40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3MpUE3FXqINORTHERN CITY-
Snow falls in slow spirals, each flake catching the glow of the mountain‑city’s lights — a universe of glass and stone clinging to the cliffside like a celestial kingdom frozen in time. The North City rises in tiers: cathedrals carved into the mountain face, sky‑bridges suspended over the abyss, and towers crowned with lanterns that burn through the winter fog.
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A red carriage rolls through the gates, wheels crunching over frost. Its lacquered surface reflects the auroras drifting above the peaks.
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When it stops before the Grand Cathedral, a servant in a black suit and black mask steps down, boots silent on the snow. He opens the carriage door with a bow.
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A figure in a deep red hood emerges.
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— Traeven.
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He does not look back at the city.
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He only exhales, watching his breath curl like smoke as he steps into the cathedral’s shadow.
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DUNGEON CORRIDORS-
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Inside, the cathedral is silent except for the echo of distant bells. The servant leads Traeven to a stone stairwell. The air grows colder. The light dims. The dungeon corridors are carved from black volcanic stone, polished smooth by centuries of footsteps. Purple flames burn in iron scoves, casting long, trembling shadows that stretch like reaching hands. The flames make no sound —
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Traeven walks deeper. Lanterns of violet crystal hang from chains overhead, dripping light like liquid amethyst. The walls sweat cold. The floor vibrates with the heartbeat of the mountain. Each level grows darker, narrower, more oppressive — as if the chambers were draining him slowly.
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He feels watched.
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He feels chosen.
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He feels trapped.
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—THE COUNCIL CHAMBER
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At the final landing, a massive obsidian door stands before him.
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Traeven pushes it open.
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The large chamber inside is circular, vast, and hollow. A single beam of white light falls from a skylight far above, illuminating the center platform. Around it stand seven robed figures, each draped in a color that glows faintly in the firelight: Unmovable Red — warm Orange, confident Yellow —steady Green — Commanding Blue — Unreadable Purple and illuminating Pink.
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All seem, deceptive, mystic and dangerous.
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The only sound is the flicker of colored flames in crystal lanterns around the room.
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Traeven steps into the beam of light. His breath shakes. He looks directly at Red Hood.
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The old man smiles.
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Red Hood:
“We have a dire problem. The council has agreed unanimously — the High Judge of the Whispering Village must go. He has allied with bandits and pays tribute to Cat, our greatest threat.”
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Traeven’s pulse spikes. He tries to read Red’s expression, but the hood hides everything except the faint glow of crimson eyes.
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Red Hood:
“That is where you come in, young Traeven.”
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Blue Hood:
“It doesn’t matter how, or who. Only that it is done. You will report to Red. As usual. Hurry along now — we have others to see.”
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He hits his crystal down. It echoes, jumping through Traeven's heart.
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He stares, stunned.
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Red gestures him away with a slow, dismissive wave. Traeven turns, mind racing, lungs tightening as he leaves the chamber.
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CATHEDRAL CORRIDOR HALL—
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In the hallway, a smaller red‑hooded figure approaches him.
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She stops and lifts her hood. A young woman with dark glowing skin, sharp brown eyes, and a confident smirk.
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Ladybug:
“Hey. You’re Traeven, right?”
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He doesn’t answer. His hands tremble. He hides his wrists inside his sleeves.
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She steps closer, unfazed.
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Ladybug:
“I’m Ruby, but you can call me LadyBug. I heard what you said about your village last meeting. I use to live near there.
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She leans her neck foward wanting to see his eyes.
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I don’t want to waste your time.”
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She crosses her arms, and tilts her head, studying him.
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Ladybug:
“The High Council is interested in you. If you succeed you'll be initiated through this assignment.’
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Beat.
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‘...I can help you.”
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Traeven’s breath stutters. He forces himself upright, lifts his hood slightly to show his forehead — a gesture of false confidence.
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Traeven:
“How?”
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She smiles.
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Ladybug:
“Follow me.”
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and then Add to home screen.