The footsteps grew louder. Boots on steel. Sharp, steady, unhurried.
Enforcers never rushed. They didn't need to.
Kaelen's breath thundered in his chest. His hand clenched the vial until the glass bit into his palm.
"Move!" Ryn hissed, grabbing his arm. "This way."
Kaelen's legs obeyed before his mind did. They bolted down the corridor, shadows stretching long in the sterile light. Behind them, the enforcers' voices barked orders, amplified through helmet speakers.
"Unauthorized access detected. Level thirty-two. Pursue."
Ryn skidded around a corner, Kaelen at his heels. The crates loomed on either side, stacked high, narrowing the passage.
"Where are we going?" Kaelen panted.
"Anywhere not here!"
A stun-bolt cracked against the wall beside his head, spraying sparks. Kaelen ducked instinctively, heart lurching. The enforcers didn't bother with warnings.
Ryn shoved a smaller crate aside, revealing a maintenance hatch half-hidden in shadow. "In!"
Kaelen dropped to his knees, crawling through the narrow opening. Pipes pressed against his shoulders, the air hot and metallic. Ryn followed, slamming the hatch shut just as another stun-bolt scorched the steel.
Darkness swallowed them.
Kaelen's breaths came ragged. The only sound was the drip of condensation from overhead pipes.
Ryn chuckled softly. "Close one."
Kaelen rounded on him, voice harsh. "You think this is a game?"
"It's survival, Dray." Ryn's grin flashed faintly in the dark. "And you're good at it."
Kaelen wanted to strike him. Wanted to scream. But Lyra's face filled his mind—the way her body shook with each cough, the way her eyes lingered on him with quiet trust.
He opened his fist. The vial gleamed dimly, unbroken.
For her.
---
The maintenance tunnels wound endlessly, a maze of pipes and dripping valves. The air was thick, damp with mold, buzzing with the hum of machinery.
Kaelen crawled after Ryn, the tight space forcing them single file. Every creak of metal sounded like pursuit.
"You've done this before," Kaelen muttered.
"Maybe once or twice."
"And lived?"
"Clearly." Ryn's grin lingered in his voice.
They emerged at last into a chamber half-flooded with stagnant water. Rusted catwalks crisscrossed the open space, steam hissing from broken vents. Shadows stretched long, distorted by the Ashlight bleeding faintly through a grated ceiling high above.
Kaelen climbed out, boots splashing. His muscles trembled with exhaustion. He turned on Ryn, shoving him against the rail.
"You nearly got us killed."
"You're welcome," Ryn said lightly.
Kaelen slammed him harder. "This isn't a joke."
"Neither's the Tower, Dray." Ryn's grin faded, his voice sharpening. "They take everything from us. Our food, our air, our lives. You want your sister to breathe? You can't keep begging. You take."
Kaelen's grip faltered.
The words cut deeper than Ryn knew.
He released him, chest heaving.
For a long moment, they stared at one another in the half-light. Then Kaelen looked away.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Old ventilation hub. Nobody comes down here anymore. Too broken to fix, too much trouble to clear."
"Except you."
"Except me." Ryn's grin returned, faint but sharp.
---
They rested briefly on the catwalk. Kaelen examined the vial, rolling it between his fingers. He couldn't believe it was real. Clean medicine, untainted, the kind the dealers hoarded like treasure. Enough to buy Lyra another week, maybe more.
A week.
Not enough.
Never enough.
He thought of the crates they'd left behind—hundreds of vials, maybe thousands. Enough to save every coughing child in the Tower.
And guarded by enforcers who would rather let them rot than share.
His hands curled into fists.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Ryn said quietly.
Kaelen didn't answer.
"You saw those crates. Enough to change everything."
"Or enough to get us both killed."
"Same thing." Ryn leaned back against the railing, arms spread. "Life's just a slower kind of dying, unless you push back."
Kaelen shook his head. "You're reckless."
"I'm alive."
The words echoed in the chamber, carried by dripping water and hissing steam.
---
They returned through the tunnels in silence, emerging hours later into the crowded market level. The Ashlight burned overhead, as steady as always, but to Kaelen it felt harsher now—like it had watched him crawl through the Tower's bones and marked him for it.
Ryn clapped his shoulder. "See you soon, Dray."
Kaelen turned to snap a reply, but the boy was already gone, swallowed by the crowd.
Kaelen clenched the vial tighter and hurried back to Lyra.
---
She was awake when he returned, sitting up weakly against the wall. Her eyes lit at the sight of him, then dropped to the vial in his hand.
"Kael." Her voice trembled.
He knelt beside her, uncorking it carefully. The medicine smelled sharp, sterile. He lifted it to her lips.
She drank slowly, eyes fluttering closed as the liquid slid down her throat. For a moment, the silence was unbearable. Then her breathing eased, the rasp softening.
Kaelen sagged with relief. His chest ached as though he'd been holding his breath for days.
"Better?" he whispered.
She nodded faintly, a smile touching her lips. "Better."
He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "I'll get more. Whatever it takes."
But even as he said it, he knew the truth. One vial wouldn't last. And he couldn't afford another.
Not through dealers. Not through rations.
Only through risk.
Only through Ryn.
---
That night, Kaelen lay awake, the Tower's hum filling the silence. Lyra's breathing was steadier now, but still fragile, still too shallow.
He stared at the ceiling, at the Ashlight that never dimmed.
The Tower had always felt eternal, unbreakable. But now, for the first time, he felt the cracks.
And he realized: maybe the Tower wasn't eternal at all.
Maybe it was waiting to fall.
---