It was dark, damp, and cold, and Lowell's head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. As he stirred, a sharp twinge flared in his shoulder, forcing a grimace. He placed a hand gingerly on the sore spot, probing for anything broken, though the pain seemed to come from bruising rather than anything worse.

  "Bart? Rina?" His voice echoed faintly in the cavernous space around him.

  "Here," came Bart's groan from somewhere nearby. The sound of water sloshing followed as Bart shifted, his tone heavy with discomfort.

  Lowell blinked, his eyes adjusting to the murky gloom. Though the rain still fell above them, they were sheltered from the downpour under what looked like the remains of a collapsed structure. Water pooled on the uneven floor, no more than a few inches deep, but its icy chill seeped through their boots.

  "Rina?" Lowell called again, his stomach knotting with worry.

  "Also here," came her strained reply. The response was clipped, each word forced as if pushing through pain. Lowell squinted in her direction, barely able to make out her silhouette.

  "I knew it was a trap," Bart muttered bitterly. Lowell could hear him wincing as he moved closer, his steps uneven. When Bart finally appeared in Lowell's view, his face was pale, and he was cradling his left arm against his chest.

  Rina was already standing, leaning heavily against the crumbling wall of their prison. She favored one leg, her posture stiff and guarded. Even in the dim light, Lowell could see the blood smeared on her temple, dripping down toward her jaw.

  "Is everyone alright?" Lowell asked, his question urgent as he scanned his companions for injuries.

  "Define 'alright,'" Bart replied, though his tone lacked its usual humor. "Nothing broken, but my arm's pretty banged up. Could've been worse."

  "Mostly intact," Rina said through gritted teeth. Her hand braced against the wall, but when Bart stepped closer and offered his arm for support, she waved him off. "I can manage."

  Lowell watched her, worry readable on his features. Rina's movements were too deliberate, her weight too carefully shifted. She was hiding how much her leg hurt. But before he could call her out, Bart reached into his pack, his face taut with concentration.

  "Anyone have a light?" Lowell asked.

  "Got it," Bart said, pulling an aethryte lantern free. The faint hum of magic filled the air as the lantern flickered to life, bathing the chamber in a pale, blue-white glow. The light revealed walls slick with water and streaked with grime. The ceiling above them was jagged and unstable, likely part of the ground that had collapsed beneath Sector 4. The steep, mud-coated walls of the chamber were impossible to climb, but a tunnel stretched away from the chamber's far end, its entrance partially obscured by debris.

  Lowell looked down, frowning as his eyes caught something in the mud. Footprints. He crouched, studying them closer. Several sets of prints led away into the tunnel, larger boots accompanied by smaller, deeper ones. Drag marks ran parallel to the tracks, as though someone had been pulled along.

  "Footprints," he muttered.

  Rina leaned forward slightly, following his gaze. "Aleksie mentioned Helena before he shoved me in here," she said quietly, worry accompanying the words.

  Lowell's face darkened. "If Helena's down here, she's not alone. Someone's injured," he said, gesturing to the drag marks.

  Bart, standing by the tunnel entrance, let out a frustrated sigh. "So what are we waiting for? If Helena or anyone from her team is hurt, we need to move."

  "And if there's a nightmare down here?" Lowell asked, his voice grim.

  Bart stiffened, glaring at Lowell. "You really had to say that, didn't you? It's like you're tempting fate every time."

  Lowell shrugged, though his eyes remained fixed on the footprints. "Not my fault if fate's already stacked against us."

  Bart muttered something under his breath and shifted uncomfortably. Rina stepped forward, favoring her injured leg but refusing to slow. "Standing around won't help anyone," she said firmly. "There has to be an exit somewhere, and if there's even a chance Helena's here, we owe it to her to keep going."

  Lowell hesitated, his gaze flicking to Rina's face. The blood on her temple was drying, but the shadows under her eyes and the strain in her expression told him more than her words ever could. She was trying to hold it together, to push through the enormity of what had happened. The guilt clung to her visibly, wrapping around her like a vise. This was her call, and it had gone disastrously wrong. It was written in the lines of her face, in the determined but uneven way she moved forward.

  "Fine," Lowell said, gripping his sword more tightly. "But we stick together. No splitting up."

  Bart nodded, his injured arm cradled against his chest. "Wouldn't have it any other way." He flexed his fingers experimentally and winced.

  The tunnel stretched ahead, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Its jagged walls glistened with dampness in the pale glow of Bart's aethryte lantern. The light barely pushed back the encroaching darkness, casting long, shifting shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. The air was thick and suffocating, carrying the faint metallic tang of rust and decay. Water dripped steadily from unseen cracks above, each drop echoing like a faint, ominous heartbeat.

  Lowell led the way, his sharp eyes darting between the uneven floor and the shadowed walls. Bart followed close behind, holding the lantern high, while Rina hobbled at the rear, her jaw clenched in determination despite the pain evident in her every step. Their footfalls splashed softly in the shallow water pooling along the ground, the sound magnified in the stifling silence around them.

  The uncertainty ahead pressed down on them, their breaths shallow and strained. Lowell's mind churned as they moved, the footprints in the mud playing over and over in his thoughts. Each step felt like heavier through quicksand, the steady hum of the lantern and the rhythmic drip of water their only companions in the darkness.

  Rina limped along, her movements stiff and deliberate. Every step sent a lance of pain through her leg, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the storm churning inside her. The guilt gnawed at her, sharp and relentless. The humiliation of being outmaneuvered by Aleksie, the burden of leading them straight into his trap, and the sight of her friends battered and vulnerable was too much. Her confidence, so carefully constructed over years of effort, felt like it was crumbling with every agonizing step.

  Bart cradled his injured arm, the effort of hiding his discomfort only made it more visible. He glanced at Rina occasionally, concern flickering in his eyes, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Lowell, at the head of the group, moved with the tense precision of someone who understood that every choice could mean the difference between survival and disaster. He scanned the tunnel constantly, his sword ready, but even he couldn't hide the exhaustion dragging at his movements.

  The silence shattered when Rina stopped abruptly. Bart nearly walked into her, stumbling back as she clenched her fists, her knuckles white. Without warning, she slammed her hand into the rough wall of the tunnel. The impact echoed sharply, and then came the sound they hadn't expected: a choked, raw sob.

  "Rina..." Lowell said as he turned toward her.

  "I—" Her voice broke, and she pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead as if trying to keep herself together. "I'm sorry."

  Bart stopped beside her, his mouth opening, but no words came. Lowell exchanged a helpless glance with him before stepping closer.

  "You don't have to apologize."

  "Yes, I do!" Rina shouted, overwhelmed. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor of the tunnel, her head bowing as she rubbed her face with both hands. The grime and water smeared across her skin, streaking her face with dark lines. "I brought us here! I made the call to follow him!" Her shoulders shook as the tears came freely. "You're hurt because of me."

  Bart knelt down beside her, the movement awkward with his injured arm hanging uselessly. He reached out with his good hand, then hesitated, uncertain. Tenderness wasn't usually his way. He defaulted to jokes and quips, not... this. But Rina was breaking, and jokes wouldn't help. "Rina, come on. It's not like that."

  "It is!" she snapped, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I should've known better. I should've listened to my instincts." Her words dissolved into another sob, her frustration and guilt pouring out in waves.

  Lowell crouched nearby, resting one hand on the ground for balance. He looked at her, conflicted. "Rina, we're here because we chose to be. None of this is on you."

  Rina shook her head violently, her voice barely a whisper now. "You don't understand. I can't fail. Not like this. I can't let them win."

  Her voice was raw, her desperation cutting through the suffocating air of the tunnel. For a moment, neither Lowell nor Bart could respond. The depth of her pain, her anguish, was palpable, a force pressing in on them that neither of them knew how to lift.

  "It isn't your fault."

  The voice, firm and commanding, came from the shadows. All three of them froze, their heads snapping toward the source. A soft blue light glowed ahead, growing brighter until Helena stepped into view, her staff in hand. The aethryte crystal at its head threw harsh light upward, casting deep shadows across her features.

  Rina stiffened, her tear-streaked face still tilted toward the ground.

  Helena's tone was sharp but not unkind. "Aleksie is the only one to blame for what happened. Not you."

  Rina looked up, blinking at her through tears. "But how can I not blame myself?"

  "No." Helena cut through Rina's self-doubt, firm and unwavering. She stepped closer, the soft glow of her staff illuminating the worn, pained expressions of the group. "Blaming yourself helps no one. It's self-indulgent and wasteful. You don't have the luxury of wallowing in guilt right now."

  Rina's lip trembled, but she didn't respond. Her hands clenched against her knees as she looked away.

  Helena's voice softened, though the stern edge remained. "Do you think Aleksie blames himself for his actions? For exploiting our honor, our trust? No. He acts without consequence because he knows people like you will always take on the burden. That's his strength, and it's your weakness."

  "Helena," Lowell said, stepping forward. His tone was low, cautioning. "That's enough."

  Helena turned her piercing gaze to him, her eyes sharp and unwavering. "No, it's not. She needs to hear this." She turned back to Rina, her tone softening slightly. "You're strong, Rina. Stronger than Aleksie, stronger than you think you are. But strength isn't about carrying the world on your shoulders. It's about standing up after the world has knocked you down. Right now, Aleksie wins if you let this break you."

  Rina sat there, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, her gaze locked on the ground. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint drip of water from the ceiling.

  "Helena..." Lowell tried again, his voice quieter this time, but Rina raised a hand to stop him.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "No." Rina's voice was raw but steadier. She looked up at Helena, her eyes still shimmering with unshed tears. But Helena's words had reached her. There was no anger, no despair. Only determination. "She's right."

  She exhaled slowly, grounding herself, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, though the grime smeared across her face only made her look more resolute. Whether it was the release of pent-up emotion or the stubborn refusal to appear weak in front of Helena, Lowell couldn't tell. But something had shifted in her.

  Rina forced a small, wry smile. "I'm glad you're alright, Helena."

  Helena offered a small, genuine smile in response. "Aleksie needs to be dealt with," she said simply, but her tone carried a quiet fury that spoke volumes.

  Bart gave a vehement nod, his lips pressing into a thin line, but Lowell didn't immediately follow suit. Instead, he turned to Rina. "You remember what you said back up there? When you told me the decision was on you?"

  Rina looked up, her brows knitting together slightly. She nodded, though her expression remained guarded.

  "I didn't argue then because you were right," Lowell said quietly. "About the guild oath, about helping when others need it. That wasn't just on you. We all made that call. You made the right call. If we'd walked away and someone actually needed help, we'd be no better than Aleksie." He paused, his gaze steady. "You stayed true to who you are, Rina. That's not something to regret. Aleksie twisted that against us. That's on him, not on you."

  Rina just stared at him. Then she let out a slow breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

  Lowell nodded once, then turned back to Helena, shifting into his practical mode. "One of your team was injured?" he asked.

  Helena's eyes flicked to him, momentarily surprised. She hadn't expected him to pivot so quickly, but she quickly caught up, nodding once. "Petyr. He took the fall badly. There's a small chamber off one of the side passages where he's resting with the others."

  Lowell frowned, considering this. "How bad is he hurt?"

  "Bad enough," Helena admitted, her voice dropping. For the first time, a hint of real concern cracked through her usually composed exterior. "He can't walk on his own, and a fever has overtaken him quickly. I've done what I can, but..." She trailed off, her jaw tightening.

  "Do you think Aleksie is planning to do this to other teams?" Bart asked, his brow furrowing.

  Helena shook her head. "I don't think so. Not yet, at least. But if he's targeting anyone else, we were likely his first victims." She hesitated, her gaze flicking between the members of Cross Company. "It's clear his focus is on Orus Guild Academy."

  "More than just Klein's orders," Lowell said flatly. "It's personal now. I'm sure of it."

  Helena's lips pressed into a thin line, and she nodded grimly. "He's acting on his own. Like a wild dog that's broken free of its leash."

  Lowell's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. "It's not just Aleksie," he said quietly. "When he lured us into that trap, there was someone else watching. I thought it might've been Aleksie at first, but they weren't part of the ambush. And it wasn't the nightmare either."

  Helena's expression darkened, the sharp light of her staff casting shadows across her face. "You're sure?"

  Lowell nodded. "I caught a glimpse of them before we fell. They were watching us, moving across the rooftops above the sinkhole. It wasn't... normal."

  Bart groaned softly, his injured arm cradled against his chest. "Great. Another mystery to deal with. Because Aleksie and the nightmare weren't enough."

  "Let's talk more at camp," Helena said firmly, cutting through the tension. "You're all hurt, and we won't get far in this state. The chamber isn't far from here. I can try to mend your injuries as best I can."

  Lowell hesitated, glancing at Rina, who was still favoring her leg despite her earlier attempts to brush off assistance. Her face was set in determination, but he could see the pain written in the way she carried herself. Bart wasn't much better, his movements stiff and guarded.

  "Alright," Lowell said at last. "Lead the way."

  Helena turned, the glow of her staff illuminating the path ahead. The shadows of the tunnel stretched long and uneven, flickering as the light moved. The group followed in silence, burdened by their injuries and the uncertainty ahead. The air felt thicker now, as if the tunnel itself was closing in around them, and the faint sound of dripping water seemed to echo louder with each step.

  "Helena," Lowell said "Are you sure it's safe?"

  Helena didn't turn back, but her words were measured and sober. "As safe as anywhere can be in this place. But we can't stay here forever. None of us can."

  Her words hung in the air like a warning, and the realization settled over all of them. Getting out wouldn't be as simple as they had hoped.

  #

  The sanctuary came into view as Helena led them around a final bend in the tunnel. A blocked utility pipe, its entrance partially obscured by debris but still passable. Before they reached it, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with quick, purposeful strides.

  "Helena!" A young woman called out, her voice ringing with unmistakable relief. She was tall and athletic, with the solid build of someone who fought with her fists. Her dark hair was pulled back in a practical braid that fell over her shoulder. Even in the dim light, her eyes sparkled with energy, and a warmth radiated from her that seemed alien to their current situation.

  Helena's shoulders relaxed perceptibly at the sight of her. "Killy. You're alright."

  "Told you I'd be fine," Killy said with a grin that managed to be both confident and welcoming. She stepped fully into the glow of Helena's staff, revealing a youthful face touched by determination. Her uniform, though dirty, was still neatly maintained, and she carried herself with the kind of strength that came from having to prove oneself. "I was starting to worry when you didn't make it back."

  She turned her attention to Lowell, Bart, and Rina, her smile widening. "You must be Cross Company," she said, not waiting for an introduction. "I'm Killy—I transferred to Orus this year. Helena's told me about you." Her tone was genuine and open, the kind of friendliness that immediately put others at ease.

  Even if they hadn't been caught off guard by Killy's welcome, they didn't have a chance to respond. She quickly turned her attention to the injured. "Your arm," she said, her sharp eyes settling on Bart, who was still cradling his left arm against his chest. She moved closer without hesitation, her demeanor shifting from cheerful to focused in an instant. "May I?"

  Bart hesitated, but something about Killy's confident demeanor made him nod. She placed her hands over his injured arm with a gentle touch. A soft, warm glow emanated from her palms, spreading through his jacket and into the muscles beneath.

  He'd experienced healing magic before in the medical ward at Orus, and from the physicians who had treated his childhood injuries. The sensation had always been uncomfortable, not painful but strange as flesh knit itself back together and bones fused. Yet with Killy's touch, that discomfort was completely absent. Her skill was unmistakable.

  "Helena taught me a thing or two about healing magic," Killy said, her concentration unwavering. "You had a nasty sprain and some deep bruising, but I should be able to get you to about eighty percent. You'll be sore for a day or two, but you'll be able to use it."

  Bart watched with wide eyes as the pain ebbed away, replaced by a dull ache that felt manageable. "That's... that's incredible."

  Killy smiled, though her own face showed signs of fatigue from the exertion. "Don't thank me yet. I'm still learning." She stood, brushing off her knees, then looked to Helena. "Captain, now that you're back, I should scout ahead. We still need to find a way out of here, and I've got the most energy left."

  Helena nodded, though Lowell caught the flicker of concern in her eyes. "Stay within signal range."

  "Always do." Killy's grin returned, though it was slightly forced. She turned back to the sanctuary entrance. "Petyr's still not doing well, and Karl's conjuring fire to keep everyone warm. I was saving my energy for this." Her gaze swept over the group, then settled on Bart. "Here," she said, gesturing to the space she'd been occupying. "Take my spot. You need the rest more than I do."

  Before Bart could protest, she was already moving toward the tunnel, rolling her shoulders and cracking her knuckles as she disappeared into the shadows with a confidence that seemed beyond her years. Even as she walked away, she called back over her shoulder, "Stay sharp. I'll be back soon with an exit route."

  Lowell watched her go, a pang of respect stirring in his chest.

  Calling the sanctuary Helena had found a "camp" was a stretch, even optimistically. It was little more than a blocked utility pipe that provided modest protection from being exposed in the tunnels. The space was cramped, forcing everyone to sit shoulder to shoulder: Helena, Lowell, Bart, Rina, Petyr, Karl, and Tisha, all jammed into the narrow confines. But the tight quarters offered a reprieve from the cold, and for now, that was enough.

  Karl sat cross-legged near the pipe's entrance, his brow furrowed in concentration. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he snapped his fingers and conjured a small flame. It hovered just above the wet ground, its light dim and its warmth faint, but it brought a kind of comfort that the aethryte lanterns lacked. He adjusted the flame carefully, ensuring it wouldn't gutter out in the damp air.

  "I never get tired of watching him do that," Tisha said softly, her tone tinged with admiration. She had a calm demeanor, her voice steady even in the tense atmosphere. She shifted her weight to make room for Petyr, who leaned heavily against her and Karl. Though his face was pale and pinched with pain, Petyr managed a faint, lopsided smile.

  "You're just jealous I make it look so easy," Karl teased, his voice carrying a forced lightness that didn't quite land. The effort was there, and Tisha and the others recognized it for what it was: a thin attempt to lift the heavy atmosphere. The flickering flame danced in his dark eyes, but the faint tremor in his hands betrayed the strain it took to keep the magic steady.

  Karl, Tisha, and Petyr were, just as Rina had suspected, older than most of the other competitors. Their movements carried a calm precision, the kind that came from field experience, even limited experience, rather than youthful bravado. At first, they had been hesitant to share anything about themselves, their guarded expressions suggesting a habit of withholding information. But Helena had insisted, her tone firm yet kind, that transparency was essential. Down here, in the ruins beneath the city, trust wasn't a luxury. It was survival.

  Rina had listened carefully as the truth emerged. With the exception of Killy, who had transferred to Orus under the condition that she join the qualifiers, Helena's team wasn't made up of typical students. Karl, Tisha, and Petyr had all graduated from other guild academies within the past year or two. They had never competed in the Acadethalon, and their involvement here wasn't driven by ambition or guild loyalty. According to Petyr, Headmaster Byron had either paid them directly or promised them valuable connections with prominent guilds in exchange for their participation.

  It was a calculated move, Rina realized. Byron hadn't assembled a team to prove Orus' worth; he'd recruited seasoned fighters to ensure its success, to ensure that he would win the wager he was pressured into by the director. Rina wanted to feel angry about it, wanted to feel the same resentment she had when she first suspected Helena's unfair advantage. But as she watched the way Karl conjured a flame to light their space, or the way Tisha supported Petyr without hesitation, that anger didn't come.

  Helena sat beside Rina, her staff resting against the wall behind her. "They're a good team," she said quietly, breaking the silence that had settled over them. Her gaze swept over Karl, Tisha, and Petyr with a mix of pride and concern. "They've proven that much."

  Rina glanced at Helena, then at the others, her gaze lingering on the quiet, unspoken way they moved as a unit. The subtle shift as Tisha adjusted to better support Petyr's weight, Karl's steady flame providing just enough comfort in the gloom. It all spoke of a bond forged in trust and mutual reliance.

  They weren't here to serve Byron's ambitions or Helena's vanity. They were here for Helena, supporting her. And despite the circumstances that had brought them together, they were good. Rina could see it in how they moved and spoke, in how they treated one another. They weren't a team assembled for show. They were a team built for survival.

  Her earlier objections, the anger she had harbored at the start of the qualifiers, felt hollow now, almost embarrassing in hindsight. "I can see that," Rina admitted, her voice softer than usual, carrying a note of genuine respect. "You're lucky to have them."

  Helena offered a small, grateful smile before leaning back against the wall. Her calm exterior did little to mask the worry flickering in her eyes.

  Lowell shifted to sit next to Helena.

  The faint glow of the fire, no brighter than a couple of candles, painted shadows on the rough stone around them. "You're not the same Helena I knew back in Jehk," he said quietly, his eyes tracing the dark tunnels beyond their makeshift camp.

  "We're all different now," she murmured. The simple admission held layers of regret and, possibly, hope.

  Lowell's lips curved into a bittersweet smile as he recalled those painful days. "For a long time, I hated you. I was lost in my own anger, not knowing where to direct it. Schwartz used to tell me I fought like a berserker when I first began training."

  Helena's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I'm sorry... for hurting you back then. We were children and I was especially cruel and unthinking."

  Lowell nodded, quietly accepting her apology. "A few months ago I would have been shocked to hear you say that. I don't know if I would have believed it, either." He let out a soft chuckle, low enough to avoid disturbing anyone else in the tight confines. "I'm not saying that what happened between us when we were kids can be erased. It can't be. But I do believe that we can move past it."

  Helena looked surprised. "I always assumed you'd see me as the bratty little girl who had bullied you."

  He offered her an exonerating smile.

  They sat in silence for a few moments before Lowell spoke up again. His tone soft and his eyes fixed on the tunnel. "When Bart and I met you in the hallway that day, after the incident at Orus, you were angry. It wasn't the rumors that were going around. They weren't that different from the ones before the nightmare arrived. You blamed yourself. You still blame yourself."

  Helena was quiet for a few moments before she finally answered. "Yes." It was a simple reply, but Lowell could hear the gravity of the burden she carried in that single word. He had suspected as much.

  "It's not easy to hold yourself responsible for the death of another person," he offered, as reassuringly as possible.

  Helena was quiet for a long moment before nodding.

  "You don't have to carry that burden alone." Lowell leaned back, his gaze sweeping across Helena's teammates. "Eventually you'll find people you can confide in. People you can trust."

  Helena didn't dismiss him. She heard her own struggle in Lowell's words. "And you? Have you found that?"

  "I think I'm getting there." He nodded, smiling as he saw Rina and Bart arguing over how to conserve the rations he had insisted on packing.