The
tunnels beneath Valthera reeked of damp earth and old iron.
Each
step Silas took echoed too loud for his liking, even though he tried to tread
lightly. Behind him, Ayla's breathing was quick but steady. Zayn led the way,
flashlight beam slicing through the murky dark, while Dimitri kept glancing
back, gun drawn and tension coiling in his frame.
A
low rumble vibrated through the walls — distant, but unmistakable.
"They're
trying to seal the exits," Zayn muttered, voice tight. "We have to move
faster."
Silas
gave a curt nod, adjusting the small pack slung across his back. His shoulder
still throbbed from the earlier scuffle, but there was no time to think about
pain. Not when Wellington's men could be closing in from either side.
Ayla
stumbled slightly over a broken pipe. Without thinking, Silas reached out,
steadying her by the elbow. She shot him a brief, grateful look but said
nothing.
They
moved on, urgency driving their steps.
Another
blast sounded, this one closer. Dust cascaded from the ceiling in a choking
cloud.
"Move!"
Zayn barked, urgency sharpening his tone.
They
pushed deeper into the labyrinth, the air growing thinner, the darkness
pressing harder. Somewhere behind them, muffled shouts bounced off the walls —
distorted, but unmistakable.
They
weren't alone down here.
Dimitri
cursed under his breath as they rounded another corner, the path splitting into
two narrow tunnels.
"Left
or right?" Ayla asked, her voice tight.
Zayn
hesitated just a second too long. Dimitri shoved past him.
"Left.
We don't have time to debate."
Zayn's
jaw tightened.
"You
sure about that, genius? You want to walk us into a dead end?"
Dimitri
turned, gun still raised. His face was a mask of cold anger.
"I
know these tunnels. Trust me, or stay behind."
Tension
crackled between them like an exposed wire.
Silas
stepped between them before it could spark further.
"Enough,"
he snapped. "Wellington's men are right behind us. We move — now."
Zayn
gave Dimitri a hard look but said nothing. He gestured for Ayla to stay close
to him as they plunged left into the narrower tunnel.
The
walls pressed closer here. Pipes ran along the ceiling, dripping rusty water.
Silas
could almost feel the weight of the city above them — all the concrete and
metal of Valthera ready to crush them if the wrong blast hit.
Behind
them, the sounds of pursuit grew louder — boots splashing through water, harsh
orders barked in the dark.
Silas's
heart hammered in his chest. They had minutes — maybe seconds — before the
enemy caught up.
A
low grating noise ahead made them all freeze.
Light
flickered.
Someone
was waiting for them.
Silas's
heart skipped a beat as he strained his ears to listen. The flickering light
ahead was erratic, casting long, twisting shadows against the walls of the
tunnel. Dimitri's gun was raised, eyes darting around as if searching for any
sign of movement.
"Hold
up," Zayn whispered sharply, putting a hand on Silas's arm. "It's too quiet."
The
distant sound of Wellington's men faded into the background as the stillness of
the tunnel grew heavier, more oppressive. The low hum of the city's pulse above
them felt miles away, disconnected.
Ayla,
her voice a hushed breath, asked, "What is it?"
Zayn
didn't answer immediately, his focus entirely on the darkness ahead. A moment
passed, and then the sound of a soft shuffle echoed from the tunnel's end,
closer now. It was unmistakable: someone, or something, was moving in the dark.
"Stay
low," Dimitri muttered, his posture shifting, alert. The barrel of his gun
remained steady in his grip.
The
flickering light grew brighter, revealing the faint outline of a figure. A
silhouette stepped forward, barely visible in the shadowy expanse.
"Who's
there?" Silas called out, his voice low but edged with urgency.
The
figure didn't respond. Instead, they stepped into the light, revealing a thin,
wiry man with a rugged face, a mess of unkempt hair, and eyes that shone with a
strange, almost predatory glint. He raised a hand, his fingers twitching
slightly, as if gauging the distance between him and the group.
"Aren't
you a bit too early to be running from someone?" the stranger asked, his voice
rasping through the silence like sandpaper.
Zayn's
grip tightened on his flashlight, but he didn't raise it. "What do you want?"
The
stranger's lips curled into something that might've been a smile—though it
looked more like a sneer. "I'm the one who's been waiting for you," he said,
stepping closer. "Looks like you've run out of time."
"Who
are you?" Dimitri demanded, his gun still trained on the man.
The
stranger didn't flinch. "Someone who knows where the next exit is. If you want
to make it out of here alive, you'll follow me."
Silas's
mind raced. They couldn't afford another detour, especially not with
Wellington's men so close behind. But there was something about the stranger
that didn't sit right. His words felt like a trap, or a riddle—something not
entirely trustworthy.
"We're
not looking for more trouble," Silas said, his voice firm. "We'll find our own
way out."
The
stranger chuckled, an unsettling sound that echoed off the damp walls. "You're
already in it, my friend. And if you think you can outrun what's coming for
you, you're dead wrong."
Before
Silas could respond, a sharp crash rang through the tunnels, followed by the
unmistakable sound of running feet. A voice shouted from the distance, angry
and frantic.
"They're
coming," Zayn muttered, his face tight with concern. "We don't have time for
this."
The
stranger gave a sly smile, as if he'd been expecting this. Without another
word, he turned and began to walk briskly down the tunnel. "You want to
survive? Follow me. Fast."
A
tense silence fell over the group. Silas glanced at Zayn and Dimitri, who both
looked skeptical but had no choice but to follow. Ayla met Silas's eyes, a
silent question in her gaze.
Silas
hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. "Let's go."
They
moved quickly, their footsteps splashing through the puddles on the uneven
floor. The stranger led them through twists and turns in the maze-like
labyrinth of tunnels, each one more claustrophobic than the last. The air was
thick with the scent of rust and mildew, and Silas's chest tightened with every
step.
Behind
them, the sounds of pursuit grew louder—closer, faster. The enemy wasn't far.
But
the stranger moved with a sense of calm precision, almost like he knew exactly
where he was going. Silas had to admit, he wasn't sure how much longer they
could keep running.
"We're
almost there," the stranger muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "Just a
little further."
As
they rounded a final bend, the dim light of the tunnel ahead brightened,
revealing the outline of a heavy steel door. The stranger reached it first and
slammed his hand against the rusted metal.
"It's
locked," Zayn grunted, approaching from behind.
The
stranger pulled a set of tools from his jacket pocket and quickly set to work.
"It won't be for long."
Silas's
eyes flicked to the rear, the footsteps now unmistakably close. The chase was
nearly over.
"Move
faster," Dimitri urged, gun still trained in the direction of the pursuing
footsteps.
The
stranger glanced up, his expression unreadable. "It's not the door you should
be worried about," he said cryptically.
And
just as Silas opened his mouth to ask what he meant, the door creaked open with
a loud groan, revealing a small, dimly lit room on the other side.
The
stranger stepped aside. "This is your escape. But once you leave, you'll be on
your own. Don't say I didn't warn you."
With
no time to question the man further, Silas gave a curt nod, motioning for Ayla
and Zayn to follow. Dimitri hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing at the
stranger.
"Who
the hell are you?" Dimitri demanded one last time.
The
stranger only smirked. "Just a friend. Or an enemy. Depends on how you play
your cards."
And
with that, they entered the room—leaving the stranger behind, and whatever he
represented, in the darkness of the tunnel.
The
heavy steel door slammed shut behind them with a deafening clang, sealing off
the tunnel — and the sounds of pursuit — for now.
The
room they entered was small and dimly lit by a single, flickering overhead
light. Crates and old machinery were stacked haphazardly against the walls,
leaving a narrow path through the middle. The air was thick, metallic, and
stale, as if no one had set foot here in years.
Silas
immediately scanned the room for other exits.
There
— tucked behind a rusted boiler — was another door. Smaller, battered, but
still intact.
"This
way," Silas said, moving toward it.
Before
they could reach it, Zayn grabbed his arm. "Wait. What if it's another trap?"
Silas
hesitated. The stranger's cryptic words gnawed at the edge of his mind: It's
not the door you should be worried about.
Dimitri
circled the room with his gun drawn, checking behind the crates and equipment.
"We
don't have a choice," Ayla said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.
"If we stay here, they'll catch us."
Suddenly,
a faint beeping sound broke the silence.
Silas's
blood ran cold.
He
turned, heart hammering, searching for the source — and there, wedged between
two crates, was a small, blinking device.
A
bomb.
"Move!"
he shouted, grabbing Ayla's hand.
Zayn
and Dimitri reacted instantly, rushing toward the second door. Silas yanked it
open, the rusted hinges shrieking in protest. They barely made it through
before a concussive blast shook the entire room behind them, sending a
shockwave of heat and debris through the narrow corridor.
Silas
shielded Ayla with his body as pieces of metal and concrete rained down.
The
tunnel beyond the door tilted slightly, dust choking the air.
"Keep
moving!" Dimitri barked, coughing.
They
stumbled forward, half-running, half-falling through the uneven tunnel. Behind
them, the ceiling sagged dangerously where the explosion had weakened the
structure.
"That
bastard set us up," Zayn growled between gasps for breath.
Silas's
mind raced.
Was
the stranger working for Wellington? Or was he playing his own game? Either
way, they'd been lucky to survive.
They
ran for what felt like forever, deeper into the tunnels, the path sloping
upward.
Gradually,
the air grew fresher, less heavy with damp and rot.
Ahead,
a faint sliver of light seeped through a crack in the wall.
"There!"
Ayla pointed.
Dimitri
and Zayn worked together, forcing the weakened section of wall open enough for
them to squeeze through.
One
by one, they emerged into the cool night air — battered, bruised, but alive.
They
were outside Valthera's industrial district now — a forgotten corner where
crumbling warehouses met abandoned loading docks.
For
a moment, they just stood there, catching their breath under the open sky.
Silas
turned to Ayla, checking her for injuries.
"You
okay?"
She
nodded shakily. "You?"
"I'll
live."
Dimitri
scanned the empty streets around them. "We can't stay here. They'll be sweeping
this area soon."
Silas
agreed. They needed to regroup, find shelter, and figure out their next move.
As
they started moving, Zayn fell into step beside Silas, muttering low enough
that only he could hear.
"That
wasn't just a trap to kill us," Zayn said. "It was a message."
Silas
glanced at him sharply.
"What
do you mean?"
Zayn's
eyes were hard, full of grim certainty.
"Wellington's
not just hunting us anymore. He's playing with us. Testing how far we're
willing to go to survive."
Silas's
jaw tightened.
Then
let him come, he thought.
We'll
be ready.
They
disappeared into the shadows, the city of Valthera sprawling wide and dangerous
before them — and the real war just beginning.