"The detonator," he explained. "If the enemy finds the path, we bury it completely."
The resistance wasn't built on a single escape.
It had many entrances. Many exits.
If one path was compromised, they would sever it—sacrifice one branch to protect the rest. A painful choice, but a necessary one.
Thoughtful.
Careful.
Built by people who had learned, the hard way, just how fragile survival really was.
Ilfa stopped walking for a moment, his eyes tracing the branching layout carved into the walls. His expression shifted—pride creeping in, mixed with awe. But a touch of sadness crept in as well.
"Lady Iris designed this," he said, unable to hide it. "Isn't it cool?"
Sylene blinked, processing that, while Mavis had already drifted off—fast asleep against his shoulder, leaning completely into him, breathing slow and even.
Millia glanced back at them.
"Don't you know why she's called the Iron Lady?" she asked.
