The war room was a cavern of shadows and stale air. The torchlight along the walls burned low, their flames wavering against the damp stone like they, too, were uneasy about the meeting. A great oak table dominated the center of the chamber, its surface covered in layers of curling parchment maps, weighted down with stones, metal cups, and the occasional dagger stabbed into the wood to hold a corner in place.
The scent of damp parchment mingled with the sharper tang of ink and oil from the nearby lanterns. Men in varying states of armor leaned over the maps, muttering in low, grim tones. The only sound that broke their voices was the constant scratching of a quill in the corner, where a thin, pale scribe documented every word for the High Council.
The heavy doors groaned open.
Chains clinked as Kael was shoved forward by two guards. His bare feet slapped against the cold flagstones, and every officer in the room looked up, some with annoyance, others with open disdain.
Captain Draev stood at the head of the table, a tall man with iron-gray hair cut close to his scalp, his armor plain but well-kept. He didn't glance up from the map he was studying until Kael had been dragged fully into the torchlight.
"You're not here to speak," Draev said, voice gravelly. "You're here to listen."
Kael gave no reply, but his eyes drifted over the maps, tracing the thick black ink lines that wound like veins through the paper. He quickly noted the pattern — the tunnels beneath the city were drawn in careful, almost obsessive detail. Several points were circled in red ink, each one marked with a symbol he didn't recognize. All of them converged toward a single, central chamber directly under the keep.
Draev's gauntleted finger stabbed at that spot. "Here. This is where they're heading. They've breached three gates in two nights. The watchers report movement — fast, coordinated, not like anything from the surface."
A broad-shouldered lieutenant with cropped black hair leaned over the table. "We lost the East Watch entirely last night. Thirty men. No screams, no blood, no bodies. Just… nothing."
Several officers muttered curses under their breath.
Kael's head tilted slightly at that, though his face gave nothing away.
Draev ignored him. "The High Council's solution is to flood the tunnels. Seal them off. But if they're digging upward…" He traced a fresh ink line on the map with the edge of his finger, leading from the circled breach toward the base of the keep. "…water won't stop them before they reach the city."
A younger officer, his breastplate polished to a shine that screamed inexperience, spoke up. "Then send a strike team. Hit them before they breach again."
"And who exactly will volunteer to walk into the dark after something that can take thirty armed men without a sound?" Draev's voice was sharp enough to cut through the air.
The younger man looked down at the table. No one else offered an answer.
The silence hung thick until Kael shifted, the rattle of his chains scraping against the stone. "You want them dead, don't you?"
Several heads turned sharply toward him.
Draev's gaze was cold. "You're not in a position to..."
"You've got soldiers who hesitate," Kael cut in, his voice quiet but steady. "They've never seen what lives in the dark. I have."
One of the older lieutenants, a scar running from his temple to his jaw, gave a derisive snort. "You? You're a half-starved vagrant in irons. I wouldn't trust you to guard a sheep pen."
Kael's eyes flicked to the man. "Good. Don't trust me. Just send me."
That earned a ripple of muttered conversation from the officers. The scarred lieutenant's jaw tightened. "Why would you volunteer for a death march?"
Kael shrugged faintly. "Because if it kills me, you win. If it doesn't, maybe you do."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Draev's mouth, though his eyes remained calculating. "Unshackle him."
The scarred lieutenant straightened. "Captain..."
"I said unshackle him," Draev repeated, voice dropping into a tone that ended the conversation.
The guards moved in, their keys rattling. Kael stood still as the cold iron loosened around his wrists. The final cuff fell away with a dull clank against the floor. His fingers flexed slowly, almost as if savoring the simple sensation of movement.
Draev leaned forward over the map. "You leave at first bell. Three men with you — scouts, not warriors. They'll know the routes but they won't hold the line for you. You'll guide them to the breach, find whatever's down there, and kill it if you can."
"And if I can't?" Kael asked.
Draev met his gaze without blinking. "Then you'll die where no one will find you. And the city will flood the tunnels regardless."
Kael considered that for a heartbeat, then nodded once.
The younger officer blurted, "You're seriously trusting him to..."
Draev's voice cracked like a whip. "Trust? No. I'm sending him because he's expendable. And if he comes back breathing…" He let the sentence hang, his eyes on Kael. "…then we'll see what he's really worth."
The captain rolled up one of the tunnel maps and shoved it into Kael's hands. The parchment was stiff, still smelling faintly of fresh ink. "Study it. You'll know it better than the others by morning."
Kael's fingers traced the lines of the underground paths, his eyes narrowing slightly as if the map told him something no one else could see.
In the corner, the scribe's quill paused for a fraction of a second, as though the moment was worth noting.
Draev straightened, resting both hands on the table. "Dismissed. Everyone."
The officers filed out, some shooting Kael distrustful glances, others not looking at him at all. When the doors finally closed, only Kael and the two guards remained.
One guard stepped forward to escort him back to his cell, but Draev stopped him. "Leave him in the preparation barracks. If he's going to die, he might as well eat first."
Kael said nothing, but as the guards led him away, his eyes flicked back to the map once more. There was a faint, almost imperceptible curl at the corner of his mouth — not quite a smile, but something close.
Far below the city, in the depths of the tunnels, something stirred.