The tunnels were cold and narrow, lit only by the occasional flicker of torchlight from sconces long unused. Cale stood breathing heavily, his legs trembling, the pain in his eyes unbearable as thick, hot blood dripped down his cheeks. Rosanna and Regan flanked him on either side, tense and unmoving. The footsteps behind them were growing louder, unmistakably sharp and deliberate.
It was her. Emilia.
Cale gritted his teeth. He cursed under his breath for not seeing this sooner. He should have known the moment the villa was empty, too empty. He could hear her voice even before she stepped into view.
Rosanna looked around frantically, eyes darting for anything she could use as a weapon. Nothing but rocks and crumbling walls. Useless.
Beside her, Regan stood still, eyes shut, trying to recall a lesson he had all but buried:
"Concentrate. Focus. Each of us is born with a seed of affinity. You must find the element that answers to your soul. Feel for it. Call it. Command it."
But when he opened his palm and focused, nothing came. No spark. No wind. Not even a flicker of warmth.
Cale stepped forward.
"Run," he said, voice quiet but resolute.
Rosanna turned to him, alarmed. "Shut up. Don't start saying bullshit now."
Cale offered a pained grin, blood still running down his face. "You did the same for me, remember? Back at the forest. I still owe you."
Rosanna faltered.
Regan stepped between them, voice firm. "We're not leaving anyone. That wasn't the plan, remember? All of us. Or none."
Cale's voice rose, desperate. "Damn it, Regan! This is exactly why I trained. Why I let Aleric push me so hard! If I can buy us time—"
"You think we need you to be the hero?" Rosanna snapped, her eyes wild. "You think you're the only one who wants to fight? Look at yourself, Cale! You're bleeding like hell!"
Cale laughed bitterly, the sound hoarse. "Then help me. Buy us all time. I just need a second—"
He bit down on his tongue, summoning the last shred of strength, the spiral mark on his wrist flaring dimly. He pressed two fingers to his temple, the ritual motion drilled into his muscle memory from days under Aleric's watchful eyes.
The world blurred.
The tunnel around him fell away.
The moment Cale's vision clicked into focus, he saw it—behind the crumbling stone wall to their left was a sealed-off room, overgrown with vines, forgotten by time and untouched by light. He staggered back, blood streaking down from his eyes.
"There's a room behind that wall," he said breathlessly. "Looks like it's sealed off. We might be able to hide there."
His knees buckled. Rosanna who was standing beside him quickly grabbed him on his shoulders.
Regan immediately sprang into action, pushing against the old stones with his shoulder. "Rosanna! Help me with this."
Rosanna didn't hesitate. She quickly let Cale sit against the wall and ran towards Regan. Together, they pressed, pulled, and kicked until the weakened wall gave way with a rumble. Dust billowed as chunks of the aged stone clattered to the ground, revealing the opening.
Without waiting for Cale to give further instructions, they helped him through and slipped into the hidden space.
The room beyond was old—too old. It reeked of rot and something else, something far worse. An acrid, putrid stench permeated the air, making all three gag and instinctively cover their noses. The darkness was nearly absolute save for the faint glow from the tunnel beyond, barely illuminating the vines that crept along the walls and floor like veins in a decaying body.
They shuffled to a corner, ducking low behind the thickest curtain of vines they could find. Rosanna's hand went to the hilt of her knife while Regan steadied Cale against his shoulder.
Then, they heard it.
A low, throaty growl.
Cale's eyes snapped toward the sound.
From deeper within the chamber, something stirred. Something massive.
It stepped into the faint sliver of light—and all three of them froze.
A Vorrak.
But not just any Vorrak. This one was larger, more grotesque, its form bloated with unstable power. Its hide was patchy, scales half-formed, its limbs trembling with suppressed rage. Its mouth was sealed shut by thick bands of flesh and magic, and yet, it salivated, thick rivulets of ooze spilling onto the floor. Its single, malformed eye glinted with wild, unrestrained fury.
A click echoed behind them.
The sound of heels.
Emilia stood at the newly broken wall, her silhouette framed in the dim tunnel light like a shadow come to life. Her red hair was pinned back again, her red lipstick freshly reapplied, her voice as cold and elegant as a sharpened blade.
"There's nowhere left to run," she said softly, almost with pity. "From the moment you stepped into this villa, the doors of fate shut behind you."
The Vorrak growled again, louder this time.
Emilia looked toward it with something like affection. "This one was meant to be a gift. A surprise for His Majesty's sixtieth birthday. But alas..." she turned her eyes back to Cale, her smile venomous. "It's incomplete. The ceremony was never finished. It's unstable. Dangerous. Hungry."
Cale, Rosanna and Regan all looked at her with horror. Among all things, they did not expect Emilia to proudly confess to treason.
Her gaze locked onto Cale. "Originally, the children from the facility were meant to serve as catalysts. Offerings. But now?" She laughed softly. "A Veyrathi is worth all the seeds combined. With you, it can finally complete its transformation."
Cale's breath hitched.
Rosanna gritted her teeth. "You're insane."
Regan didn't speak. His eyes were wide, darting between Emilia and the creature. His mind flashed back to all those secret lessons his family ordered him to take — about the Veyrathis.
So, I was taught a lie all this time? A cover-story? Regan's mind was spinning.
Emilia took a step forward.
"So come, little Veyrathi. Show me what your blood is worth."