The city of Gulmund had transformed overnight. What was once a place of muted whispers and cautious movement had exploded into a celebration of sound, color, and light. Banners were raised above every building, painted with silver and violet—the colors of Sarfin's ruling crest. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meats, freshly baked bread, and the smoke of scented torches lining the marble streets. Joy was painted on every face. And yet, not all hearts rejoiced.
Toji watched the festivities from a balcony overlooking the plaza, standing still as the world danced below him. From this vantage, he could see the fire dancers, the musicians playing a hauntingly rhythmic tune, and the laughing citizens wearing masks of radiant gold. Each mask bore an unfamiliar smile—a uniform expression carved in metal.
Behind him, Frankie stepped onto the balcony with Elian at his side.
"This is… overwhelming," Frankie muttered.
"It's certainly something," Elian added, fidgeting with the collar of his formal robe. "I haven't seen a festival like this since I was a boy. Even then, not one on this scale."
Toji didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the enormous tapestry draped over the city's central archway. It was beautifully woven—an image of a lone figure standing against a burning mountain. His silhouette. His legacy. A myth taking root in real time.
"They're celebrating you," Frankie said quietly. "You should be down there."
"No," Toji said. "They're celebrating a lie."
Frankie furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
"I burned a mountain to erase the horror it contained. Not to become some legend draped in silk."
"But maybe the people need a legend," Elian said, offering a weak smile. "Hope is a powerful thing."
Toji said nothing.
A knock came at the door. A servant stepped in, bowing low.
"His Excellency Governor Azel sends his greetings and requests your presence in the Plaza of Kings. The feast is about to begin."
Toji gave a small nod. "We'll be there."
The Plaza of Kings was the beating heart of the festival. Stone arches towered above, carved with the names of past rulers. Musicians played atop floating platforms, their melodies weaving magic into the air itself. Lights danced from flame-powered orbs and drifted like fireflies through the streets.
Toji walked beside Frankie and Elian, his presence parting the crowd like a divine force. Children pointed, women whispered, and soldiers bowed. He felt none of it. His eyes swept the decorations, taking in every detail.
And then he saw them.
Carved into the base of one of the central obelisks, half-hidden behind a wreath of silver ivy, was a symbol. A spiral, surrounded by jagged lines—the same symbol etched into the walls of the dungeon.
Toji stopped walking.
Frankie, noticing, followed his gaze. His expression paled. "That's…"
Elian looked confused. "What is it?"
Toji stepped closer. He brushed the ivy aside and revealed the full sigil—unmistakable.
"That symbol," Frankie said, "was on the sacrificial altars. On the walls of the lab. Everywhere underground."
"It's not part of the city's official heraldry," Toji said. "It doesn't belong."
Elian looked shaken. "So… why is it here?"
Toji's voice lowered. "Because whoever is behind the corruption… is watching. And they're bold enough to leave their mark in the open."
They continued toward the governor's grand table—an elevated dais set beneath a colonnade of crystalline pillars. Governor Helmund Azel sat at the head, resplendent in a deep purple robe threaded with silver.
"Ah, our honored guest arrives!" he said, rising with open arms. "Toji, the Lightbringer! Please, join us."
Toji took the seat offered beside the governor, while Frankie and Elian sat two places down. The table was overflowing with exotic foods—fire-roasted meats, fruits from across the kingdom, wine that shimmered with flecks of gold.
Helmund raised his goblet. "To peace. To heroes. And to new beginnings."
The crowd cheered. Music swelled.
But Toji didn't drink. Instead, his eyes scanned the governor's expression. Polished. Measured. Controlled.
"You've done a great thing," Helmund said, lowering his voice as the others feasted. "You've shown the people that fear can be conquered. That even the darkness of the dungeons can be pierced."
"They were celebrating long before I arrived," Toji said. "They celebrate you."
Helmund chuckled. "Let's say they celebrate… the idea of safety."
Frankie leaned toward Elian, whispering, "There's more symbols. Look at the cloth patterns."
Elian followed his gaze. Embroidered along the rim of the governor's robe were more spirals. More runes.
"There," Frankie whispered, pointing to the design on the goblet. "Same rune."
Toji heard them, but didn't move. He turned back to the governor. "Do you believe in gods, Governor Azel?"
Helmund's golden eyes flickered. "I believe in power. In order. The kind that can't be prayed for."
"To believe only in power," Toji said softly, "is to become its slave."
Helmund raised a brow. "Spoken like a man of conviction. Or is it guilt?"
Toji's eyes sharpened. "What do I have to feel guilty about?"
The governor smiled. "You've destroyed a sacred site. One older than this city itself. Some might see that as desecration."
"A place of blood and torment is not sacred," Toji snapped.
The governor leaned back, amused. "History is written by those who survive, Lightbringer. Be careful not to confuse righteousness with permission."
The music played louder, masking the tension at the table.
As the feast continued, dancers performed in the square, swirling in golden silks. But to Toji, it was all noise. He wasn't celebrating. He was calculating.
Something was very wrong in Gulmund.
And now he had proof.