The undercity howled with pursuit.
Boots hammered against stone, shields clashed, and the Solar Guard's voices rang with righteous fury. Their armor threw back the faint glow of guttering aether-lamps, a moving wall of gold that cut through the darkness like a blade through flesh.
Lyra dragged Elian through the twisting alleys, her grip iron on his arm despite the blood slicking her fingers. Her pace was brutal, efficient. She knew these warrens—ducking under sagging bridges, weaving through archways draped with laundry that reeked of mildew and sweat.
Elian stumbled, every breath a rasping knife in his chest. His side burned where the spear had grazed him, the wound soaking his robe scarlet. His legs threatened to buckle.
"Keep moving," Lyra hissed without looking back. "You collapse, you die. Simple as that."
"I can't—" His voice cracked, throat raw.
She stopped so suddenly he nearly slammed into her. Her pistol snapped up, barrel pressed against his temple. Her eyes, sharp and merciless, pinned him.
"You can. Or I put you down here and now and save us both the trouble."
The void stirred at the threat, coiling through his veins, whispering to lash out, to end her. He clenched his jaw until his teeth ached.
"I'll… move."
Lyra lowered the pistol, shoving him forward. "Good boy."
They burst into a wider passage where the undercity opened into a forgotten plaza. A dried fountain crouched at its center, carved into the shape of a sunburst now blackened with soot. Broken aether-lamps leaned at drunken angles, their glass shattered, their light long dead.
The Guard poured in from the other side, shields locking with practiced precision. At their head strode Kaelen, his blade a white flame in the dark.
"Heretic!" His voice carried like thunder, echoing against the stone. "Do not think the shadows will hide you. The Sun sees all!"
Elian's knees nearly gave way. That voice—unyielding, absolute—wasn't simply hunting him. It was pronouncing sentence.
Lyra swore under her breath. "They brought Kaelen himself? What in all the broken heavens did you do?"
"I—I don't—"
The Guards advanced, step by relentless step.
Lyra spat. "Fine. Then we fight."
The first volley came swift—javelins arcing through the air, their tips blazing with golden enchantments. Lyra dove, dragging Elian down behind the fountain's crumbling rim. Stone shattered, sparks showered, shards slicing across Elian's cheek.
"Stay down!" Lyra barked. She snapped her pistol up, squeezing the trigger. A crack of aether-fire split the air, the recoil jerking her arm. One Guard staggered, his shield arm blown apart in a spray of blood and metal.
The sight froze Elian's breath. So sudden. So brutal.
The void surged in him, restless, eager. His palms itched, black sparks crackling at his fingertips.
Another spear whistled down, embedding in the fountain's rim inches from his skull.
"Gods damn it," Lyra snarled. She glanced at him, eyes narrowed. "You've got power, don't you? Use it, or we're both corpses."
Elian shook his head violently. "If I use it—I'll kill—"
"You think they'll show mercy?" She fired again, the shot ripping through another Guard's throat in a spray of arterial red. "Welcome to the undercity, Archivist. Mercy's a myth."
The Guards broke formation, charging. Shields up, blades high.
Kaelen's voice rose above the din: "Seize them! By the Sun, no shadow shall escape!"
Something inside Elian snapped.
The void poured out of him like a dam breaking, cold and ravenous. Black tendrils ripped through the air, slamming into the charging soldiers. One was flung bodily into a wall, bones crunching like twigs. Another's helmet caved inward under the crushing force, blood spraying across his comrades' shields.
The shadows thickened, writhing like serpents. Elian could feel them—feel the heat of life in every Guard they touched, feel the fragile spark that was their starlight. And he could snuff it out. So easily.
Yes, the voice purred. Take them. They are yours to unmake.
"No!" Elian roared, staggering, forcing his arms down, willing the shadows back. But they resisted, lashing wildly, hungering for more.
The plaza became a slaughterhouse. Guards screamed, their golden armor buckling, blood steaming where void met flesh. The air reeked of iron and smoke.
Kaelen alone stood firm. His blade cleaved through a shadow tendril, the strike blazing with pure solar fire. He advanced through the carnage, eyes locked on Elian.
"Monster," he spat. "You've betrayed the stars themselves."
Elian stumbled back, tears burning his eyes. "I didn't choose this!"
Kaelen's sword swung, radiant and merciless.
At the last instant, Lyra shoved Elian aside, the blade carving sparks against stone where his skull had been. She fired point-blank, the shot slamming into Kaelen's pauldron. The bullet shattered, harmless against the star-metal.
Kaelen didn't flinch. His eyes flicked to Lyra, just long enough for Elian to see the promise of her death in them.
"Run!" Lyra snarled, grabbing Elian's arm again. "Now!"
They bolted through a side passage, Kaelen's roar echoing behind them.
The void still throbbed in Elian's veins, raw and unstable. Every heartbeat felt like it would tear him apart. His vision swam with afterimages of the dead—twisted faces, broken bodies, blood pooling black under faint light.
His hands shook violently. He had done that. He had unleashed that horror.
"You're pale as death," Lyra muttered, half-dragging him as they sprinted. "Don't you dare collapse on me."
Elian's voice cracked. "I… I killed them."
"Good," she shot back without hesitation. "Better them than us."
The words struck him like a slap. She meant it. She didn't care about their screams, their blood on the stones. To her, survival was all that mattered.
And yet—part of him knew she was right.
They burst out into a hidden dock where the undercity met the river. Rotting timbers jutted from the black water, lanterns swaying on rusted chains. Small skiffs rocked against their moorings, most half-sunk or stripped for parts.
Lyra cursed under her breath. "Damn it. I was hoping…" Her eyes darted, calculating. "We'll have to steal one."
Behind them, the clamor of pursuit grew louder.
Elian swayed, clutching his wound. "I can't—"
Lyra spun on him, seizing his collar. Her eyes blazed, her face inches from his.
"Listen to me, Archivist. You don't get to collapse. Not now. You've got a storm inside you that can tear through Solar Guard like paper. You can damn well survive long enough to row a boat."
Her words cut, harsh and true.
Elian nodded weakly, forcing his legs to obey.
Lyra shoved him toward the nearest skiff. "Good. Now move, before your knight in shining armor carves us both into ribbons."
Behind them, Kaelen's voice roared across the dock:
"Elian! You cannot run from what you are!"
Elian froze at the words, dread crawling up his spine.
Lyra snarled, snapping her pistol up and firing back down the alley. Sparks flared as the shot ricocheted off Kaelen's shield.
"Row, damn you!" she shouted.
Elian stumbled into the skiff, collapsing onto the damp wood. His blood smeared across its planks as he seized the oars with trembling hands.
As the boat scraped free of the dock, the void whispered in his skull once more:
He is right. You cannot run. You can only fall.
The dark water swallowed them, the river carrying them into deeper shadow.