The air inside the Citadel's lower vaults was thick with the scent of damp stone and old iron. Elias Veyra pressed his back against the cold wall, his breath shallow as the echoes of armored boots clattered down the corridor.
*Too close.*
Beside him, Kaela's fingers twitched toward the dagger at her belt, her dark eyes sharp with calculation. "They're sweeping every level," she whispered. "We won't make it to the gate."
Elias exhaled through his teeth. "Then we don't go to the gate."
A flicker of doubt crossed Kaela's face, but she nodded. She had trusted him this far—through the ash wastes, past the sentinel towers that watched the borderlands with hollow eyes. He wouldn't fail her now.
The footsteps grew louder. Elias closed his eyes, reaching for the threads of mana woven into the air. It was faint here, buried beneath layers of ancient wards meant to stifle magic, but not gone. Not yet. He could feel it—like embers beneath ash.
"Elias," Kaela warned.
He didn't answer. Instead, he pressed his palm to the wall and *pulled*.
The stone groaned. A fracture split the mortar, spiderwebbing upward until a narrow crevice yawned open. Dust billowed as the hidden passage revealed itself, a relic from a time when the Citadel's builders still feared rebellion.
Kaela didn't hesitate. She slipped through first, her lithe frame disappearing into the dark. Elias followed, sealing the gap behind them with another surge of effort. The mana burned through him, leaving his fingers numb.
The passage was tight, the air stale. Kaela moved ahead, her steps silent, her dagger now drawn. "Where does this lead?"
"Old servant routes," Elias murmured. "They were sealed after the Purge."
She shot him a look. "You've been here before."
"Not by choice."
The memory clawed at him—chains, the scent of burning flesh, the cold voice of the Archon demanding names. He shoved it down. Now wasn't the time.
They emerged in a disused storeroom, its shelves lined with rusted tools and broken lanterns. Moonlight filtered through a high, barred window, casting silver streaks across the floor. Kaela moved to the door, pressing her ear against the wood.
"Clear," she breathed.
Elias joined her, his muscles taut. Beyond lay the Citadel's inner courtyard, a sprawling expanse of flagstones and towering statues—the Silent Sentinels, their faces worn smooth by time. Each one bore the scars of the last war, their stone hands gripping broken swords.
And beyond them—the gate.
But the courtyard wasn't empty.
A dozen legionnaires stood in formation, their armor gleaming under the torches. At their center, a figure in white robes traced symbols in the air, his fingers leaving trails of blue light. A mage.
Kaela cursed under her breath. "They knew we'd come."
Elias clenched his fists. The Archon's paranoia ran deep. He'd stationed his best here, not just to guard the Citadel, but to ensure no one left with its secrets.
And Elias carried one of them.
The weight of the relic in his coat seemed to grow heavier—a sliver of black metal, humming with a resonance that made his teeth ache. He didn't know what it was, only that the Archon had killed to keep it hidden.
"We can't fight them," Kaela said.
"No," Elias agreed. "But we don't have to."
He turned, scanning the room until his gaze landed on a rusted grate in the floor. The sewers.
Kaela followed his look and grimaced. "You're joking."
"It's that or the mage."
She muttered something unflattering but crouched beside the grate, prying it open with her dagger. The stench that rose was foul enough to make Elias's eyes water.
"After you," she said dryly.
He dropped into the darkness.
The tunnels were slick with filth, the air thick with the reek of decay. Elias moved quickly, his boots slipping on the uneven stone. Behind him, Kaela kept pace, her breathing steady despite the rancid air.
Above, the muffled shouts of the legionnaires echoed. They'd be searching every corner now.
The tunnel branched, and Elias hesitated. Left would take them toward the outer walls. Right—
A sound cut through the silence. Metal on stone.
Kaela froze. "They're down here."
Elias swore. He hadn't expected them to follow, not into this filth. But the Archon's men were relentless.
He grabbed Kaela's arm, pulling her left. They ran, the water splashing around their ankles, the darkness pressing in. The shouts grew louder, closer.
Then—light.
A sliver of moonlight ahead, where the tunnel met a drainage grate. Elias lunged for it, shoving against the rusted bars. They held.
Kaela shouldered him aside and drove her dagger into the mortar. The metal screeched, then gave way.
Fresh air rushed in as they tumbled onto the rocky slope beyond the Citadel's walls. The night stretched before them, vast and unbroken.
But the relief was short-lived.
A horn sounded in the distance. Deep, mournful. The call to hunt.
Kaela wiped her blade clean, her expression grim. "They won't stop."
Elias looked back at the Citadel, its spires clawing at the sky. "Neither will we."
He turned north, toward the mountains, where the ruins of the old world waited. And answers.
The relic hummed against his chest, a silent promise.
Or a warning.