NERU

  The sound of boots came before the shout.

  A rush.

  They were coming fast, but not erratically at all.

  Neru turned just as torchlight flared behind them.

  “Stop—!”

  The order carried no specific object.

  Good.

  She pivoted before the full word could form, cutting right and dragging Elios into the shadow of the wall. Light swept past where they had stood a heartbeat earlier, skimming stone, missing flesh.

  “I thought I saw something,” a young voice murmured from the corridor, hesitant and unsure.

  “Focus,” someone else growled in response. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had an alert like this. Handle it wrong, and we’ll all end up in Mud Cells.”

  “And what’s wrong with this Level anyway?” a third voice chimed in, still thick with sleep. “The lights just went out all of a sudden. I haven’t used a torch in ages.”

  “No idea yet,” came the answer, firmer now. “All we know is there’s an anomaly on our Level. Our job is to comb through every corner and find the cause.”

  The sounds slowly drifted farther away from their hiding place. Only then did Neru realize how tightly she had pressed herself against Elios, nearly pinning him to the wall. Thankfully, he was a professional; he hadn’t uttered a single complaint.

  She eased back and whispered,

  “I understand you broke the rules to save the evidence—but just how serious was that, exactly?”

  Elios rubbed at his chest and drew in a slow breath before answering.

  “Picture yourself riding a horse at full gallop,” he said quietly. “What would happen to you if it stopped dead all of a sudden?”

  “I’d push my feet forward, shift my weight back and let the stirrups take all the momentum,” she replied.

  “You—” He grimaced. “Never mind. Bad example.”

  His brow furrowed as he went on.

  “I assaulted something no one should have.”

  He stopped, then, as if making up his mind, started moving.

  She followed. “But why are we hiding like this? Can’t we just walk out openly in these uniforms?”

  Elios shook his head.

  “Won’t be that simple. The Tower’s security has already shifted states. The passcodes must have changed.”

  “And these?” Neru lifted his coach and gestured toward the two amulets hanging at Elios’s chest. “Don’t they help?”

  “Not in this situation,” he said quietly. “Right now, they’d only make us stand out more.”

  Then, suddenly, Elios glanced back at her and held out one hand.

  “Give me your knife.”

  “For what?” Neru asked. “You’ve got a falchion.”

  “You’re thinking of direct combat if it comes to that, aren’t you?” His voice stayed low. “If it happens, I don’t want you to go on a killing spree.”

  Under different circumstances, Neru might have laughed. Even now—now—he was still worried about that?

  She looked at the monstrous blade dangling at his hip and clicked her tongue.

  “Right. Because, unlike your little toy there, my dangerous dagger is specially designed to cleave men in half.”

  Elios seemed unfazed by the sarcasm.

  “It’s not about the blade, it’s about the mindset of the user. Don’t think I didn’t notice. For a moment, you were really considering ending that scholar’s life.”

  I need to learn to control my killing intent, she took a mental note.

  “He saw your face,” Neru pointed out.

  “He might,” Elios said. “But it’s our fault. If only we’d had the time—or the tools—to alter our appearances.”

  A flicker of regret passed through Neru. Blackfeet had prepared disguises for her the day before, but she hadn’t wanted to show her hand to Elios. Putting aside the thought, she replied.

  “Still, the whole quest might get jeopardized,” she shook her head. “It’s not something one life could compare.”

  “One life,” he said sternly,“is where every atrocity starts. That man wasn’t even an enemy.”

  “And so am I,” Neru said evenly. “Relax. If I insisted on killing him, he would be dead already.”

  After a short pause, she glanced back at Elios and asked coolly.

  “Wait. You think I can’t kill without a weapon?”

  “It’s the opposite,” Elios replied. “That’s exactly why I think you don’t need one. Frothena aren’t trained with ‘mercy’ etched into their instincts. At least with bare hands, you’ll have to stay aware of what you’re doing.”

  Neru frowned and brushed his hand aside.

  “You don’t know a damn thing about Frothena warriors.” She drew the dagger anyway, then sliced a long strip of fabric from the hem of her trousers, thin as a cord. She wrapped it around the hilt and sheath in a tight figure-eight, crossing the knot over the guard in a hard X.

  “This dagger matters to me,” she said. “I’m not handing it over to anyone.”

  She looked up at him.

  “Satisfied now?”

  Elios didn’t answer.

  So she added, her voice unembellished, “I promise I won’t use lethal force, unless it’s kill or be killed.”

  Only then did Elios nod.

  “I won’t let you end up in that situation,” he said.

  Haven’t you already? Neru resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she exhaled and asked, dryly, “Fine. So what’s the next move?”

  Elios lifted a finger and pointed upward.

  “First, we go to Level Five.”

  “Up?” Neru frowned. “Not down?”

  “That’s what everyone expects,” he replied. “Which is why they’ll sweep from the bottom up, layer by layer. The Arcane system in this section is down—but the Levels above are still intact. Once we’re there, we’ll find an ascension pillar and drop straight down to Level One.”

  Neru nodded in agreement. In a place this unfamiliar, it was better to follow his lead.

  Elios felt his way forward, opening the path inch by inch. Darkness was their only shield, but it also slowed them down too much. Memories stirred in Neru’s mind—the long struggle beneath that cavern floor where light never reached. Her breathing grew heavier. Every step felt like treading on thin ice.

  “Best not to draw any more attention,” Elios murmured behind the mask. Having learnt their lesson, they now used cloth to cover their faces. “No one knows about us yet. It’ll take at least until tomorrow for them to restore the system and reopen that door.”

  “Then what about tomorrow?” Neru asked.

  In the stillness—so cold, so complete—it felt as though even a whisper carried too far. Her voice dropped as low as it could go, yet the question still seemed to press against the walls, waiting to be overheard.

  Elios did not answer at once. He kept moving, slow and deliberate, listening to the Tower breathe around them. Only after several steps did he speak, just loud enough for her to catch.

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  “The scholar saw my face only. The best they can get from it is a sketch, a portrait. With Lord Viltar’s cover, I can be out of the circle of suspicion with some pretext…A sudden assignment that had to be carried out at night, for example. But I’ll need to leave the Tower immediately.”

  “So soon?” Neru asked.

  Elios nodded.

  “Tarth will keep working with you here. Now that we have a lead, things should move much more easily.”

  He then pressed a thin stack of papers into her hand. Neru skimmed them—these were what Elios had taken from the Senior Scholar’s possession earlier.

  “Give these to Lord Viltar,” Elios said. “He’ll know what to do. Tell him Elder Lynkahn is certainly involved.”

  “And you?” Neru asked. “Where will you go?”

  “Back to Seeker Headquarters,” Elios answered. “I need my men—and I need to trace the Treasury’s role in this mess. Once the timing’s right, I’ll slip back in.”

  Neru hesitated. The hunt for Drovar Dust—and for the traitors behind it—had not truly advanced. It felt as though they had taken a step forward, yes, but the road ahead was still hazy. Did the pieces only reveal themselves once they clear the entire picture?

  As she was flipping through the pages, one illustration stopped her cold.

  Wait. This—

  “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” Elios’s voice said quietly.

  Familiar was an understatement. It was haunting. Those centipede-like limbs—half tentacle, half talon—were unmistakable. Even in her dreams, she still saw them surging toward her, lightning fast, filling her vision.

  “That abomination,” Elios said, his voice dropping into something heavy and restrained, “was created by the Tower itself.”

  There was no excitement in his posture—no grim satisfaction at the revelation. Only burden and bitterness.

  Neru had seen it before. Felt it before.

  “Breathe it out,” she said. “Otherwise, it gnaws at your reason. We don’t want that. Not now.”

  “What?” He halted.

  “The betrayal,” she went on. “Suffocating, isn’t it?”

  “So you read minds now, huh?” Elios snorted.

  “I read pain.” She briefly gestured in the dark. “You felt it coming from miles away, but you refused to look at it. Until it struck you square in the face.”

  She sensed his brows draw tight, even without seeing him.

  “Where is all this sudden horseshit coming from?” he muttered.

  “Takes one to know one,” Neru replied evenly. “I laid it out for you so you wouldn’t have to.”

  Elios scrunched his nose, then started walking again, weapon held firm in his hand.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said at last. “But it doesn’t matter.”

  “Indeed. Th—”

  “Shhh.” Elios lifted one hand in a sharp signal and pressed himself flat against the wall.

  Neru obeyed at once. She sank lower, muscles coiling, and held her position two steps behind him. The corridor seemed to tighten around them. Then she heard it.

  Footsteps.

  Roughly forty paces off to their right, beyond the next bend—leather soles against stone. Searching.

  Neru slowed her breathing to nothing and fixed her eyes on the dark ahead, every sense pulled taut as a drawn wire.

  “How many?” she asked.

  “At least ten. Armored.” Elios’s eyes flicked back at her hands when he said the last part.

  Not a problem, she told herself. Even if she couldn’t punch through armor, there were some ways to deal with that kind of opponent. Joint breaks. Wrestling. Fingers to the eyes. She knew them all.

  The real issue was numbers. It was easy to outmaneuver a few opponents, but ten was too many.

  “Nowhere to hide,” she whispered, eyes flicking along the corridor, “Engage, or run back the way we came?”

  “Neither works,” Elios murmured. He dipped his head, as if running calculations in his mind—then suddenly looked up at the window ahead. “Are you afraid of heights?”

  Neru blinked once.

  She understood him immediately. Still, who the hell would phrase it like that? This was not about fear. This was the kind of technique earned through sweat and blood, through long hours risking life. Even so, she answered without hesitation.

  “No.”

  “Good. Follow me.”

  He made the decision instantly.

  The window swung open, and Elios slid out like a snake slipping from a crack. From a distance, the Tower looked smooth, almost divine—but up close its skin was rough as old bark. Jagged stone jutted at uneven angles, fissures spidering across the surface, each just wide enough to hook half a finger into. Even so, at this height, that was only one danger among many.

  A violent gust slammed into Neru’s face, whipping her hair back and reminding her how far the ground lay below.

  Elios clung patiently, body pressed close to the Tower’s flank, moving hand over hand until he climbed roughly three yards above the window.

  Thank the gods I grew up on Mount Karthos, she muttered under her breath.

  Then she kicked off the window’s frame and followed, finding her holds, keeping pace until she was level with him.

  “When the torchlight passes,” Elios looked down and said quietly, “we go back in.”

  The roar of the wind all but swallowed his voice, breaking it apart so the words reached her in fragments, sometimes near, sometimes lost to the air. Only now did Neru snap back at him.

  “You’re a shitty leader, you know that?” she hissed over the gale. “If I were a normal person, I’d have smashed into the ground by now.”

  “You climbed just fine,” Elios replied, maddeningly calm.

  “And if I didn’t?” she shot back. “I fell, and that’d be my problem? Or did you just hear ‘Frothena’ and immediately assume I’m some kind of mountain ape?”

  “Listen. I knew you were a skilled climber,” he said, emphasis sharp despite the wind. “I’ve seen the scars on your hands. And I’ve—” he faltered for half a breath, “—had contact with the muscle groups of your rear. Only climbers build their bodies like that.”

  Neru squinted at him. So even when his arm had been around her, the bastard had been thinking—analyzing that much?

  Elios hurried on.

  “And earlier—during the escape from the dark cavern—you didn’t take the slope with us. You went straight up the cliff, through the hanging vines. Fast, too. Remember?”

  You only just recalled that now, didn’t you? Neru exhaled and chose to drop it.

  “Well,” she said, shifting her grip, “since we’re already outside, could we just climb down from here?”

  “Not possible,” he answered immediately. “It’s rough up here only. Lower down the wall smooths out—no holds. And since the alarm was up, they must’ve deployed some sky sentries out here as well.”

  “Sky what?” Neru asked, but before the word left her mouth, her pupils constricted fiercely.

  The hiss of a bolt slicing through the air reached her ears before she even saw it—passing barely half a foot from her shoulder. The second one missed Elios’s head by a few inches, and could’ve nailed it, hadn’t she pushed him away with her hand.

  “Down!” Elios shouted. “Now!”

  More bolts followed in quick succession, sharp whit-whit sounds tearing out from above their heads. Neru flattened herself against the Tower like a lizard, legs scraping stone as she slid downward, fingers hooking in tight, rapid motions to break the fall into short holds. Powder of white stone rained down over her cloak.

  Then…

  The whine of bolts in flight cut off abruptly.

  “They’re reloading,” Elios barked. “Now. Move.”

  What followed could no longer be called climbing. It was a plunge into controlled chaos. With their backs exposed like this, hesitation meant death.

  “Find another window,” Elios's voice rang in her ear. “There! Forty yards to your left.”

  Neru barely used her legs at all. She hurled herself from ledge to ledge, letting her lower body swing like a pendulum while her shoulders and elbows took the full strain, joints screaming as hand and eye worked in ruthless synchrony. One misstep—just one—and she would shatter on the ground below.

  Elios was slower. His technique lacked her flexibility, but he made up for it with a terrifying focus and a refusal to yield. More than once, she heard the dull crack of impact, the sharp sound of something breaking—bone, stone, she couldn’t tell—but he never made a sound.

  At last, the window loomed beneath them.

  Neru swung hard, kicked, and snapped the latch clean off. She vaulted inside, rolling as she hit the floor. Darkness swallowed her whole—thick, absolute. A blessing. No light meant no people, at least for now.

  One breath later, Elios crashed in after her, landing heavily, momentum carrying him into a rough roll. His breathing came fast and ragged—the sound of a wounded animal after a failed hunt. But he didn’t even grunt until he closed the window shut.

  Neru closed her eyes, forcing her pulse down, letting her vision adjust to the black. Cold air. Stillness.

  A hand reached out and found her shoulder.

  “You alright?” Elios whispered.

  The concern in his voice caught her off guard. She knew he was hurt—badly.

  “I’m fine,” she murmured. “You?”

  He didn’t answer at once. He drew a careful breath, then slid his hand along his ribs, prodding gently, counting under his breath.

  “Seventh… and sixth,” he muttered. “Two ribs fractured.” A pause. Another breath, shallow but controlled. “Lung’s intact. Spleen too. No collapse.”

  Only then did he let himself exhale. “Could’ve been much worse if that bolt hit me. Thank you.”

  “Those bolts just punched straight into solid rock,” Neru asked. “What kind of cursed things are they?”

  “The Tower’s enhanced crossbows,” Elios whispered. “Sky sentries carry them. Strong, but slow to reload.”

  Neru leaned closer to the ventilation slit beneath the window frame, peering through it with one eye.

  “Where were they firing from?” she murmured. “There’s no watchtower tall enough to get that angle.”

  Elios eased himself down against the wall and shook his head faintly.

  “You don’t see them? Good,” he said. “Means they’ve lost us as well. Fog, cloud cover, smoke, whatever—something broke the line of sight. Under normal conditions, they stand out clearly against the sky.”

  She turned back to him, puzzled.

  “So what are these sky sentries, really?” she asked. “Has the Tower learned how to give men wings?”

  Elios considered for a moment before answering.

  “Not exactly,” he said. “But it’s close enough. Have you ever made a sky lantern?”

  “No. But I know what they are.”

  “Then you understand the principle. They drop three guards into a massive basket, then use an even larger lantern to lift the whole thing into the air.” He drew in a careful breath—and winced. “This one’s on me. I miscalculated. Deployment usually takes much longer, and they don’t operate at this height."

  He paused, exhaling a long breath.

  “Looks like things advanced while I was gone.”

  Neru stepped closer and gave Elios a steadying pat on the back.

  “Alright. Save your strength.”

  She took in their surroundings. They had landed in a large chamber—larger than the archive room before. There were no dense Arcane stone lattices here, no guarded relics or rare devices. Just long rows of sandalwood drawers, several dozen beds laid out in order, and a sharp, medicinal tang hanging in the air.

  Elios sniffed, then lifted his head slightly.

  “I know where we are,” he said.