Dawn crept into the underground room like a timid guest, its light slipping down through cracks in the roots and brushing the boys awake. Vernon was the first to sit up. He always was. His mother used to tease him for waking at the same hour every morning. "My little winter clock," she would say, her cold hands cupping his cheeks warmly. The memory lingered in his chest long after his eyes opened.
Bruce, still bundled under a patchwork blanket Derek had found in the corner, slept curled like a small cat. His breathing was steady, but his brows were tight as if fighting battles in dreams. Vernon nudged him gently. "Bruce," he whispered. "Wake up. Dad said we start early."
Bruce groaned, flopping an arm over his face. "Five more minutes..."
"You said you wanted to get stronger," Vernon replied, already folding his blanket. That worked better than any alarm. Bruce shot upright, hair sticking in every possible direction. "I did! I do! Okay-okay, I'm awake."
Vernon couldn't help smiling. Bruce, despite everything, still felt like childhood.
Derek entered then, shoulders weighed with sleeplessness. "We don't have much time." He set two metallic canisters on the table. Inside, pale-blue wisps swirled like trapped fog.
Bruce stared. "What's that..?"
"Condensed Qi," Derek answered. "Your mother's early prototypes. Safer than what's on the market now. She hid them here before everything... before people twisted her research."
Vernon approached one of the canisters, mesmerized by the faint glow. "Did she make these for us?"
Derek hesitated. "Yes... and no. She made them for the future. But now the future is sitting right in front of me."
Bruce reached for a canister, fingers hovering just above the cold metal. "Is this how I get strong?"
"Part of it," Derek said. "But strength isn't something you swallow. It's something you survive. And you'll learn both."
Bruce nodded slowly, absorbing every word with a seriousness rare for him. Vernon noticed it again- that spark from yesterday, a small fire stubborn enough to grow into something dangerous if fed wrong.
Derek crouched and opened the two canvas bags. He packed the last vials of condensed Qi with precision, tucking them into hidden compartments. Then he began layering as much of Alice's research as he could carry: journals, scrolls, diagrams, even the small wooden carving of their family. His hands lingered on each item for a moment too long. Every notebook, every vial, was a part of her-gone if they fell into the wrong hands.
He checked the chamber once more and traced his fingers over a faint rune panel beneath the stone floor. A soft pulse flared-a timer. When it finished, the sanctuary would vanish. No one would claim what Alice had left behind. No one.
Just as Derek finished, the distant metallic thrum returned though louder this time. Closer. The rhythm of boots and steel, methodical and unyielding, vibrating through the roots of the forest. "The pursuers," Derek muttered. His jaw tightened. "Faster than I anticipated."
He motioned for the boys to follow him toward the narrow escape tunnel at the back of the chamber. Vernon glanced at the shelves one last time. One of Alice's notebooks had fallen open. A page fluttered in the growing vibration. A line of her handwriting shone beneath the trembling dust:
"When the day comes, let Vernon carry the truth and let the Bruce endure the storm."
Vernon didn't understand it, but his heart clenched.
Bruce whispered nervously, "Dad... will they take us?"
Derek's jaw tightened. "Not while I breathe."
He extinguished the lamp and covered the remaining shelves with drop cloths. The chamber fell into near-darkness, save for faint beams of morning light filtering from above.
The tunnel was narrow, winding, smelling faintly of damp earth. Vernon and Bruce followed silently, each step careful. Bruce's hands clenched over the strap of his bag, feeling the weight of Qi pills and journals. "I'm will get stronger," he muttered, almost to himself. "Stronger than anyone who tries to hurt us. I'll... I'll protect Vernon, Dad, Mom... everything."
Vernon glanced at him, startled at the determination in his brother's voice. It wasn't anger. It wasn't fear. It was something unbreakable. Something that could grow. Something that could endure any storm.
Derek heard it too. A small, proud smile ghosted across his lips in the shadows.
Outside, the wind shifted. The metallic thrum grew louder, now accompanied by low, muttering voices and the snap of broken branches. Derek held his sons close as the first beams of sunlight struck the tree roots. The pulse beneath the floor grew faint-a whisper of fire and mana waiting to purge the sanctuary, keeping Alice's legacy safe.
And as they disappeared into the forest, Vernon and Bruce didn't look back. Not yet. They didn't have time. The sanctuary would burn, but the memory, the knowledge, and the will to survive had already left with them.