The aftermath of the assault left scars deeper than stone and ash. The Free City, once proud and unyielding, stood crippled in the wake of Elion's speech. Entire districts lay in ruin, their foundations reduced to rubble.
Nearly forty percent of the city's population had been wiped away in the firestorm, most of them drawn from the very Ember Pact Elion had claimed to champion. In his final bid to erase opposition, he had instead dragged his own faction into the grave with him.
The political ripple effects were swift and merciless. The Ember Pact, all its ideals, foundations, and remnants collapsed under the weight of public scorn. What little survived held no chance of revival within the city's walls.
The Capital, no longer seeing any benefit in maintaining ties, severed its support from The Concordists, leaving The Free City adrift and vulnerable. What followed was a dangerous vacuum, where lawlessness began to creep through its streets.
It was in this chaos that The Director swiftly took action. After a series of urgent meetings, an accord was struck. The Concordists would be able to gain their funding from him, maintaining their power.
It came with a safeguard woven into their authority however. In times of dire threat, should the city be in danger of external or internal threats, The Director would be able to take control over the city in order to invoke Martial Law.
This clause, presented not as a usurpation but as a shield, was meant to ease the fears of a weary populace, ensuring that never again would they be left defenseless against betrayal from within, nor would they remain vulnerable to external forces.
Alongside this, The director began the construction of his own military camp within the city's borders. Its purpose was not for conquest but vigilance, a permanent garrison where his operatives could watch over the streets and stand ready should an attack fall upon the city again.
Lines of communication from the Free City's camp to the main camp were established in case reinforcements would need to be summoned swiftly. Despite all these precautionary measures however, unease lingered.
The Director's tireless efforts to hunt down the enemies responsible for the devastation had yielded nothing. Scouts returned empty-handed, informants uncovered no leads, as if the enemy had been swallowed by the desert.
Their vanishing act hung over The Free City like a phantom, reminding its people that danger could return at any moment. Still, the city endured through faith in the man who now stood as their bulwark.
The Director's status, unshaken will, and unrelenting pursuit for order in the Badlands reassured them in ways words alone could not. With each new wall raised at the camp and every soldier that could be seen patrolling the city, the citizens found themselves breathing easier.
Pheo's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as though the flames still licked his skin. For a heartbeat, he believed that he was still there, trapped in the collapse of the city, the roars of fire all around him.
His hands gripped the sheets beneath him, damp with sweat, before the world steadied into focus. He wasn't locked in a fight anymore, the air around him now normal, the unbearable heat now gone.
The air here was still and cool, he could feel the faint sting of an antiseptic. Rows of canvas partitions stretched around him, with the faint shuffle of boots and murmurs of voices seeping through the fabric walls.
Where am I..?
He lay on what he could only assume is a makeshift ward, the smell of metal and disinfectant unmistakable. It was a medical facility, but it didn't look like it was one from The Free City.
The emblems stitched into the banners along the poles, the disciplined step of soldiers outside, Pheo could only assume that he was in a military camp, but whose?
His body ached, bandages were pulling tight across his ribs and arms, though none of it was enough to drown the confusion crashing in his mind. The last thing he remembered was fire swallowing everything around him.
The flap of the canvas door rustled, and a figure stepped inside. A young medic in a white armband carrying a clipboard, he gave him a quick once-over before moving briskly to his side.
"Looks like you're up," he said, voice calm but professional as though it were routine. He adjusted the lantern hanging on the pole, casting softer light over Pheo's pale face to see better.
The medic pressed two fingers against his wrist, counting his pulse, then shifted to check the bandages along his ribs. "Pulse steady. No signs of infections either. Looks like you're doing better than others would, kid."
Satisfied with the tests, he reached for a small radio clipped to his vest. With a crackle of static, he spoke into it. "Medical tent three. The boy is awake." A voice responded, muffled but firm:
Copy. Inform command. Hold position until further notice.
The medic returned the device to his side and scribbled down a few notes on his clipboard before looking back at Pheo. His tone softened slightly, though his professionalism never slipped.
"You're safe here. Don't strain yourself. If you remember anything about what happened, Command will want to hear it once you're ready." He said before going back on his clipboard.
Pheo pushed himself up slightly, his body protesting with dull aches. The medic gave him a warning look but didn't stop him. He needed to see exactly where he was. Through the slit in the canvas, the outside world unfolded before him.
The Free City, once a maze of towering sandstone and wooden spires with interwoven wooden bridges that crisscrossed the sky like a spider's web was now barely recognizable.
The elegant chaos of ropeways and stacked homes, structures that had seemed to defy gravity, was now broken. In their place rose something new. Scaffolds rose of stone blocks and timber reinforced with iron joints.
The shapes of the city were being built to mirror what was lost, the same vertical spires and interwoven paths, but with a much more sturdier skeleton hidden beneath their familiar faces.
Workers carried carved sandstone to layer against stronger frames, blending the city's old artistry with new reinforcement. Rope bridges were strung once more between rising towers, but now their anchors were now embedded in steel fittings.
From afar, it still looked like The Free City. Wild, ambitious, and buildings reaching for the sky. But with closer inspection, people could see the effort to make it endure, to keep it from collapsing again so easily.
The scrape of boots against the wooden floor pulled Pheo back from his thoughts. He turned just the tent flap parted, and Kael stepped inside. His usual sharp presence was softened, weariness etched around his eyes as though he still carried himself with the same steady composure.
"Well, look who finally decided to wake up," Kael said, his voice carrying a half-smile. He moved closer to the cot, arms folded loosely over his chest. "How've you been holding up?"
Pheo blinked, still sluggish, his throat dry. "Feels like I got thrown into a box and then someone shook it for a whole day." Kael chuckled softly. "Either you had a rough fight or a really good sleep."
He pulled up a small stool and sat beside him. "You've been out for quite a while, almost a week already. A lot's happened while you were sleeping, a lot of changes as I'm sure you've already seen from peeking out."
His tone shifted, quieter, more serious. "The attack… it left the Free City in shambles. Nearly half of both its buildings and populations were gone. The city was basically lawless for a bit, at least until The Director came."
"His men pulled what was left of us together and set up this camp. It's been quite chaotic, but at least now there's some semblance of order." Kael gestured vaguely towards the city outside.
"They're rebuilding. Not the same as before, this time they're making it come back stronger. The Director's making sure of it. Though the people are still afraid of the future, his presence keeps them at ease for now."
Pheo shifted uncomfortably on the cot, his brow furrowing. "What about Adam?" The question lingered in the air, heavy enough to dim Kael's faint smile. He leaned back slightly, sighing through his nose.
"Adam, well, he left the day after Elion's speech. No one knows where he went. Not even The Director. He only asked for one thing, then disappeared. I think he needed some space after everything, about what. Well, I'm not really sure."
Before Pheo could press further, the tent flap moved again. Anora stepped inside, her posture as composed as ever, though her eyes betrayed the sleepless nights she'd endured.
She nodded to Kael, then let her gaze settle on Pheo. "Good. You're awake." Her voice was firm, but there was a faint relief beneath it. "Is he well enough to walk?" She turned to the doctor.
The doctor, who had been lingering by the desk, checked Pheo over once more. After a quick note in his clipboard, he gave a curt nod. "It'd be better if he could rest but, if it's really needed, he'll manage. Just don't push him too far."
The canvas flaps parted, and the cool night air brushed against Pheo's skin as he stepped out alongside Anora. The camp spread wide before him, rows of tents with different types of buildings such as medical stations and hastily assembled watchtowers were visible.
Patrols of uniformed soldiers moving with quiet efficiency were making their rounds, one of them passing by them as they walked. Lantern light cast long shadows across the dirt paths, where the ground still bore scars and burn marks from the attack.
Pheo's eyes wandered, curiosity stirring in him despite the ache in his body. The rhythmic clang of hammers echoed from deeper within The Free City, where workers toiled through the night to raise reinforced frames.
The smell of ash still lingered faintly in the air even after all those days, though it was now laced with sawdust and stone dust from all the reconstruction. Beside him, Anora broke the silence.
"You know, we were looking for you. After seeing you run away from us down there, we tried our best to find out what happened to you." She told him, making him feel a bit guilty.
He kept his gaze forward however. "I happened to lose Beam after running around through small holes. Then after a while of squeezing around, I found a way out. It wasn't easy, but it was better than staying any longer down there."
I can't let her know about what actually happened.
Anora studied him from the corner of her eye, then gave a small nod. "That explains it." Her tone softened slightly, the steel edge fading just enough for something more personal to slip through.
"For what it's worth… I wanted to thank you. Back when the debris pinned my leg, I don't think I'd be walking now if you hadn't patched me up. Neither did the medic who patched me up."
He glanced at her briefly, surprised by the sudden gratitude. "Anyone would've done the same." Her voice lowered, "Not anyone," she replied, almost too quickly. "Especially down here."
They approached the largest structure in the camp. It was a repurposed stone hall reinforced with timber supports, its interior glowing with firelight. Guards posted at the entrance saluted Anora before opening the doors.
Inside, the air was heavy with authority. Maps of The Free City and the surrounding desert hung along the walls, marked with colored pins and scribbled notes. At the far end of a long table stood The Director, his presence commanding even at rest.
His uniform was pristine despite the chaos around them, his posture unwavering. He had a cold yet deliberate gaze, making Pheo feel a bit of pressure as it fell upon him. "Good," The Director said, his voice low and steady. "You're awake."
His voice was lighter than what Pheo expected. "First of all," he began stepping around the table, "you did well in The Caverns. My operatives told me all about it in their reports."
"You may very well be the only reason why they're still alive, luring that unexpected variable away for them to escape and call for backup. It's name was Beam, wasn't it?" His eyes narrowed slightly as picked up a file from his desk.
"A beast of unbreakable metal, one with no flesh, yet you stood your ground." Pheo shifted uncomfortably, unsure if the praise was genuine or just formality. "For someone of your age, it was unimaginably brave."
He clasped his hands behind his back. "Not many would've done the same." He gave the faintest of smiles, though it carried a weight to it. "To sacrifice yourself for others, it's an act I cannot overlook."
Pheo hesitated, searching for the right words. "I just did what I felt was right. Something that I knew would make my mother proud." The Director inclined his head as if acknowledging the humility, though his eyes still studied Pheo closely.
Then his tone shifted, turning more curious, probing. "Tell me," he said, pacing a few steps, "how is it that you know Adam?" Pheo blinked at the sudden pivot. "...Adam?"
"Yes," The Director said evenly, pausing mid-stride. "The man who was with you before the incident. My operatives saw you two together, and yet… you don't seem like mere acquaintances. I'd like to hear it from you directly."
The room felt heavier. Anora stood quietly to the side, arms crossed, watching Pheo with unreadable eyes. In the corner of his eyes, he could see a strange glass dome sitting right in the corner.
Trying not to show that he was paying attention to it, he quickly flicked his eyes toward it to confirm his thoughts. At a glance, he was able to tell based on its appearance and location that it was a surveillance camera, an advanced machine he had only read of.
This is when things take a shift. It may seem like a regular conversation, but right now Pheo could tell that he was being interrogated for information. He lowered his gaze for a moment, then drew in a steady breath.
"It was by chance, really." He shifted in his seat, fingers brushing the edge of his knee as though anchoring himself. "I was lost down there. Once I finally found my way out, I was met with an endless sea of sand. After wandering for a while, he found me."
The Director tilted his head, one brow lifting, "Adam's not the type of person to carry burdens, even if it was something as pitiful as a lost kid. What made you different?" His voice stayed even, but his eyes were sharp.
"I don't really know. Maybe he pitied me, or I was just lucky." Pheo tried to avoid his gaze, his thumb running over a scar on his hand without even realizing it. "Or maybe… he saw something useful. I can't say for certain."
The Director chuckled lightly, reclining with the ease of a man in control. "That's interesting. If I'm guessing right, you were lost because you had escaped The Caverns?"
Pheo's jaw tightened. He gave a small nod, "Yes. I managed to find myself a way out, though not the same path your men would've taken. It was too small, even for a kid like me."
The Director's fingers tapped once against the armrest, more out of habit than impatience. "Had you not seen any of my personnel there? I'm sure that out of the hundreds positioned, you would've run into at least one on your way out."
Pheo shifted again, this time sitting straighter, as though he refused to appear cornered. "No, I never saw them. I left during the night, the dustdevils nearby made it nearly impossible for me to see."
The Director's expression hardly changed. He maintained calm and observant the entire time, like a man testing the edges of a blade. "I see. I know the types of children they take there, but I wanted to know, what led you down there?"
For the first time, Pheo's eyes flicked directly toward him, sharp and questioning. "How do you know about him?" The Director had his smirk covered by his hand, he leaned forward now.
"Not many in the tunnels survived in the first place. In fact, other than you, there were only three survivors. But if you really want to know… Narfius sold us information on The Caverns' whereabouts."
Pheo's lips pressed into a thin line. His fingers curled into his palms, nails pressing faintly into skin. "Figures. He seems like the type to sell his loyalty for the right amount of money."
The Director gave a faint shrug, as though confirming a universal truth. "He's the kind to sell his soul for money. People like him don't care where it comes from, only how much their cut is."
The Director's eyes lingered on him, calm but searching before softening with the hint of a smile. "That's just how it is down here. And it's also what makes your heroism stand out even more."
For a moment, the silence stretched. The Director leaned back again, casual, his gaze never quite leaving Pheo. "You'll know soon enough. Before I let you go, could I ask if you've seen anything golden on your travels with Adam?"
Pheo blinked, caught off guard. He glanced away, shaking his head faintly. "I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you mean." The Director waved a hand lightly, as if dismissing the question's weight.
"Sorry, it just slipped off my mind." He sighed, "You see, we've been looking into some things related to something strange that has to do with the color gold. If it doesn't really ring any bells for you, then it's fine."
The boy kept his eyes down, shoulders slightly hunched, careful to reveal nothing more. The Director watched him a moment longer before shifting the conversation with deliberate ease.
"Adam spoke of you, you know. He's left me with the task of helping you survive, at least until you awaken. So until then, you're to live under my camp's protection. This is also to say that you are now under me as well."
The words landed heavy, Pheo's chest tightened, bitterness curling beneath the surface. Their journey together, albeit short, meant a lot to him. For him to suddenly leave him under someone else felt like betrayal.
Now that he had The Free City, it seemed as if there was no reason for him to stay with Adam. He clenched his hands under the table, forcing his face to remain still, even as the truth settled, he would be of barely any use for Adam now.
It was about time for him to lose some extra baggage anyways.
The Director caught the flicker of emotion, the faint tightening of Pheo's jaw, and recognized it. Rather than press, he leaned back with a soft exhale, his tone smooth and dismissive.
"You've had much on your mind already. Take the time you need, you're free to go." He gestured casually toward the door, his movements fluid, almost careless. Yet his eyes remained watchful, marking every movement Pheo made as he rose to his feet.
He pushed aside the heavy curtain and stepped into the dimly lit corridor. His stride was steady, but his fists remained tight at his sides, his jaw set as though he were bracing against the bitterness gnawing inside him.
The Director leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders with an ease that contrasted sharply with the weight of the conversation. His eyes drifted to the side where Anora had been standing throughout, her posture straight, hands loosely clasped in front of her.
"So, Anora. Did he lie?" He asked her. Anora's gaze lingered on the flap Pheo had left through. The faint shimmer of her gift had traced the boy's words while he spoke, the flickering of his flame, the subtle tremors of half-truths.
She knew where he had concealed the pieces of himself. Yet when she turned back to her superior, her voice came quiet but steady. "No. He was speaking the truth the entire time."
The Director narrows his eyes slightly, tilting his head as though weighing her tone against her words. "Nothing hidden? You're certain?" She nodded in response, "Certain, sir."
A long silence stretched. The Director studied her the way he had studied Pheo, calm but cutting, his instincts whispering something different than her report. He had been in his position long enough to know when shadows clung to their words.
Still… Anora had never given him a reason to doubt her. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the armrest, chin against his knuckles. "Very well. If that's the case, then I'll trust it."
Anora bowed her head faintly, though a tightness lingered in her chest. She could still see the boy's flame in her mind, a golden fire that burned brighter than any other she's seen.
What The Director was finding was just in front of him, yet she couldn't get herself to tell him. The medical care she had given him in The Caverns had saved her, and now he had eliminated the main culprit of the recent tragedy.
The Director gave her one last measuring look before she left. He stared at the curtains as it moved, waiting till it fully closed before he turned his attention back to the scattered reports on the desk.