The underground station smelled like rusted chains and old blood.
Elias crouched near the busted ticket booth, carving runes into the concrete with the tip of his sword. Each mark hissed faintly, filling the air with the bitter scent of ozone. He didn't know how long the barriers would hold, but they were better than nothing.
Ren watched him silently, wrapped in an oversized hoodie that made her look even smaller.
When he finished the last rune, Elias stood up, wincing slightly from the lingering ache in his ribs.
"You saved my ass back there," he said without looking at her.
Ren shrugged.
"You saved mine first."
Elias allowed a grim smile. It was a fucked up kind of balance, but it worked.
He wiped the blood from the sword on his jeans.
"We can't stay here forever. Those things—they're not just hunters. They're messengers. The real ones will come soon."
Ren shifted uneasily.
"What... real ones?"
Elias glanced at her.
"The ones that don't die when you stab them."
Her face paled.
Good. Fear would keep her alive.
He shoved the sword into the makeshift scabbard on his back and started pacing again, brain working overtime. They needed information. Allies. Weapons.
But trust was a currency Elias had run out of long ago.
He was about to speak when something made him freeze.
Footsteps.
Soft. Careful. Coming from the tunnel.
Elias grabbed Ren and shoved her behind the booth.
He moved to the edge of the barrier, blade ready, breath slow and shallow.
A figure stepped into view.
A woman. Tall, slim, wrapped in a coat too large for her frame. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her eyes... her eyes were wrong. Too wide. Too black.
She smiled.
And Elias felt the same instinctive disgust he'd felt fighting the Wretched Ones of Elyndros.
This wasn't a human anymore.
"Found you," she sang, voice too sweet, too sharp.
Elias didn't waste time talking.
He lunged.
The woman laughed—an ugly, rattling sound—and caught the blade with her bare hand.
Metal screeched against bone. Blood gushed from her palm, but she didn't flinch.
She yanked Elias forward, mouth opening far too wide.
Rows of jagged teeth.
Elias twisted, slamming his elbow into her throat.
She staggered, coughing black ichor.
He spun, slashing low.
The blade bit into her knee, severing something important. She collapsed, howling.
Behind him, Ren screamed.
Elias turned just in time to see two more figures crawling out of the tunnel—hands and feet scuttling along the walls like insects.
Fuck.
He grabbed Ren's hand and ran, dragging her deeper into the station.
Behind them, the things shrieked, a sound that made the air vibrate.
They sprinted down a broken escalator, through a platform littered with ancient debris. Rats scattered in all directions.
Elias skidded to a stop near an abandoned maintenance room.
"Get in," he barked.
Ren didn't argue.
He slammed the door behind them, throwing the bolt.
Inside, the room was small and filthy. Broken monitors lined the walls. Old uniforms hung in tatters from rusted hooks.
Elias pressed his ear against the door.
Footsteps. Scraping. Breathing.
But no immediate attack.
For now.
He turned to Ren.
"We need to end this," he said. "We can't keep running."
She hugged herself.
"How?"
Elias thought about the sigil. About the dreams.
"They're calling something," he said slowly. "Something big. Something old. If we cut the signal, we might buy time."
Ren nodded shakily.
"But where do we go?"
Elias grinned, savage and sharp.
"Back to the source."
The place where the sigils were strongest.
The heart of Avelshade City.
City Hall.
Corrupt to the bone even before the world started bleeding magic.
Now? Probably a goddamn hive.
Elias checked his sword, tightening the grip. He checked the hidden knives strapped to his boots. He took a deep breath.
"Get ready," he said.
Ren swallowed hard but nodded.
Together, they moved.
---
The journey to City Hall was a descent into madness.
The city twisted itself around them. Streets looped back on themselves. Buildings leaned inward like rotten teeth. The air buzzed with whispers just beneath the threshold of hearing.
Twice, they were forced to hide as patrols passed—shambling things dressed in mockeries of human skin, stitched together wrong.
Elias fought down the rage burning inside him.
He remembered walking these streets once—laughing with his friends, hand in hand with his sister, joking about stupid shit. Buying coffee. Planning meaningless futures.
Now everything he loved was dust.
And these monsters wore the skin of his world like a costume.
He promised himself again:
He would burn it all.
At last, they reached City Hall.
The building rose like a broken crown, black vines choking its marble facade. The flags were torn, the steps cracked and bleeding some dark ichor.
At the top of the stairs, a figure stood waiting.
It was wearing a uniform once. Maybe it had even been human once.
Now it was a puppet, strings of shadow twitching its limbs.
Ren gasped.
Elias narrowed his eyes.
"This is the gatekeeper," he muttered. "They don't want us getting inside."
He stepped forward, raising his sword.
The puppet twitched, jerking into motion, moving with bone-breaking speed.
Elias dodged the first swing—a steel baton whistling past his face—and countered with a savage slash.
The sword bit deep into the thing's side.
No blood. Just more black smoke.
The puppet howled, swinging again.
Elias ducked, kicked its knee backward, and rammed his sword through its chest.
It convulsed—and then shattered into mist.
Ren stared at him, awe and fear warring in her expression.
Elias wiped the blade clean.
"Let's finish this."
They pushed through the massive doors.
Inside, City Hall was unrecognizable.
The walls wept blood. The floors squirmed underfoot. Corpses hung from the rafters like decorations, mouths sewn shut.
At the center of the lobby, a massive sigil burned—pulsing with raw, screaming magic.
Elias felt it gnawing at his mind.
Ren clutched his arm.
"I can shut it down," she whispered. "But I need time."
Elias nodded grimly.
"I'll buy you every fucking second you need."
The walls started to move.
Things began to pour out of the darkness.
And Elias smiled, raising his sword high.
"Come on, you sons of bitches."
---