Arcane: Sovereign Of The Broken City

Act 3, Chapter 1: The City of Change

Year: 893 AN

POV: Multiple

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[Vi's POV]

"Move!" Vi barked, ducking behind a broken pipe as a loud crack echoed through the Lanes.

Mylo groaned. "That blast shook the whole damn zone!"

Powder peeked out from the corner, eyes wide. "Vi... look at the sky."

Vi turned—then froze.

The grey... it was moving.

No—being pulled. Not by wind. Not like smoke.

By something else.

Over the rusted rooftops of the Lanes, smoke twisted upward in perfect spirals, flowing toward a single point—the Clocktower.

And above it all, the sky was clearing.

She hadn't seen the sky in... maybe ever.

Sunlight bled through the smog like gold on a soot-black canvas. For the first time, the ceiling was gone.

And they ran.

Until they reached the center of the commotion.

They reached the clocktower plaza just as Ashryn's speech began.

And the words—

> "...We fight for scraps while they eat feasts. They tell us we're dangerous when we stand tall..."

Vi felt the words hit like a punch. She stood still, shoulder brushing Powder's as they gazed at the glowing tower. Ashryn's voice echoed across the plaza like thunder, firm and furious. This wasn't some speech—this was a call to arms.

Vi clenched her fists.

"She sounds like she's talking about us..." she murmured.

Claggor nodded. "Not just us. All of us."

Mylo scoffed, but it lacked heat. Even Powder was silent, her wide eyes reflecting the glimmer above.

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[Ekko's POV]

Ekko's goggles fogged from the sudden pressure change.

He pulled them down and stared up.

Sunlight. Real. Clean.

He exhaled, muttering to himself, "She actually did it…"

> "...They built a ceiling and called it peace. But that ceiling? I'm smashing it."

Ekko let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Balanced on the railing, watching the crowd erupt below, he stared up at the converter—now humming, alive.

"She means it," he muttered. "Every word."

He gripped his bat tighter.

He didn't know if she could do it—but for the first time, he wanted to see what happened if she tried.

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[Sevika's POV]

[Character Introduction: Sevika]

Near the back, a broad-shouldered woman leaned against a support beam, mechanical arm twitching faintly. Sevika, towering and scarred, exhaled a long plume of smoke.

"Clock girl better have something more than words," she muttered.

Her crimson coat flared in the wind, the jagged edges of her prosthetic humming low.

> "...You wanna fight? Earn your place and fight for something bigger than your own stomach."

Sevika's mechanical arm clenched, metal groaning.

She flicked her cigarette away, lip curling.

"Big words, clock girl," she said. "Let's see if you last the month."

But behind her cynicism, something old stirred—like hearing a song you forgot you liked.

Sevika squinted up from under a metal awning, the smoke from her cig curling into the rising light.

She flicked her cigarette, arms crossed.

The last time Zaun shined like that?

Never.

Her mechanical arm buzzed low.

"This ain't just flash. This is power," she muttered.

"People are gonna move."

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[Vander's POV]

The glass fell from his fingers.

He'd just poured it. Heard the murmur from the bar floor.

Now the entire pub had gone quiet.

"By Janna…" he whispered, stepping out from behind the bar into the street.

It wasn't the sky clearing that got him.

It was the silence.

The kind of silence that happens before the world changes.

When he reached the plaza, he heard—

> "...Ten years ago, they burned us down. Called it order. Called it control. Called it our fault..."

Vander stood frozen near the outer ring of the crowd. The speech twisted his gut—memories of fire, screams, the Day of Ashes resurfacing unbidden.

He looked to Vi in the distance. Then to the tower. Then to Ashryn.

She wasn't bluffing.

He wasn't sure if that terrified him more—or the fact that he kind of wanted to believe her.

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[Silco's POV]

> "...Zaun doesn't beg. Zaun doesn't kneel."

Silco stared from his tower window, shimmer vial in hand.

Ashryn's voice rang out like a storm.

"So, this is how you want to play," he muttered. "With light and noise and righteous fire."

He chuckled darkly, voice rasping.

"But light casts shadows. And I am the dark you forgot to watch."

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[Twitch's POV]

On the scaffolding above, a twisted figure crouched—sniffing. Twitch, with pale fur matted by grime, eyes glowing faintly green, skittered from beam to beam with twitchy motions.

"Somethin's stirrin'. Somethin' big. Shiny bright poison..." he muttered to himself, tail flicking wildly.

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[Benzo's POV]

Behind a small vendor stall on the edge, Benzo cleaned a set of old mechanical knuckles with practiced care. His eyes weren't on the tools. They were on the tower.

"Clock's tickin'," he muttered.

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[Civilians Inside Virelle – Collective POV]

The smog was gone. The water—clear. For the first time, the light above cast shadows on clean stone, not grime-slick rust.

People wept openly.

Old women fell to their knees. Children danced barefoot on cobblestone.

One whispered, "She did it."

Another shouted, "We've got a name now! Virelle!"

And slowly, voices rose into chants.

"Virelle! Virelle! Virelle!"

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[Civilians Outside Virelle – Collective POV]

In the outer sectors—the Lanes, the sumps, the Sunken Market—the change came as a wave.

Smog cleared. The constant sting in the eyes? Gone. Water in the pipes tasted different.

Even the air... it didn't bite as hard.

People leaned out of rusted balconies. Merchants paused in the middle of trades.

"What the hell just happened?" one asked.

A quiet answer drifted:

"The City changed."

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[Ashryn's Crew – Collective POV]

As the speech ended, her crew stood silently at the edge of the crowd.

Cael crossed his arms, eyes scanning the people.

"They believe her," he muttered.

Lynne adjusted her glasses, a rare softness in her voice.

"So do I."

Callum was smiling—the kind that looked like he hadn't smiled in years.

Viktor said nothing—but the glow of the converter reflected in his eyes, and he did not look away.

But they all felt it: tension coiling beneath their skin.

Zaun was going to change.

And they were going to lead that change.

They didn't know if it would succeed.

But they were in.

And then...

A soft wind brushed past them.

A whisper, barely audible but crystal clear:

> "Do not fear the winds of change... They will always be at your back."

They all turned—eyes widening in unison.

Lynne whispered, "Was that...?"

Ashryn looked up.

And smiled.

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[End of Chapter]