The morning light seeped through the narrow, grimy windows into the small room we all shared, it wasn't much. Just three beds with mattresses that felt like stones, two bedside desks and some candles dotted about.

  I walked the stairs, feeling them groan slightly under my weight. The inn was eerily quiet compared to the noise of Korshelim Square the day before. Most of the patrons were either still sleeping or nursing the hangovers they had given themselves the night before. I had risen early, I wanted to get a look at the city before it started to become busy.

  The others were still asleep upstairs. Bram and Helriel had business to take care of and Myra would take Mari to the market as planned, leaving me free to explore on my own. The city felt like a cold, with the blight's strange, growing presence feeling stronger. If Hollowspire had answers, I intended to find them.

  Pulling my cloak tighter against the morning chill, I stepped out onto the street. The air was damp and smelled faintly of rot. The streets were quieter than they had been the day before, the early risers moving briskly to avoid lingering in the open. A beggar crouched against a building wall, his face hidden beneath a tattered hood. His hollow cough echoed as I passed.

  I wondered about the blight, it seemed to have grown worse since my coming. Myra said it had started ten years ago, yet it now seemed to be the worst it had ever been by the sounds of it. Ten years ago was when I had set my course towards the star system. That couldn't be a coincidence. Either my coming here had started this all, or it had just accelerated what would always come. How did the blight connect to the machines or the First Flame. Taking the assumption that it was due to the piece of Death was not enough. There had to be more to it. Something was affecting the flame, triggering all this.

  Shaking my head of my musings,I looked forward, The Spire loomed above the city, its glass-like structure gleaming faintly even in the dampened sunlight. It dominated the skyline. If the stories were true as I had heard, and it held back the blight-or even slowed it-then it was my best lead. But that kind of information wouldn't come easily. Especially with how reserved this place seemed to be about strangers.

  I made my way toward the marketplace first, navigating the narrow alleys and uneven streets. Start with a place I already had some, albeit minor, experience with.

  The people here seemed to move with some sort of purpose but also with fear, as if they were being watched by something unseen. I don't think they realised that they felt like that. That same feeling gnawed at the back of my mind, that sense of wrongness.

  The market was coming to life in the early hours of the morning, vendors setting up their stalls and carts, their faces already lined with the exhaustion of another day. They looked like today had come a day too soon.

  My eyes scanned the crowd for anyone who might stand out-a figure who might have the answers I sought. Instead, my attention was drawn to a commotion near the far end of the square.

  There was a crowd gathering around a somewhat short young man, he was perched atop a crate so it was hard to tell his true height. He was in front of a statue depicting a man in beautiful plate armour with an intricate, ornate longsword clutched in front of him. He looked like he was protecting someone from something.

  The young man wore tattered brown robes with holes dotting it, like mice had eaten through. He had piercing blue eyes, bright against his otherwise destitute appearance. In his hands, he clutched a long staff. His voice was loud and desperate, passionate.

  "The Spire cannot save us!" he cried, his words sharp and urgent. "You cling to it like children clutching at shadows, but it's a false hope! The blight is not natural-it is punishment, and it will consume us all unless we act! We must!"

  The crowd muttered uneasily, some nodding in agreement, others shaking their heads and muttering curses I could not make out. I did make out a few scattered words, though; By the hand of Mar'Alore." Who was that? Some religious figurehead?

  A guard approached, his face hard with irritation, but the man continued on, not noticing him.

  "You think the blight is just a sickness?" the man shouted, pointing toward the Spire. "No! It is alive, and it feeds on us! Our fear, our despair-it grows stronger because we let it!"

  The guard grabbed the man by the arm, pulling him down from the crate. The crowd quickly dispersed, their fear outweighing their curiosity. I lingered, watching as the guard dragged the man down a side street, I followed at a safe distance, keeping to the shadows. The guard led the man to a small, squat building that looked like a storage shed more than a jail. He began speaking to the young man. "What have I told you about spewing rubbish in my city Ikareth? What did I say?" The guard spoke angrily and hurriedly, it was the same burly guard from the gate.

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  If Ikareth noticed him, he didn't seem to want to show it. He just kept mumbling, too silent to hear.

  Up till now I had been leaning against the cobblestone wall just around the corner from the two.

  Then I heard words directed towards me. "Come out here, stranger. No point trying to hide behind that corner, I saw you following."

  "Great," I muttered to myself. "Now what?"

  I stepped out into the centre of the small area.

  Now that I was closer, I could hear the young man's mumblings, "They don't see it. None of them see it. The roots are already here. The roots are inside."

  Inside? If it was making a home, rooting inside, then no wonder the place was being affected so badly, and so quickly.

  The guard looked at me cautiously, he glanced at the young man then back at me.

  "You should listen to him," I said, unsure myself where the words had come from.

  "I should, should I?" The guard spoke with a condescending tone.

  "Yes," I replied urgently, "I need to talk to him, he might seem mad, but he also may have things to say that are worth hearing. Please, can't you see? Your city is dying, are you ready to let your home die just because you judged a man insane when he maybe has the key to all of this?"

  The guard had a hollow look on his face, sad. "There's no hope, stranger, no hope at-"

  He was cut off by an explosion followed by screams.

  MOTHER OF THE VOID, WHAT WAS THAT?" I exclaimed loudly.

  The guard cursed too, again using that strange name, if he found what I had said strange he didn't show it.

  The three of us rang back to the square, Ikareth seemed shocked back to his senses.

  There was death everywhere, bodies lay strewn across the cobblestone. Blood filling the spaces between the cobbles. Arrows began landing near us, black feathered and warped looking. What was happening, a raid?

  I saw a flash of red marching up an alley and had a split second to react. Grabbing hold of the other two men and started dragging us towards the nearest building. We ran toward the building and entered into a dark kitchen that smelled of woodsmoke, herbs, and years of use. We needed cover and time to think. Hopefully whoever was outside had not seen us enter. How had things gone from zero to a hundred so quickly? Myra and Mari- I felt a chill, they were supposed to be in the market, where most of the damage seemed to have happened. I had not had a chance to look for them or even at what was really happening. Was this the blight? Or was something answering a call from the blight? Maybe this was just a normal raid. I peeked out through a window, but it was too smokey outside to see anything.

  I needed to find the others.

  I turned back to the men behind me.

  Ikareth began to pace erratically, his staff clutched tightly in his hands. His piercing blue eyes darted to every shadow, his breath quick and shallow. What had he seen that had shaken him so much?

  "The roots," he muttered again. "They're here. They've always been here."

  The guard, still clutching his weapon, glanced nervously at me. "You want answers from him? This is what you're working with." His voice trembled, but his eyes betrayed a desperate glimmer-hope or denial, maybe both, I couldn't tell.

  I pushed away the rising panic and focused. "Ikareth," I said firmly, stepping in front of him. "Look at me."

  He froze mid-step, his gaze locking with mine.

  "What roots? What's happening out there? Is this the blight?"

  For a moment, there was only silence. Then, in a voice heavy with resignation, he said, "It's feeding. The roots are not just inside the city-they're inside us. The blight grows because we give it what it needs: fear, despair, blood. Every death makes it stronger. It started in the Novak region, and it has spread with every death. It attracts the worst of people. Every new life born, be it animal, plant, or human, seems to weaken it. It has summoned them to help feed it, I understand now, my dreams were visions!." He began to giggle to himself, then laughing hysterically.

  His eyes changed, becoming a glowing emerald color, like the shopkeepers had.

  That same voice spoke again.

  "Mmmm it seems we were too late to stop him telling you. No matter. The Kirilae will bring death upon you all. They will become death.

  They will sculpt the way for us to follow when the time comes."

  Who were the Kirilae?

  I spoke, this time my voice steady. "I know your name now, machines. You may be Unseen, but I swear I will protect these people. You. Will. Not. Win.

  I will not let you twist death to your purpose. My own planet burned, I will not let this one burn too. Not while I draw breath.

  "You? You bear a curse you don't understand, you let them die, you caused it. You, last child of Earth. Man of no Name. You will do nothing." The voice spoke plainly, without even a hint of anger or malice, it spoke as if what it said was obvious.

  Ikareth suddenly spasmed, his hands flailing, before jumping at the guard. He landed on top, the air leaving the guard's lungs in one big whoosh. He grabbed a dagger the guard had hidden on his person, how did he know where it was?

  I thought I had seen all the worst things a person could see, but I was wrong.

  Ikareth grabbed the dagger and unsheathed it, still laughing maniacally. He threw back his head. I stood glued to the ground as I watched a man saw his own throat open. I heard him begin to gurgle, and yet he didn't stop. I saw terror in his eyes, this poor boy. Not even an infant compared to me. I saw in his eyes, then, a pain that mirrored my own. He wasn't choosing to do this, the machines were controlling him somehow still. I had to do something. I took hold of him, or tried to at least, he somehow still fought me. He stopped sawing his own throat and lashed out, slicing me in a long jagged strip down my bicep, blue blood seemed from me. That was new.

  I cried as the pain struck me but fought harder. I managed to grasp the handle. With a scream, I plunged it into his heart, putting the poor boy out of his misery.

  I leaned towards Ikareths face and pushed close his eyelids, letting him look somewhat at peace. I stood from my place kneeling over him, breathing hard, blue blood dripping down my arm. I looked down at my bicep and started. It was already healed, a long white line where I had been cut. Since when had I healed that quick? I had been hard to kill, yes. I was able to take quite a beating, but this was different. I was changing, rapidly.

  I glanced towards the pale faced guard, who was looking at me in a mix of terror and amazement. "What the fuck was that?" he asked more to himself than me, his voice hoarse and quiet. "What are you?" he asked slowly, warily.

  "A remnant of a long dead people, I bear a burden no other can carry. But I am here to help."

  We were both startled out of our mixed reactions when a kick hit the door.

  The Kirilae had found us. We had to move, the door would not hold long.

  I needed a weapon. I picked up the bloody dagger that was covered in a mix of red and blue. It was a plain dagger, a short blade of steel with a common handle and guard. Easy to conceal.

  "We needed to leave, now." I said to the guard as another kick hit the door, shouting could be heard outside.

  He nodded, "We need to talk later if we survive this, nothing that happened here was normal, and I will have answers." His tone left no room for debate.

  I nodded and agreed. I was focused on survival firsts. I would need to find the others too.

  If they were alive.