Deborah's POV
I was still processing everything David had revealed. He led us through a series of narrow, abandoned passageways until we emerged into a vast, cavernous space.
It was even larger and more desolate than I had imagined, swallowing up every sound that broke the silence.
The towering walls loomed high above us, and the hollow ceiling stretched up into darkness like an endless void, devouring all light and hope.
I glanced around, feeling a sudden surge of melancholy and awe wash over me.
This place… It must have once been a bustling mining site, filled with the clamor of machinery and the shouts of workers toiling under harsh lights.
The echoes of past activity seemed to linger faintly in the air, but now all that remained was emptiness and the faint whisper of memories long gone.
The once-vibrant veins of Falshi had been stripped away, leaving only traces of its former glory glinting weakly in the shadows, as if silently mourning what was lost.
Every inch of this abandoned quarry seemed to cry out in despair.
The scene reminded me of Earth: once brimming with life, now reduced to a desolate wasteland.
This place, like our planet, was a stark reminder of the fragility of power and prosperity— a monument to the rise and fall of civilizations.
It was as if I was standing in the ruins of a world that had once held so much promise, only to crumble into dust and be forgotten.
David pushed open a rusty iron door and led us into what seemed to be the old quarry's office.
To my surprise, the room was not covered in the expected layer of dust and cobwebs. Instead, it felt strangely lived-in, as if someone had been using it regularly.
Chairs were arranged neatly around a table, notebooks and pens were lined up meticulously, and even the blackboard on the wall had recently been wiped clean.
"This place looks like it's still in use," I murmured, surveying the surroundings.
David nodded and pulled a flashlight from one of the drawers.
He switched it on, illuminating the room with a sharp beam of light. I noticed for the first time that there was not a single speck of dirt on the desk. Even the cushions on the chairs appeared freshly dusted.
"Murias is covered in surveillance cameras. Every corner is monitored, every move is recorded," he said softly. "But this place—this is the only exception. Officially, it's listed as NO. 7 Quarry, a decommissioned site. In Murias, only the abandoned sites are given unique names—numbers, to mark their end."
I frowned slightly, trying to comprehend the significance. "So, why here?"
"Because it's the only place without cameras or listening devices. No one remembers this place exists. And no one wants to come back here. I come here often to think… about certain things."
"Think about what?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"About his father's death," Matthew interjected quietly.
The atmosphere shifted instantly, growing heavy and tense. David's expression darkened, and he looked away, as if weighing his words carefully.
And then I saw it—his eyes reflecting a vow unspoken. [Colonel Joseph Miller. I will avenge you, Father.]
Joseph Miller. That name… I had heard it before, from Ryan. He had mentioned the former Colonel briefly, almost dismissively, as if he were a ghost of the past.
"Joseph Miller," I whispered, watching David's face closely.
His eyes widened, and he turned to me sharply, his gaze piercing. "How do you know that name?"
I hesitated, choosing my words with care. "A Major mentioned him to me."
His gaze narrowed. "Ryan Green?"
"Yes."
He let out a derisive laugh, one that was bitter and hollow. "That lapdog… He used to grovel at my father's feet, and now he's switched to kissing Peter Cox's boots. A spineless, two-faced bastard."
Matthew snorted in agreement, a look of satisfaction crossing his features. "Couldn't have said it better myself. That guy is worthless."
I didn't respond. My aim wasn't to vilify Ryan, but to extract as much information as I could from David. "So… your father's death—was it really just an accident?"
David's expression hardened, and he fell silent, eyes clouded with something dark and unreadable.
"So you've been investigating?" I pressed gently.
"If I said yes, would you be surprised?" he shot back, his gaze as sharp as a blade.
I felt my breath hitch under his scrutiny but refused to look away. "Because I want to know everything about the surface, and about the werewolves."
Matthew stiffened beside me, his confusion evident. His eyes darted between David and me, as if trying to piece together a puzzle he didn't even know existed.
"Werewolves?" he echoed, a voice thick with disbelief. "Wait, are you seriously saying… there are werewolves?"
David turned to him, his expression calm and steady. "Didn't you realize it by now?"
Matthew shook his head violently, his face a mask of denial.
"Then… does that mean I'm a werewolf, too?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking with a mixture of fear and uncertainty.
David nodded slowly. "Not just you. Every single person they call 'slave blood' is a werewolf."
Matthew reeled back as if struck. His face drained of color, and his lips trembled as he struggled to process this revelation. "No… That's not possible… I'm not… I'm just…"
"You all have golden eyes," David continued softly. "That's the most distinctive trait of a werewolf."
Matthew stared at him, then at me, his world visibly crumbling around him.
"But I've never felt… different," he mumbled, shaking his head. "I don't have any powers. I can't shift. I don't feel anything."
David's gaze softened slightly. "Maybe that's because you never knew what you were. Your strength is inborn, a part of who you are. But transformation… requires special conditions."
"Like a full moon?" I offered quietly.
David nodded. "Yes, like a full moon."
Matthew continued to shake his head, his expression dazed. He turned to me, his eyes pleading, as if begging me to deny everything.
"I…" I reached out, taking his hand in mine, feeling the slight tremor beneath my fingers. "Matthew, listen to me. I know this is a lot to take in."
He took a deep breath, struggling to regain his composure.
"Why were werewolves assigned to the Falshi mines?" I asked David.
"Because they're the only ones who can withstand the radiation," he replied calmly.
"And perhaps the only ones who can survive on the surface," I added, watching his reaction.
David raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think that?"
I smiled faintly. "Call it intuition."
David's lips twitched into a small smile. "That's one hell of an intuition. There was one who made it back… A half-werewolf."
Matthew and I exchanged shocked glances.
"A half-werewolf… came back?" I repeated, my voice trembling with disbelief.
David nodded, his gaze growing distant. "I overheard my father talking about it. But I was only a Major back then. It wasn't my business to know. All I remember is… my father and a mysterious man discussing it."
"A mysterious man?"