The east wing's access point to the tunnel system looked unassuming, just an old iron door tucked behind a linen closet, but up close, it was anything but simple.
Reinforced with three heavy locks, including a rusted deadbolt and two oddly mismatched tumblers, it looked more like a bunker hatch than a servant passage. Gene crouched in front of it, her lockpicks already working the first mechanism.
"I only found this entrance on an old blueprint buried in the Lennox library," she muttered. "Had to guess it was still active."
Dash leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Thought you were supposed to be good at this."
Gene didn't look up. "I am. But three different locks? It's like solving a new riddle every time, let me work."
Behind her, the three Lennox siblings sat in the narrow corridor, surrounded by the dull clatter of gear bags and half-zipped packs. Sleep clung to them like fog. Their nerves frayed, they watched the flickering flashlight beams cast long shadows across the walls. Maisie kept twisting her comm unit between her fingers. Dash bounced his knee. Leo sat completely still, the only outward sign of his tension the way he stared down the hallway, jaw set.
Two people were missing, Silas Marlow and Igor, and both could be wandering somewhere in the depths beneath their feet. The thought settled heavily on them like the dust thick in the air.
Click.
Gene grinned, rising to her feet as the last lock gave way. "Done. Told you."
The siblings snapped to attention, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Leo stood, adjusting the weight of the bulletproof vest strapped across his chest. The helmet had been found locked away in a dusty room earlier, some forgotten estate armory, long disused but stocked with gear too professional to ignore.
"Guess we're doing this," he said, checking the flashlight on his hip. "I'll take point. Maisie, stay behind me. Dash, take rear."
The door creaked open with a groan of metal and years. A staircase descended steeply into the shadows below, crumbling at the edges and slick with moss. The smell of damp stone rose to meet them.
Together, they stepped inside.
It felt like stepping off the edge of the world. The stairwell plunged into darkness, narrow and uneven, the stone slick with years of moisture. Maisie, the last to descend, hesitated at the threshold.
The wooden planks beneath her boots creaked ominously with each step, groaning under her weight as if threatening to give way. She gripped the railing, what remained of it, and swallowed hard. It was a long way down, and the mansion above already felt like a distant dream.
The walls were rough-hewn, ancient bricks cracked and mottled with moss and creeping roots, betraying the tunnel's age. Gene's eyes flicked over the faded markings carved into the stones, long-forgotten codes, or maybe just the graffiti of those who'd taken refuge here decades ago. The bones of the estate's buried past whispered secrets in the silence, secrets few living remembered.
Maisie's breath came out in visible puffs, her fingers tightening around the worn leather strap of her bag. "How old do you think this place is?" she asked, her voice low.
"Older than the estate itself," Gene replied, tracing the map she'd memorized. "This part of the tunnel system was built before the Lennox family moved in. Some of these supports look like they were installed during wartime, or maybe even earlier." Her finger hovered over a faded diagram, the lines indicating a complex network of shafts and maintenance corridors that had long fallen out of official use.
Dash adjusted his grip on the flashlight, eyes sharp in the dim light. "So, we're chasing Igor through a maze nobody's walked in years. If he's disoriented, it's no wonder."
Leo, shadowed at the back, kept his gaze steady on the floor, the faint echoes of dripping water marking their progress. "If he's moving on instinct, we need to predict where that instinct would lead. Somewhere safe, or at least somewhere he remembers." His voice was quiet but carried the weight of urgency.
Gene unfolded the brittle schematic again, tapping the faded ink. "The last ping came from this intersection here. It's near an old maintenance chamber, probably where equipment was once serviced, but it hasn't been used in decades. If Igor's memory is fragmented, he might have made for a place that feels familiar, even if only subconsciously."
Maisie swallowed hard. "We can't let him fall into their hands. The White Angels, Selene, Jack, whoever's left — they'll turn him into a weapon, or worse."
Gene's gaze darkened. "Their mind programming is designed to break people down slowly, but sometimes it snaps violently. Igor's in that dangerous transition, no telling if he'll fight back or shut down completely." She paused, voice dropping to a whisper. "And if he snaps... it won't just be him who suffers."
The tunnel seemed to close in around them, shadows pooling beneath their feet like silent predators. Every step echoed, a ticking clock counting down to something inevitable. Maisie's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of dread and fierce determination.
Dash flicked his light ahead, catching a rusted pipe jutting from the wall. "If Igor's out here, we have to be faster. Smarter. We can't afford to lose him."
Leo nodded grimly. "Time's not on our side."
They moved deeper, the world above fading to a distant memory. Here, in the cold and dark, only the faintest hope guided them, a fragile thread pulling them toward the brother they had to save.
The narrow tunnel junction was illuminated by flickering gas lamps mounted on rusted brackets and a few portable LED lights Gene had hauled along. The orange glow cast long, trembling shadows against the damp stone walls, creating shapes that danced just beyond the edge of vision.
The stale air smelled faintly of oil and mildew, mixed with the metallic bite of old iron. Every small sound, footsteps, breathing, the drip of water somewhere distant, seemed amplified in the stillness.
Leo stepped forward, breaking the silence with a low voice weighted with urgency. "Before we came down here, I spoke with the servants. They reported Silas Marlow missing to the local police just this morning."
His gaze flicked between the others, grim. "Officers came by the estate today. Quiet, and they were asking questions, looking around. The place is under scrutiny, even if no one's said it out loud."
Maisie gave a tired nod. "Yeah, we talked about that earlier. It's like the walls are closing in, upstairs and down here."
Dash clenched his jaw, fingers tapping lightly against his thigh. "This changes the timeline. We can't afford hesitation anymore. If they know Marlow's missing, they'll suspect something's wrong with us too."
Gene nodded slowly, the familiar weight of urgency settling over her shoulders. "We need to tighten security here and move quickly. Igor can't fall into their hands, not with the White Angels breathing down our necks."
Maisie looked at the tunnel ahead, determination hardening in her eyes. "Then let's stop talking. Let's find him before it's too late."
A brief flicker of tension sparked between Leo and Gene as their eyes locked. Leo's expression was unreadable but guarded, suspicion still simmering beneath his words. "I don't fully trust you yet, Gene. Too many things don't add up." His tone was careful, measured, not outright accusation, but a clear warning.
Gene met his gaze evenly, unflinching. "I don't blame you," she replied quietly. "I know what I represent to you. But trust has to start somewhere." Her voice softened just slightly, hinting at the risks she's already taken to be here.
Maisie stepped between them, her voice steady but firm. "We're wasting time," she said, locking eyes with both as she warned again. "Igor doesn't have the luxury of waiting for us to sort out our trust issues. He's moving, and every second counts."
The charged atmosphere settled like dust after a storm. Without another word, the four of them adjusted their gear and pushed forward, uneasy allies bound by a single urgent purpose, shadows lengthening behind them as they disappeared deeper into the tunnels. They could suddenly see another access point.
The door creaked reluctantly as Dash pushed it open, revealing the long-forgotten archive chamber. Dust floated thickly in the stale air, illuminated by their flashlights as it drifted like slow-moving specters in the dim light.
The musty smell of aged parchment and decay hung heavily, signaling that this place had remained untouched for years, maybe even decades. Every surface was blanketed in a fragile layer of dust, disturbed only by faint footprints marking a rare visitor's passage.
Gene stepped inside cautiously, her eyes scanning rows of rusted metal shelves sagging under the weight of brittle scrolls, faded blueprints, and stacks of yellowed servant logs.
She ran a finger over a rolled schematic, careful not to let it crumble. Faint scrawls and annotations cluttered the margins, some in a hurried hand.
Dash breathed quietly beside her, eyes bright despite the gloom. "I know this place," he murmured, almost to himself. "I used to hide here as a kid during storms. Thought I'd found the perfect secret refuge. Didn't know it was this dusty crypt back then."
Maisie crouched near the floor, cross-referencing Gene's worn map with the faded blueprints spread out on a cracked wooden table.
"If Igor's following instinct," she said softly, tracing a finger along the winding tunnels, "he's probably heading toward this sealed drain shaft near the cliffs. It's a logical exit, hidden, out of use, easy to slip through without being seen."
Gene nodded, eyes narrowing as she aligned the old drawings with their latest intel. "Right. And it's not on any modern map. That makes it a perfect blind spot for someone trying to disappear." She glanced over at Dash, "You remember any secret passages around here from your childhood?"
Dash smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Mostly just the ones I invented when I was bored."
Maisie's hand froze on the map as she spotted something else, a faint, almost invisible line branching off from the main tunnel. "Wait. There's this narrow side path. An inspection tunnel, maybe? Not on the newer maps. How did I miss this?"
The group fell silent, the air thick with unspoken questions. Something was unsettling about that offshoot, a pull, a vague tug at Maisie's memory, like a half-remembered dream. It wasn't just a passageway; it felt familiar in a way she couldn't explain. As if a part of her had walked there before, long ago.
Gene caught the look in Maisie's eyes and lowered her voice. "Whatever path Igor's taking, we'll find him. We have to."
Dash flicked off his flashlight briefly, letting darkness envelop them, and then looked up with resolve. "Let's move."
The four of them gathered their maps and notes.
The narrow offshoot tunnel stretched before them, swallowed in shadows that seemed to drink the weak glow of their flashlights. The air here was colder, heavier, carrying a damp chill that seeped into their bones. The group hesitated at the threshold, the silence thick with unspoken fears.
Maisie took a slow breath, then stepped forward. Her voice was steady but soft. "Let me go first," she said. "Just in case… he remembers me." The weight of those words hung between them like a fragile promise.
Leo stepped back slightly, offering to follow at a distance. Maisie nodded, grateful for the silent support, feeling both courage and vulnerability coursing through her veins.
As she moved deeper, Maisie's eyes caught subtle signs, scratches gouged into the rough stone walls, jagged claw marks that hadn't been there before.
A faint smear of dark blood stained a rusty pipe, its dampness still lingering in the air. Near a rusted vent grille, a single black feather, delicate and out of place, fluttered in the stale draft.
She stopped at a small, shallow spring, the only source of water here, framed by broken scaffolding and crumbling tile like remnants of a long-forgotten shelter. The place felt sacred, a quiet refuge amid the decay.
Slowly, from the folds of her coat, Maisie withdrew the ribbon, a deep burgundy, worn and faded but still rich in color. It matched the tie she once wore to school, a token of simpler times.
With care, she tied the ribbon around a crooked pipe protruding from the wall, letting it sway gently with the damp, cold air, a silent signal in the darkness.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, trembling with hope and fear. "If you're still in there… remember who you are." The words barely escaped her lips before breaking into a fragile plea. "Come home, Igor."
Behind her, Leo said nothing. His hand pressed firmly against the rough tunnel wall, grounding them both in the quiet tension. His eyes didn't waver from the ribbon fluttering in the shadows.
──✦──
The deeper labyrinth swallowed Igor whole. The air here was thick and cold, heavy with the sharp tang of minerals and the silence of forgotten tunnels. Every breath he took seemed to drag harder, frost biting at his lungs.
His silhouette moved slowly, shoulders hunched against unseen burdens. One wing hung limp and useless, trailing a faint streak of dark blood that marked his path like a silent plea.
Suddenly, something caught his eye, a flash of color amidst the gray and black. He faltered, the world narrowing to the soft flutter of fabric caught on a jagged pipe.
His hand rose hesitantly, trembling as if relearning motion. Fingers brushed the worn ribbon, its threads rough and familiar against his skin.
In that instant, a spark ignited in the depths of his fractured memory: a hallway bathed in warm light, a voice laughing, a small hand slipping into his. A vivid color, a tender moment, the past reaching through the fog.
Maisie's voice whispered in his mind, not spoken aloud, but felt deep inside, a gentle pulse through the chaos.
His lips parted, trembling as sound emerged, raw and fragile, a man surfacing from drowning.
"Maisie."
The name was hoarse, cracked like old leather, but it was his, clung to like a lifeline, not a clue.
──✦──
Back in the tunnels, the group moved cautiously, the air shifting as if the very walls inhaled with them.
Leo halted mid-step, straining to hear through the stillness. "Did you hear that?"
Dash raised his flashlight, eyes sharp. "Footsteps?"
Gene's hand tightened around the tranquilizer nestled at her belt, muscles coiled and ready. "Igor?"
Maisie's voice was barely a whisper, heavy with uncertainty. "Or someone else."
A soft tremor pulsed through the air, faint but undeniable. It wasn't just a sound. It was presence.
Maisie froze, heart stuttering in her chest. "Did you feel that?"
Gene's eyes narrowed, scanning the dark. "Something changed."
Leo stepped forward slowly, flashlight beam stretching across the ancient stone. "It came from ahead. Not close, but... not far, either."
Dash adjusted his grip on his baton, jaw tense. "Whatever it was, it wasn't nothing."
No one moved for a moment.
Then, a whisper, no louder than breath across glass, brushed the edge of their awareness. It didn't echo. It settled.
Maisie's hand lifted to her mouth. "He found the ribbon."
Dash looked at her, confused. "How can you be sure?"
"I just am."
From somewhere ahead in the twisting dark, the air changed again, a subtle shift like something waking.
Gene's voice dropped. "We're not alone down here anymore."
Leo met her gaze. "He knows we're here."
And for the first time since stepping into the tunnels, Maisie let herself hope.