# Chapter 36: The Cost of Alliance
The golden star of the Hunter vanished into the shadows of the far alley, and a moment later, a scream that was not human echoed through the ruined market, followed by an abrupt, deafening silence. Moros's presence receded from their minds, leaving a psychic vacuum that felt colder than his touch. Liraya stared at the empty alleyway, her face a mask of horror and indecision. Belly was in there. Her friend was in there. "We have to go," she whispered, her voice breaking. "We have to help her." But Konto grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "No," he said, his eyes fixed on the Weeping Obelisk, where a faint golden residue now clung to the ancient stone. "We can't beat him. Not like this. But Gideon… he saw it too. That's not just energy. That's a signature. A blueprint. Moros just showed us how he builds his monsters. We don't save Belly by running into his trap. We save her by learning how to tear his world apart."
His words were a splash of ice water on Liraya's panic. She wanted to scream, to argue, to hurl a bolt of pure Aspect at the cold logic in his voice. But he was right. The raw, terrifying power Moros had displayed was not something they could challenge head-on. It was a force of nature, a tidal wave of will that had casually unmade a creature of nightmare. To run into its path was suicide. Her duty, her heart, and her mind were at war, the conflict leaving her trembling.
Before she could form a response, a new sound cut through the post-battle quiet. It was a low, guttural growl, vibrating not in the air but in the bones. From the shadows between two shattered stalls, a new form emerged. It was not the Hunter. This thing was smaller, leaner, built of coalesced shadow and glinting, razor-sharp obsidian. It was a hound, its body a fluid nightmare of shifting angles and too many joints. Its eyes burned with the same malevolent violet light as the Hunter, but this was a lesser light, a pale imitation. The Somnambulist was not done. She had sent her watchdog to finish the job.
Anya let out a choked sob, her precognition flashing a dozen different deaths in a single, agonizing second. "It's too fast!" she cried, burrowing into Gideon's side. The ex-Templar raised his hammer, the head glowing with a dim, earthy light, but he knew he was too slow. The creature was a blur of motion, a streak of death aimed directly at the most vulnerable member of their group: Edi, who was still frantically working at his console, oblivious to the new threat.
There was no time for strategy. No time for a plan. There was only the creature, the target, and the impossible space between them. In that split second, Konto made his choice. He let go of Liraya's arm and took a staggering step forward, placing himself between the hound and Edi. He closed his eyes, not to shut the world out, but to dive in deeper. He had been holding back, treating his power like a scalpel, a tool for delicate extraction. Now, he needed a sledgehammer. He needed a bomb.
He reached for the core of his Dreamwalker ability, the part that let him touch the subconscious of others. But instead of gently knocking, he kicked the door in. He plunged his own consciousness into the psychic current of the Night Market, into the ambient fear and lingering echoes of the Hunter's passage. He opened himself to it all, letting the raw, unfiltered dream-stuff flood his mind. The pain was immediate and excruciating, a thousand needles of ice driving into his brain. The world dissolved into a cacophony of stolen memories, half-formed nightmares, and the city's collective anxieties. He felt his own sense of self begin to fray, the edges of his identity blurring into the chaos. This was the brink of Somnolent Corruption, the point of no return, and he was willingly leaping into the abyss.
He focused the torrent of psychic energy, shaping it with a sheer force of will that was tearing him apart. He didn't have the finesse to build a shield or a weapon. He had only one option: to meet the creature's mind with his own. He projected his consciousness forward, a raw, screaming wave of pure mental force, aimed directly at the hound's core.
The psychic impact was silent but devastating. The hound, mid-leap, froze in the air, its form flickering violently. It let out a yelp that was both physical and mental, a sound of psychic feedback. Konto screamed, a raw, guttural sound torn from his throat as the creature's alien mind fought back, a venomous cocktail of rage and hunger that seared his thoughts. He could feel his own memories starting to unravel, the image of Elara's face in her hospital bed twisting into a monstrous mask. He was losing. The abyss was pulling him under.
Liraya saw it all. She saw Konto's body go rigid, a thin trickle of blood leaking from his nose. She saw the raw, untamed power he was unleashing, and she saw the terrible price he was paying. He was trying to save them all by destroying himself. Her duty, her rules, her carefully constructed world of logic and procedure evaporated in the face of his sacrifice. This wasn't about the Magisterium or the law anymore. It was about the man who was burning his own soul to protect them.
Trust. It was a currency she rarely spent, and never so recklessly. But there was no other way.
She slammed her hands together, her Aspect tattoos flaring to life, the intricate runes on her forearms glowing with a brilliant, sapphire light. "Konto!" she yelled, her voice ringing with an authority she didn't know she possessed. "Don't you dare let go!"
She reached out, not with her hands, but with her magic. She didn't try to attack the creature or shield Konto. That would only interfere. Instead, she did something far more dangerous. She opened a direct channel, pouring her own energy, her own life force, directly into him. It was an act of utter vulnerability, a merging of their two very different powers. Her structured, scientific Aspect Weaving was a river of pure, controlled energy flowing into the chaotic, psychic ocean of his Dreamwalking. The connection was jarring, a raw and intimate fusion of their minds. She felt his pain, his guilt, his desperate love for his comatose partner. He felt her iron will, her fierce loyalty, the crushing weight of her noble heritage.
The effect was instantaneous. Konto's psychic scream became a roar of power. The chaotic energy he was wielding suddenly found structure, a conduit, a focus. Liraya's Aspect energy acted as a lens, concentrating his raw psychic force into a single, incandescent point. He was no longer just flailing in the dark; he was a surgeon with a laser scalpel.
*GET OUT!* The command was not spoken but slammed into the hound's mind with the force of a physical blow. It was an order backed by the combined will of a Dreamwalker on the edge of oblivion and a mage pouring her very soul into the fight.
The creature of shadow and obsidian couldn't withstand it. The Somnambulist's control, already tenuous after Moros's intervention, shattered like glass. With a final, mournful keen, the hound dissolved, not into smoke, but into a shower of glittering, violet dust that hung in the air for a moment before winking out of existence.
The psychic backlash hit them both like a physical explosion. Konto was thrown backward, collapsing in a heap on the cracked cobblestones, utterly still. Liraya staggered, her legs giving out from under her. The glow on her arms faded to a faint shimmer, then vanished. She fell to her knees, gasping for air, her body trembling with exhaustion. The cost of their alliance was written on their ashen faces.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant wail of Arcane Warden sirens growing steadily louder. Gideon rushed to Konto's side, checking for a pulse. "He's alive," the grizzled Templar grunted, his voice thick with concern. "But he's deep under. I've never seen anything like it." Anya was already at Liraya's side, supporting the mage, her own face pale but her eyes clear and focused.
Edi finally looked up from his console, his face a mixture of awe and terror. "I got it," he breathed, his fingers flying across the holographic display. "The whole thing. The energy signature from the hound, the feedback loop when you two… merged. It's all here. It's a map. A psychic blueprint of the Somnambulist's control frequency. We can use this to find her. Or to block her."
It was a victory, however pyrrhic. They had survived. They had gained a crucial piece of intelligence. But they were broken, exposed, and the Wardens were almost upon them.
Valerius and his Arcane Wardens stormed into the ruined courtyard, their rune-etched armor gleaming under the flickering emergency lights. Their plasma rifles were raised, targeting the small, exhausted group. "Konto! Liraya! You are all under arrest!" Valerius's voice was a boom of righteous fury, his face a stony mask of duty. "Surrender immediately, or we will be forced to subdue you."
It was over. They had no strength left to fight, no energy to flee. Gideon tightened his grip on his hammer, a last, defiant stand, but even he knew it was hopeless. Anya buried her face in her hands, waiting for the end.
But in the chaos of the Warden's arrival, in the precious seconds where everyone's attention was on the fallen heroes and the commanding Warden, one person saw an opportunity. Kaelen, who had been hiding in the wreckage, his face a mask of terror and cunning, saw his chance. The Resonator. The prize he had betrayed everyone for. It was lying on the ground near Edi's feet, where it had fallen during the fight.
While Valerius was delivering his ultimatum, Kaelen moved. He was a ghost, a whisper of motion in the periphery. He darted forward, snatched the silver case containing the Resonator, and scrambled back into the labyrinthine ruins of the Night Market. He was gone before anyone even registered he was there.
Edi cried out in alarm. "The Resonator! He's got the Resonator!"
Valerius hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze flicking towards the shadows where Kaelen had vanished. It was all the opening Gideon needed. "They're not the enemy here, Valerius!" he roared, pointing a gauntleted finger at the Weeping Obelisk. "The enemy is the one who did *that*! The one who controls the nightmares! You're arresting the wrong people!"
The Warden commander's face was a storm of conflict. He was a man of law and order, but the evidence of a greater, more terrifying power was all around them. The golden residue on the obelisk, the sheer scale of the destruction, the psychic scars that even a non-sensitive could feel in the air.
Liraya, using Gideon's shoulder for support, pushed herself to her feet. Her voice was weak but clear, cutting through the tension. "Valerius, listen to him. This is bigger than us. This goes all the way to the top. The Arch-Mage is involved."
The name hung in the air like a death sentence. Valerius's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. To accuse Moros was heresy, a path to ruin. But as he looked at the devastated scene, at the comatose Dreamwalker and the exhausted mage, at the raw sincerity in Gideon's eyes, a seed of doubt was planted. He lowered his rifle, just an inch. It was not a surrender, but it was a pause.
In that pause, the team made their choice. There was no winning here. Not now. With Anya helping Liraya and Gideon hoisting the unconscious Konto over his shoulder, they began to back away, moving slowly towards the deeper shadows of the Undercity. They were leaving the battlefield, but they were not fleeing in defeat. They were retreating with a new, shared burden and the undeniable truth that they were in this together. The trail was cold, but it wasn't gone. Kaelen had the Resonator, and Edi had the data. The path forward was clear, and it led them into the very heart of the conspiracy: the lawless, black-market heart of the Undercity.