The Great Gate's destruction wasn't just a physical thing; it messed with people's heads. For six centuries, everyone in Solis-Vara, citizens and soldiers alike, totally believed their Sun-Stone walls couldn't be broken. So, when they saw a lone girl turn them into gold dust with a single hit, it felt like a god had died.
Lyra walked through the dust, her boots grinding on what was left of the gate. The city inside was built straight up. White marble buildings with amber glass went up the steep cliffs, with bridges like gold threads connecting them in the sun.
Kill her! Kill the witch!
The shout came from the main square. A bunch of Solar Infantry—almost 200—charged down the main street. They moved together, their shields making a Solar Shell, a wall of heat. Behind them, archers on balconies got ready, setting sun-oil arrows on their bows.
Lyra didn't stop or slow down. The rush from breaking the gate was still pumping through her, and the third silver drop inside her was buzzing, ready to pop.
You're still fighting for a sun that's dying, Lyra said quietly.
As the first fire-arrows flew, Lyra lifted her left hand. She didn't use the sword this time; she wanted to see how well she could control her power.
Lunar Art: Gravity of the Deep.
She pulled her hand down, like pulling a curtain. The air pressure on the street changed fast. The fire-arrows got caught in a sudden downdraft. They didn't just fall; they slammed into the ground hard enough to break the stone, their sun-oil blowing up without hitting anything.
The infantry got to her. Burn! the captain yelled, and the shields in front shot out fire.
Lyra moved.
She turned into a silver flash, using the Ghost-Step so fast it looked like there were three of her. She slipped between the shields, moving like water. Every time she passed a soldier, she touched their armor.
It was just a light touch—barely touching them—but she was putting a tiny bit of lunar power into the seams of their suits.
When she came out on the other side, she snapped her fingers.
Internal Frost.
The 200 soldiers froze inside. Their armor stayed hot and glowing, but their blood, breath, and cells turned to ice in a second. The group didn't fall; it became 200 statues, steam coming off their shields as the men inside died.
Lyra kept going. The City of Gilded Ash was getting its name. Everywhere she went, her cold power messed up the nice buildings.
Enough!
A white light fell from the tall tower, hitting the square 20 feet in front of Lyra. When the light went away, a man was standing there. He wasn't a normal soldier. He wore a plain orange robe that looked like it was made from sunlight. His hair was white, not from old age, but from his strong power.
He was a Sun-Walker, a High Priest of the Solar Order.
I'm High Priest Solan, the man said, his voice calm but his eyes burning. You've stepped into the sacred, child. You've used moon magic to ruin a city of Light. For this, there's no trial. Only fire.
Lyra felt a real chill—not from her own power, but from fear. This man was strong. He was at the Second Stage of Solar Power: The Solar Core Stage. He was like she would be if she reached the Frost-Vein Stage.
The light you worship is a trap, Lyra said, gripping the sword. I'm just opening the door.
Solan raised a finger. A white spark formed at the end—a Solar Seed. He flicked it at her.
It seemed slow, but as it moved, it sucked the air out, pulling Lyra toward it. She tried to Ghost-Step away, but the light's pull was too strong.
The Eye, she remembered. The Sun is an eye.
She knew the seed wasn't just a bomb; it was tracking her. It was locked onto her moon power.
If I can't dodge it, I'll bury it, she hissed.
She stuck the Sun-Iron sword into the ground, putting all her energy into it, using it as a lightning rod.
Lunar Art: Glacial Burial!
A huge ice spike shot up from the ground, covering Lyra and the sword. The Solar Seed hit the ice and exploded.
The blast was bright. The square was covered in white fire that melted the marble and made the air super hot. High Priest Solan watched, waiting for the girl to burn up.
But when the smoke cleared, the spike was still there. It was burned, cracked, and melting, but it stood.
Inside the ice, Lyra was trying to breathe. The heat had gotten past her defense, burning her skin. Her robe was torn, and her hair was burned. But the attack had done something she didn't want.
The third silver drop inside her finally popped.
BOOM.
A wave of cold energy burst from Lyra's body, breaking the ice. The sky above Solis-Vara suddenly got dark. Grey clouds swirled, and for the first time in centuries, snow started falling on the Helios Pass.
Lyra stood up. She felt different. The world wasn't just things; it was a map of temperatures. She could feel the heat in Solan's heart, the dying heat of the city, and the cold mountains behind her.
She had reached the Late Phase of the Dew-Drop Stage.
The Shroud, she whispered, remembering the warning.
She looked up. Above the clouds, she felt it—a big, gold thing. The Sun-God, or whatever was in charge, had noticed her. The clouds started to open as Judgment Light started to gather.
You've gotten too strong too fast! Solan yelled, feeling the power. The Heavens have seen you!
Then I'll give them something to see, Lyra said.
She didn't attack Solan. Instead, she turned the sword toward the Great Array on the tower and let out all of the third drop's energy.
Lunar Art: Eclipse Strike.
A beam of black energy shot from the sword. It didn't go through the air; it went through the shadows. It hit the Great Array just as the Judgment Light hit the tower.
The crash was huge. The gold lens broke, and the light scattered everywhere. The tower fell into the city, with burning pieces falling on the square.
In the mess, Lyra used her last energy to disappear into the mountains. She was hurt, her power was unstable, and the Eye in the sky was looking for her.
She had lived through the Gate, but now she was being hunted. The 500-mile walk to the Sunken Library was now a chase.