The trench twisted through the fields like a forgotten scar, carved decades ago when the empire tried to irrigate farmland that no longer existed. Grass had grown wild across the plain, hiding the old waterways from anyone who didn't know where to look. Down here, the world narrowed to a thin corridor of sloped earth and tall stalks swaying overhead.
Ravel and Seris kept a brisk pace, their footsteps muffled by the packed soil. Every now and then, the shadow of a glider swept across the grass above, but none descended low enough to spot them.
Seris stayed alert, eyes flicking between bends in the trench and the slivers of sky visible above. She hadn't spoken since they dropped in. Ravel didn't blame her. Silence meant survival.
Ravel's mind worked even while his feet carried him forward. The barrier. The heat. The pulse that wasn't his heartbeat.
The sphere.
It didn't simply respond to danger. It anticipated it. Guided him. Protected him.
But it wasn't kindness.It was purpose.
He touched the satchel lightly. The sphere's warmth had returned to its steady rhythm, almost like a calm breath.
"Still alive back there?" Seris asked without turning.
"Barely."
"You handled yourself better than most civilians would."
"I'm not most civilians."
Seris almost smiled. "Yes. I noticed."
The trench curved left, then dipped lower until the walls rose above their heads by several meters. The air grew cooler. Ravel could hear faint vibrations carried through the earth, probably from patrol units moving along the field above.
Seris slowed. "Stay close. This is where the trench meets a junction. It'll get tricky to navigate."
Ravel joined her at the next bend. Three paths split off, each heading in a different direction. The walls here were higher, the grass thicker.
Seris crouched and pressed her hand to the soil. "Footprints. Fresh ones."
Ravel tensed. "Soldiers?"
"No. Too light. And too small." She touched the imprint again. "Children."
Ravel blinked. "There are children playing in an imperial trench system that the city hasn't maintained in years?"
Seris frowned. "Not from the city. The farm villages out here use the dry trenches as paths. Safer than walking across open fields."
Ravel processed that. "Safer? In the empire?"
"In the empire, open space makes you a target. Trenches at least give cover."
"Comforting," he muttered.
Seris rose and scanned the three branching paths. "South is that way." She pointed to the darkest of the three tunnels. "We follow it until the ditch ends. Then we'll be near the old ridge road."
Ravel hesitated. "The sphere wants south, but…"
"Something wrong?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Just making sure."
Seris tapped his shoulder lightly. "You need to stop second-guessing yourself."
"I'm trying not to."
"Try harder."
She moved into the southern branch. Ravel followed, but an uneasy thought clung to the edge of his mind. The sphere didn't point vaguely. It aimed. And right now, it pulsed faintly, but not sharply.
It didn't disagree with Seris's direction.But it wasn't urging him forward either.
Something about that made him uneasy.
Minutes passed. The trench narrowed, the walls closing in. Grass hung down in heavy curtains, brushing Ravel's shoulders as he walked. The air felt tight, the path crooked. They passed rusted metal pipes jutting from the earth, remnants of irrigation systems long forgotten.
"Stop," Seris whispered suddenly.
Ravel froze.
She dropped to one knee and pointed at the dirt.
Ravel followed her gaze.
Boot marks. And not small like before. Larger. Deep. Weighted.
"Soldiers," Seris murmured.
Ravel's pulse quickened. "How old?"
"A few hours. Maybe less." She studied the pattern. "A squad of six. Moving fast. No dragging or hesitation. They knew exactly where they were going."
"Why here?"
Seris straightened, eyes narrowing. "Either they were tracking smugglers… or they came for you before the city even flared the alarm."
Ravel frowned. "They couldn't know I'd come this way."
"They don't need to," Seris said. "You came back to Serrin. Anyone with a brain would guess you'd try to leave it again."
Ravel exhaled slowly through his nose. "Wonderful."
Seris drew her blade. The metal reflected a muted silver in the dim light. "Stay behind me. Quietly."
Before Ravel could respond, the sphere pulsed again. This time sharper. Almost like a warning.
"Seris," he whispered, "something's ahead."
She stopped moving. "Can you tell what?"
"No. Just…" Ravel pressed a hand to his chest. "It feels wrong."
Seris listened. At first, there was nothing but the sound of wind brushing the grass above. Then, faintly, something else.
A rustling.Quick.Uneven.
Not footsteps.
Something dragging.
Seris motioned for Ravel to crouch. She moved forward slowly, blade held low.
They reached the next turning… and she froze.
A figure lay slumped against the trench wall.
Ravel's breath caught.
The man wore imperial scout armor, the left side cracked and scorched. His helmet lay shattered beside him. His right hand reached outward, fingers curled as if trying to grab at something that was never there. Dirt stained his lips. His chest didn't rise.
He was dead.
Seris approached first, every motion controlled. She nudged his shoulder with the tip of her blade. No reaction.
"Dead for maybe an hour," she said. "No visible wounds besides the armor damage."
Ravel swallowed. "Then what killed him?"
Seris crouched and studied the armor more closely. Her shoulders tensed.
"This wasn't a blade. Or a rifle. The burn mark is pure resonance."
Ravel stiffened. "The sphere—"
"No," Seris said immediately. "This burn is too wide. Too unstable. Whatever hit him couldn't control its own power."
Ravel's mouth went dry. "Then someone else triggered something they couldn't handle."
Seris rose slowly. "Or someone out here is using a device the empire doesn't understand."
A cold wind drifted through the narrow trench. Ravel felt it settle between his shoulder blades.
Seris pointed down the path. "Stay sharp. If a scout was taken out, something worse is ahead."
They moved again, slower than before.
The trench grew darker. Grass arched overhead until the sky almost disappeared. The air thickened. Ravel felt a prickling sensation crawl along his skin.
The sphere pulsed once.
Then again.
Then harder.
Seris glanced over her shoulder. "Your artifact reacting?"
"Yes."
"To what?"
Ravel didn't know.
But he could feel it.
Something was ahead.Something old.Something that did not belong to the empire or the world they knew.
And the sphere wasn't warning him away.
It was calling him closer.