The second day of the Hydrangea Festival brought an entirely different kind of magic to the sunlit streets of Aethelberg.
Unlike the first day, which carried the solemnity of tradition and remembrance, the second was a celebration of life itself. White dresses, white robes, white cloaks, and white suits moved through the streets like waves. The color represented purity, renewal, and the hope that even after the harshest winters, something new could always bloom.
The streets themselves had become something out of a storybook.
Floats of breathtaking artistry wound through the streets, each one a masterpiece of hydrangeas and imagination. Some depicted legendary heroes—King Kael I standing atop a mountain of flowers, his sword raised toward the sky. Others showed mythical creatures—griffins with wings of blue petals, dragons with scales of purple and gold. Performers dressed in white danced through the crowds, their movements synchronized to the rhythm of drums and flutes. Children cheered. Adults laughed. The scent of flowers and grilled meat mingled in the warm summer air.
The entire city seemed alive.
Which was exactly why Jamie Thorne was currently miserable. She was beneath the city, moving through tunnels that had not seen sunlight in centuries. The damp stone pressed in from all sides, and the air was thick with the smell of rot and decay.
"I hate this," she announced loudly. "I hate everything about this. I hate the tunnels. I hate the smell. Of all the possible days we could be walking through disgusting underground ruins, it had to be today." Her voice echoed through the dark underground tunnel.
Behind her, Gustav sighed for what felt like the hundredth time.
"You agreed to this."
Jamie glared at him and pouted. The thing is, she had forgotten about this operation entirely.
Jamie had left the house before the sun had properly risen, driven by an excitement that had nothing to do with the mission she had agreed to and everything to do with the Flower Promenade. She had woken with a start, her eyes snapping open as the memory of Araba's gift flooded her mind—a beautiful white dress with crimson embroidery, delicate and elegant, the kind of garment that demanded admiration. She had spent the better part of the previous evening admiring it, holding it up against herself in the mirror, imagining the look on Elias's face when he saw her in it. He would roll his eyes, of course. But she would catch the hint of a smile, and that would be victory enough.
She had dressed quickly, her movements efficient and practiced, and had slipped out of the townhouse before anyone could stop her. The streets were quiet, the festival not yet in full swing, and she had walked with a spring in her step, her mind already wandering through the floats and performances she would see. She had imagined herself dancing through the crowds, her white dress swirling around her, the crimson embroidery catching the morning light. She had imagined Elias watching her, his arms folded and she had smiled at the thought of the two of them having fun.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
She had rounded a corner and come face to face with the shadow crew. They had been on their way to grab breakfast, their movements casual and unhurried, their expressions relaxed. For a moment, Jamie had frozen, her mind racing through a dozen possible explanations for why they were there. And then she had remembered. The mission and the agreement she had made.
She assumed they hadn't seen her and attempted to escape, her body moving before her mind could catch up. She had darted into a side street, her heart pounding, her feet slapping against the cobblestones. She had been fast, but the crew had been faster. Sasha had appeared in front of her, her arms crossed, her expression unimpressed. Mira had emerged behind her. There was no escape.
Jamie had tried to to make an excuse, that she wasn't clad for action.
Sasha instantly produced a bundle of clothes from her own storage artifact—spare garments she kept for emergencies—and handed them to Jamie. Jamie had stared at the bundle with dawning horror. She had looked at Sasha, then at the clothes, then back at Sasha.
"You cannot be serious," Jamie had said, her voice flat.
Sasha's expression had been remarkably unsympathetic. "You're a child. I don't keep children's clothes in my emergency stash."
"They aren't even my size. "
"Beggars can't be choosers."
Jamie had opened her mouth to argue, but Gustav had been glaring at her and she could tell that there was no getting out of this. She had changed in an alley, her expression a mask of pure indignation.
To make them fit her, the clothes were cut and crudely stitched together there and then to remain on her frame. The waist was still loose so Sasha had produced a length of rope to serve as a belt, and Jamie had cinched it around her waist with the grim determination of a prisoner accepting her shackles.
She had looked at her reflection in a puddle of murky water and recoiled. The person staring back at her was not Jamie, festival-goer extraordinaire, but a small, drowned-looking creature wearing a collection of rags that might have once been a tunic.
The final indignity had come when Cole, with the complete lack of tact that characterized his entire existence, had observed that she looked like a scarecrow that had been through a war. Jamie had thrown a rock at him. She had then attempted to salvage some dignity by smoothing the fabric, a futile gesture. It was like trying to polish a piece of coal into a diamond. The clothes remained shapeless, mismatched, and utterly humiliating. The only thing that made the ensamble look a little presentable was a faded leather jacket that Mira happened to have brought along, but even then it didn't imporve her mood or appearance by much.
The white dress with the crimson embroidery was stored in her copper ring, unseen. Elias would not see her in it. He would not roll his eyes. He would not smile.
He would probably just be relieved she was alive, which was somehow worse.
Gustav simply continued walking. They moved through the ruins beneath Aethelberg with practiced efficiency. Gustav and Sasha walked ahead, leading the group. Cole and Mira remained at the sides, watching the surrounding passages. Bram and Kalex covered the rear.
Jamie walked in the center though she was still frowning. Mira attempted to cheer her up.
"Look on the bright side. You're not missing much. The promenade is just flowers and dancing and—"
"Don't." Jamie pointed a finger at her. "Don't you dare try to make it sound boring."
Mira raised her hands in surrender.
The groups formation was designed to protect their client, i.e Jamie. Something that Jamie found both amusing and slightly touching even though she puffed her cheeks annoyed.
The tunnel narrowed, forcing them to crouch as they passed through a low passage. The stone walls were slick with moisture, and the ground was uneven, littered with rocks and debris. Jamie stumbled, catching herself on Kalex's arm.
"Careful," he said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"I'm fine."
As they marched deeper, the architecture shifted and warped; They exited low-ceilinged crawlspaces carved by forgotten hands, only to suddenly emerge into massive, vaulted subterranean halls etched with faded, unintelligible ancient symbols and crumbling stone carvings.
Pockets of corruption were everywhere. Some were faint, others burned with a dense, volatile energy that made the skin prickle and the hair on the back of their necks stand up. Hidden tunnels and recessed alcoves branched off in every direction like the veins of a diseased beast.
Naturally, the corruption had bred monsters.
Every few minutes, mutated horrors—oversized, roaches the size of hounds, pale lizards scuttling with too many limbs, massive spiders, and rodents dripping with toxicity—lurked in the shadows. Occasionally, one would attempt to lunge in search of a weak spot. But the group operated with ruthless precision.
When a rabid, moss-backed lizard lunged from a side-passage toward Jamie, Mira didn't even break his stride; a swift, silent flick of his wrist sent a throwing dagger straight through its skull, pinning it to the stone wall before it hit the floor.
"This place is disgusting," Jamie whispered.
"No argument there," Cole replied.
"You know," Jamie said, looking around the dark tunnel, "I appreciate you guys protecting me."
Gustav didn't turn.
"We aren't protecting you because we care."
Jamie blinked.
"Oh."
"You are our client."
"Oh."
"That means protecting you is part of our agreement."
Jamie narrowed her eyes.
"You could have said that in a nicer way."
"It would have been inaccurate."
"You guys don't have to protect me like this."
"Yes, we do," Gustav said flatly.
"If you die on our watch. Bad for business."
Jamie rolled her eyes. "You're all secretly softies, aren't you?"
"Don't tell anyone." Sasha said glancing back at her.
Jamie smiled and decided to contribute. She focused, reaching out with her intent. A wave of pure malice radiated outward, washing through the tunnels like a tide.
The effect was immediate. The skittering and scratching that had been following them faded. To human senses, nothing changed. But to the corrupted monstrosities lurking in the walls, the little girl in the center of the formation was a predator on the hunt. A wave of instinctive, gut-wrenching terror washed through the tunnel. Across the stone walls, the glowing eyes of dozens of hidden creatures and creeping things widened in blind panic, scrambling backward into the dark cracks of the ruins to escape the pressure.
Gustav glanced back. "What was that?"
"Intent," Jamie said. "Creatures like this are sensitive to it. They're animals, even with the corruption. So I made them feel like they were being hunted by something bigger than them."
"Handy."
"I know."
They moved deeper. The tunnels grew wider, the ceilings higher. Ancient symbols covered the walls—patterns that seemed to shift when she looked at them directly. The corruption grew stronger, pressing against her senses like a low hum.
Jamie looked around.
"So..."
She tapped her chin.
"What do you guys know about Aethelberg?"
The Shadow Crew looked at each other.
"Which part?" Mira asked.
Jamie blinked.
"There's more than one?"
"Geography?"
"Not really."
"Royal family?"
Gustav cleared his throat. "We should focus—"
"The client asked a question," Sasha interrupted. "It's polite to answer."
Gustav sighed.
"Fine, what do you want to know?"
Jamie grinned. She absentmindedly shook her hand to adjust the delicate, braided laurel-wreath bracelet resting on her wrist—a luck charm from S.K.
As she did, her peripheral vision caught a flicker of motion above. A massive, hairy corrupted spider dropped silently from a high stone cornice, its fangs dripping with venom, aiming straight for her face.
Reacting on pure, instinctive reflex, Jamie snapped her hand upward and spat a concentrated burst of orange-red fire. The flame engulfed the spider mid-air. The beast didn't die instantly, but shrieking in agony, it scrambled away up into a narrow, hidden side-tunnel, its blazing, flailing body illuminating a horrifying secret: dozens upon dozens of other giant spiders were clustered tightly together in the dark recess.
Ice spread across the entrance.
Sealing the tunnel.The others stared.
"We didn't sense those." I didn't sense that.
Jamie shrugged.
"Really?"
Sasha smiled.
"You are a very lucky girl."
"Mhm," Jamie hummed letting her hand settle back down, her fingers brushing the laurel-wreath bracelet again.
"I saw a lot of interesting intent from the royal family yesterday. But I feel like I'm going to know more about that later. What I want to know is about this place."
"What's the deal with these tunnels?" She gestured at the ruins around them.
The operatives exchangedl glances. Gustav sighed, deciding that talking might at least keep the girl quiet and moving.
"The histories say very little," Gustav began, his voice dropping into a scholarly tone.
"Long ago an entirely different, civilization occupied this continent. Their name, their culture, and their exact origins remain completely shrouded in mystery because virtually no intact records survived."
"Why?" Jamie asked, tilting her head. "Did they burn them?"
"No," Bram interjected, his eyes scanning the dark stone walls.
"They were wiped out. According to the fragmented legends whispered among scholars, a cataclysmic war broke out between two beings who had achieved at least the Paragon stage of power. Their battle shattered the geography of the entire continent."
"Wait, for real?" Jamie asked.
"The mountain chains in Nordhelm," Sasha said. "The savannah in Kemet. The perpetual mist in Xylos. All of them are remnants of that conflict."
Jamie was silent for a moment. Then she shrugged. "That's it?"
"You wanted more?"
"Pfft," Jamie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes.
"I thought it was going to be something actually awesome, like an ancient alien invasion or a mythical beast rebellion."
"What are aliens?" Cole raised an eyebrow. Jamie ignored.
"That's just guesswork! If making up stories about mountains counts as history, even I could guess that a big fight happened."
"We can't get more information. The deeper you go," Gustav said, "the stronger the corruption becomes. Scholars have tried to investigate more, but they've never been able to penetrate the deepest levels. The official maps of the ruins cover only a fraction of what exists. The rest is unknown."
Jamie kicked a loose stone. "I asked because I thought it would be something awesome. Not guesswork. If that's all anyone knows, even I could guess what happened."
"We don't have answers," Sasha said. "Only questions."
She instantly lost interest. The thought of dead civilizations paled in comparison to the living drama happening right above her head. She wondered what Elias was currently doing at the festival. Was he eating street food? She wished she could be up there enjoying the Flower Promenade with him instead of wading through ancient mud.
Deciding current gossip was far more entertaining than ancient rubble, Jamie opened her mouth to pivot the conversation back to the juicy royal family dynamics.
"Forget the dead guys. Tell me about—"
CRUNCH.
The sound wasn't coming from the mud beneath their boots. It was coming from the walls.
Gustav instantly froze.
"Stop. Everyone, halt."
The formation locked up in absolute silence.
The low, vibrating rumble grew louder, shaking loose dust and ancient cobwebs from the vaulted ceiling above. It was made of millions of tiny, clawed feet scraping frantically against stone.
From the dark, branching tunnels ahead, behind, and all around them, a pair of glowing red eyes blinked into existence.
An army of rats each one the size of a grown mastiff, their fur matted with corruption and their jaws foaming with madness—poured out of the shadows like a living tide, screeching with a deafening, high-pitched fury as they surged directly toward the intruders.