The voices outside grew closer, boots crunching on broken glass. Alex counted at least four distinct speakers, their words sharp with professional urgency.
"—thermal signatures went dark three minutes ago—"
"—spatial anchor's been severed, boss isn't responding—"
"—sweep the perimeter, they can't have gone far—"
Sarah stared at her hands, then at the withered corpse that had once been their captor. "I don't understand," she whispered. "I was just crying. I didn't mean to..."
"Sarah." Alex grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to look at him. "We can figure out what happened later. Right now, we need to move."
She nodded shakily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. The gesture left streaks of dust across her cheeks, making her look younger somehow. More fragile.
"This way," he said, leading Sarah toward the tunnel. "Stay quiet, and whatever happens, don't panic again."
She shot him a sharp look. "I wasn't panicking, I was—"
"Sarah." His voice was gentle but firm. "When you get scared, people die. We both need to remember that."
The color drained from her face. For a moment, he thought she might break down again, but instead she straightened her shoulders with visible effort.
"Okay," she said quietly. "I'll try."
They reached the tunnel entrance just as the main warehouse doors burst open. Heavy footsteps echoed through the space, followed by sharp commands.
"Spread out! Check every corner!"
"Found blood here—lots of it!"
"That's... that's the boss. What the hell happened to him?"
Alex pushed Sarah into the tunnel first, then followed, pulling the crates back into position behind them. The space was barely wide enough for one person, forcing them to crawl through decades of accumulated grime and spider webs.
Sarah's breathing was rapid but controlled. She was fighting her claustrophobia, he realized. Fighting the urge to panic because she now understood what panic might do.
The tunnel extended for what felt like miles but was probably only a few hundred meters. When they finally emerged, they found themselves in an alley behind a row of abandoned shops, the afternoon sun casting long shadows between crumbling buildings.
"Where are we?" Sarah asked, brushing cobwebs from her hair.
Alex looked around, trying to orient himself. They were still in the warehouse district, but closer to the river. He could smell the damp, fishy scent of the docks carried on the wind.
"Maybe two miles from where we started," he estimated. "But we're not safe yet. They'll expand their search once they realize we escaped."
Sarah nodded, then looked down at her ruined dress. The blue silk was torn and stained, her carefully arranged hair now a tangled mess. "I look terrible. Like I'm back to being a carpenter's daughter instead of... whatever I'm supposed to be now."
"Good," Alex said. "SS-rank novices in formal court dress would be memorable. A carpenter's daughter in work clothes blends in."
She managed a weak smile at that. "I suppose there are worse things than looking like I belong in the lower districts again."
As they began walking toward the main road, Sarah glanced back at the warehouse district. "Alex... that man I... what I did to him. Is that what my power really is? Making things age?"
Alex considered lying, but she deserved the truth. "I think so. Time manipulation isn't just about speeding up or slowing down. You're controlling the flow of time through living things."
"That's horrible," she whispered.
"That's powerful," he corrected. "Horrible and powerful aren't mutually exclusive."
She was quiet for a long moment as they walked. When she spoke again, her voice was very small. "Do you think I'm evil? For feeling... glad that he's dead?"
Alex stopped walking and turned to face her. "Sarah, that man murdered Lord Erick in cold blood and was planning to do the same to us. Whatever you're feeling about his death, it doesn't make you evil."
"But I should feel guilty, shouldn't I? I should be horrified that I killed someone."
"Maybe," Alex said honestly. "But trauma doesn't follow neat moral rules. You're allowed to feel relieved that the person trying to kill you is dead."
Sarah nodded slowly, though she still looked troubled. "I need to learn to control it. This power. I can't just... accidentally kill people when I get upset."
"We'll figure it out," Alex promised, though privately he wondered how anyone learned to control something that activated through pure emotion.
They reached the main road, joining the flow of late afternoon traffic. Merchants heading home from market, laborers finishing their shifts, children playing in the streets. Normal people living normal lives, oblivious to the fact that two of the kingdom's most valuable assets were walking among them in disguise.
"Where do we go now?" Sarah asked.
Alex considered their options. The royal guard would be searching for them. The kidnappers would be expanding their hunt. And somewhere out there was the mysterious employer who had orchestrated this entire operation.
"We need to find the nearest guard post," he said finally. "Get word back to the palace that we're alive."*******
Captain Aldric stood at attention in the King's private study, his usually immaculate uniform showing signs of hasty travel. Dust on his boots, mud on his cloak hem, and the kind of grim expression that came with delivering catastrophic news.
King Kendrick looked older than his fifty-three years as he listened to the preliminary report. The crown sat heavy on his graying head, and dark circles under his eyes suggested he'd been losing sleep even before this crisis.
"Gone," the King said finally, his voice dangerously quiet. "Both of them. Our first two SS-rank awakenings in over a decade, and they're simply... gone."
"Your Majesty," Aldric began, "we have teams searching—"
"Teams," the King interrupted. "Teams searching for evidence of what should have been impossible. A royal convoy, escorted by my personal guard, attacked by someone with high-level spatial manipulation capabilities."
Aldric's jaw tightened. "The ambush was professionally executed. Whoever planned this had detailed intelligence about our route, our timing, our security protocols."
"Which means we have a leak." The King stood, moving to the tall windows overlooking the palace courtyard. "Someone with access to classified information sold out two SS-rank assets to... whom, exactly?"
"We're still investigating that, Your Majesty. But the spatial manipulation signature was... unusual. Not like any registered awakened in our records."
"Unregistered?" The King turned back to face his captain. "Or foreign?"
"Both are possible, Your Majesty."
The study door opened without announcement, which meant only one person was entering. Queen Cassandra moved with the fluid grace of someone who had never doubted her place in the world, her silver-streaked hair braided with threads of gold.
"The Millbrook parents are here," she said without preamble. "They're demanding answers we don't have."
King Kendrick rubbed his temples. "The carpenter and his wife. I suppose we can't exactly tell them their daughter's disappearance is being treated as a theft of state assets."
"They're terrified," the Queen continued. "And they're not stupid. They know something went wrong with the escort, and they know their daughter is missing along with the Ashford boy."
"How are they handling their new... elevation?" the King asked carefully.
The Queen's expression darkened slightly. "About as well as you'd expect. Baron Millbrook still has sawdust under his fingernails, and some of the court nobles are making sure everyone knows it. The Hawthornes and Blackwoods have been particularly vocal about their displeasure."
"Of course they have," the King muttered. "A carpenter's daughter awakens SS-rank abilities, and suddenly she outranks families that have served the crown for centuries."
"What about Duke Ashford?" the King asked.
"Furious," Aldric reported. "He's demanding permission to mobilize his house guards for an independent search. I've managed to convince him to wait twenty-four hours, but after that..."
"After that, we'll have noble houses taking matters into their own hands," the King finished. "Which could complicate our investigation or make it impossible entirely."
The Queen moved to stand beside her husband. "There's something else. The Academy is asking questions. There are rumors spreading about the Ashford boy."
King Kendrick frowned. "What kind of rumors?"
"Some of the students are saying he's the child of prophecy," Aldric said reluctantly. "Something about his power level and the timing of his awakening. The Academy tried to discourage the talk, but..."
"But Academy students gossip like fishwives," the Queen finished. "The story is already spreading. Enhanced with each telling, no doubt."
A sharp knock interrupted their conversation. Before anyone could respond, a messenger burst through the door, his face pale with urgency.