They burst from the hidden tunnel exit into gray daylight, just in time to see the black carriage disappear around a corner. Through its tinted back window, they caught a final glimpse of Hayazaki's gurney being secured by shadowy figures. Then it was gone, swallowed by Sveethlad's maze of streets.
"We can still—" Riley started, but shouts from behind cut her off. Hospital guards had followed them up through the maintenance tunnels, their white uniforms now stained with the grime of their pursuit.
"There! The Zelion and the others!"
They ran. The industrial quarter's narrow streets twisted between massive refineries and processing plants, steam hissing from countless vents. Ash fell like snow, coating their clothes, getting in their eyes. The guards' shouts echoed off metal walls, multiplying until it seemed they were being chased by an army.
"Left!" Shen called, checking his terminal. "We can lose them in the—" He cursed as his display flickered and died. Something in this district was interfering with the signal.
Angela suddenly grabbed his arm, pulling him down a different alley. The others followed without question. She moved with strange certainty through the industrial maze, as if she could sense which turns to take.
A whistle pierced the air - more guards joining the pursuit. Behind them, bootsteps multiplied on metal walkways.
"We can't keep running blind," Kayode gasped. "We need—"
"In here!" Alexander grabbed a rusted door handle as they passed. It opened into darkness and they piled through, Riley barely squeezing her Zelion frame past the frame.
They found themselves in a narrow shop, medical supplies lining the walls. Behind a counter stood a woman who seemed both young and old at once, calmly measuring powder into small glass vials as if being burst in on by fugitives was an everyday occurrence.
"The back room," she said without looking up. "Behind the green curtain. Quickly now."
They hesitated for only a moment before Angela pushed forward, parting the curtain. As they hurried through, Riley heard the shop door open again, heard the woman's calm voice addressing their pursuers:
"Looking for someone? I'm afraid it's just me and my remedies here. Though you boys look like you could use some throat soothers, all that shouting..."
The curtain fell closed behind them, muffling whatever came next.
The back room was larger than the narrow shop front suggested, though Riley's Zelion frame still made the space feel cramped. Shelves lined the walls, holding bottles and jars whose contents caught what little light filtered through a high window. Some of the containers seemed to glow with their own faint luminescence.
They stood in tense silence, listening to the muffled conversation beyond the curtain. The woman's voice remained steady, almost bored, while the guards' angry questions grew increasingly uncertain. Finally, the sound of retreating footsteps, then silence.
The sudden absence of pursuit made them all too aware of their surroundings. The air here was different - clearer somehow, lacking the chemical bite they'd grown accustomed to in the streets. Each breath felt like a small revelation, making them dizzy with its unfamiliar purity.
"That was too close," Kayode muttered, leaning against a shelf. Small glass vials clinked behind him, and he straightened quickly, afraid of disturbing anything in this strange space.
"And we lost Hayazaki," Riley added softly. She tried to straighten but had to stoop again as her head brushed the ceiling. "That carriage knew exactly where it was going."
Alexander had drifted to the window, watching ash fall like gray snow in the narrow slice of visible street. "We don't even know who took him. Or why they'd target him specifically."
The curtain moved slightly in a breeze none of them could feel. The room's shadows seemed to shift with it, though the light hadn't changed. Angela, who had been examining the shelved bottles with quiet intensity, suddenly turned toward the doorway.
A moment later, the curtain parted.
The woman entered without hurry, as if fugitives regularly appeared in her back room. Up close, they could study her properly - the strange contradiction between her seemingly young features and ancient eyes, the peculiar arrangement of pendants at her throat that marked her as something more than a simple shopkeeper.
She regarded them each in turn, her gaze lingering slightly longer on Angela before sweeping the room as if checking that nothing had been disturbed by their presence.
"Well," she said finally, her voice carrying that same calm from before, "you've had quite a morning, haven't you?"
The silence stretched between them until the woman shrugged, a surprisingly casual gesture that seemed at odds with her careful arrangement of pendants and rings. "I'm just a humble shopkeeper," she said, her voice carrying warmth despite its measured tone. "One who happens to make excellent tea." She moved toward a small stove in the corner that none of them had noticed before. "I understand your caution, of course. These are cautious times. But I hope you won't refuse the tea - in my experience, only the rudest of people refuse tea when it's offered."
The group exchanged glances. Riley's massive frame still hunched awkwardly in the space, Kayode's hand hadn't left the broken pottery shard he picked up from the chase earlier, that was lodged at his belt, and Shen's eyes kept darting between the exits. But there was something in the woman's manner - perhaps the way she moved through her space with such natural grace, or how the very air seemed clearer in her presence - that made their tension feel suddenly foolish.
Angela broke the silence. "Tea would be nice," she said softly, and something passed between her and the woman - a look of recognition, though neither acknowledged it. The others found themselves nodding in agreement.
"Wonderful," the woman said, turning to the stove. Her movements as she prepared the tea had an almost ritualistic quality - each gesture precise yet natural, like a dance performed so many times it had become unconscious. The pendants at her throat clinked gently with her movements, their sound mixing with the quiet bubble of heating water and the distant hiss of the industrial quarter beyond her walls.
Steam began to rise from her kettle, carrying an unfamiliar fragrance that made them think of morning dew and clean air - things they hadn't experienced in this ash-choked city for the few hours they had been there, but somehow remembered all the same.
"My goodness," the woman said, handing them each a steaming cup, "you all look like frightened cats in a strange alley." Her eyes crinkled with amusement as they stood frozen, cups held carefully, stealing glances at each other as if seeking consensus on whether to drink.
All except Angela, who had already settled into a worn armchair in the corner, her cup cradled in both hands as steam curled around her face. The woman gestured to the rest of them. "Please, find yourselves a space. I promise nothing here bites."
The request sparked a gentle chaos. Riley, still conscious of her Zelion bulk, tried to lower herself onto what looked like a sturdy bench, only to realize it was actually a long display case filled with delicate glass instruments. She jerked back up, nearly colliding with Alexander, who was attempting to navigate around a towering stack of books that seemed to defy gravity.
Kayode spotted what appeared to be a clear patch of floor, only to discover it was occupied by an intricate arrangement of copper tubes that snaked across the floorboards in some mysterious pattern. His careful step backward caused Shen to stumble, sloshing tea dangerously close to a shelf lined with bottles containing luminescent liquids.
"Careful of the basilisk eggs," the woman called out as Surya nearly sat on a covered basket. He leaped up as if stung, then caught her slight smile. "I'm joking. It's just dried herbs."
The room was a maze of the unexpected - tables cluttered with mysterious devices, shelves crammed with jars whose contents shifted like liquid starlight, hanging bundles of plants they'd never seen before, and everywhere, seemingly random arrangements of tubes and bottles that probably made sense to someone, though certainly not to them.
Eventually, they found their places: Riley perched on a low, sturdy table that the woman had cleared with a sweep of her arm; Alexander wedged between two bookcases; Kayode cross-legged on a patch of clear floor; Shen balanced on what might have been a tall stool or possibly some kind of distillation apparatus; and Surya finally, cautiously, settling on the basket of "definitely just herbs."
Their host watched this delicate choreography with poorly concealed entertainment, her eyes twinkling over the rim of her own cup.
"So," the woman said, settling into her own chair, "what brings a group like yourselves to be running from enforcers? They seemed quite determined."
Shen set his cup down carefully. "We'd heard about the raid survivors at the hospital," he said, keeping his voice casual. "Thought it might be worth seeing them, given how much everyone talks about them. Apparently, the enforcers don't appreciate curious onlookers."
Something flickered in the woman's eyes. "Ah, the survivors. Yes, they've become quite the sensation, haven't they?" She studied them over her cup. "Eight people who lived through something that killed thousands. The whole city's fascinated - though whether it's hope or fear driving that fascination, well..." She let the thought trail off.
Shen recognized the opening. "We've heard different stories about what happened during the raid. Hard to separate truth from rumor these days."
"Indeed." The woman's pendants clinked softly as she leaned forward. "They say the raid party was massive - every major house sent their finest. Warriors, healers, even some of the nobility themselves. All marching into the Undawild with such certainty." Her voice took on a distant quality. "No one expected such complete devastation. Now everyone wants to know how those eight survived when so many others fell."
The others tensed slightly at her words, but Shen pressed on: "The survivors - are they still being kept at the hospital?"
"Some say they're under the Operating Theatre's protection. Others claim they've vanished entirely." She gave them a measured look. "Curious that you'd risk confronting enforcers just to catch a glimpse of them."
Shen felt the conversation's delicate balance shifting. He needed to redirect it before their interest seemed too suspicious. "In times like these, people cling to stories of survival. We just wanted to see if the tales were true."