The eastern outskirts of Bondrea looked nothing like the city they had imagined.There were no towers, no shining docks, no marble temples. Just a sprawl of tilted houses leaning over the water, roofs patched with tar and rope, nets hanging like dead skin. The air reeked of salt and rotting fish. Fog crawled through the alleys as if trying to escape.
Broko led them along the edge of a narrow pier, his boots splashing through puddles that never dried. "She should be here," he muttered. "Said she'd meet us by the cranes."
"Who?" Gemma asked.
"Digiera," he said. "Talon's contact."
The answer came before she could ask more.
From behind a pile of broken crates, a woman stepped out: tall, sharp-featured, with hair like black rope tied at the nape of her neck. Her coat was cut short, military, but patched in a dozen places. The smile she wore didn't reach her eyes.
"Well, well," she said. "The famous wanderers. You took your time."
Her voice was all smoke and irony. She looked them over like a butcher examining half-dead meat. "Talon said you were useful. He didn't mention you were so... damp."
Broko grinned. "We try to keep a low profile."
"Then you're failing," she said, stepping closer. "Follow me before someone decides you're worth reporting."
They followed her through a maze of alleys that smelled of fish and metal.Everywhere, people were working — gutting, salting, packing, their faces gray and expressionless. A child watched them from a doorway, holding a net full of empty shells. When he smiled, his teeth were black with salt.
"Bondrea's east quarter," Digiera said, walking fast. "You'll love it. Nobody asks questions here. Mostly because the last one who did got nailed to a boat."
She laughed softly, as if at a private joke.Gemma didn't.
"Was that necessary?" Diana asked.
"Everything's necessary," Digiera replied. "You just don't always live long enough to see why."
They reached a grate half-buried in mud. Digiera crouched and pulled it open with a groan of rusted metal. The stench that came out was thick and wet."Our shortcut," she said. "Try not to breathe too much."
The tunnels were older than the city above. Water dripped from unseen cracks; the walls pulsed faintly with the glow of fungus. Gemma walked between Aros and Candriela, the echoes of their steps blending into a single heartbeat. That was when she heard them again.
Whispers.
Not from the group, from below.The same voices from the marshes, closer now, like a thousand breaths drawn together. The sound slid under her skin.
She stopped, clutching her head. "They're here," she said.
Aros turned immediately. "Gemma..."
"They're so close, Aros. Closer than before."
The voices swelled until she could barely hear herself. The words weren't clear, but she felt them: Come down, child. We've been waiting.
Aros grabbed her shoulders. "Breathe. Look at me. It's not real."
"It feels real," she whispered.
"It doesn't matter. You control it. Not them."
For a moment, she did: the noise receded, the tunnel shrank back into silence. Her breath came shallow and quick. Aros didn't let go until he was sure she'd steadied.
Behind them, Broko whispered to Diana. "Tell me again how she's not dangerous."
"She's a child," Diana said. "Not a weapon."
Broko's jaw tightened. "That thing back there in the swamp wasn't a child."
Candriela's voice broke through the dark, low and final. "Enough."
She turned to him. "It's not power of the Light. It's something else. And if you keep running your mouth, I'll shut it for you."
Broko tried to stare her down, failed, and muttered something under his breath. Candriela didn't even blink.
They moved on. The tunnel eventually opened into the base of a wooden pier, where the sea lapped gently against the supports. Through a hatch, they climbed into daylight, or what passed for it in Bondrea.
The sky was colorless, the horizon blurred by mist. Wooden shacks clung to the coastline like barnacles, their windows glowing faintly with oil lamps. Fishermen shouted over the wind, hauling nets thick with silver bodies. Above it all, the gulls circled lazily, their cries sharp as knives.
Digiera gestured ahead. "Home, for now."
The house leaned as if tired of standing.Inside, the air smelled of salt, damp wood, and something faintly metallic. A handful of rebels waited by the walls, their faces drawn and hollow. One of them wore the same mark Talon did, a hand raised toward the sun.
Digiera crossed her arms. "Talon's little prodigies," she said. "Try not to scare them."Then she left, her laughter echoing down the stairs.
Gemma barely noticed. The hum had returned. the same voices from the marsh, but now louder, clearer, threading through her mind like a tide she couldn't resist. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to quiet it, but the sound only swelled.
"I have to go," she said suddenly. "They're close. I can feel them."
Aros turned sharply. "No. We stay together until Talon gives orders.""They're calling me," Gemma said, her voice trembling. "There's something out there, waiting. I have to know what it is."
Candriela, standing near the window, straightened. "Then I'll go with her."
Aros stared at her. "You? Absolutely not.""Yes," Gemma said before he could continue. "If I have to go, she comes with me."
He looked at her, confused, hurt, maybe. "You trust her?"Gemma hesitated. "I don't know why. But there's something in her. It's… quiet. Like the world around her stops for a second."
The silence stretched between them. Outside, the sea hissed against the docks.
Aros took a step forward. "Gemma, you're not ready for this. After what happened on the road...""I need time," she interrupted. "Time away from you. From everything. I can't tell what's real anymore."
Her words cut through him, soft but absolute.
Candriela's gaze flicked between them, unreadable, solid as the tide.
Finally, Aros exhaled through his teeth. "Fine," he said, voice low. "You go. But you come back."
He looked at Candriela, every word sharp and measured. "Bring her back."
Candriela nodded once, slow and deliberate. Then she opened the door, the cold air spilling in, carrying the scent of the sea and rain.
Gemma followed her into the fog, her heart beating in rhythm with the voices only she could hear. The door closed behind them with a sound that felt like an ending.