Shane checked his gear twice. The third time was about readiness. The abandoned building smelled of wet stone and old dust, a collapsed warehouse from the Republic era if the load-bearing arches were anything to go by. Old Port Landa was full of structures like this, built to last, abandoned when the city shifted around them. Too expensive to demolish. Too inconvenient to renovate. Forgotten by planners, ignored by officials.
Matthew sat across from him, methodically sharpening his daggers before checking his pistol. He wasn't rushing, and he wasn't lingering either. Each motion finished cleanly before the next began, practiced to the point of thoughtlessness.
"Church won't be guarding this themselves," Shane said, tightening the wrap along his forearm. "Not directly."
Matthew didn't look up. "Mercenaries."
"Most likely," Shane agreed. "Former state units. Republic washouts. Freelancers who still think discipline matters." He pulled back the slide on his pistol, checked the chamber, then let it return. "They'll expect elementals. They'll expect Anima. They won't expect humans or conventional weapons. That gives us an advantage."
Matthew paused long enough to glance up. "That assumes they're guarding something worth killing for."
Shane met his eyes. "I doubt those crates were just weapons. And they treat the ruins as sacred. Zealots don't abandon holy ground."
That ended the discussion.
A sharp whistle cut through the upper level. Shane was already turning when the shape dropped from above. She landed lightly, talons barely touching stone before balance settled, compact, precise. Feathers flared briefly before folding tight against her sides, bright even in the dim light. Reds, yellows, blues layered in patterns too bold to be camouflage and too deliberate to be careless.
She didn't introduce herself, but she did not need to.
"You're the humans," she said, voice quick, pitched high enough it almost sang. "You talk loud when you think no one's listening."
Shane studied her. Light frame. Dense muscle beneath. Talons wrapped in reinforced guards. Tactical rig concealed beneath a loose coat. Eyes constantly moving.
She was recon. Vertical control. He noted the small pistols holstered at her belt. Republic make.
"Lead us," Shane said. He did not care to chat with this silly harpy.
She tilted her head, gaze flicking briefly to the crystal blade now openly brandished. "Try not to slow me down."
They moved.
Outside, the church dominated the plaza. White stone, immaculate, gold trim catching the light like a challenge. Too clean for Old Port Landa. It wasn't meant to blend in. It was meant to remind the people here that someone still had the resources to build something untouched. Shane understood the message immediately. Strength presented as reassurance. Power framed as salvation.
The harpy flew low, thin streams of steam curled in her wake as Vigor fed her ascent. He had never seen a harpy fly, but he knew they were not like birds. There was a cost to it, no freedom from burden.
They entered into the backdoor of a building across the plaza of the church. Inside was Erik and his team. Shane felt it immediately. Not civilians pretending. Not guards pretending not to guard. Soldiers pretending to be nothing at all.
Erik stood slightly apart, civilian coat drawn close, hair bound beneath a cap. He looked ordinary in the way powerful people sometimes did, someone used to being seen, now trying not to be. A rifle rested against his shoulder. It didn't look decorative. It looked familiar.
Shane's attention went to the others first. As did theirs when he and Matthew entered.
"I am glad you are joining us," Erik said. "I was quite relieved when Fliss said you were preparing."
"We have a similar goal," Shane responded. "We do not need to get all friendly."
"Of course, this is a tactical operation. Let me introduce you to my team."
Erik gestures subtly to the five others all dressed for combat.
"You met Fliss already, the harpy. She is our scout and long range recon. I have her flying above watching the church. This here, is Raen. He is our vanguard."
Raen stepped forward, broad shoulders filling the space. Dark blue scales traced his neck and hands. Reinforced plating showed beneath his open coat. Shane clocked him instantly, frontline anchor. The kind that held ground when everything else failed.
"This is Margo," Erik continued. "She's leading the operation. Recon and tactical."
Margo stood slightly back. Deep red scales dusted along her jaw and temples, hair braided tight, coat buttoned high. She watched them carefully. She carried a tablet and had a small compact computer beside her. Command-and-control. If this turned ugly, she'd be the one to watch.
"Nice to meet formally," she said.
"It is a pleasure," Matthew perked. "I did enjoy our short conversation about trade disruptions."
"Perhaps, later we can continue."
"I would love too," Matthew said with a suave smile. Shane huffed softly.
"This is Lira," Erik said. "She is our sniper and rear guard."
Lira leaned near the edge of the group, copper-red scales catching light, eyes never still. The rifle she carried was oversized for an underground mission. Shane was curious how she would use it.
"Tovin," Erik went on. "Demolitions."
"Nice to see our captain was right about you," he said. He was the biggest of all the dragonkin present. Wide and heavy. His pale green scales shone the brightest in the dim light. "I have always wanted to see the Zao military in action."
"Last is Davin."
Shane frowned slightly. Not dragonkin. Not mermaid. No fins, no reflective eyes. His ears were more human than aquatic. His posture was rigid, disciplined, the kind that came from years of being corrected.
"Merkin?" Matthew asked.
Slang term for a halfbreed. Shane had seen plenty growing up. Zao tolerated the half breed.
"I prefer mermaid," Davin said in a very crisp tight tone.
"Anima locked?" Shane asked.
"Yes."
Silence lingered a moment.
"I'm Matthew," Matthew said smoothly. "And this is Shane. Let's make this productive."
Erik nodded. "Margo."
Shane and Matthew's attention fixed on the computer beside Margo. The screen lit up with underground schematics of the church.
"We don't know if these are accurate," Margo said. "But we do know what is down there."
An image of a crystalline structure appeared. Shane leaned closer despite himself. He'd never seen stone like that, crystal fused to rock as if it had grown there, the surrounding stone wrapped around it like sinew or bone.
"What is that?" Matthew asked.
"Our target," Erik stated.
"Exactly," Margo continued. "We have known about its existence for some time now. Sealed sites. Officially forbidden. On paper they are forbidden from excavating and studying it, but they still do it. In that time they found two more."
Two more images of crystals appeared, all with the same appearance.
"We do not know what they do, or if they are important to the foundation of the city. All we know is that the church is really focused on them. We believe all three locations are connected by tunnels, though they are not mapped on the schematics."
A map of the city streets flicked onto the screen. Three locations, each roughly a mile apart from one another, had been marked.
"What do they do?" Matthew asked.
"We don't know," Erik answered. "That's why we're going in."
"This is a blind raid?" Shane said.
"Yes."
Shane's jaw tightened a fraction.
"It's risky, we know. From the information you gave us," Erik continued. "We confirmed they will have military grade weapons, all from Zao. And mercenaries are more than likely involved, so they have discipline and training. We were also unable to figure out what some of the crates held, so we are going to assume more weapons. "
"Not just Anima rounds," Shane commented.
"Likely."
Shane breathed deeply. Rational fought his desire. Erin was underground, or close enough. Blind zones killed experienced soldiers. He could not die before having justice.
"Do you think this team can handle this?" Shane asked. "This is nearly suicide. You don't know how much of the enemy there is, we are going into a potential kill box."
Erik looked into Shane's eyes before answering,
"I do."
Shane looked at Matthew. Matthew gave him a nod. It was his call. Erin was underground somewhere, or at least with the church. It had only been a day, but he had a feeling that he was still down there. He wanted desperately to go, but all that his teachers warned him about blind combat zones and enclosed spaces crept back into his mind. If it was with a team he trusted, he would go in, but he did not know them. They used Vigor much differently than humans. It was a gamble.
Yes, feed on it
Shane hissed. That voice in his mind. A familiar heat rose in him. Hate. How he hated Erin. So what if his life ended? If Erin was in his grasp he had to take that chance. Shane locked eyes with Erik, determined,
"We are in."
"Good. Margo continue."
"Of course. This is our plan-"
Shane only half listened. His focus drifted to his thoughts about killing Erin. He was so close, and relief was almost in his grasp. Soon he would avenge his family. His father, his mother, his sister, his wife, and everyone else that murderer killed.
Death
Yes, Erin deserved nothing more than that.
"Let us set you up with some comms and gear," Margo said, snapping him from his thoughts.
Shane and Matthew put on the tactical gear that the dragonkin offered. It was armored, heavy enough to withstand standard military grade bullets, even Anima rounds. Shane sat back and watched them as they cleaned up. They were well trained. Better trained than simple soldiers. No wasted movement here, no hesitation.
"You're Black Hand," Shane said.
It wasn't a question.
Erik's eyes flicked to him, just once. Sharp. The rest of the team tensed up. Shane let his hand drift to his sword.
"I am surprised you know the Black Hand," Erik said.
"I have heard of you," Shane replied. " And I have seen enough soldiers in my time to see that you are not just a simple military, or an internal police force. You are elite."
The team's posture softened. Shane let his hand drift away from the sword.
"Black Hand," Matthew pondered. "Royal Guard of the crown."
Shane noticed their attention shift to Erik. Matthew was right, he was a prince of Kalindor.
"I can not confirm your speculation," Erik said. "But we are well trained, you do not have to worry about that."
A pause. Erik studied him now.
"And you?" Erik asked. "You move like you're state-trained."
Shane didn't hesitate. "Zao Central Intelligence."
True. Just not complete. Erik absorbed that without reaction. Shane watched him carefully. The rest of the team seemed to accept it, he could tell their focus shifted back to clean up.
"And yet," Shane continued, eyes narrowing slightly, "you're out here personally. Not observing from a distance. Not letting your people take the risk."
Erik met his gaze. "You think I'm being babysat."
"I think," Shane said slowly, "if you were just a prince, they wouldn't let you stand this close to a live unknown."
The corner of Erik's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.
"They don't babysit me," Erik said.
That told Shane enough. Not a ceremonial heir. Not a soft political presence. Field-capable. Trusted. Or dangerous enough that no one tried to stop him
Shane looked at the weapons. Anima rifles. Long, balanced like conventional firearms, but wrong in all the ways that mattered. No chamber for powder. No feed for metal rounds. Instead, each rifle housed a crystalline conduit running the length of the barrel, its surface faintly luminous where Anima had been recently cycled.
Some carried clips seated beneath the receiver, thick, reinforced housings filled with condensed Anima, sealed and tagged. Others were bare, meant to draw directly from the environment. Shane had used them before, hard to use unless you could see Anima the way the elemental races could. For a human as himself, a simple bullet was easier.
Davin, the merkin, came and handed him a rifle.
"I don't need it," Shane said. "My sword will be enough."
"This is Zao," the man stated.
Shane glanced at Matthew who gladly took a rifle from another member of the team. Shane looked at the soldier.
"I do not need it."
"Suit yourself."
Silence followed.
Once everything was cleared the team gathered in formation. Shane took a spot next to Raen. He was a vanguard just like the dragonkin. Erik addressed the squad,
"We move fast, and clean. I want casualties low. Once we are underground, kill on contact. Margo will take command as soon as we enter the building. Follow her orders. Margo test comms."
A short beep popped in Shane's ear.
"You all hear that?"
"Sir," the squad said in unison.
"Before we go in, Shane, can you let us know what the sword can do and what to watch out for?"
Shane turned to the squad.
"To explain it simply, the sword can essentially wield Pyra. I can generate enough heat to cut through most materials. It allows me to tap into Pyra near me as well, so that I can use it myself."
"So it just makes you the same as a dragonkin?" Margo asked.
Shane thought about it for a second. Of course the blade was not as simple as that. He could do a lot more. He never had a chance to try it, but his father claimed that it could actually control the Anima within elementals, basically binding them to the blade, making them a slave. It also amplified his own abilities, allowing him to identify and use the Anima around himself. It was more than an equalizer. It was a weapon originally created to combat beings that most of the world thought did not exist.
Demons.
"Basiclly," Shane agreed. "Keep your distance and don't cross my line."
Erik turned toward the church.
"Then we move."
The Black Hand stepped forward as one. And Shane felt something he hadn't expected. Confidence.
They didn't breach the front doors. That would have been loud.
Instead, the Black Hand split cleanly, pairs moving with practiced silence, coats falling open just enough to free weapons without advertising intent. Shane watched the pattern unfold and adjusted instinctively, matching their cadence without being told.
No one barked orders. That told him everything. The side entrance gave way after thirty seconds of quiet work. No alarms. No raised voices. Just a soft click and the door easing inward.
The Church smelled like clean stone and old incense. White walls. Gold trim. It felt like stepping into a different city—one where hunger and rot were kept at arm's length by intention alone.
They flowed inside.
Shane moved third, blade still at his hip, pistol in hand. He clocked every figure in the main hall, volunteers first, then clergy, then the ones who weren't doing anything useful. Those were the dangerous ones.
"Hands visible," Erik said.
Not raised. Not shouted. Calm. Flat. The effect was immediate. Some froze. Some complied too quickly. A few hesitated just long enough for Shane to mark them as thinking. Raen and Tovin peeled left. Davin and Lira went right. Margo moved straight down the center aisle like she belonged there, eyes flicking between faces and exits, already mapping resistance.
"Down," Erik said, gesturing.
People complied. Shane felt the shift then, the exact moment doctrine collapsed under authority. Faith yielded to force without ceremony.
A woman stepped forward from near the altar. White and gold robes. Hood down. Five armbands stitched into her sleeve. Dragonkin. Composed, but there was something brittle under it.
"You are exceeding your authority," she said sharply. "This is a religious sanctuary. We are protected from unlawful searches."
Erik didn't raise his voice. "This is an active investigation into a bombing."
"We have no connection to—"
"We have witness testimony of an illegal shipment that arrived at this location and was taken inside exactly twenty-four hours ago," Erik said.
She faltered. Just for a heartbeat.
Shane caught it.
Her eyes flicked, not to Erik, but to the floor behind the altar. Then she looked back at him.
"You," she said quietly. "You're Prince Erik."
The murmur started then. Clergy whispering to volunteers. Volunteers whispering to each other. Erik lifted his rifle, not threatening, not theatrical. Just enough to remind her of reality.
She exhaled. Long. Tight.
"I knew this was coming."
"Detain them," Margo said.
The squad moved. Benches were dragged aside. Hands were bound. Shane and Matthew shifted to cover the exits as people were gathered into the center of the hall.
"Are you Elara?" Margo asked.
"I am," she said, straightening despite the restraints. "And before you accuse us further—know this. I warned him."
"Him?" Margo repeated.
"Ara-dul," Elara said. The name carried venom she didn't bother hiding. "He is not clergy. He never was. He uses the Church because the Cardinal allows it."
A sharp sound echoed as something metallic clattered to the floor, a volunteer entered through the front doors. The noise cut through the room, sharp enough to reset everyone's focus.
Matthew detained them before anyone else moved. He hauled the fellow to the rest. Attention turned back to Elara.
Margo stepped closer. "What was in the crates?"
Elara didn't hesitate. "Weapons. And devices. Guarded by mercenaries. Some of our more… radical believers assisted."
"And you did nothing," Erik said.
"I didn't know the scale," Elara snapped. Then quieter, "I knew something was wrong."
"Ignorance and complacency don't absolve responsibility," Erik replied.
Margo nodded. "If anything, they make it worse."
Elara's gaze drifted to the stone floor.
"What's down there?" Margo asked.
"An ancient chamber," Elara said. "From before this city."
"What are they doing with it?"
"They plan to bomb the crystal structures."
The words landed hard. Shane felt it ripple through the squad. Glances exchanged. Shoulders tightened.
"What now?" Margo asked. "This changes everything."
Erik knelt in front of Elara, bringing his voice down. "How many are underground?"
"I—I don't know," she said. "Dozens, maybe. Mercenaries and clergy."
"The devices," Erik said. "Are those the bombs?"
"Yes."
"How large?"
"About three feet long. I did not get a good look at them, but I noticed it was covered in writing I didn't recognize."
"What kind of writing?" Shane asked.
The room went quiet.
She looked at him. "Like… scribbles. Jagged. Not devotional script."
Shane felt something cold settle behind his eyes. He'd seen it once. Briefly. Years ago.
Matthew caught his expression. "What is it?"
"That script isn't meant to be read," Shane said. "Zao military labs use it on experimental weapons. It's a containment language. Only the designers can interpret it."
Erik turned toward him. "Meaning?"
"Meaning there's a prototype device underground," Shane said. "And no one here knows what it actually does."
The tension shifted. Sharper now. Less abstract. Erik stood and signaled his team with quick, silent gestures. Shane recognized the exchange for what it was—risk assessment without letting the captives see doubt. Three signs matched. Two didn't.
"We proceed," Erik said. "We turn back if it's unstable."
He looked to Elara. "How do we get down there?"
"Behind the altar," she said. "Hidden door. Push inward."
"Margo," Erik said. "You're still in command. Report to Fliss as we descend. Everyone—get hot."
They burned together. Heat pressed against Shane's skin as Vigor moved through the room. The air thickened. Matthew stepped closer.
"You still going?" he murmured.
"Erin's there."
Matthew nodded.
Shane moved beside Raen, pistol holstered, hand on his blade.
"You're not burning," Raen noted.
"If I do," Shane said, "the sword ignites."
Raen inclined his head. Erik pushed the hidden door open. Weapons came up.
The descent was fast and controlled. Renovated stone gave way to older construction, rougher, colder, grown instead of cut. Moisture clung to the walls. The air grew dense, wrong in a way Shane couldn't quite name. Then the chamber opened.
The crystal rose from the floor like the city itself had grown around it. No seams. No supports. Stone wrapped its base the way bone wrapped tendon. Light pulsed beneath its surface in slow, patient cycles that made Shane's teeth itch.
White-robed figures moved around it, unaware. And there, directly in front of the crystal, sat the device. It rested on a reinforced frame, casing matte and scarred, the strange script etched deep into its surface. In its center, something faintly luminous rotated within a clear housing. Shane couldn't tell if it was powering up or holding back.
Raen raised a fist.
A mercenary stood at the edge of the light. Raen moved. Knife to throat. Body lowered soundlessly. They flowed in. In less than two minutes, the chamber was secured. Mercenaries neutralized. Clergy restrained and gagged.
The chamber settled into a controlled stillness.
Margo raised a closed fist, then spread her fingers. The Black Hand shifted smoothly, each member adjusting without verbal confirmation. Raen took the left perimeter, positioning himself near the tunnel mouth, angled to cover both approach and retreat. Lira faded deeper into shadow along the wall, rifle braced against stone, her sightline steady on the far passage. Davin moved to the restrained clergy, standing close enough to react, far enough to avoid being rushed. Matthew remained just behind Shane, attention split between the crystal and the device.
Tovin approached the device last.
He stopped several steps away and crouched, eyes level with the casing. He didn't touch it. Not yet. He circled slowly, boots placed with deliberate care, testing the stone beneath him for vibration. He watched how the faint glow inside the device shifted, subtle changes, almost imperceptible.
"Alright," Tovin said quietly. "Let's start by ruling things out."
Margo knelt beside him, tablet angled low to avoid reflecting light. "Go ahead."
"It's not pressure-based," Tovin said. "No contact plate, no load sensitivity. If it were, we'd already be dead standing this close."
He leaned to one side, studying the base. "It's not hardwired into the floor either. No anchors, no conduits. That tells me it's meant to be placed, not built in."
Raen glanced toward the crystal. "Anima charge?"
Tovin shook his head. "No."
He straightened slightly, careful not to close the distance. " You know pure Pyra, it's unstable. You release your hold. Boom. If it is Anima of any kind, it's been crystallized and contained in a way that doesn't require Vigor to hold."
"And there's no bleed," Margo added, scanning her readouts. "No pressure increase. Nothing building. No one is feeding it."
"Exactly," Tovin said. "Which means if it goes off, it's because something tells it to—not because control slips."
Shane shifted, eyes flicking between the device and the crystal behind it. "So it's manufactured."
"Yes," Tovin said. "Every part of it says intentional design."
"We can stop it then," Erik said quietly.
Everyone's attention snapped to him.
"This bomb must be on a trigger," Erik continued. He stepped closer, not toward the device, but into the center of the formation, where everyone could see him. "It means we need to find it."
Margo nodded once. "We need information."
She gestured to Davin. "Try the clergy again."
Davin hauled one of the robed figures upright. The man's eyes burned with fervor, jaw clenched around the gag. Davin removed it briefly.
"Who has the trigger?" Margo asked.
The man laughed, short, sharp, fearless. "We are not meant to know," he said. "Knowledge is not our role."
"How powerful is the bomb?" Erik asked.
"Powerful enough to purify it," the zealot said eagerly. "Free it from corruption."
The gag went back in.
Another cleric was pulled forward. This one trembled, but his eyes held the same devotion.
"Who activates it?" Margo pressed.
"All things activate in their proper time," the cleric said. "You cannot stop what is ordained."
Davin silenced him without ceremony.
Erik exhaled slowly. "They don't know. Or they don't care."
"Both," Margo said. "Either way, they're useless."
Tovin leaned back on his heels. "That confirms something at least. The clergy weren't trusted with operational knowledge."
"It is who the priestess mentioned. Ara-dul," Shane said.
"Likely," Erik agreed. His gaze returned to the device. "Which means he is our target."
Tovin nodded. "That's my read too."
He pointed at the etched script. "This is what we need to crack if we want to disarm this thing. Otherwise, we need to find this Ara-dul soon."
"Any other options?" Erik asked.
"Without knowing what kind of bomb this is," Tovin said. "We have very few options."
Margo folded her arms. "Let's hear them anyway."
"Option one: move it," Tovin said. "I don't recommend it. If it's keyed to displacement, we trigger it."
"Agreed," Erik said immediately.
"Option two: dismantle the casing," Tovin continued. "Also risky. Whatever's inside might be under tension. You release that without understanding it, you get an uncontrolled event."
"And option three," Matthew said, "destroy it."
Silence followed.
Tovin didn't dismiss it outright. "If this were conventional explosives, maybe. But we don't know the yield, the interaction with the crystal, or whether destruction is the intended trigger."
Erik studied the crystal as it pulsed again, slow and steady. "We need to keep moving. Finding the man who has the trigger is the only real option we have."
The chamber filled with a low murmur as one of the zealots began chanting under his breath. Davin moved, pressing him flat against the stone until the sound stopped.
"I agree," Margo said. "We hunt the leader. There are supposed to be two more bombs, we need to locate them and secure Ara-dul."
Erik nodded. "We move deeper in. Stay tight."
He looked at each of them in turn. "No unnecessary Vigor use near the devices. We do not need to trigger them on accident"
Clear. Calm. Final.
Shane was impressed with the efficiency of the team. They turned towards the only other path out of the chamber and advanced. Shane lingered half a step behind the formation, eyes returning once more to the crystal as it pulsed. Something about it felt unfinished. Wrong. He wondered why the crystals had to be destroyed. It seemed almost contrary to the doctrine of the church, though Elara did say that Ara-dul, the man pulling the strings wasn't clergy.
So what was he then? Why did they listen to him when he separated himself? Shane could not fathom it.
Stone fell from behind him. A soft sound, barely louder than the retreating footsteps. He turned scanning the room. He could barely make out the walls due to the lighting. He heard the sound again. He grabbed his sword and loosened his body. That sound was not a figment of his mind.
He hardly registered the hidden door within the shadows. The entire wall was just ever so slightly tilted. He pushed against the door and it did not budge. He released a small burst of Vigor, just enough to fill his body so he could use it to push open the door.
On the other side of the door was a tunnel. Darkness. Thick and impenetrable. A soft rustle could be heard. It sounded like linen on stone. The sound grew louder, someone was approaching. Shane readied his weapon and waited.
A figure appeared, his form slowly revealing itself in the light. Tall. Wrapped in bandages and dark cloth. Mask smooth and unreadable. The figure stood as if the city itself had decided to pause and watch.
"You must be the brother," Ara-dul said calmly.
Shane raised his blade. "You must be Ara-dul."
Ara-dul tilted his head. "Elara mentioned me, did she? Well no matter. I don't think we will see each other again."
"What are you after?"
"Nothing really," Ara-dul replied. "I am just fulfilling the will of the Cardinal."
"Who is that?"
"No one that will concern you."
Shane was unsure of what to do next. The man was not burning Vigor, and he appeared alone. In fact, it felt like a trap. One designed for him. Shane did not like that.
"Where is Erin?"
Shane could not see his face, but he felt the man smile. With a chuckle the man turned to the side and Erin emerged from the darkness. White robes. Red sash. Blue crystal blade humming softly at his side.
He smiled.
"Hello, Shane."
The world narrowed.
And everything that mattered moved closer. Erin didn't raise his sword. That was the first thing Shane noticed. He stood loose in the tunnel mouth, weight settled comfortably, crystal blade angled down and away, blue veins dormant but unmistakably alive beneath the surface. He looked like someone waiting for a question he already knew the answer to.
"You look tired," Erin said.
Shane didn't hesitate. He lunged. Steam erupted around him as he burned. Erin's smile became more deranged and met Shane head on.
Their swords clashed, flames erupted between them as the Vigor fueled them. Erin pushed Shane away and retreated his sword's blue flame illuminating the darkness with an eerie blue tinge.
Ara-dul observed from several paces back, posture relaxed, as if this exchange had already resolved itself in his mind.
"You shouldn't have come here," Erin continued. "This place isn't meant for people like you."
"People like me," Shane said flatly.
Erin smiled, faint and almost fond. "People who still think violence ends things."
Shane stepped closer, heat gathering behind his ribs. Anger.
"You murdered everyone," he snarled. "You chose this."
The smile cracked, just barely.
"You left," Erin snapped. "And they abandoned me. You all left me to rot in that horrible place."
"You did that on your own."
Erin's face contorted in anger. "You all decided your fate!"
"And you have decided yours!" Shane shouted in anger.
"Shane!" Matthew called. The sound of the boots striking stone could be heard from outside the tunnel.
Ara-dul spoke. "Looks like this conversation needs to be taken elsewhere."
Steam rose from beneath his wrappings as he extended a hand. The stone answered. Not a collapse, a shift. Sand bled from the walls, gathering in unnatural currents at Ara-dul's feet, flowing with intention.
Shane's pulse spiked.
"Follow," Ara-dul said calmly, to Shane. "If you want your brother."
Erin's grin widened.
The tunnel erupted in gun fire. Mercenaries poured from side passages, weapons firing. Erik's team responded instantly. Shane found himself in between a fire fight. He swung his sword in an arc, calling forth Pyra to create a wall of flames, protecting him from the bullets.
Sand surged like a living thing, splitting the space between them. Erin staggered as the floor buckled beneath him, balance breaking for half a second. The tunnel behind Erin collapsed outward, stone and sand exploding into a deeper passage, older, darker, untouched by recent excavation.
"Now," Ara-dul said.
Erin didn't hesitate.
He leapt backward into the darkness as the sand surged again, shrinking the tunnel. Shane charged.
"SHANE!" Matthew shouted.
Hands grabbed him, pulled him back as the ceiling cracked overhead.
"Let go!" Shane roared.
"It's a trap!" Matthew barked.
Shane tore free. He didn't look back.
He dove through the narrowing gap as sand sealed the path behind him. The tunnel sealed behind him with a final, thunderous crack.
Silence.
Shane landed hard, rolled, came up with his sword blazing. Erin was already running.
"Erin!" Shane shouted, voice raw.
Erin glanced back once, eyes bright, wild, pleased. Then he vanished deeper into the ancient dark. Shane followed.
Behind him, far away now, Erik's team dealt with the Ara-dul. Matthew's voice was swallowed by stone.
Shane didn't slow. He had chosen. The city, the team, the plan, all of it fell away beneath his feet. There was only his brother. And whatever waited beneath Port Landa, bleeding quietly while the world above remained unaware.