They ran through the streets, fast and quiet. Asthia led the way, her cloak flying behind her.
Then—they heard it.
A horn. Loud and clear.
Voices shouted. Heavy boots slammed against the stone road.
"Too fast," Asthia said. "They already found him."
"Where do we go?" Reth asked.
"This way!"
She grabbed his arm and pulled him into a narrow alley. They turned one corner, then another. The guards were close—getting louder.
Asthia tried a door. Locked.
She ran to the next one—it opened.
They slipped inside just as the guards rushed past.
They were in someone's house.
A small, dark storage room. Dusty. Shelves filled with cloth and old boxes.
Then—footsteps on the porch.
"They're checking houses," Asthia whispered.
She pointed to a big wooden cabinet in the corner.
"Get in."
Reth blinked. "Wait, really?"
"Now."
They climbed in quickly, pushing old cloth out of the way. It was tight—way too tight.
He could feel her pressed against him. Her chest, her breath on his neck, her forehead resting against his.
There was no space at all. Not even to move a finger.
His face turned red.
"I-I can move or switch sides," Reth whispered, awkward. "You can't even breathe—maybe I should just—"
Her hand covered his mouth.
He froze.
The door creaked open.
Wood groaned. Heavy boots stepped inside.
Asthia stayed silent. One hand still over his mouth, the other holding the cabinet shut.
Reth barely breathed.
Footsteps moved around the room. Boxes were shifted. Something fell over.
Then silence.
One breath.
A voice—close, right outside the cabinet.
"Check the next one."
Boots walked away. The front door opened. Then closed.
They were gone.
Seconds passed.
Then Asthia slowly removed her hand from his mouth.
Reth took a quiet breath, eyes wide.
"That was way too close," he whispered.
She placed a finger on his lips this time. Not hard. Just to keep him quiet.
Her eyes were calm.
"Stop," she whispered.
His heart pounded.
Even in the dark, even in this tiny cabinet, he couldn't look away from her face.
She didn't move. She didn't speak.
Somehow, that made it worse.
Now he could feel everything.
The rise and fall of her breath.
The soft thump of her heartbeat against his chest.
The way her lips hovered, just a little too close.
"I… I could've just waited outside," he muttered. "Or climbed a roof. Or hid under a cart. Something less, you know… this."
Asthia sighed, almost smiling. "You talk too much."
And still—she didn't move.
Neither did he.
They stayed like that.
Time felt slow.
Reth didn't know how long they were stuck in there. One minute? Five? More?
He couldn't think straight.
Finally—Asthia moved.
Just a little.
She shifted and slowly opened the cabinet door. The room outside was quiet again. No sounds. No guards.
"Let's go," she whispered.
Reth nodded, a bit too quickly. "Right. Yeah."
He started to climb out but knocked his elbow on the side of the cabinet with a loud thunk.
Asthia gave him a sharp look, her eyes narrowed. "Careful," she whispered. "You'll bring them back."
Reth winced and rubbed his elbow. "Sorry," he muttered.
He stepped out of the cabinet, legs stiff. His heart still raced.
The room looked the same—dusty shelves, old boxes, and a faint smell of mildew. But at least it was quiet.
Asthia followed, calm as ever. She fixed her cloak and pulled the hood low over her silver hair. Then she pointed to a narrow staircase in the corner.
"Down there," she said softly. "The tunnel's below."
Reth nodded. His [Threat Perception] skill buzzed lightly in the back of his mind. He stayed alert and followed her down the stairs.
The wooden steps creaked under their feet, but the house stayed quiet. At the bottom was a small basement, filled with barrels and old crates. It smelled damp and earthy.
Asthia crouched in one corner. She brushed dust away from the floor and found a faint outline—a trapdoor.
She looked at Reth. "Help me."
He knelt beside her and grabbed the old iron ring. They pulled together. The trapdoor opened with a groan, revealing a dark tunnel below. A cold, musty wind came up from the hole.
Asthia stared into the dark. "The smuggler's tunnel. Elenya said it still connects to the outer district. If we're lucky, we can hide there until the guards back off."
Reth leaned over the edge. The air smelled of damp stone. "And if we're not lucky?"
She gave him a look—dry, unreadable. "Then we run."
He adjusted the sword at his side with a sigh. "Fantastic. Love a good pitch-black death trap."
Without a word, Asthia struck flint and lit a stub of candle. The tiny flame sputtered to life, casting warped shadows across the tunnel mouth.
She stepped in first, careful and silent.
Reth followed. The tunnel was narrow, the air colder and heavier. That strange hum—they both felt it. It wasn't just a sound—it was like a soft vibration under their skin.
His System gave a faint ping, but no new messages.
The tunnel walls were rough, damp, and slimy in places. Wooden beams held up the ceiling, some cracked or covered in moss.
Every so often, Asthia stopped and held up the candle to check for old markings—scratches or signs left by smugglers.
"This way," she said, pointing to a fork where one path sloped down.
Reth's [Threat Perception] flared hard.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
A deep rumble echoed through the tunnel.
Dust fell from the ceiling. The ground shook a little.
"What was that?" he whispered, his hand on his sword.
Asthia's eyes narrowed. She stared into the dark.
she said quietly. "This tunnel is deeper than I thought."
Another rumble—but softer this time. Just the old stone settling, maybe. Or something shifting above.
Reth kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.