Patches rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. "Ah, well, now that’s a story! I was just a humble wanderer, see? Traveling the world, making an honest living, and then, bam! I stumbled into this place!"

  Chael gave him an unimpressed look.

  Patches grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "I walked into a prayer hall, you see, and there she was, a priestess! Oh, what a beauty, lying there, so… still. So inviting. And then a knight came and took her, and I thought - well, maybe it was my turn next!"

  There was a long, heavy silence.

  Patches suddenly coughed. "Wait, no! No! I mean, I went to her to pray! Yes, that’s it! And then that knight got up and chased me all the way here! Scary bunch, I tell ya!"

  Chael's left eye twitched at least once or twice.

  "Liar."

  Patches grinned shamelessly. "Liar? I’ve been told that before."

  Chael pinched the bridge of his nose.

  "I tell ya, though!" Patches continued, "I slayed all of those Hollowed Choir! Took 'em down one by one, fearless as can be! It seems like I left one alive - and right outside the door, no less ahahaha… silly old me."

  Chael wasn’t even remotely convinced. "Right."

  But, a question appeared in his mind.

  How did Patches know they were called the Hollowed Choir?

  Chael had gotten it from the ghosts in the Collonade. Had Patches taken the same route?

  Whatever, it wasn't important.

  Patches waved a hand, clearly not bothered by the skepticism. "Believe what you want, friend. But in the end, I’m standing here, and that means something, doesn’t it?"

  This man was ridiculous.

  But he was also, somehow, alive. Chael barely survived, and he was a Harbinger. Patches, on the other hand...

  If he’s here unscathed, that means he was either very lucky… or much more dangerous than he let on.

  Patches leaned back slightly and crossed his arms as he studied Chael. "So, how’d you end up in this delightful little hellhole?"

  Chael kept his expression neutral. "I stumbled through an underground cavern and ended up here."

  Patches nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Ah, yes, yes! Same here, more or less! I was, ah - doing some very serious research on the Silver Expanse, you see. Important stuff. Absolutely critical, world-changing, really."

  Chael lifted an eyebrow. "You were scamming someone, weren’t you?"

  Patches gasped, placing a hand on his chest as if deeply wounded. "Now, now! Let’s not throw such accusations around! I was merely… expanding my business ventures!"

  He coughed. "But, yes, I was, ah, running away from some angry - no, wait… I was investigating some rather fascinating ruins when I found my way here."

  Chael said nothing and let him ramble.

  Patches gestured around the library with a sweeping hand. "And isn’t it just marvelous? This place. It almost seems like it’s trapped in time."

  Chael’s expression immediately sharpened.

  Trapped in time.

  Something cold curled in his stomach. His blindfolded gaze narrowed, and his voice came out calm but firm.

  "Where did you get that idea?"

  Patches tilted his head. "Oh, just a little observation of mine!"

  He tapped his temple. "Nothing here seems to age, does it? The stone, the walls, the books. There's no day and night cycle... even the damn air feels untouched. It’s as if everything in this city is… stuck."

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Chael’s thoughts raced.

  Patches shrugged. "I’ve spent some time wandering. Call it a merchant’s curiosity! But everything I’ve seen so far confirms it: this place isn’t just abandoned. It’s frozen."

  That made too much sense.

  Everything here: the buildings, the murals, the armor of the knights. They all looked pristine. Not preserved, not carefully maintained, but as if they had never decayed at all. Not to mention what Patches said about this place having no day or night cycle. Chael had fallen asleep and woken up to the same twin moons outside. He had his doubts, but he also considered that he might've just been asleep for a long time.

  Chael had his doubts that time in this place was a bit funky, but now that he really considered the idea that this place was actually frozen in time, it made so much sense.

  “No way…” Chael muttered with furrowed brows as something else came into mind.

  The Twin Moons.

  His mind flashed back to that moment when time itself had seemed to pause before he stepped into the Veiled Realm. That strange, otherworldly space bathed in a deep purple glow, the twin moons hanging over him.

  Time in the real world hadn’t moved when he was in that domain.

  Was that what the Twin Moons meant?

  An indication of frozen time?

  His fingers curled into fists.

  "So that’s it…" he murmured, his voice quiet. "I’m trapped in a city frozen in time…."

  His mind was still reeling from the implications of what this meant.

  If time wasn’t moving normally here, then… how long had these spirits and monsters been trapped like this?

  Had the Saintess’ rebellion happened yesterday? A decade ago? A century?

  The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

  Patches, seemingly oblivious to Chael’s internal storm, casually dusted off his coat. "Of course, not all of Nyrethil is a death trap! There’s a place, a little sanctuary, if you will, where there are still people. Actual, sane, breathing humans."

  That snapped Chael from his thoughts.

  His blindfolded eyes turned sharply toward Patches. "…What?"

  Patches smirked.

  "Oh yes, friend. Not everyone in this city is a raving phantom or an undead horror." He leaned in slightly. "There’s a safe haven. A place where the monsters don’t tread. And humans still have their sanity intact."

  Chael exhaled slowly, trying to process this new piece of information.

  A safe haven. A place where real, living people still survived.

  That changed everything.

  Chael’s interest was piqued instantly. He had spent hours, or maybe days, wandering this cursed cathedral and fighting its horrors, and now, for the first time, he had a destination.

  "Oh?" His voice was calm, but the sharpened edge in his tone betrayed his focus.

  Patches grinned, eager to share his so-called knowledge.

  "The Ironspire Fortress!" he declared and spread his arms wide. "A city thriving with life! A city full of humans! A proper civilization, if you can believe it!"

  Chael narrowed his eyes. "You’ve been there?"

  Patches hesitated. A little too long. His hand went up to rub his nose, his eyes darting to the side. "Uh… yeah! Of course I have! Lovely place. Grand walls, real streets, real people."

  Chael’s silence made him ramble.

  "I got lost in a snowstorm, you see. Passed out. When I woke up, I was outside the fortress gates! Just lying there, freezing my ass off in the cold. So, naturally, I got up and started wandering around, trying to get my bearings. Walked a little too far, took a wrong turn, and lo and behold, here I am! In this-" he waved dramatically at the ruined library, "This accursed place!"

  Chael looked away from Patches, his gaze drifting back toward the seventh mural.

  Whether Patches was lying or not, it all made sense.

  The people were pushed into the mountains.

  The fortress they must have built to survive.

  That was the last remnant of what once ruled Nyrethil.

  That was where the survivors had fled. And if this place was truly trapped in time, there must be people there.

  "The Ironspire Fortress… That settles it. That’s where I need to go."

  He turned back to Patches, his mind already working through the logistics. "How do I get there? The cliffs make it impossible to reach."

  Patches clapped his hands together, grinning. "Ah, see, that’s the tricky part! There’s an underground passage leading to the City Below. From there, well, you just make your way across to the fortress."

  Chael’s gaze darkened slightly. "The City Below?"

  Patches nodded. "Yes, yes, that’s the only way! That's how I got here. Climbed up that tunnel while I was running away from a Gravewarden - I mean, after killing that abomination."

  'Gravewarden?' Chael sighed internally, 'Is this idiot creating monsters in his head?'

  Then, as if realizing something, he laughed nervously. "Ah, but there’s just one small, tiny, insignificant problem-"

  Chael didn’t move and waited.

  Patches cleared his throat. "It’s suicidal."

  Chael raised an eyebrow.

  Patches gestured vaguely toward the cathedral walls. "You see how empty this place is? How there aren’t many monsters around?"

  Chael did. And he already knew why.

  He thought back to the Hellfire Sentinel. That monstrous presence looming in the Yue Clan’s territory.

  Even the ghosts, the spirits, and the Hollowed Choir had stayed away from it.

  And then there was the White Dragon.

  The one that had emerged from the City Below.

  A shiver tingled down Chael’s spine. If that mighty dragon had emerged from the City Below, who knows what other dangers and terrors walked those streets.

  Not to mention that rolling white fog. This cathedral gave him some sort of protection from it at least, but in the City Below, he’d be taking shelter with demons and devils alike if a dragon had tried to escape it.

  Patches shivered theatrically. "The City Below is teeming with horrors. This place?"

  He gestured around them. "It’s practically a vacation in comparison! Down there, though? You won’t last. I tell ya, it’s a graveyard! A deathtrap! You can’t seriously be considering going!"

  Chael looked unfazed. "Where is the tunnel?"

  Patches’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

  His eyes widened in genuine shock before he clutched his head as if Chael had just suggested throwing himself off a cliff. "Oh, for the love of - you’re actually considering it?! What part of 'teeming with horrors' did you not understand?!"

  Chael remained silent, his expression unreadable.

  Because the truth was, he had already decided.