Six hours had passed since the bells first sounded. Outside, the city had gone quiet again, that heavy, unnatural quiet that followed panic.
From behind the boarded windows, they could see the glow of patrols shifting through the fog. Torches cut pale circles in the mist, each one followed by the metallic clatter of armor. The rhythm never stopped: steps, silence, steps again, like the pulse of something hunting without rest.
The sky had begun to bruise into twilight, that fragile hour when shadows grew longer than courage.
We need to leave before darkness, Aros thought.
No one dared to speak for a long while. The room smelled of damp wood and salt, the scent of a city that no longer belonged to itself.
Aros stood by the window, his shoulder brushing the frame. He counted each passing patrol, tracing their routes in his mind, looking for a mistake, a gap, an exit, anything. But there were none. "They've locked every passage," he murmured. "The east is sealed."
Broko grumbled, running a hand through his beard. "Then we make our own way. Maybe through the inner river. It runs below half the city."
Someone in the corner let out a tired laugh: a thin man with hollow eyes, brown hair, and skin so pale it seemed to have forgotten sunlight. "You don't want the river," he said. "Not anymore."
Broko turned toward him. "How do you know that, kid?"
"I've got a name, soldier. Call me Renn," the man said, adjusting the torn sleeve of his coat. "I used to work the docks before they closed them. I've seen what the water does."
Diana frowned. "What do you mean?"
Renn's gaze darkened. "The priests blessed it. Said it would keep the city pure. Now, even the gulls don't land there. The fish rot before you can pull them from the line. And if you touch it…" He rubbed his wrist unconsciously. "You stop breathing before your knees hit the ground."
A silence followed: one that even the distant clang of armor couldn't fill.
"So that's what happened to the harbor," Diana whispered.
Renn nodded slowly. "The Light flows through it now. The sea itself belongs to them."
Aros stepped away from the window. "They don't need walls when faith does the job."
He turned toward Gemma. She was sitting on a crate, her legs drawn up, her face half-hidden by her cloak. Her eyes didn't wander, they stayed fixed on nothing, as if watching something only she could see.
He crouched beside her, lowering his voice. "You holding up?"
Gemma's hands were clasped together, still trembling faintly. "It's quieter now," she said. "But it's never gone."
Aros studied her a moment. She looked small, impossibly so, and the thought hit him with quiet guilt.
She should be asleep somewhere, not hunted like prey.
He forced a small smile. "You did well today. No voices at all, huh?"
Gemma's lips twitched, almost a smile. "I don't know if I did well."
"Trust me," he said, his voice softening for the first time. "You're alive, and you haven't killed anyone. That counts for something."
"Okay."
He hesitated, watching her hands. "Do you want to tell me what happened when you left with Candriela?"
"Not really." She looked at him then, with something close to tenderness. "But thank you for worrying."
He wanted to say more, something that would remind her she wasn't just what the Light wanted her to be, but the words wouldn't come. Every time he tried to be kind, it came out sounding like regret.
Maybe a hug?
Before Aros could decide, three sharp knocks came at the door.
The room froze.
Digiera's voice dropped to a whisper. "Guards. That's the pattern they use when they sweep the lower rings."
Broko grabbed his sword. "We take them now."
Aros raised a hand. "Not yet."
The knock came again, louder this time, followed by muffled voices outside.
"If we don't open, they'll break through," Diana hissed.
Digiera's mouth curved into that half-smile she wore like armor. "Then let them. We'll be ready."
Aros nodded, thinking fast. "We take them alive. We need information."
Broko moved to the right of the doorway, blade drawn. Renn and another rebel crouched behind overturned tables. The lantern was snuffed out, leaving only the pulse of torchlight seeping through the cracks in the wood.
Gemma stood back, eyes wide, her breath shallow. Aros caught her gaze and mouthed stay still. She nodded once.
Outside, the footsteps stopped.
The latch turned.
The door creaked. Two guards stepped inside, young, tired, confident in their routine. One barely had time to blink before Candriela's elbow struck his jaw; the other stumbled as Broko tackled him from behind. The struggle was short, brutal, and almost silent. When it ended, both lay unconscious on the floor.
Aros crouched beside one of them, searching his belt. "Priesthood insignia," he murmured. "Local patrol. Not high rank."
Renn whistled low. "So much for the Light's chosen."
"Wake one," Aros ordered.
Broko poured a bit of cold water from a jug over the younger one's face. The man coughed, startled, trying to reach for his weapon, but Candriela pressed a knee to his chest.
"Easy," Aros said. "We're not here to kill you."The man glared. "You're all dead anyway."
Aros didn't answer. He leaned closer instead. "Then you won't mind telling me how many more are out there."
The guard hesitated. Candriela shifted her weight , just enough pressure to make him gasp. "Fifteen on the main street," he blurted out. "More waiting by the canal."
"The canal?"
"They're guarding the tunnels. Orders from above. No one goes near the river or the wells."
Renn frowned. "Tunnels?"
The guard nodded, trembling. "Old smugglers' routes. Some go all the way to the south docks. But the Light poisoned the water , no one dares try anymore."
Aros stood, thinking fast. The air in the room was heavy with sweat and fear. "Are there horses?"
The guard blinked, confused. "At the barracks, maybe. Outside the north wall."
Aros looked to Broko. "North wall, two blocks from here?"
"Three," Broko corrected.
Suddenly, night is our ally, Aros thought
"Good. We'll move when it's dark enough."
Aros straightened, looked at him once more, and without hesitation, drew his dagger. The blade slid in cleanly, almost gently, beneath the jaw. The man didn't even cry out.
Gemma swallowed hard, but Aros's tone was calm. "We can't leave witnesses."
Candriela wiped her sword. "Finally," she muttered.
Aros took a breath. "All right. I need a headcount. Soldiers, stand left. Civilians, right."
The movement was slow, hesitant. In the dim light, it looked like two uneven lines of ghosts.
Aros scanned them. "We move in two waves. Soldiers take the front and rear. Civilians in the middle. We follow the alleys to the north. No one speaks. No light, no noise. If the patrols catch us before the wall, we're done."
Diana nodded, helping a woman adjust her pack. Even Gemma stood straighter, though her face remained unreadable.
Aros watched her for a moment, then turned to Broko. "Get everyone ready."
Broko gave a low chuckle. "Commander's back, huh?"
Aros didn't smile.
Maybe