The tunnel smelled of damp earth, centuries of stale air, and metallic corrosion. It was a tight, winding stone chute, clearly a forgotten drain or an ancient, makeshift escape route, not designed for the heavy build of a Dragon Prince.
As Isolde scrambled through the opening, Draven was right behind her. He slammed his weight against the Ebon Wood key, which was still wedged in the lock. The stone pedestal, the facade of the Moon Gate, ground back into place with a sickening finality, sealing them into the darkness beneath the Citadel.
"How far is the exit?" Draven's voice was a low, ragged rumble. He didn't waste energy on stealth his strength was his silence, a massive shadow moving through the gloom.
"Miles," Isolde gasped, adjusting her tattered dress and running her hand along the slimy wall. "It runs beneath the entire west wing, past the Armory, and opens out into the cliffs of Noctis."
The space was suffocating. For Draven, who was used to the vastness of the Dragon Caves and the airy Citadel Halls, the close proximity of the damp rock felt like a constriction. He could feel the residual Thermal Energy of his body struggling to dissipate, making the air around him thick and heavy.
Above them, they heard a terrifying sound the stone pedestal exploding. Draven glanced up, though the ceiling was solid rock. He knew that sound. It was the sound of a Pureblood Vampire removing an obstacle not with tools, but with raw, concentrated strength.
Damon was not delayed for long.
"He is coming. Quickly!" Draven urged.
Isolde pulled ahead. Unlike Draven, her smaller, more agile frame was perfect for the claustrophobic passage. She knew this route, having studied the forbidden maps in the Black Library. She ran, driven by adrenaline and the sheer terror of what Damon would do if he caught them now.
The tunnel descended sharply, forcing them to duck beneath low hanging arches. They passed rusted iron gates and ancient, dry channels. Draven's arm and neck armor scraped constantly against the rough rock walls.
"This is slow," Draven muttered, impatience a bitter taste in his mouth.
Isolde slowed her pace only slightly. "We rely on the speed of his impatience, Draven. He will expect the route to be fast, but this is the long, forgotten way a maze. If we were to emerge too close, we'd be surrounded by his guard."
The tunnel opened into a large, circular chamber the size of a small crypt. In the center lay a vast, moss-covered metal wheel, its spokes thicker than Draven's arm.
"The secondary lock," Isolde said, pointing to the far wall where the tunnel continued, but the opening was barred by a formidable Iron Barrier engraved with ancient Vampire wards.
"The key opens the outer gate, but this wheel releases the inner lock."
Draven stepped up to the wheel. It was a massive counterweight mechanism, designed to be turned only by the coordinated effort of four armed men or one Dragon Prince.
He gripped two of the spokes. They were icy cold and damp. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself. His muscles, already tense from the brief fight with Damon, coiled. He didn't simply pull he focused his entire lineage's Volcanic Strength, his bones seeming to hum with the contained power.
He wrenched the wheel. The grinding noise of ancient gears and rusted metal was deafening, echoing through the subterranean space. Draven's knuckles turned white. It was pure, raw labor. This was not a quick, precise strike it was a testament to his physical resilience and brute force. He turned it a full half rotation, his boots slipping on the damp stone.
As the iron barrier on the far wall began to rise with a terrible shriek, the chamber suddenly plunged into absolute darkness.
The single torch Isolde had been holding was extinguished by a sudden, unseen gust of motion.
A voice, low and smooth, but vibrating with absolute fury, whispered from the blackness.
"Did you truly believe a child's toy could hold me, Draven?"
Damon. He had found the chamber. His speed was terrifying. He was a silent, lethal presence in the blackness, his superior night vision making the darkness his domain.
Draven immediately threw Isolde behind the heavy wheel. "Go! Through the gate!" he roared.
Damon didn't rush. He moved with strategic purpose. Draven, unable to use his visual sense, had to rely on hearing, the faint shift of air, and the smell of ozone that preceded the Vampire Prince's movements.
A soundless strike a focused kick landed hard on Draven's ribcage. Draven grunted, the pain sharp, but his enhanced resistance absorbed most of the blow. The sheer speed of the strike, however, spun him slightly off balance.
Damon immediately followed, aiming for a point of leverage, seeking to dismantle the Dragon's stance. He moved with such velocity that his form momentarily blurred, a flicker of red eyes and black coat. He grabbed Draven's armored arm, not to hold, but to pull, to disrupt the Dragon's center of gravity.
Draven, realizing the futility of trying to match the speed, countered with his own strength Volcanic Strength against his Precision.
Draven didn't pull back. Instead, he released a focused surge of Internal Heat into his arm and simultaneously swung the massive metal wheel like a flail, using his full body weight to propel it.
The dense metal struck the air where Damon had been a micro second before, sending the Vampire Prince leaping back. The wheel smashed into the far wall, creating another deafening, concussive sound and showering the chamber with debris.
This impact gave Draven the sensory data he needed. He located Damon's new position and charged, not with a precise aim, but with a blind, sweeping strike of his rock hard forearm, covering a wide arc of the space.
Damon was forced to execute a series of high speed evasions flickering away, avoiding the devastating, wide area blow. Every evasion was energy spent. Damon could deliver a thousand precise strikes to Draven's ten, but one solid hit from the Dragon Prince could end the fight. Their power was balanced... Precision vs. Mass, Speed vs. Crushing Force.
Isolde, meanwhile, slipped past the rising iron barrier. She looked back for a fleeting moment and saw the massive metal wheel now slightly bent lying on the ground, and Draven standing like a mountain in the debris-filled darkness, his shoulders heaving, facing the invisible terror that was Damon.
"Draven! The key!" she screamed.
Draven ripped the Ebon Wood key from his belt pouch and hurled it through the narrowing gap in the iron barrier.
"I will hold him!" Draven shouted. "Do not stop! Go!"
Isolde caught the key and ran. She could not afford to look back again. She sprinted through the final stretch of the tunnel, which ascended steeply. She knew the exit was close, the air growing colder, sharper the wind of Noctis.
She reached the top. The tunnel ended in a heavy, sealed door forged of black iron and adorned with the silver crest of the Vampire Kingdom. She found the intricate keyhole and jammed the Ebon Wood inside.
The wards flared, this time a cold, blue light the light of the outer Moon Gate's release. She heard a final, titanic crash from below as Draven clearly threw himself through a wall, buying her the last few seconds.
The iron door clicked. Isolde pushed.
The door swung open, and the world changed instantly.
The heat and stench of the subterranean Citadel were instantly replaced by the biting, unforgiving cold of the midnight air. The door opened onto a sheer cliff face, and below them, miles of jagged, ice-covered forest stretched toward an unseen, frozen horizon. The sky was a terrifying, brilliant canvas of silver stars and a crescent moon the moon of Noctis.
Draven stumbled out a second later, gasping for the fresh, freezing air. He was battered, his armor scored, but alive. He looked back at the door Isolde had just sealed.
"We have to bury it..." he started.
"Too late," Isolde whispered, her eyes wide, staring past the sheer drop of the cliff.
The Dragon Prince followed her gaze. They stood on the highest point of the Citadel's outer wall, looking over their temporary freedom.
Miles below, crossing the jagged peaks of the ice-forest, a flash of red and black moved with breathtaking, impossible speed. It was a single, clean silhouette, already halfway across the dark valley.
Damon.
He hadn't stopped to fight. He hadn't stopped to search. He had bypassed the long tunnel, emerging from another exit point known only to the Purebloods, and used his inhuman speed to immediately overtake their subterranean escape.
Damon was already ahead of them, blocking the easiest path to the border, relying on his superior vision and speed to hunt them down. He was a terrifying predator in the wilderness.
Draven's breath steamed in the freezing air. His moment of triumph was annihilated by the chilling reality of his adversary's power.
"He is hunting us on foot," Draven said, pulling Isolde close and looking toward the hostile, jagged peaks where his kingdom lay. "We run through the cold. We need to reach the shattered peaks to shift and fly.Now."