The last echoes of battle still trembled in the streets behind them as Tian Qiren and Yan Yue ducked through the battered alleys of lower Star City. Hydras rampaged in the market quarter, battered signage hung like broken teeth, and the Gate breach's chaos left a haze over everything. Ministry clean-up squads swept the avenue with drones and spell-flashlights, their hounds barking at loose ends of monster scent.
The safety of Yan Yue's lab had vanished. Sprawled in the shelter of a dripping truck bay, Qiren tugged his cap low and tried to catch his breath, the sinwave mark pulsing warm under the suppressor. Yan Yue knelt beside him, rain plastering her blue hair to her forehead, backpack clutched to her chest.
"We… can't go back," she said, voice thin. "After that monster, there's no way Ministry patrols will let you in the city's safe zones. The alarms are keyed for your magic now."
Qiren glanced up at her, surprised at the certainty. "You don't have to—"
Yan Yue huffed, wiping mud on her sleeve. "You think the Institute runs a rescue hotline for every runaway? That I risked my department's scholarships just to write an incident report?" She let out a frustrated laugh. "I could've left, Qiren. I almost did."
He studied her, mark glowing faintly. "Then why didn't you?"
Yan Yue hesitated, then looked away, as if the cracked asphalt could explain her own heart. "The truth?" she muttered, voice raw. "I was at the West Gate when the Cataclysm hit. Ten years ago, I was the kid the rescue bots almost left behind—except a stranger pulled me into the ruins and carried me to a healer." She shrugged, rain dripping off her chin. "Nobody ever found out who it was. I always wondered—if I ever had a chance, would I do the same for someone else?"
Qiren tried to smile but it trembled. "I guess trouble follows both of us."
There wasn't time for more. Distant klaxons wailed, searchlights cut jagged beams along the alleys, and the Rune Wisp on Qiren's shoulder fidgeted nervously. "We need to get out," Yan Yue whispered. "Past the western wall—before they scan our faces."
Qiren pointed to the ruins, where collapsed tram lines vanished into wild brush. "There's an old maintenance tunnel. It's rough. The outer districts are half-wild, but it leads past the wall if you know where to squeeze." He rose stiffly, muttering, "Not a tree house, but it's still an escape."
They crept through side streets, ducking from drone to dumpster, anxiety crackling between them with every shadow. At one point, Yan Yue's nerves—and an unhelpful squawk from the hydra cub in her bag—nearly gave them away. Qiren squeezed her hand, pulse racing.
When they reached the edge of Star City, the skyline cut off abruptly, as if the world let out its breath and let rain take over. The wilds out here were untamed: feral garden beds, moss swallowing old storefronts, and trees sapling through the concrete. Qiren led Yan Yue to a grime-covered rail tunnel. The entrance was barely a meter high and ringed with old ward-scratch, most long faded.
Yan Yue pulled her coat tight. "Do monsters nest down there?"
He shrugged with a rueful grin. "Mostly relic rats and moss-wisps. But the tunnel bends, and halfway through, the city's magic doesn't reach. You have to trust your gut—no Institute scanner will work there."
They squeezed through, sliding on the damp rail, Qiren leading by touch more than sight. The further they went, the quieter things grew. No city noise, only the drip of water and the occasional echo of the Rune Wisp's light hovering like a firefly. Yan Yue stifled a sneeze as mold brushed her face; Qiren murmured half-forgotten jokes to keep her spirits up.
Halfway through, Yan Yue stumbled. "Why did you come back to the city at all?" she asked, voice shy in the dark.
Qiren hesitated. "My parents—my father disappeared in the Gate Disaster, and my mother left not long after. I thought maybe, if I got strong enough, I'd find them—or someone like them. I kept looking, even where it hurt." He grunted as loose stone shifted underfoot. "You spend enough time alone in the dark, you start to hope the world's got more out there—even if it's monsters."
Yan Yue was silent, then: "You're not alone tonight." She squeezed his shoulder. "As far as first field expeditions go, you're doing a lot better than my last research partner. He set his own pants on fire trying to chase a pixie lizard."
Qiren snorted, letting the tension drain out of him. "I'll try to aim for only minor burns."
Light slanted ahead: the tunnel opened into a tangle of wild blackberry and wind-stunted birch. Star City shimmered at their backs, but before them was the world—half-magic, half-ruin, open.
They crouched under a shattered canopy, listening as monsters howled in the city behind, and patrols swept the wall for fugitives. For now, they were invisible—two blurs in the rain, breathing hard, the whole world holding its breath with them.
Yan Yue unzipped her bag. The hydra cub curled at her feet, purring with all three heads while the Rune Wisp dozed on her shoulder. "We'll have to find food, shelter, maybe even a map. You sure old city ghosts aren't your only friends out here?"
Qiren shook his head, smiling despite the fear. "My friends? Just the ones who stick around when the magic gets weird."
She pressed a hand to her field scanner, badge askew, and stared out into the dark wilds, resolve sharpening. "Let's see what the world outside can teach us—before the city comes calling again."
Above them, storm light flickered. And somewhere, deep in the wild fringe, something bigger watched—a pulse of Gate energy strong enough to set both Qiren's mark and Yan Yue's nerves humming.