CHAPTER 350: CHAPTER 339: SECOND LAYER

Gate to the second layer.

The door closed behind them with the sound of worlds grinding together.

For a long moment, there was only silence—heavy, absolute, the kind that seemed to devour even thought.

Then came the wind, slow and cutting, whispering through the ruins like a god exhaling. The four figures stood at the threshold, cloaked in the lingering glow of the first layer, now fading like embers swallowed by night.

Merlin was the first to move. His staff struck the stone once, a dull sound swallowed by the endless white ahead.

"Well," he said, voice hoarse but threaded with brittle humor. "Welcome to the second layer of Hell. I was expecting more.... fire."

Eli snorted. "Be grateful. Fire, at least, means warmth."

They had reached Babylon—or what had once been Babylon. The city that had stood between the layers, guardian and warning, now lay hollow.

Its towers jutted like broken teeth from the ice, its streets cracked open and frozen mid-collapse. Statues of a figure, face destroyed ,stood along the walls, their faces twisted in expressions of fear or ecstasy—it was hard to tell which.

Lara stared, wide-eyed. Her breath came out in white clouds that drifted and vanished into the bitter air. "It’s... beautiful," she whispered.

Merlin gave her a sideways look. "Beautiful? It’s a graveyard."

"Still," she said softly, "it’s quiet. Peaceful, almost."

Claire, wrapped in a cloak of violet silk now stiff with frost, frowned. "Don’t mistake silence for peace, child. Hell’s quiet when it’s listening."

The words hung in the cold. The wind rose again, carrying with it a faint, distant sound—something like a whisper, or perhaps the sigh of a thousand frozen souls.

The cat on Merlin’s shoulder lifted its head, golden eyes reflecting the dead light of the sky. It made no sound, but its tail flicked once, slow and deliberate, as if it understood more than it let on.

They walked.

Snow crunched beneath their boots, each step breaking the perfection of the white wasteland. The air was colder here, unnaturally so—cold that bit not just at the flesh but at the soul, trying to leech away memory itself. Their breaths fogged, turning to ice in the air.

Lara shivered violently. "It’s like walking through a tomb....is the second layer going to be what....ice and snow..?"

Merlin grunted. "You’re not far off. This layer feeds on stillness. Don’t wander from the path."

"Path?" Eli muttered, glancing at the endless expanse. "I see nothing but shivering coldness."

"Exactly," the old sorcerer said. "That’s how it keeps its secrets."

When the wind died again, the silence felt heavier. The snow underfoot gleamed with faint red veins—frozen rivers of ancient blood, trapped mid-flow. Frozen demons stood half-buried in the drifts: massive shapes of horn and claw, their faces locked in agony, their wings sheathed in ice like fragile glass.

Lara slowed, staring at one—its eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream. A demon, yes, but there was something almost human in its terror. "They look... scared."

"They are," Claire murmured. "Whatever froze them wasn’t mercy."

The cat leapt from Merlin’s shoulder to the ground, padding softly across the snow. It paused before one of the frozen corpses, looking up with an almost curious tilt of its head. Then it meowed once—a sound so small and living it broke the stillness around them like a bell.

Merlin frowned. "Stay close, beast."

It ignored him, tail flicking.

The storm gathered above them—dark clouds swirling like ink in water, the sky trembling as though something vast stirred behind it. They felt it before they saw it: a low hum beneath the ice, a pulse that thrummed in their bones.

"The Gate," Merlin said quietly. "Its pulse is stronger here."

Claire glanced back at him. "Then Aurora must be near."

He hesitated—too long.

"What?" Eli demanded. "You said you could track her."

"I could," he admitted, "until now."

Lara turned sharply. "What do you mean?"

Merlin’s fingers twitched, tracing sigils into the air. Lines of pale gold appeared, flickered, then shattered like glass. "My detection magic—dead. It’s as if she’s vanished entirely. No aura, no echo, no resonance here..."

"Gone?" Claire’s voice tightened. "She can’t be gone. You said she’s at the third layer already.."

"Not gone," Merlin said, eyes narrowing. "Hidden. Or shielded. Either by her own will... or by something stronger."

A gust of wind howled through the ruins, scattering snow and the smell of iron. The sky dimmed, shifting from gray to a deep violet bruised with black.

"We need shelter," Eli said. "Storm’s coming."

Merlin nodded, scanning the horizon. His gaze caught on a faint shimmer far in the distance—a cluster of spires, low and crooked, half-swallowed by frost. "There," he said. "A settlement. Or what’s left of one."

They began to move again, the cat padding silently beside them.

The journey to the town was a long, bitter crawl through endless white. The cold worsened; even Merlin’s warmth spell could barely hold against it. Frost gathered in their hair, their lashes, their breath. When Lara stumbled, Eli caught her arm, steadying her.

"Keep moving," Eli murmured. "If you stop, you’ll freeze."

Lara nodded, lips blue, and pressed on. Each step felt heavier, slower, the wind clawing at their cloaks, whispering secrets only madness could hear.

Claire walked beside Merlin, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade. "This cold," she said softly. "It isn’t natural."

"Nothing here is," he replied. "This layer was shaped by Leviathan’s fall. When he died, his body became the tundra. His breath, the storm. His eyes, the frozen suns beneath the ice."

"So we walk on a corpse," she said.

Merlin smiled grimly. "We always do."

They reached the outskirts as twilight bled into darkness. The settlement was built into the ice itself—a labyrinth of frozen huts and shattered bridges, all glowing faintly with a blue light that seemed to come from beneath the ground. Everything shimmered like glass.

"Strange," Lara whispered. "It’s... beautiful."

Eli crouched beside a wall of ice, brushing her gloved fingers across it. "No signs of life. Not even heat."

"Something’s wrong," Merlin murmured. His staff glowed faintly, runes flickering along its length. "There should be traces of aura, of movement. But it’s empty. Hollow."

The cat hissed softly.

Then came the sound—a distant hum, faint but growing. Like wings.

They all turned at once, scanning the dark sky. The wind slowed, the snow falling in lazy spirals, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then they saw them.

At first, just silhouettes—hundreds of them, black shapes cutting through the storm. Then the details emerged: the jagged feathers, the warped bodies, the eyes that glowed with corrupted light.

"Fallens," Merlin whispered. "By the gods... there are dozens."

The sky darkened as they descended, wings spread wide, blotting out what little light remained. Their voices rose—a chorus of screams, laughter, and broken hymns echoing across the tundra.

Lara clutched her spear. "They’re... angels?"

"Once," Claire said grimly, drawing her blade. "Now they’re carrion."

The first wave hit before they could prepare. The air exploded with movement—wings, claws, and shrieks. Eli met one head-on, her blade flashing silver in the gloom, cleaving through a Fallen’s chest. It screamed, dissolving into ash before it touched the ground.

Another lunged at Merlin, who raised his staff. A circle of light erupted from his feet, golden sigils swirling outward, burning the snow to vapor. "Stay behind me!"

The cat leapt onto his shoulder again, its fur bristling, eyes gleaming. It hissed once—low, guttural—and the nearest Fallen froze midair, wings locking as though gripped by invisible chains.

"What—what did it just—" Lara began, but the question was drowned in the chaos.

Claire moved like lightning, cutting through two more, her blade leaving trails of violet flame. Eli fought beside her, back to back, each motion precise, furious. Lara thrust her spear into another’s chest, gasping as it screamed, its blood freezing into black shards.

But they were too many.

For every Fallen they struck down, three more took its place. Their voices rose higher, a maddened choir that made the air tremble. The storm thickened, visibility vanishing to mere feet. Merlin’s shield flickered under the assault.

"Merlin!" Eli shouted. "We can’t hold!"

"I know!" He gritted his teeth, runes blazing along his arms. "The storm—it’s feeding them. We need to move!"

"Where?" Claire demanded, slashing through another attacker.

He pointed ahead. "The tower! The one with the light!"

Through the blizzard, they could just make it out—a black spire jutting from the ice, its tip pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

They ran.

Snow whipped against their faces, wings beating overhead. The Fallen screamed, talons raking through the air. Lara stumbled, caught herself, felt a claw tear through her cloak. Eli pulled her forward, shoving her toward the tower’s entrance.

"Go!"

Merlin was the last to enter, sealing the gate behind them with a flare of magic. The door groaned, light bleeding through its seams as claws slammed against it from the other side.

Then—silence.

Only the sound of their ragged breathing filled the chamber.

Lara slumped against the wall, trembling. "What... what were they doing here?"

Merlin didn’t answer. He stared at the cat instead. It sat calmly on the floor, tail flicking, its golden eyes fixed on the sealed door. "You felt it too, didn’t you?" he murmured. "That power... it wasn’t theirs."

The cat blinked slowly.

Claire sheathed her sword, breath misting in the cold. "Someone’s calling them."

"Not someone," Merlin said softly. "Something."

Eli’s hand tightened on her weapon. "Then we’re walking straight into it."

"Of course we are," Merlin said with a faint smile. " Answers are always found at the deapth of problems.."

The tower’s interior was a maze of frozen mirrors. Each wall reflected their faces distorted, multiplied—an endless corridor of selves, some human, some monstrous. Their footsteps echoed hollowly.

Lara caught sight of one reflection that wasn’t her own. A figure—tall, shadowed, with wings made of smoke. When she turned, nothing was there.

"Merlin," she whispered, "I think this place is... alive?"

He didn’t answer immediately. His hand brushed one of the mirrors, and frost spread beneath his touch, forming ancient runes. "It’s old," he said finally. "Older than Babylon. Older than the layers themselves."

"What is it?" Eli asked.

Merlin’s voice lowered. "A book...a book of acclaim?...its radiating mana.... The Fallens are drawn to it. ..It somehow feeds them."

Claire stepped closer to the central column where the light pulsed brightest. "Then we destroy it."

"Wait—" Merlin began.

But the moment her blade touched the ice, the tower screamed.

Light burst from the floor, blinding. The mirrors shattered, and from the shards rose figures—winged, broken, bound in flame and frost. Not Fallens. Older. Worse.

Lara fell to her knees, clutching her head as whispers filled the air—voices of angels that had never reached Heaven.

Merlin staggered, shouting incantations, golden light flaring around him. "Get back!"

The cat hissed, fur bristling, eyes burning like suns. The air warped around it, heat cutting through the cold. For a moment, the Fallen-shadows recoiled.

Then, from the heart of the tower, a new sound rose.

A heartbeat.

Slow. Tremendous. Ancient.

The ice cracked beneath their feet, glowing red. A figure began to emerge from the floor—massive, chained, eyes opening with a light that could burn gods.

Merlin’s voice was a whisper. "No... it can’t be..."

"What?" Claire demanded, stepping back.

"The...the ," he said. "The first of the Fallens."

The being rose, wings unfurling like night itself, its gaze sweeping across them. When it spoke, its voice was a thousand echoes. "You should not have come...."

Lara clutched her spear tighter, her heart hammering. "We’re looking for someone..."

"begone," the fallen said. "...you will find no mortal here..."