---
The rain had stopped, but the world still felt soaked in thunder.
Behind the old chapel, the air carried the scent of rust and smoke. A rust-eaten hatch waited under a tangle of vines. Elias pried it open, and a gust of air rushed out - foul, metallic and alive.
The smell hit them first: rot and wet stone, and something sharper beneath it — corrupted copper, like blood drawn from a wound that never healed.
Marcus grimaced. "That smell…"
"Old pipes," Elias muttered, though his voice shook. "And something worse."
The darkness below pulsed. Red light flickered along the walls of the shaft, beating like a heart.
Marcus secured his foothold and began the climb down, the rusty rungs cold and slick beneath his gloves. The air rushing out of the hatch had been a warning; the air below was a smothering presence.
He touched down first. The moment his boots hit the damp, grimy concrete, the world tilted.
It wasn't just dark; it was oppressive. The air thickened immediately, heavy and wet, pressing close as though the tunnel itself was holding its breath. Every inhale was a painful effort, and a metallic, coppery taste settled on his tongue, making every breath burn.
Jonathan followed, dropping lightly beside him. He immediately clutched his chest, the faint red glow reflecting in his wide eyes. "It's suffocating," he gasped, his voice tight.
Lila descended next, her usual steadiness wavering for a moment. She braced against the wall, fighting the urge to look back up toward the tiny square of fading light. The claustrophobia was a physical weight, pushing her down.
Finally, Elias slid to the floor. He didn't need a flashlight to see the danger. Red light pulsed along the walls, not steadily, but with a slow, living rhythm, like a huge, buried artery. The light was wet and oily, and the shadows it cast seemed to writhe.
The proximity to the veins was almost unbearable. The light in Marcus's pendant trembled; Jonathan felt the same vibration in his chest. It wasn't heat — it was a soundless pain, a deep pressure humming through their bones.
Marcus pressed his palm over the pendant. "It's … resonating."
Jonathan winced. "Feels like it's tearing me apart from the inside."
The light was reacting to the darkness — their strength and their weakness at once.
Elias lifted his flashlight. "We keep moving. Follow the current; the old drainage line should lead to the central artery."
Lila nodded, steady and pale. "Let's go."
They pushed forward, shadows stretching long behind them. The red veins brightened with each step, crawling beneath their skin like fever.
---
Echoes of the City's Sin
The deeper they went, the less it felt like a sewer and more like a living artery.
The air vibrated; the floor pulsed in rhythm with a hidden heart.
The walls changed too , smooth, almost flesh-like, faintly glowing from within. They weren't just stone; they were memory.
Marcus brushed one with his glove, and the vision came like lightning.
He saw people ,men in fine suits, women in glittering gowns , toasting beneath chandeliers. Laughter, clinking glass, and behind every smile, hunger. The scene twisted, faces hollowing, their laughter breaking into screams. Ash replaced silk; gold turned to dust.
Marcus stumbled back. "I saw … people."
Elias steadied him. "Echoes," he said softly. "The city remembers what built it — pride and blood."
Lila whispered, "Then these walls are soaked in sin."
No one spoke again.
The mist coiled thicker, whispering voices of bargains and promises. The pendant quivered, as if afraid.
Jonathan gritted his teeth. "The light's hurting. It's fighting this place."
Marcus nodded. "Then we move faster."
They pressed on into the dark until they reached a vast junction where five tunnels met. The middle passage burned brightest — the main vein feeding the heart.
---
Elias opened his pack and pulled out two small cylinders. "Old mining charges," he said. "If we set them here, the shock will cut the flow."
Jonathan hesitated. "You sure this won't take the whole city?"
"Better darkness," Marcus answered, "than this kind of light."
They worked in silence, the hum deepening until the ground itself seemed to breathe. A whisper passed through the tunnel — a voice too low to belong to any of them.
Then the tremor came.
The walls glowed crimson. Steam hissed.
Out of it stepped Griff.
Half man, half shadow, his face flickered between both. "You think to cut the veins?" His echo crawled through their bones. "Every drop of this city belongs to me."
"Not anymore," Marcus said.
Griff moved fast. Air cracked where his hand struck. Marcus dodged; the pendant flared, spilling gold across the tunnel. Lila fired a flare — the burst hit Griff's chest and burned. He screamed, Hermon's roar within him shaking the walls.
Griff seized Marcus by the throat. Jonathan lunged, grabbing the pendant and pressing his palm against it. Heat flooded the tunnel — not fire, but music without sound.
A burst of gold exploded outward. Griff reeled back, edges tearing, light eating shadow.
"Blood remembers the promise. Faith carries the fire."
Thecla's voice — clear, calm, eternal.
Griff fell to his knees. For a moment, he looked human again, eyes wet.
"I only wanted to see him rise," he whispered. "I forgot what we were."
The red veins seized him, dragging him into the dark. The echo of his scream died beneath the hum.
Marcus caught Jonathan by the shoulder. "You did good," he said. "Now we finish it."
He pressed the detonator.
---
The world erupted.
Light ripped through the tunnels — gold against red. The shockwave hurled them backward. Fire chased air; dust rained from the ceiling. They ran, coughing, stumbling toward the ladder.
They burst into the open just as the ground caved in. Flame flared, then dimmed. The red glow under the streets began to fade.
Lila dropped to her knees. "You did it."
Marcus shook his head. "No. We only slowed it."
The earth quivered again. The sound rolled across the city — a heartbeat rising through the clouds.
The pendant burned hot against his chest.
"Marcus," Thecla's voice whispered, faint but sure, "it's not dying. It's reaching higher."
He looked up. Over Shinshigan, the sky shimmered ,veins of red crawling upward like fire through glass.
The heart was learning to dream with the heavens.
Then, just for a moment, the clouds parted.
A single beam of light broke through , soft, golden, steady.
The pain in Marcus's chest eased; Jonathan felt the air grow warm.
Thecla's presence brushed them like a quiet hand.
"Even in the storm," her voice lingered, "the light will find its way home."
The wind settled. The sky dimmed.
And for the first time since the descent, the city was silent.