Aria's hand trembled as she groped along the damp stone wall, fingers scraping against cold, slick rock. Her other hand clutched the lantern uselessly. The glass was warm from the dead flame, but she didn't dare pause. Not here. Not with that sound still echoing through the chamber—raw, desperate, and somehow alive in her mind.
Her heart thundered, each beat ricocheting in her skull like a drum in a storm. She forced herself upward along the slick steps, boots slipping against moss and water. Every slip made her stomach lurch, but she pressed on, refusing to glance backward. She could not. She would not let her eyes meet those pale, gleaming eyes again—the ones that had felt like they had marked her very soul.
The air thickened with every step, clinging to her skin, sour and metallic. It left a taste of ash at the back of her tongue. Her chest burned with every inhale; her lungs seemed to choke on the weight pressing down on them. By the time she reached the first bend in the tunnel, her legs trembled violently, fire running through her muscles, and yet she could not remember how she had made it so far so fast.
Finally, when the oppressive hum in the stone receded, faintly but enough for her to notice, she allowed herself to stop. Her back pressed against the cold wall as she slid down, landing on the damp floor. The lantern rested in her lap, glass cold and heavy, offering fragile light that did little to chase the shadows.
Her hands were raw, flecked with rust from the gate. She stared at them numbly, the ache of how tightly she had gripped the iron washing over her. Fingers tingling, bones aching as if the chill had seeped into them and stayed.
She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory of the shadows, the pale eyes, the whispering voices. And then it came again.
His voice. Fragile. Desperate. Real.
Aria…
Not the twisted mockery, not the serpentine hiss of the shadow. This was him. Vale. Erevan. The sound hollowed something in her chest while filling it with hope. Her throat burned as she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, warring with the urge to cry. Tears were a luxury she could not afford—not with the tunnels whispering behind her, not with the shadow's presence lingering like smoke along her skin.
And then she felt it—faint, impossible, undeniable. The shadow, vast, patient, cold, and deliberate, had brushed against her hand. A warning, a claim, a silent assertion: to reach Vale, she would risk being consumed herself.
Aria drew a sharp, shuddering breath and forced her eyes open. She could not break here. She could not give Cassian, the Council, or the thing in the shadows the satisfaction of fear. Every instinct screamed to flee, yet she could not.
Vale was still there. Still himself. Still fighting.
And if she abandoned him now… if she let the Council bury him in silence… whatever tethered her hope to this place would snap.
Her fingers struck flint against steel, sparks hissing into the damp air. The lantern sputtered, coughing to life. A frail flame blossomed, trembling against the tunnel walls, casting warped shadows that seemed to lean away from her as if afraid. The darkness recoiled slightly, leaving the ghost of the shadow's touch lingering like ice along her skin.
Aria rose, legs unsteady, breath ragged. Every instinct urged her to run, every nerve screamed to abandon the tunnels entirely. Yet the determination in her chest—solid, fierce—anchored her to the path forward.
If she left him here, Vale would be lost. And with him, so too would be whatever hope still lingered in her heart.
She steadied the lantern, jaw tight, and forced herself onward, back toward the winding passages leading to the Academy above. Every step echoed too loudly, amplified as if the tunnels themselves remembered her. As though the presence beyond the gate was still listening, still aware, still waiting.
Aria stayed pressed to the damp wall for a long moment, letting her chest heave and her legs quake beneath her. Each inhale was sharp, metallic, as if the tunnels themselves were drawing the oxygen from her lungs. She traced the rough stone with her fingertips, grounding herself in its cold, unyielding reality.
I can do this, she told herself. I have to.
Her hands were stiff and raw, but she flexed her fingers deliberately. Pain shot up her arms, but she welcomed it—it reminded her that she was still alive, still human, still tethered to the world beyond the shadows. The weight of fear pressed at her ribs, sour and heavy, like the ash lingering at the back of her tongue, but determination began to pulse beneath it, steady and unyielding.
Slowly, carefully, she brought the flint back to the steel. Sparks hissed, scattering in the damp air. A tiny flare of defiance caught, and the lantern sputtered, coughed, and then, almost reluctantly, a weak but steady flame bloomed. Trembling gold painted the tunnel walls. The shadows recoiled slightly, but they did not vanish—they pulsed, aware of her presence, aware of the fragile flame that dared to defy them.
Aria straightened her back, muscles screaming in protest, legs shaking as if they might give out at any moment. She steadied the lantern with both hands. In the wavering light, the slick patches of water glinted on the uneven floor, moss crawled in dark patches along the walls, and low arches curved overhead like the ribcage of some long-dead beast.
Every instinct screamed to turn, to flee, to escape the tunnels entirely. Every nerve buzzed with the memory of those pale eyes, the cold touch, the echo of Vale's strained voice.
And yet… she could not.
Vale was still there. Still fighting. Still calling to her through the darkness. Every ounce of fear in her body wanted her to retreat into the safety of the Academy above. But every heartbeat tethered her to one truth: leaving him now would be betrayal. And Aria did not know how to survive betraying someone she loved so fiercely.
With slow, deliberate steps, she moved forward. Each footfall bounced off the stone walls, louder than it had any right to be, as if the tunnels themselves remembered every movement, every choice she had made. The shadows pressed closer with each step, coiling along the walls, patient and quiet in their menace.
Her breaths were ragged but measured. She imagined sunlight on her face, air that didn't taste of ash and iron. She imagined Vale—alive, resisting, calling her, reaching for her through the darkness. That thought steadied her, infused her legs with strength she thought had been lost, and pushed her forward through the suffocating black.
I have to reach him. I cannot stop. Not now. Not ever.
The lantern flickered again. Shadows twisted unnaturally, walls seeming to stretch and contract, as if breathing. A chill slid along her spine. She shivered, but forced herself to keep moving, one step at a time. Focused on the sound of boots against stone, the rhythm of her heartbeat, the fragile glow of the flame that refused to die.
Somewhere behind her, she could feel it—the echo of danger, patient and calculating. The pale eyes, the coiled shadow, the darkness inside Vale—it followed her, whispering, watching, reminding her that nothing here was truly safe.
And yet, with every step, certainty grew. She would not flee. She would not break. Fear would not dictate her path. She was Aria, and she would find Vale. She would drag him back from the brink, no matter the cost.
The tunnels stretched ahead, winding, endless, oppressive—but her resolve solidified with every heartbeat, every cautious step. The echo of Vale's fragile, desperate voice lingered in her mind, and she clung to it like a lifeline.
The tunnel stretched ahead, narrowing, damp stone pressing close on either side. The lantern trembled in her hands, its flame flickering like a heartbeat, fragile yet insistent. Every breath was sharp and metallic, tasting faintly of ash and fear.
Her legs screamed in protest, muscles tight and trembling, but she forced herself onward. Step by step. One careful foot in front of the other.
Vale… The thought was a lifeline, fragile and burning bright. Hold on. I'm coming.
The shadows shifted again. They twisted in unnatural angles, coiling along the walls, almost sentient in their patience. Pale eyes flared at the edges of her vision, judging, calculating, remembering. The darkness that had touched Vale, that had clawed at his soul, seemed to ripple through the tunnels in silent waves, reaching for her, testing her resolve.
Her chest heaved, lungs screaming for air that felt heavier with every step. Sweat slicked her palms, but she refused to loosen her grip on the lantern. The warmth of its flame, though weak, tethered her to the world she still fought to cling to.
Every instinct begged her to flee. Every nerve screamed at her to retreat into safety, to abandon the tunnels entirely. But she couldn't. Could not. Vale was still there. Still resisting. Still calling to her through the shadows.
I will not leave you.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper, yet it carried through the suffocating dark: I am coming for you. Hold on. I will find you. I will not fail you.
The shadows seemed to pause. For a heartbeat, the tunnels themselves held their breath. The pale eyes flickered, then receded slightly, as if acknowledging her words. But the presence was still there. Watching. Waiting. Patient. Relentless.
A sudden draft brushed her neck, icy and sharp, like a warning or a challenge. Aria shivered, teeth chattering, but she pressed forward, lantern held high. Step by step, she carved a path through the suffocating black.
Her hands burned from gripping the lantern so tightly. Her arms ached. Her legs felt like lead. But with every step, the warmth of hope, fragile and stubborn, pulsed stronger through her chest.
The tunnels twisted and descended, winding deeper into the darkness. Every echo of her boots bounced off the stone walls, each sound amplified as though the shadows themselves remembered her, marking her intrusion.
And yet, with every heartbeat, with every step forward, certainty grew. She would not flee. She would not break. Fear would not control her path. She was Aria. She was the one who would find Vale. She would bring him back from the edge, no matter the cost.
The flame of the lantern flickered again, warping shadows into jagged, shifting shapes. A chill slid down her spine, but she forced herself to focus: the rhythm of her heartbeat, the warmth of the flame, the thought of him alive, calling, reaching.
Hold on, Vale.
She whispered it again, trembling but firm. I am coming. I will not fail you.
The shadows stirred, pale eyes lingering in the corners of her vision. The presence behind Vale—the darkness, patient, aware—was still watching. But Aria did not waver. Not now. Not ever.
Step after step, she pressed forward, lantern held high, heart hammering, determination blazing brighter than any flame. Through the suffocating dark, through the twisting, endless tunnel, she moved, and with every movement, every inhale, every heartbeat, one truth anchored her:
She would not abandon him.
Not now. Not ever.