Arrival in Caelmire
POV: Leon Graves
The air didn't move in Caelmire.
It hung—too still, too silent—as if the world itself had been paused, the wind afraid to breathe. Leon stepped onto the city's edge, his boot touching cracked stone where an outer platform once formed a clean circle. Now it floated in fragments, each slab of marble suspended at odd angles, spinning lazily through distorted gravity.
Debris drifted like broken planets around him. A chunk of railing twisted through the pale fog above, its iron veins arcing like frozen lightning. Another segment—half a cathedral spire—spun upside down in the distance, its shattered tip trailing thin strands of energy, stretching toward the earth below.
The floating city was collapsing—but it hadn't fallen yet. It had paused on the brink of ruin, held in a state of haunted stillness.
