## CHAPTER 67: _"The City Beneath the Ashes"_
The ash fell like snow.
It painted the ruins of the southern ridge in a veil of ghostly gray, as though the mountain itself mourned the truth it had buried for centuries. Beneath Arien's boots, the scorched ground hissed, whispering secrets of a forgotten world—the city of Nareth, long lost to time and flame.
They had journeyed through a tempest of shadow to reach this place. Now, as Arien stood at the edge of a crumbled staircase leading into the earth's heart, he felt a pull deeper than curiosity. It was blood. It was prophecy.
Lysia moved beside him, her fingertips glowing with residual soulfire. The dreams had led her here. Visions of chained gods, weeping stone, and a city that remembered her face.
> "This place…" she said, her voice fragile. "It knew me before I was born."
> "Then we find out why," Arien answered. "Together."
And together they descended.
---
**I. Beneath the Mountain**
The air shifted the deeper they went. Time moved differently. The torches they carried burned with blue flame, reacting to runes etched into the cavern walls. Names of kings and traitors. Symbols of old gods. And a warning repeated in ancient dialect:
> *"He who wakes the blood of Nareth must pay in soul."*
They reached a gate sealed with obsidian chains. At its center, a sigil pulsed—the mark of Lysia's family crest.
> "My mother never told me," she whispered. "But I remember now. My ancestors sealed this city… to keep something in."
A rumble shook the chamber.
> "Or to keep something out," Arien said.
They opened the gate.
---
**II. The City That Breathes**
Nareth was not dead.
It lived in whispers and wind, its streets untouched by time. Buildings made of crystal and bone. Statues that watched as they passed. The city pulsed like a slumbering heart.
At its center stood the *Hall of Echoes*, carved from pure nightstone. Within, a throne that rejected kings. And around it, coffins—unopened, humming with power.
> "These aren't tombs," Lysia said. "They're prisons."
Then came the voice. Low. Female. Ageless.
> "Blood of the last Oracle. You've returned."
From the shadow of the throne rose the **Ashen Sentinel**, a figure cloaked in fireless flame. She bowed before Lysia.
> "We have waited ten thousand nights. The last daughter returns to choose the fate of Nareth."
---
**III. Truth in Ash**
The Ashen Sentinel told them the truth:
Nareth had not fallen. It had *hidden*. During the war of the gods, it was Lysia's ancestor—the Oracle Velira—who sealed away the heart of magic to stop the gods from destroying Elira. That heart still beat beneath the city. And only one of Velira's bloodline could unseal it.
But to do so… she had to sacrifice someone she loved.
Arien.
> "It's always blood," Lysia said bitterly.
> "No," Arien replied. "This time, it will be *choice*."
---
**IV. The Second Curse**
As the truth unraveled, so did the curse.
Lysia's powers surged—uncontrolled. Her presence made stone cry. Her breath summoned fire.
The closer she came to the Heart of Nareth, the more she burned.
Arien held her as her memories returned fully: her mother's betrayal, the gods' lies, the deal struck at her birth.
> "They cursed me not for love," she sobbed. "But because I could *end* them."
> "Then let's finish what they started."
---
**V. The Choice**
They stood at the altar.
To awaken the Heart, someone must die.
The Sentinel offered herself, but the ritual refused. It had to be someone bound by love.
Lysia reached for the blade.
Arien stopped her.
> "You've died enough for this world."
He turned the blade on himself.
> "No!"
But before he could strike, the altar flared.
The gods had been watching.
And they offered one last deal.
> "Give us your curse," they said. "We will free you… but you will forget each other."
Silence.
> "Forget… you?" Lysia whispered.
> "Do we live free," Arien asked, "or die remembering?"
Her tears answered.
> "Then let us die."
---
**VI. Rebirth of Nareth**
The Heart awakened.
A pulse of golden fire surged through the city. The coffins opened—not with death, but with life. The Protectors of Nareth, once trapped between realms, rose again.
The gods screamed.
Lysia and Arien fell to their knees, breathless—but alive.
> "You remember?" he asked.
> "Always," she said.
Nareth stood. The curse broke.
And the ashes turned to light.