Kethra stirred uneasily as the flames spread through the market square. The enchanted glyphs lining the nearby buildings flared to life, their protective magic keeping the fire from spreading further but casting an eerie glow across the streets. Guards rushed to the scene, their armor gleaming as they shouted commands and directed efforts to control the blaze.

  Merchants and bystanders gathered at a distance, their hushed conversations filled with speculation and fear. Chaos was rare in a city so tightly bound by its magic, and the sight of a fire tearing through the heart of the market sent ripples of unease through the crowd.

  Captain Elian, a seasoned guard with silver-threaded hair, stood at the edge of the square, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the scene. The fire wasn’t natural—that much was clear. The barrels of enchanted oil had been tampered with, their seals broken in a way that suggested deliberate sabotage.

  “This wasn’t an accident,” Elian muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

  A younger guard beside him looked uneasy. “Do you think it’s connected to the shadow-weaver, sir? The Magister’s orders—”

  “I know the Magister’s orders,” Elian snapped, though his tone softened as he glanced at the young man. “But we don’t know enough yet. Send word to the spire. The Magister needs to know.”

  The guard saluted and hurried off, leaving Elian to oversee the containment efforts. His gaze lingered on the flames, the unease in his chest growing stronger.

  High above the city, in the Nexus Spire, Magister Kaelen paced the length of his study. The glowing glyph on his wall pulsed faintly, reacting to the surge of magic coming from the lower districts. His sharp features tightened as he activated the communicator crystal, summoning the captain of the guards.

  Moments later, Elian’s image flickered into view, the faint glow of the fire visible behind him.

  “What happened?” Kaelen demanded, his tone clipped.

  “An explosion in the market square,” Elian replied. “Barrels of enchanted oil were ignited. It was deliberate.”

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  Kaelen’s jaw tightened. “The shadow-bearer?”

  “We can’t confirm that yet, but the timing…” Elian trailed off, his meaning clear.

  Kaelen’s gaze shifted to the glyph on the wall. The detection spell hadn’t pinpointed the shadow-bearer’s exact location since the fire started, but the disruption in the city’s magic was undeniable. The spire itself hummed faintly, reacting to the disturbance.

  “Double the patrols around the spire,” Kaelen ordered. “And search the lower districts. The shadow-bearer is here, and he’s making his move.”

  In the Oracle’s chamber, the scrying pool rippled with images of the city. The fire in the market square was prominent, but the vision shifted quickly, showing glimpses of guards moving through the streets, glyphs flaring along the spire’s surface, and a dark figure slipping through the shadows.

  The Oracle exhaled slowly, their hands trembling as they pressed against the edge of the pool. The threads of fate were tightening, pulling the shadow-bearer closer to the spire. But the visions remained fragmented, the figure’s purpose obscured.

  “Is it destruction?” the Oracle whispered. “Or something more?”

  The flames in the pool dimmed, replaced by the faint image of the spire. The glyphs on its surface pulsed erratically, their light flickering as though in response to an unseen force.

  “The spire is reacting,” the Oracle murmured. “It knows he’s coming.”

  Across Kethra, whispers spread like wildfire. The fire in the market square became the center of speculation, with rumors ranging from sabotage by rival merchants to an attack by shadow-weavers. The tension in the city was palpable, its magical hum tinged with unease.

  At a tavern near the docks, a group of sailors debated the event over mugs of ale.

  “First the increased patrols, now this fire,” one said, shaking his head. “Something’s not right.”

  “Shadow-weavers,” another muttered, his tone hushed. “I heard the guards talking. They say one’s in the city.”

  “Bah,” a third scoffed. “Just another excuse to tighten their grip. If there was a shadow-weaver here, we’d all know.”

  The conversations blended into the background hum of the tavern, but the unease lingered. Kethra was a city of magic and precision, and any disruption to its delicate balance was felt deeply.

  Kaelen stood at the spire’s balcony, his gaze fixed on the city below. The fire had been extinguished, but its implications burned in his mind. The shadow-bearer was no longer a distant threat. He was here, moving through Kethra like a shadow through the cracks of light.

  The spire’s hum grew louder, resonating through Kaelen’s chest. The glyphs etched into its surface glowed faintly, reacting to the disturbance in the city’s magic.

  Kaelen clenched his fists. The Nexus Spire wasn’t just a source of power—it was a beacon, a stabilizing force for Kethra. If the shadow-bearer disrupted its balance, the consequences would be catastrophic.

  “Let him come,” Kaelen murmured, his voice cold. “The spire will protect itself—and so will I.”