The hum of the military transport echoed through the belly of the C-130 Hercules. Dust-filtered light trickled through narrow windows, revealing a mix of cargo crates, satellite gear, and two figures seated side by side—Lucian Vale and Seo Yena, strapped into their seats with military harnesses, fatigue etched into their faces.
Lucian stared at the flickering screen of his tablet. Not the mythic one—they'd sealed that inside a lead-lined container—but a digital slate showing scans of ancient ruins, aerial images of Iraq, and fragments of decrypted messages from covert archaeological logs.
"The Ishtar Gate," he murmured, tapping a satellite photo. "If there's a place that could hide a shard of the Cinder Crown, it's there."
Yena tilted her head. "There's a problem. The Ishtar Gate was moved to Berlin."
Lucian gave a faint smile. "Yes. But what most don't know is that what's in Berlin is a reconstruction. The real Gate? Still buried in the dust under Babylon. And according to these maps... so is the second shard."
Yena nodded. "And we're landing right in the middle of a protected zone crawling with mercs, black-site archaeologists, and ghost soldiers."
"Sounds like a vacation," Lucian said.
Yena didn't smile. "Stay close to me down there. You bleed too easily."
---
Babylon Ruins — 2:17 AM, Iraqi Desert
They moved under cover of darkness. A convoy of disguised aid trucks had dropped them off five miles from the dig site, and now they crept between half-buried ziggurats and broken sandstone walls, following coordinates that pulsed faintly from Lucian's satchel.
Yena crouched at the ridge overlooking the archaeological zone. Lights below swept across ancient stone. Tents flapped in the desert wind. Guards with automatic rifles patrolled the perimeter, but something about their movements was off.
"They're too synchronized," Yena whispered. "Not mercs. Not military. Something worse."
Lucian adjusted the satchel, tightening the strap. "Crowned Shadow?"
She nodded. "Their enforcers. They use reanimated relics—soldiers who died centuries ago, but whose souls were bound to ancient weapons."
Lucian swallowed. "Undead mercs guarding cursed ruins. Great."
They moved fast, slipping through a crumbled aqueduct and into a gap in the wall. Yena led with surgical precision, dispatching one silent guard with a strike to the neck. Lucian followed, hands tingling as his mark grew warm—the closer they came to the shard, the more it reacted.
They entered a central plaza, ancient bricks glazed blue and gold still faintly visible beneath the sand.
And there it was.
The real Ishtar Gate—half-collapsed, cracked with age, but radiating an unnatural cold.
Lucian stepped closer. His palm ignited with red flame.
The gate shimmered.
Suddenly, runes blazed to life across the archway, responding to his presence. The ground beneath them trembled. A wind rose from the earth.
"Lucian," Yena said, drawing her blade.
He turned—
And saw them.
Ten figures emerging from the shadows.
Armor etched with flame sigils. Black helms. Empty eyes.
At their center stood a woman with obsidian hair and a burning crown hovering above her brow.
"The Firebrand has arrived," she said.
Lucian stepped forward. "Who are you?"
She smiled.
"I am Ashira, Daughter of Embers. Herald of the Cinder King."
Lucian's voice tightened. "You want the crown shard."
Ashira lifted a hand. "It is ours by right. Return it, and I will let your soul remain intact when the new world burns."
Yena's blade snapped forward. "Try us."
Ashira's smile didn't fade.
"Kill them."
---
The Battle Beneath Babylon
It began in silence.
Then it erupted in fire.
Lucian raised both hands as flame surged from his core. He blasted two of the undead forward, sending their armor flying.
Yena danced through the chaos, her blade glowing with lunar runes, slicing through the enemy like wind through silk.
But Ashira was stronger.
She moved through the battle untouched, weaving flame and shadow, summoning burning serpents that hissed and coiled through the ruins.
Lucian staggered as one of them snapped toward him. He raised his arm too slow—
Then fire erupted again—but not from him.
From the shard.
The satchel tore open. The shard rose into the air—jagged, dark red, glowing like molten lava. It spun once—
—and shot into Lucian's chest.
He screamed.
Light exploded from his body, blinding, scorching.
The battlefield stopped.
Even Ashira took a step back.
Lucian rose.
His eyes burned like furnaces.
A crown of flame flickered faintly above his head—three points, one brighter than the rest.
Ashira whispered, "It has begun."
Yena reached for Lucian. "Lucian—can you hear me?"
He turned to her.
"I can see everything."
Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed into darkness.