth agape, words failing her completely. No city in Fundament even approached this. Sileil smiled, amused but gentle, without a trace of mockery. Gracefully, she rested her hands upon the balustrade, watching three pigeons flutter by at eye level.

  "Very few know of this city's existence," Sileil continued. "You’ll find its name only in the oldest texts, and many adventurers have spent years searching for it in vain. Legends speak of its disappearance, but human memories are too brief to discern myth from truth in these stories."

  Her gaze drifted into the distance. "None of us know the past, and maybe that’s for the best. This place might have been forever forgotten, but we, who have no place in the world, always find our way here eventually. Someone is calling us, we hear—feel—a voice guiding us without words."

  The pigeons had settled on the distant wall, where the pillar's light dimmed and shadows hung like curtains before the far-off cavern walls. Salome thought she saw the silhouette of a girl feeding the pigeons atop the battlements.

  "Many secrets lie buried here, some as old as the city itself. But for us outcasts, it’s a home unlike any other in the world."

  "What is that?" Salome asked, fascinated, finding her voice again. She pointed toward the glowing monument.

  "Magnificent, isn’t it? This is the heart of the city," said Sileil. "The source of our sanctuary. But I believe Master Lom will tell you more later."

  "Who is Master Lom?"