The whispers of the Domain receded into an uneasy hush.
What remained was wind—cold and scraping—dragging across the central square as frost traced delicate veins along bloodstained cobblestones. Above, the fractured sky hung heavy with impossible stars, their distant light swallowed by the eternal eclipse.
Nearly fifty survivors stood amid the ruins.
Merchants, laborers, fallen nobles—faces hollowed by terror, breaths fogging in white plumes. Behind them loomed the cathedral spire, cracked yet defiant, its survival a silent testament to Luan Yue's mercy… and its cost.
Sera Voss wiped grime from her scarred face, her sword's flames reduced to a dull ember. She scanned the crowd, noting the split in their stares—some filled with reverence, others edged with fear.
"We can't stay exposed," she said, voice firm. "Barricades. Now. Use carts, stone, debris—anything. Toren, organize teams."
Toren Vale straightened immediately, instinct snapping into place. "You heard her! Able-bodied with me. Wounded stay back—Mira, you're on triage."
Mira Lin nodded quickly, already moving, her hands glowing with gentle gold. "I—I can help. Just tell me where it hurts."
Luan stood slightly apart.
Silver hair caught the starlight. Pale eyes remained distant. The absence where his mother's voice had been throbbed like an open wound—silent, endless. The world felt muted, as though viewed through frost-clouded glass.
Still, when Sera glanced at him, he inclined his head once.
Scavenging began.
Teams fanned across the square, overturning shattered carts, prying open ruined storefronts. The stench of death lingered—bodies lay where panic or illusion had claimed them. Eyes were averted as supplies were taken from the fallen: water flasks, preserved rations, knives still warm from clenched hands.
"Careful," Toren warned. "Some of them still twitch. Lingering illusions."
A former baker froze as a corpse's hand appeared to clutch his boot. Shadow coiled.
Sera struck first—fire roaring as she severed the phantom. "Burn it out! Don't let it settle!"
Luan approached, moonlight pooling softly at his fingertips.
"Eclipse."
The shadow unraveled before it could complete itself. The corpse lay still—finally only a body.
The baker whispered thanks… then hesitated, eyes narrowing. "Handy power. But what does it take?"
The question lingered.
Supplies accumulated near the cathedral steps. Toren oversaw distribution with hard fairness. "No hoarding. We share or we die."
Barricades rose.
Overturned carts formed the spine, reinforced with stone and timber. Toren directed placements with a guard's precision. "East side higher—the rifts are thinner there."
Sera patrolled the perimeter, flames ready. Minor illusions already tested the defenses—faces in puddles, whispers from alley mouths.
One cluster surged suddenly—phantoms of loved ones calling names.
"They're probing," Sera snarled, throwing up a wall of fire. The illusions recoiled, hissing.
Luan stepped beside her. He placed a hand against unstable rubble.
Moonlight flared.
"Eclipse."
The stone shifted—not erased, but negated. Where weakness had been, a dark-silver void formed, rippling yet solid. An illusion tendril touched it—and vanished without resistance.
Toren stared. "That's… staying?"
"A persistent negation," Luan replied. "The possibility of breach eclipsed."
He worked methodically. Void barriers laced the physical barricades, humming softly. Minor illusions dissolved on contact; those that slipped through met flame.
The cost accumulated.
Each barrier deepened the cold inside him, but he did not falter.
By the time the last seal settled, the square had transformed—wood, stone, fire, and void forming a fragile ring of safety.
Cheers rose—tired, uncertain.
Fires were lit. Rations passed. Mira moved slowly now, exhaustion dimming her glow. Toren set watches.
Around one fire, gratitude gathered.
"You saved us," an old woman said, offering dried meat. "A blessing."
"Blessings are illusions," Luan replied quietly. "Survival is negotiated."
Elsewhere, murmurs of doubt crept in.
"Noble blood," someone whispered. "What does he want?"
Toren shut it down with a glare. "He wants us alive."
Sera sat beside Luan, close enough that her warmth cut through his chill. "Your walls were smart," she said. "Fire and eclipse." A faint smirk. "We make a decent team."
"Perhaps," Luan said.
Mira collapsed nearby, smiling tiredly. "Your barriers… they're beautiful. Like moonlight learned how to hold."
For a moment, laughter flickered. Stories surfaced. The illusion of normalcy returned.
Then a shout shattered it.
"Movement! Someone approaching!"
A man staggered into view, bloodied, collapsing against the void wall.
"Help," he rasped. "Everything else is gone. Temples. Manors. They fell overnight. Illusions—or worse."
Fear rippled through the camp.
"They're saying this place is next."
Luan rose slowly, gazing into the eclipsed dark.
The sanctuary held.
For now.
The trials were coming.