I manage to grab onto the seat, my heart pounding in my chest. Blood runs cold through my veins. What the hell is happening? The deafening sound of metal screeching against metal fills the air as the carriage plunges, dropping us deeper into the abyss.
The descent is wild, unrelenting until the carriage slams to a halt with a jarring screech. The heavy wheels grind against cracked cobblestones, shaking my bones to the core. For a breathless moment, I forget how to breathe. Leonhart stretches lazily, like he's just woken from a nap, before offering me his hand with that infuriatingly smug grin.
I hesitate only a second before stepping into the cold, dim chaos of Solisra.
The air here is thick—like it's been marinating in smoke, sweat, and things I'd rather not think about. It's dark as if the sun has been swallowed whole. Thirty minutes ago, I was standing in daylight. Now, neon lights spill from a thousand grimy windows, casting sickly greens, reds, and purples over everything. Bridges crisscross overhead, connecting the buildings like a spiderweb we passed through when falling.
The noise hits me like a wall. People shout, steam hisses from unseen vents, and the groan of gears turning above us creates an ever-present hum. The undercity is alive, but it's not the kind of life you find in the upper city. This is a pulse of desperation—people barely scraping by, broken in body or spirit, but too damn stubborn to quit.
"May I escort you, my lady?" Leonhart asks, his eyes scanning our surroundings with a sharpness that makes me uneasy. "Got a bad taste in my mouth since yesterday. Feels like something's about to go sideways. But don't worry—stick close, or you'll end up in Soot's Kiss."
I don't argue, letting him take my hand. And besides, I'm too busy wondering what the hell "Soot's Kiss" even means.
The streets are a tangled mess, lined with rusting iron arches that groan under their own weight. The sky above is just a sliver, almost lost amidst the thick smoke rising from chimneys. The alleyways are cramped, and slick with grime and oil, and the air reeks of rot and burnt metal.
"Isaiah said," I shout over the cacophony, leaning closer so Leonhart can hear. He bends his ear toward me without breaking stride. "The bar's just past the warehouse... in the heart of Solisra."
"He's half-right," Leonhart calls back, his voice almost drowned out by the noise. "But tell me, who really knows the heart of anything? Even we demons hide our hearts, love, from our fellow demons."
"Shouldn't it be from angels?" I mutter, dodging a puddle that looks more like toxic sludge than water.
"We were once angels too, love, so it doesn't matter," he says, flashing me that wicked grin. "But every angel that falls here ends up a demon sooner or later."
"Yeah, we'll see about that."
He just nods, as if it's a challenge. "Oh, we will," he says, and there's a glint in his eye that makes me want to punch him. But I hold my tongue. For now.
We push through a bustling market. An old woman sells shriveled fruits that look like they might bite back if you're not careful. Nearby, a fishman slices open a grotesque fish, its insides spilling onto the cobblestones as blood splatters across his scaly face.
Groups of men stand in clusters, smoking pipes that emit blue and green smoke, the colors swirling in the air like ghostly serpents. Someone gets thrown out of a bar, swearing words that sound like a curse in some ancient tongue. Women with faces painted too thickly in makeup blow smoky kisses our way, laughter like broken glass in the air. Above them, a neon sign flickers: "Soot's Kiss."
Leonhart's eyes narrow as we pass by, a silent warning to me. "Watch your step," he murmurs, almost too casually, as we approach a group of guards. They're armed to the teeth, armor dented and worn, but they look too bored to be bothered with us. One of them grunts something incomprehensible, while another, hidden behind a mask, gives me a slow, appraising look that sends a shiver down my spine.
We descend a short staircase, and the chaos dulls just a bit. The crowd thins out, replaced by watchful eyes and the tense murmur of conversations cut short as we pass. It feels like we've entered a ring of predators—men with broad shoulders and sharper weapons eye us with suspicion.
Finally, the crowd parts, revealing a large open space. The noise swells again, louder, as if we've walked straight into the belly of a beast. At the center stands a building with a garish neon sign: "Heavenspire." The last "e" drips with what looks like animated beer.
"Home, sweet home," Leonhart says, throwing his arms wide. My stomach tightens with unease.
"That's yet to be decided," I mutter under my breath.
"Oh, tough girl now, are we?" He gives my shoulder a playful shove before striding confidently through the crowd. I follow, pulling my hat down lower, nerves coiling tighter with each step.
What if that bitch of Iza playing with me? Or worse, what if he realizes I'm not who I say I am?
"After you, my lady," Leonhart says, holding the door open with a flourish. I grit my teeth and stride past him into the bar, the warm gust of whiskey and gods-know-what slapping me in the face. "Knock it off," I snap, pulling my collar up as if it'll protect me from the stares that greet us.
Inside, the bar is dimly lit but carries a faint air of something trying to be luxurious. The polished wood counters reflect the flickering lanterns, and the patrons—better dressed than the ones outside—still have that hollow, dead look in their eyes. In the corners, whispers and deals are exchanged in hushed tones.
A distant song plays, muffled and distorted, as if it's being dragged from another world. A few figures hunch over dice games, while a couple in the corner laugh softly, oblivious to the world around them.
Leonhart leans against the bar, signaling to the bartender. I take a seat beside him, trying not to flinch under the curious gazes. "He's not here," Leonhart mutters, his eyes scanning the room. "Maybe we should head upstairs and find Melanie—"
Before he can move, I grab his arm. "Order me a drink," I whisper, eyes darting around.
He raises an eyebrow but turns to the bartender. "A cool drink for the lady, and the usual poison for me, Jay."
"... Right away, boss."
"Just point him out to me," I say in a low voice, leaning in closer. "I... don't remember what he looks like."
"Oh?" Leonhart chuckles darkly, clearly not buying my excuse. "What's the matter, darling? Second thoughts about your 'family reunion'?"
I glare at him. "Just making sure a perfect landing in hell,"
He smirks, lifting his glass. "Oh no, Love... here's to a crash landing,"