The city didn't plummet. It began a slow, graceful descent. As the white towers pierced the cloud layer for the first time in an epoch, the "God" at the center stopped weeping. The golden light faded, replaced by the warm, messy orange of a natural sunset.
Kael realized then that the City of God wasn't powered by a miracle, but by a . The "God" they worshipped wasn't an absent creator; it was a living entity being drained like a battery to keep the marble streets clean and the wine flowing. The city of God
Kael was a "Light-Tender," one of the few permitted to touch the Core—a pulsating orb of pure divinity that kept the city afloat and the gardens in eternal bloom. For centuries, the High Priests taught that the Core was a gift from a creator who had abandoned the "Sullied Earth" below to reward the pure. The city didn't plummet
One evening, while scrubbing the conduits of the Great Spire, Kael noticed a rhythmic vibration coming from the Core. It wasn't the usual hum of power; it sounded like a . The golden light faded, replaced by the warm,
The City of God was returning to the dirt, and for the first time, its people would have to learn how to walk on ground they hadn't stolen from the sky.
Looking over the edge of the floating plaza, Kael saw the world below. It was dark, chaotic, and scarred, but it was real . He looked back at the golden statues of the Priests and the sterile, unmoving perfection of his home.