The tunnels felt alive and dead at the same time, every step forward felt like a battle, not just against the agony lancing up Seraphina’s ribs, but against the thick, stifling air that reeked of rust and old stone. Water dripped somewhere far off, each splash echoing through the dark like a clock ticking down.

  Elara’s arm stayed firm around her waist, half-carrying, half-guiding her forward, while Nolena moved ahead like a ghost, scanning each corner before they reached it. Seraphina clutched Jinx tight against her chest, the bear’s worn fur rough against her bloody fingertips.

  Seraphina felt like the teddy bear was the only thing grounding her half the time now. She knew it was Nolena’s but couldn’t bear letting it go. She didn’t know how long she could stay on her feet. She only knew she had to.

  Nolena led them deeper into the cavern’s underbelly, where the walls narrowed into a labyrinth of corroded pipes and sagging support beams. The smuggler’s tunnels were a graveyard of forgotten catches. Rusted weapon racks lined the path, their contents long scavenged. Bloodstains bloomed across the floor in dried black petals, and rebel slogans scarred the walls: “RISE OR ROT”, “THE EMPIRE EATS ITS OWN”.

  Seraphina’s boot caught on a shattered mirror propped against a fissure. She froze, seeing her reflection in the glass—a gaunt, hollow-eyed stranger stared back, her face streaked with ash and blood, hair matted to her scalp. She was twelve again for a heartbeat, standing in her family’s training hall, her father tossing her a practice blade. “You’re too stupid to fight, Sera. But I'll humour you.”

  “I’ll show you I am worthy, father”, she’d shot back, before he struck her down.

  Now, the memory curdled. She kicked the mirror aside, glass shattering like ice.

  The shards skittered into the dark, their glint catching Nolena’s flashlight. She glanced back, eyebrow cocked at the wreckage. “You kill something over there? Or just hate your reflection?”

  Seraphina wiped blood from her split lip, the metallic tang pulling her back to the training hall—her father’s cane striking her knees, the crack of bone on marble. “It lied,” she muttered. “Said I looked like a functional human.”

  Nolena snorted, kicking a shard aside. “Functional's overrated. Have you ever met a functional person who survived a week in these tunnels?” She aimed her light at a nearby wall, where decades-old rebel graffiti curled like a scar: “RUST EATS THE SPIRE, BUT WE EAT THE RICH.” A crude drawing of a rat gnawing on a crown followed.

  Elara stiffened, her grip on Seraphina tightening. “Keep moving.”

  Nolena ignored her, tapping the graffiti. “See this? Reuben said that old mate who drew it got caught mid-skit. Empire hung him by his boots off the Smelter’s Walk.” She grinned, all teeth. “Joke’s on them, though. His last words were ‘At least I’ll die famous.’”

  Seraphina stared at the rat’s beady eyes. “Is that supposed to be inspiring?”

  “Nah. Just a reminder that everyone here’s a little stupid.” Nolena shrugged. “You wanna live? Be smart. You wanna matter? Be spectacularly stupid. Your pick.”

  Elara shoved past her, dragging Seraphina toward the fork. “Stupidity gets you killed.”

  “So does breathing.” Nolena lobbed a pebble in an empty tunnel. It clattered for three full seconds before silence swallowed it. “Case in point.”

  Seraphina’s laugh came out ragged, her ribs flaring. “You’re terrible at pep talks.”

  “And you suck at not bleeding. We all have flaws.” Said Nolena as she paused at a fork in the tunnel, her flashlight cutting through the gloom. “Left goes up. Right goes deeper. Guess which one smells like death and regret?”

  Elara didn’t react, her gaze locked on the dark ahead. Seraphina huffed a laugh—or tried to. It came out as a wet cough, her ribs screaming.

  “Not funny?” Nolena shrugged, adjusting her grip on a salvaged shock baton. “Fine. How about this: At least we’re not being shot at. Yet.”

  This time, Seraphina laughed properly. The pain was sharp, bright, alive. She pressed Jinx, the teddy bear, harder to her chest. “Keep talking. It’s distracting me from… everything.”

  Elara’s arm tightened around her. “Save your breath.” A staircase came into view ahead. “What the fuck Nolena, is this?”

  The spiralling monstrosity of rusted metal grating that vanished into the dark above. The steps groaned underfoot, each one flexing like a rotten tooth.

  “Our way out. I didn’t mention that it had stairs?” Chuckled Nolena.

  “More stairs,” Elara muttered, her voice dripping with venom. “Who designed this rustbucket? A sadist with a fetish for cardio?”

  Nolena hopped onto the first creaking step, grinning. “Nah, just someone who really loved spiral motifs. Bet they had a shrine to corkscrews.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Make me. Oh wait—” Nolena ducked as Elara swiped at her, “—stairs first, murder later.”

  Seraphina choked back a laugh, instantly regretting it as her ribs flared. “You two… should take this act to the Spire’s comedy circuit.”

  “We’d kill,” Nolena said, climbing. “Literally. El’d stab a heckler mid-punchline.”

  “No, don’t call me El”, Elara snapped, hauling Seraphina upward. “Next time, Nolena. Find a route with a godsdamned elevator.”

  Nolena chuckled, her flashlight bobbing ahead. “Elevators are for rich idiots. Stairs build character.”

  “I’ll build you a character,” Elara growled, “out of your own teeth.”

  Seraphina bit back a laugh, the pain sharpening into something almost sweet. “You… really hate stairs.”

  Elara glanced at her, eyes glinting in the gloom. “Hate’s not strong enough. I want to divorce stairs. Watch them die a slow, painful death.”

  Nolena tossed a grin over her shoulder. “Wait till you see the ladder section.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Elara’s groan echoed off the walls.

  The climb was agony. Seraphina’s ribs screamed with every step, her vision blurring at the edges. Jinx’s fur grew damp under her palm, slick with sweat and blood.

  Two more flights passed before Elara cursed again. “If I meet the architect in the afterlife, I’m shoving these stairs down their throat.”

  “Hey, at least these stairs aren’t completely awful.” Chuckled Nolena.

  Elara groaned. “Define ‘completely.’”

  Nolena looked back as she kicked a rusted-through step. “Only half the steps are trying to kill us. Progress!”

  Elara kicked a rusted bolt into the abyss below. “Hear that? That’s the sound of my patience dying.”

  Nolena smirked as she bounced ahead. “RIP. Should we hold a funeral? Eulogy’s gotta be short. She hated stairs. The end.”

  Seraphina tried to laugh, wheezing as she grimaced. “Add… ‘Beloved by no one.’”

  “You’re carrying the coffin.” Muttered Elara as she helped Seraphina.

  They climbed in silence for a long time. Minutes ticked by before Nolena stopped flashlight catching a crude carving on the wall—a stick figure falling down stairs. “Look! Historical art. Dedicated to you, El.”

  “I’ll, historical-art your face,” Grunted Elara as she wiped away the sweat. “And don’t call me El, dammit.”

  Seraphina shook her head. “Stop. Focus… on… breathing.”

  Elara glared at Nolena. “I’ll focus on throwing her off the—” Elara’s boot punched through a rotten step. “Stars above.”

  Nolena looked back. “Careful! That’s premium Spire craftsmanship.”

  Elara swore as she yanked her leg free. “Craftsmanship? This is a death trap with delusions of grandeur.”

  Seraphina trembled as she clung to Elara. “Think of it… as… team-building.”

  Elara stopped staring at Seraphina. “Team-building. Right. Next exercise, pushing Nolena into a reactor.”

  Nolena laughed. Her voice echoed off the walls. “Love you too, grumpy.”

  Seraphina’s legs buckled as Elara caught her, sweeping her into a bridal-style carry without breaking stride. Elara’s jaw was clenched, her shoulders rigid, and it was like she was holding herself together by the same thread she had held Seraphina with.

  She could feel it now—every muscle in Elara’s frame was straining, not just from the weight but also from the sheer force of will it took to keep moving. She was splintering under the burden, and still she didn’t stop. Just to keep her safe.

  It wasn’t fair. None of it was. But she couldn’t ask Elara to stop—not now. Not when she was the only thing keeping them both from falling apart.

  “Put me… down,” Complained Seraphina weakly.

  “Quit squirming. You’re lighter than my old rucksack.”

  “Aw, she’s nurturing. Like a feral cat with a kitten.” Nolena said with a snort..

  “I’m a feral cat with a grenade. Keep talking.” Elara replied, her eyes glinting.

  Flight after flight, they climbed before the stairs ended abruptly at a corroded landing. Nolena crouched, prying at a hatch overhead. “Home stretch. Try not to die now.”

  Elara set Seraphina down, bracing her against the wall. “If there’s another staircase on the other side, I’m burning this place to the ground.”

  The maintenance hatch groaned as Nolena shoved it open, its hinges weeping rust. Cold air rushed in, biting and clean, carrying the distant stench of smoke. Seraphina blinked against the sudden glare of moonlight.

  The Spire’s twisted form loomed above them, its upper decks lit up as searchlights carved through the night, sweeping the rubble-choked skyline like accusing fingers. To the east, storm clouds gathered—thunderheads bruising the horizon, their bellies flickering with silent lightning.

  Seraphina stumbled forward, her legs buckling. Elara caught her before she hit the ground. “I’ve got you,” she murmured, voice fraying at the edges.

  “Alex…” The name slipped out from Seraphina’s lips. Unbidden. “I’m coming.”

  ***

  The ruins stretched before them like a skeletal hand clawing at the sky—shattered walkways, collapsed transit tubes, and the jagged ribs of buildings stripped bare by fire. The air hummed with the distant whine of emergency sirens. Seraphina leaned heavier into Elara’s side, her boots crunching over glass and fractured steel.

  Nolena scouted ahead, kicking aside a smouldering drone husk. “Home sweet home,” she muttered. “This place always gave a real cozy vibe.”

  Elara ignored her, eyes scanning the shadows. “Stay close. Patrols will be—”

  A gust of wind howled through a gutted storefront, scattering ash and the brittle pages of an old ledger. Seraphina flinched as a sheet slapped against her leg—a faded shipping manifest, the ink bleached completely. She stooped to grab it, wincing.

  “Leave it,” Elara said, pulling her onward. “Sentiment won’t stitch your ribs.”

  “But it’s—”

  “Dead. Like everything else here.” Elara’s voice softened. “He’s not in the rubble, Seraphina.”

  Nolena paused beside the carcass of a downed dropship, its hull peeled open like a tin can. “Hey, Elara. Wanna play a game? ‘Spot the thing that won’t explode.’” She nudged a cracked fuel cell with her boot. It hissed ominously.

  “Not funny,” Elara snapped.

  “Kinda funny,” Seraphina whispered, her breath fogging in the cold.

  They picked their way through the wreckage, past the hollow-eyed shells of market stalls and the twisted remains of a playground swing set. Seraphina’s fingers brushed a child’s doll wedged in the debris—one button eye dangling, its dress stained with coolant. She thought of Jinx, still clutched under her arm, and hugged him tighter.

  Nolena froze suddenly, flashlight beam catching a glint of movement in the distance. “Down!”

  They dropped behind a collapsed permacrete wall as a searchlight swept over them, blinding and brutal. Seraphina pressed her cheek to the ground, tasting blood. Elara’s knife was in her hand now, the blade kissed with moonlight.

  “Patrol,” Nolena mouthed. “Three clicks east.”

  Seraphina’s pulse thundered in her ears. So close. Too close.

  Elara peered over the rubble. “We cut west. Use the refinery husks for cover.”

  “West’s a radiation sink,” Nolena argued.

  “East’s a bullet buffet. Your pick.”

  The searchlight passed. They moved. The sound of boots crunching on gravel made them pause as shadows detached from the ruins—soldiers in Drakara grey, rifles raised.

  “Halt! Identify yourselves!”

  Nolena stepped back, raising her hands slowly. Elara shifted, shielding Seraphina with her body, one hand drifting to the knife at her belt again.

  Seraphina lifted her head. Moonlight caught the gold stitching on her chest —the remnants of her house’s emblem. Elara stood firm as she growled out her words. “This is Lady Serphina of House Valtor. Fiancé to Baron Alex Draven. You will address her with the respect her station deserves.”

  The lead soldier stiffened, his rifle dipping. “Stars above—is it really her?”

  They swarmed forward, gloved hands reaching. Elara snarled, batting them away until Seraphina gripped her wrist. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Let them.”

  Elara’s jaw flexed, but she relented, her fingers lingering on Seraphina’s for a heartbeat too long.

  They shouted orders as a uniformed medic ran up. Taking one look at Seraphina before he turned, ordering others to bring stretchers.

  More soldiers appeared, setting up a perimeter around them. Nolena stepped closer to Elara as she watched the medic work. Seraphina moaned as they eased her onto a stretcher, their voices blurring into static.

  “—alive, repeat, Seraphina is alive—”

  “—get the Baron on comms now—”

  She clutched Jinx tighter, the world narrowing to pinpricks of light. Somewhere far off, thunder growled.

  ‘Hold on, Alex.’ The thought surged, fierce and fraying. ‘I’m coming back.’

  Then the dark took her, soft and sudden, as the storm broke overhead.