The night air hit them like a shock as Naryn, the captive, and the injured woman burst out of the warehouse. The narrow streets of Block 5 stretched before them, a maze of shadowed alleys and crumbling buildings. Naryn's mind raced—every turn, every movement has to be calculated. The Zmij wouldn't let them go without a fight.
"Keep running," Naryn growled, supporting the captive's weight as they stumbled. "We're not safe yet."
Behind them, the heavy clamor of boots echoed through the night. The big man's voice roared commands, his rage carrying through the alleys like a storm. "Don't let them get away ! Bring me the boy's head !"
The injured woman, now walking slightly ahead, turned back to Naryn with a grimace. "You really have a knack for making friends, don't you ?"
"Save your breath to run" Naryn shot back. "You want to live ? Focus on running."
She scowled but quickened her pace. The captive wheezed, their breaths shallow and ragged. Naryn spared them a glance. "Stay with me," he muttered. "If you pass out, I'm not carrying you."
"They'll... catch us," the captive murmured, his voice barely audible. "You... don't know what you've done."
"I've given us a chance," Naryn replied, his tone sharp. "Now shut up and keep up."
They darted into an alley, the dim light barely illuminating the way. Naryn paused, listening intently. The sound of footsteps grew closer, splitting off in multiple directions as the Zmij's men spread out.
"We need to split up," the woman hissed. "They'll corner us if we stay together."
Naryn's jaw tightened, weighing the risks. "No" he said finally. "I don't trust you and i don't know why you follow me"
The woman bristled at Naryn's blunt refusal, her scowl deepening. "Follow you ? I'd rather take my chances with the Zmij," she shot back, though the tension in her voice betrayed her bravado.
"Then go," Naryn said coldly, adjusting his grip on the captive. "But don't expect me to save you if they catch you."
She hesitated, her gaze flicking between Naryn and the sound of boots drawing closer. "You think you can handle them all by yourself?"
Naryn met her eyes, his tone sharp and unyielding. "I don't care about handling them. I care about surviving."
The captive wheezed, their weight sagging further against Naryn. "He's... not wrong," they croaked. "The Zmij... don't forgive. They'll kill us all if we're caught."
The woman grimaced, the reality of their situation sinking in. "Fine," she snapped, falling back into step with Naryn. "But if this goes south, don't expect me to be your shield."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Naryn muttered. He scanned the alley ahead, his mind racing. They needed an escape route somewhere the Zmij wouldn't expect them to go. The twisting streets of Block 5 offered countless dead ends, but also opportunities if he played it smart.
Spotting a broken drainage pipe jutting from a nearby building, Naryn made his decision. "There," he said, jerking his head toward it. "We climb."
The woman stared at him, incredulous. "You're kidding. With him?" She pointed to the barely conscious captive.
"Do you have a better idea ?" Naryn snapped. Without waiting for her reply, he slung the captive's arm over his shoulder and moved toward the pipe.
Grimacing, she followed, muttering under her breath. "Next time, I'm sticking with the psychopaths I know."
The climb was slow and grueling, the captive's dead weight threatening to drag them down. Naryn's arms burned, his breath coming in sharp bursts, but he didn't falter. Reaching the rooftop, he hauled the captive up before extending a hand to the woman.
She hesitated for a heartbeat before grudgingly accepting his help. As they crouched low, catching their breath, Naryn peered over the edge. Below, the Zmij's men swarmed the alley, their torches flickering like fireflies in the dark.
Naryn's breath hitched as a memory slammed into him. Marsha. In the chaos, he'd forgotten her. His own words echoed in his mind: "Stay hidden. Don't move until I come back." She was still out there—alone, defenseless, and waiting for him.
The weight of his mistake crushed down on him, and a cold, bitter thought clawed its way to the surface: I shouldn't have left her. His stomach churned with self-loathing, his teeth sinking into his lip so hard it drew blood. There was no excuse for what he'd done, no rationalization that could make it acceptable.
"Hey," the woman's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "What's wrong with you ?" Her tone was sharp, almost accusatory. "You're shaking like you see a ghost."
Naryn wiped the blood from his lip. "Nothing."
"Doesn't look like it," she pressed, narrowing her eyes. "You've been acting like you've got all the answers, but now you look like you've seen a ghost."
His glare was ice. "Shut up and focus. We're not safe yet."
She raised her hands defensively, clearly unimpressed. "Fine. Suit yourself. But whatever you're hiding, it better not get us killed."
Naryn didn't respond. His mind raced, seizing his, options. The Zmij were still scouring the alleys below, their shouts carrying up to the rooftop. If he went back for Marsha now, he risked leading them straight to her. If he didn't…
He couldn't finish the thought. The very idea of leaving her behind was unbearable, but he wasn't in a position to make rash decisions. Think..Focus.
The captive stirred weakly, their voice rasping, pulling him back to the moment. "What... now ?"
Naryn straightened, forcing himself to compartmentalize his guilt. He had to handle the immediate threat before he could act on anything else. His sister's safety depended on him staying alive long enough to fix this mess.
"Now we move," he said, his tone clipped. His gaze flicked to the woman. "We need to lead them away from here."
"And then what ?" she asked, folding her arms.
"Then I do what I should've done from the start." His eyes burned with a fierce determination. "I fix my mistake."
The woman stared at him, her brow furrowed. Something in Naryn's tone gave her pause. She crossed her arms, leaning slightly forward. "Mistake, huh ? Care to share with us, or is this another one of those nonsense plan you have?"
Naryn's jaw tightened. "It not of your concern."
"Figured as much." She scoffed, shaking her head. "Let me guess—you're one of those types. Got a savior complex, don't you ? Think the world rides on your shoulders ?"
"Save your breath," Naryn shot back, his voice cold. "You can leave anytime. No one's forcing you to stay."
"Yeah, except the part where your mess became my mess," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks for that, by the way."
"Keep talking, and I might start regretting letting you live."
The woman smirked, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. "You're a real piece of work, kid."
Ignoring her, Naryn turned his attention back to the rooftop edge. The Zmij's men were spreading out, their torches dividing into smaller groups as they combed the area. The big man's voice carried faintly through the night, barking orders.
"They're splitting up," Naryn muttered, to himself. His mind was already forming a plan, though it was far from perfect. He glanced at the captive, who was slumped against a ventilation pipe, their breathing shallow. "You. Can you move on your own ?"
The captive groaned weakly. "Not... fast."
"Find a way too move." Naryn grimaced. Every second they spent exposed on this rooftop increased the chances of being spotted.
The woman crouched beside the captive, checking their pulse. "This one's not gonna make it far. You drag them any longer, you'll be dead weight too."
"Then give me a better option," Naryn snapped. His mind flicked back to Marsha still out there, vulnerable. He couldn't afford to waste time.
The woman hesitated, her expression shifting as she seemed to weigh her next words carefully. "Look, I don't know what you've got riding on this, but... if you've got somewhere more important to be, cut your losses."
Naryn's gaze shifted to the captive, his expression unreadable but his tone sharp. "Hey. If I leave you here, can you survive on your own ?"
The captive's head lolled weakly, but they forced their eyes open, grimacing through the pain. "I...i can try" they croaked, though the tremor in their voice betrayed their fear. "You... you've already done enough."
The woman snorted, crossing her arms. "Yeah, sure. Leave him up there, surrounded by Zmij. Sounds like a solid plan." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was an edge of genuine concern beneath it.
Naryn ignored her, crouching closer to the captive. "Are you sure ?" His voice dropped, almost soft. "Because if I leave you and you die, it's on you."
The captive let out a weak chuckle, wincing as the effort sent a fresh wave of pain through their body. "It's not like I'm in a position to argue... Just... don't let them get what they're after."
Naryn's jaw tightened, giving the captive one last assessing look. "Fine. I'll leave you here. But I'll come back," he said firmly, his voice carrying an edge of determination. "Just don't die before I return. You've managed this long hold out a little longer."
The captive gave a faint nod, their lips quirking into a weak, grim smile. "No promises, kid... but I'll try my best."
The woman leaned against the rooftop's edge, her arms still crossed. "You've got a lot of faith in someone who can barely breathe," she muttered. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Naryn. "But hey, your life. Your call."
Without sparing her a glance, Naryn turned to her. "You want to keep talking, or do you want to help me make sure we both get out of this alive huh ?"
She raised her hands in mock surrender. "Relax, hero. I'm with you though I can't say I share your optimism about this little reunion plan."
Naryn crouched to check the captive one last time, adjusting their position to keep them hidden behind a ventilation pipe. He glanced around the rooftop, his eyes scanning for any sign of the Zmij. "Stay out of their view," he instructed the captive. "Don't make any sound."
The captive clutched the dagger he'd given them earlier, their grip weak but determined. "Go. Do what you have to."
Naryn gave a single nod before turning to the woman. "Let's move. We're wasting our time."
"Lead the way, fearless leader," she said, though her tone was less biting than before. There was something almost begrudging in her acceptance.
They slipped across the rooftop, moving with practiced silence. Naryn's mind raced not just with thoughts of evading the Zmij, but of Marsha. The gnawing guilt from earlier twisted in his gut. He couldn't fail her. Not again.
Naryn and the woman navigated the rooftops, the faint glow of torches below marking the Zmij's relentless search. Each step was meticulous, potential escape or threat. Naryn's mind churned with thoughts of Marsha, the memory of telling her to hide echoing like a haunting refrain.
The woman's voice broke the tense silence. "You've got that look on your face again," she said, her tone low to avoid drawing attention. "Like you're about to do something reckless."
"Stay quiet," Naryn hissed, his eyes darting across the skyline for their next move. "Focus on not getting killed."
"Fine," she muttered, but her gaze lingered on him, suspicious. "But if you're about to pull a heroic stunt, at least give me a heads-up."
Naryn ignored her, his focus shifting to a narrow alley below. The flickering torchlight didn't reach its depths, making it a promising escape route. He crouched low and whispered, "We drop here. Stay close and don't say a word."
She followed his gaze, her lips thinning. "You're sure about this ? Looks like a death trap to me."
"Better than staying up here," Naryn replied. Without waiting for her to argue further, he swung himself over the edge, landing in the alley with a soft thud. The woman followed reluctantly, muttering under her breath about his reckless plans.
The alley was damp and narrow, the air thick with the stench of rot and sewage. Naryn crouched low, listening. The Zmij's men were close, their voices echoing faintly. He motioned for the woman to follow as he pressed deeper into the shadows.
As they crept along, the woman spoke, her voice barely audible. "So, who's Marsha ?"
Naryn froze, his breath catching. His head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing. "How do you—"
"You said her name back there," she interrupted, her expression unreadable. "Didn't take a genius to figure out she's why you're so distracted."
Naryn's grip tightened on his dagger as he pressed it to her throat, the blade cold and sharp against her skin. The woman froze, her eyes widening for a split second, but she didn't flinch.
"I've never mentioned her name once," Naryn growled, his voice low and dangerous. "How did you know ?"
The woman's eyes darted down to the blade, then back to his face. She didn't seem intimidated, just calculating. Slowly, she raised her hands, palms open in a gesture of surrender.
"Easy, kid," she said, her voice calm but with an edge of irritation. "You're quick to assume. I don't know who the hell Marsha is, but I heard you mumbling her name when you were—" She paused, a flicker of something crossing her face before she continued, "—when you were with the captive."
Naryn's eyes never left hers as he considered her words. She was lying, he could tell. But something still didn't sit right how did she know.
"Did I ?" Naryn muttered, his grip loosening just enough for her to speak again.
"Yeah," she replied. "And it's clear she means something to you. Don't make a bigger mess than you already have."
Naryn's grip tightened once more, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He stepped closer, his voice low and controlled. "You're lying. You never heard me say her name. So how did you know ?"
The woman didn't flinch this time. She met his gaze, her eyes cold. "You think I'm stupid enough to give you a straight answer ?" she said, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "I'm not the one with the savior complex. That's on you."
Naryn felt a chill run down his spine, but he didn't waver. "You're playing with my nerves," he warned, his dagger still hovering just a breath away from her throat. "One wrong answer, and I'll end it here."
She didn't even blink. "Oh really ? You think you're the first to point a knife at me ? I've survived worse."
He studied her for a moment, looking for an option. His instincts screamed at him to push harder, to make her crack. But something told him this woman wasn't the type to break easily. If she knew more than she was letting on, it would be better to get her talking than intimidate her further.
"Who are you ?" Naryn asked, his tone sharper than before. "What's your plan in all this ?"
She chuckled dryly, the sound laced with a bitter edge. "You really don't get it, do you ? I'm just trying to survive, same as you. But you're making it harder on both of us."
Naryn's eyes flicked to the shadows around them, listening for any sounds of pursuit. The Zmij were close, and he had no more time for this cryptic game. But he knew he couldn't just let her go. If she was involved in this mess, he needed to understand why.
"Last chance," Naryn muttered, his voice cold and final. "Tell me what you know, or you'll find out just how easy it is to die here."
The woman met his gaze, her expression unreadable, and for a long moment, they stood in tense silence. Then, finally, she spoke.
"You want answers by me ?" she said, her voice low, almost thoughtful. "Fine. But you're not gonna like it."
Naryn's grip on the dagger loosened just slightly, the suspicion gnawing at him. "What do you mean by that ?"
She took a breath, her eyes flickering with something that might have been regret. "I'm not here by choice. Neither are you. We're all just pawns, kid. And right now, you're playing right into their hands."
Naryn's pulse quickened. "Who's 'they'?"
But the woman didn't answer, her lips twisting into a wry smile as she stepped back, out of his reach. "You'll figure it out soon enough," she said, before turning and disappearing into the shadows.
Naryn stood there for a moment, his mind racing, her words echoing in his head. Pawns... playing into their hands...what she really mean by that.
He shook his head, trying to clear the doubt clouding his thoughts. Now wasn't the time to dwell on vague threats. He had to keep moving, find Marsha, and finish what he started. The Zmij weren't going to stop, and neither could he.
With a sharp breath, Naryn turned and began to move deeper into the warehouse, the echo of the woman's words still lingering in his mind.
Marsha. She's still out there.
His thoughts returned to his sister, the one person who mattered more to him than anything else. If he lost her, everything he had fought for everything he had endured would be for nothing.
He slipped through the warehouse, his mind replaying every moment since they split up. Marsha was hiding somewhere, waiting for him to return, to keep her safe. But the longer he took, the more dangerous the situation became.
A sound. A footstep. A shadow flickered in the distance.
Naryn froze, instinctively pulling his crossbow from its holster. His heart raced. He wasn't alone.
But as he crouched low, moving silently, his hand tightened on the trigger, ready to strike first. He scanned the area, searching for any sign of the threat.
There. A figure emerged from the darkness, tall and cloaked, moving with practiced stealth. But it wasn't one of the Zmij. Naryn's muscles tensed, his finger itching to pull the trigger—until the figure stepped into the light, and his heart skipped a beat.
It was her.
Marsha.
She stood there, her face pale, her hair wild and tangled, but she was alive. She was here.
Before he could move, she raised a hand, her voice barely a whisper. "Naryn... don't."
He froze, his body going rigid as the memory of their last encounter played through his mind. Her fragile state. The danger. The Zmij. He had no idea what she was doing here, but the fact that she had survived at all was a miracle.
"Get back," Naryn muttered under his breath, his tone sharp. "What are you doing here ?"
"I…I couldn't just sit there. I heard them talking about the Codex," she said, her voice trembling, her eyes darting nervously to the shadows behind her. "They're after it. They'll... kill anyone who tries to stop them."
Naryn's heart sank, but his voice remained steady. "I know. But it's not your fight, Marsha. You should've stayed hidden."
Her eyes met his, filled with a mixture of determination and fear. "I couldn't. Not with you out there, risking your life. You... you're all I have left, Naryn."
The words hit him harder than he expected, the weight of her vulnerability crashing over him. He couldn't let anything happen to her, not now. Not ever.
"Im sorry," Naryn mumbled under himself, offering his hand. "We're not safe yet. We need to move now."
Marsha hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded, taking his hand. Together, they melted back into, ready to face whatever came next. The Zmij might have the upper hand, but Naryn wasn't about to let them win not while there was breath in his lungs and the will to fight.
The game was far from over.
The reunion was brief, there was no time for relief or sentiment. The Zmij were still out there, and the night felt heavier with every passing second. Naryn moved swiftly, leading Marsha through the labyrinthine streets of Block 5. His eyes darted constantly, his senses heightened, every noise a potential threat.
Marsha clung close to him, her breath shaky but her steps steady. "Naryn... the Codex. Why do they want it so badly ?"
He glanced at her, hesitating. How much could he even tell her when he barely understood it himself ? "I dont know," he said curtly. "But i know we need to keep it out of their hands."
"But—"
"Marsha," Naryn interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "We'll talk later. Right now, I need you to trust me."
She swallowed hard and nodded, her small fingers tightening around his. "Fine."
They slipped into an abandoned building, its walls crumbling and the stench of rot thick in the air. Naryn pulled Marsha into the shadows and motioned for her to stay quiet. He peered out a shattered window, scanning the street below.
Torches bobbed in the distance, the Zmij's men still combing the area. They were relentless, their numbers overwhelming. Naryn's jaw clenched. He'd managed to stay one step ahead so far, but the odds were stacked against them.
Marsha's whisper broke the silence. "What happens if they find us ?"
Naryn didn't answer immediately. He hated the thought of Marsha even considering such a possibility. "They won't."
His confidence was more for her sake than his own.
Suddenly, movement outside drew his attention. A lone figure darted through the street, avoiding the torchlight with practiced precision. It was the woman from before. She was alive—and she was heading straight toward the building they were hiding in.
Naryn's hand tightened around his crossbow, his body tensing. Had she betrayed him ? Was she leading the Zmij to them ?
The door creaked open, and the woman slipped inside, her gaze scanning the dimly lit space. Her eyes landed on Naryn and Marsha, and she raised her hands in a familiar gesture of mock surrender.
"Before you shoot me," she said in a low voice, "I came to warn you."
"Warn me about what ?" Naryn growled, his crossbow still trained on her.
"They've called in reinforcements," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "You've stirred up a hornet's nest, kid. If you don't move now, you're dead."
Naryn's grip on the crossbow tightened. "And why should I believe you ?"
"Because I don't have a death wish," she snapped. "You think I want to get caught up in this mess any more than I already am ? Trust me or not, but if we stay here, we're all screwed."
Marsha looked up at Naryn, her eyes wide with fear. "Naryn... what do we do ?"
He didn't answer right away, his mind racing. The woman could be lying, but staying in one place wasn't an option. The Zmij were closing in, and they had to act fast.
Finally, he lowered the crossbow, though his grip remained firm. "Fine," he said. "But if this is a trap, you'll regret it."
The woman smirked. "Fair enough. Now, follow me if you want to live."
Naryn exchanged a quick glance with Marsha, his expression hardening as he weighed the risks. Trusting the woman was a gamble, but so was staying put. With a curt nod, he motioned for her to lead the way.
The woman didn't hesitate, slipping back out into the street like a shadow. Naryn followed close behind, keeping Marsha's hand firmly in his. They moved in silence, sticking to the darkest parts of the alleyways. The faint glow of torches flickered in the distance, and the shouts of the Zmij echoed faintly, a reminder of the danger still on their heels.
As they turned a corner, the woman stopped abruptly and held up a hand. "Wait," she whispered, crouching low. She pointed to a narrow side street where two Zmij guards stood, their eyes looking at the area. "They're locking this sector down. We'll have to go around."
"Go around where ?" Naryn hissed, his voice barely above a breath. "They'll have every street covered soon."
The woman shot him a glare but didn't argue. "There's an underground route. An old smuggler's tunnel a few blocks from here. If we move fast, we can make it before they close in."
"Convenient," Naryn muttered, his tone laced with suspicion.
The woman rolled her eyes. "I get it, you don't trust me. But right now, you don't have a better plan, do you ?"
Before Naryn could respond, Marsha tugged at his sleeve. "Naryn," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I hear them."
The sound of boots on cobblestones grew louder, too close for comfort. Naryn made a snap decision. "Tsk..lead the way."
The woman nodded and darted down a narrow alley, Naryn and Marsha on her heels. The alleys twisted and turned in confusing patterns, but the woman moved with purpose, as if she'd navigated these paths a hundred times. They finally reached a small, rusted grate embedded in the ground. She knelt and began pulling at it.
"Help me," she grunted, motioning to Naryn.
He handed Marsha his crossbow, then crouched beside the woman. Together, they yanked the grate free with a loud screech of metal.
"Inside, now," the woman ordered, motioning to Marsha.
Marsha hesitated, clutching the crossbow tightly. "Naryn..."
"Go," he urged, his voice firm but gentle. "I'm right behind you."
Marsha climbed down into the darkness, and Naryn followed, helping her find her footing on the slick stone floor below. The woman was last, dragging the grate back into place above them.
The tunnel was damp and narrow, the air thick with the stench of mildew and decay. Faint trickles of water echoed in the distance. The woman pulled a small lantern from her satchel and lit it, casting a dim glow over their surroundings.
"This will take us to the edge of Block 5," she said, her voice low. "But keep quiet. These tunnels aren't exactly abandoned."
Naryn frowned. "What's down here ?"
She gave him a grim smile. "Let's just hope we don't find out."
Naryn's eyes narrowed at the woman's cryptic warning, but he kept his thoughts to himself. The dim glow from her lantern painted shadows across the slick, uneven walls of the tunnel. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, the sound amplified by the silence they carried.
Marsha clung to his arm, her small frame trembling slightly. "Naryn," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "is this place safe ?"
He squeezed her hand reassuringly, though he couldn't bring himself to lie. "We'll make it through," he said, his tone firm. "Just stay close to me."
The woman glanced back, her expression unreadable. "Keep moving. The Zmij don't bother much with these tunnels, but they've got a knack for finding people who take too long to disappear."
"And what's your excuse for knowing them so well ?" Naryn shot back, his voice laced with suspicion.
"I've had my reasons," she replied coolly, stepping over a jagged piece of stone. "Not all of us have the luxury of being picky about where we run."
Naryn didn't press further, though his grip on his dagger tightened. He didn't trust her, not fully. The way she'd guessed Marsha's name, her familiarity with Block 5, and now this every piece of her story felt like it was missing a critical detail. But for now, he needed her guidance. That was undeniable.
As they trudged deeper into the tunnel, the air grew colder, the damp seeping into their bones. Marsha's breathing quickened, and Naryn pulled her closer. "You're okay," he murmured, keeping his voice steady. "It's just dark. Nothing's going to happen to you."
The tunnel opened up into a slightly larger chamber, the ceiling rising overhead. The woman stopped abruptly, holding up the lantern. Her gaze darted around the space. "Wait."
Naryn immediately halted, pulling Marsha behind him. "What now ?"
She didn't answer at first, her head tilting as if listening for something. The faintest sound a soft scrape of stone on stone reached their ears. It was distant but unmistakable.
Naryn's heart sank. "We're not alone, are we ?"
The woman shook her head. "No. And if it's what I think it is, we need to move. Fast."
Marsha's grip on his arm tightened, her voice trembling. "What is it, Naryn ?"
"I dont know stay still," he said, his voice low. He turned to the woman. "What's down here ?"
She hesitated before answering, her voice barely above a whisper. "Dodens Omrade isn't just home to criminals. There are...other things that live in the shadows."
"Other things ?" Naryn's tone icy. "Be specific."
"Call them what you want monsters, spirits, remnants of the war. They don't care who you are; they'll rip you apart all the same." She started moving again, her steps quicker and more deliberate. "So, unless you feel like being their next meal, I suggest you hurry."
Naryn glanced at Marsha, his jaw tightening. "Stay close to me, no matter what."
The scrape sounded again, closer this time, accompanied by a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the tunnel. Whatever it was, it wasn't far.
The growl sent a shiver down Naryn's spine. He gripped Marsha's hand tighter, pulling her along as he followed the woman's hurried steps. His mind raced, trying to piece together an escape route, but the oppressive darkness and narrow walls offered few options.
"What exactly are we dealing with ?" Naryn hissed, keeping his voice low as he shot a glance back into the black void behind them.
The woman didn't look back, her voice sharp and hushed. "They're called Shadelings. Leftovers from the war twisted by Mana and whatever blood was spilled in this cursed place. Fast, strong, and worse, they don't die easily."
"Great," Naryn muttered, pulling Marsha closer. "Any other useful advice, or are you just here to narrate our death ?"
"Yeah," she said dryly, glancing over her shoulder. "Don't stop running."
The growls grew louder, echoing off the stone walls. A faint, unnatural light began to flicker in the distance behind them, casting ominous, shifting shadows. Naryn's breath caught as a hunched, humanoid figure appeared in the far end of the tunnel, its eyes glowing a sickly green.
"RUN !" the woman snapped, breaking into a sprint.
Naryn didn't hesitate, hoisting Marsha into his arms to carry her as he bolted after the woman. His feet pounded against the slick stone floor, the cold air tearing at his lungs. Behind them, the sound of claws scraping against rock grew louder closer.
A guttural screech tore through the tunnel, and Naryn dared a glance back. The creature was closing the distance at an alarming speed, its twisted form illuminated by the green glow. It moved on all fours, its elongated limbs contorting unnaturally as it scrambled toward them.
"Keep going !" the woman barked, darting around a sharp corner. "We're almost there !"
"Almost where ?" Naryn shot back, his voice strained as he struggled to keep up while carrying Marsha.
"The surface !" she yelled. "There's a grate ahead it leads to the next block!"
Marsha clung to Naryn's neck, her voice trembling. "N-Naryn, it's getting closer!"
"I know," he gritted out, pushing himself harder. His legs burned, his chest felt like it was about to explode, but he didn't slow.
The woman reached the grate first, dropping to her knees and fumbling with a rusted latch. "It's stuck !" she hissed, throwing her weight against it.
Naryn skidded to a stop beside her, setting Marsha down and turning to face the tunnel. The creature was nearly upon them, its glowing eyes locked onto its prey. He raised his crossbow, quickly loading a bolt.
"Naryn, hurry !" Marsha cried, clinging to his arm.
"Work faster !" Naryn barked at the woman, aiming carefully. His breath steadied as he waited for the creature to leap.
It did.
The bolt flew, striking the Shadeling square in the chest. It let out a deafening screech, its body jerking violently as it hit the ground. But instead of staying down, it began to rise, the bolt protruding uselessly from its torso.
"Not enough," the woman muttered, finally forcing the grate open with a screech of metal. "Move !"
Naryn grabbed Marsha and shoved her through the opening first, then gestured for the woman to go. She hesitated, glancing at him. "What about you ?"
"I'll hold it off !" he snapped, reloading his crossbow.
"Don't be stupid !" she spat, grabbing his arm and yanking him toward the grate. "You'll just get yourself killed."
The Shadeling let out another screech, lunging toward them. Naryn fired again, this time aiming for its head. The bolt pierced one of its glowing eyes, momentarily halting its charge.
"Now !" the woman screamed, shoving him through the grate.
Naryn barely scrambled through the opening before she slammed it shut behind them. They tumbled onto the damp ground of another narrow alley, gasping for breath. Marsha clung to him, sobbing quietly.
For a moment, all was silent except for their ragged breathing. Then the Shadeling's screech echoed faintly from the tunnel below, growing fainter as it seemed to retreat.
The woman slumped against the wall, wiping sweat from her brow. "Congratulations," she panted. "You survived your first run-in with a Shadeling."
Naryn didn't reply, his arms wrapped tightly around Marsha. His mind raced, but one thought stood out above the rest: They were getting closer to something, something dangerous.
The silence of the alley felt oppressive, broken only by the faint, distant screeches of the retreating Shadeling. Naryn gently loosened his grip on Marsha, brushing strands of her blond hair away from her tear-streaked face.
"Are you hurt ?" he asked.
She shook her head, though her trembling hands told a different story. "N-no... just scared."
"Good," he murmured, forcing his voice to stay steady. "You're safe now."
The woman let out a derisive snort, leaning against the wall as she caught her breath. "Safe ? Sure, let's go with that. Because we all know the Zmij's men and the rest of the Shadelings are going to leave us alone now, right ?"
Naryn shot her a glare but said nothing. Instead, he focused on reloading his crossbow with hands that trembled only slightly. "What were those things ?" he asked, keeping his voice calm.
The woman tilted her head, eyeing him as though deciding whether to answer. "Like I said, Shadelings. You don't see them often guess you're lucky, huh ?" She smirked, though it lacked any real humor. "They're not natural. Something about this place...the war twisted it. Too much blood, too much death. They crawl out of the cracks in Block 5 like rats. Smarter than they look, too."
Naryn's grip on the crossbow tightened. "And you didn't think to warn me about them before ?"
"Oh, sorry," she shot back, her tone mocking. "I was a little busy saving your sorry hide. Besides, you're the one dragging a kid around in this hellhole. Maybe rethink your priorities."
Before Naryn could respond, Marsha tugged on his sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. "Naryn... are we going to be okay ?"
His hardened expression softened as he looked at her. "Yes," he said firmly, crouching to meet her gaze. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
Marsha nodded, though her eyes remained wide and uncertain.
The woman sighed, pushing off the wall. "Touching. Really. But we're wasting time. The longer we sit here, the closer they'll get. Zmij's men don't give up that easily, and the Shadelings ? They'll come back for seconds."
Naryn stood, his gaze cold as he turned to her. "Then lead. Since you seem to know so much about this place."
She raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Bossy, aren't you ? Fine, follow me. But don't expect me to babysit."
Without another word, she started down the alley, her movements quick. Naryn adjusted his grip on Marsha's hand and followed her, his mind already working on the next steps.
They navigated the twisting streets in tense silence, the only sounds their footsteps and the occasional distant shout. As they rounded a corner, the woman slowed, motioning for them to stop.
"Up ahead," she whispered, nodding toward a dimly lit square. "That's where Zmij's men like to regroup. We need to go around."
Naryn frowned, scanning the area. The square was littered with overturned carts and broken crates, the remnants of some long-abandoned market. A faint glow of torchlight flickered in the distance, accompanied by the low murmur of voices.
"How many ?" he asked.
"Too many," she replied. "But if we cut through the old tannery, we can"
"Wait," Marsha whispered, tugging on Naryn's sleeve again. She pointed toward the square, her eyes wide with alarm. "That man...he has the bracelet."
Naryn's blood ran cold as his eyes followed her gaze. Amid the scattered group of men, one stood out tall and broad, his hand absently toying with a small silver bracelet that glinted in the torchlight.
Marsha's bracelet.
Naryn's jaw clenched, his grip on the crossbow tightening. The woman noticed his change in demeanor and hissed, "Whatever you're thinking, don't. We're outnumbered, and you'll get us all killed."
"He has it," Naryn muttered, his voice low and icy.
"And ? It's not worth of dying over this," she snapped.
"It's not just a bracelet," Naryn said through gritted teeth. His eyes remained fixed on the man, cold fury simmering just beneath the surface. "It's hers."
For a moment, the woman looked as though she wanted to argue. But something in his expression stopped her. She sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. But if you're going to be stupid, at least be smart about it."
"How ?" Naryn asked, his tone sharp.
A slow, calculating smile spread across her face. "We set a trap."