The path Kev led them down was tight and winding, each turn narrowing until it opened to a wide underground chamber lit with dim, swaying lantern light. Shadows flickered across the stone walls, stretching and shrinking like they had minds of their own. The air was heavier here, carrying the tang of damp stone and rusted metal.
"Welcome to our little hideaway," Kev muttered, his halberd dragging behind him just enough for the steel to spark faintly against the stone. The sparks danced for half a second before snuffing out. "Don't mind the mess. Our cleaning crew's on strike."
Rowan rolled her eyes, sweeping her gaze around the room. She caught sight of at least six rebels with weapons visible, their eyes following her movements like wolves watching unfamiliar prey. Her gaze lingered on a woman seated by a whetstone, slowly drawing a jagged dagger across its surface. The steady scrape of metal on stone was too rhythmic to be casual. Rowan tilted her head, lips curling into a grin. "Looks cozy," she muttered, her voice carrying just enough mockery to be noticed. "But I gotta say, everyone looks a little too trigger-happy for a friendly gathering."
Amara's grip on her rifle tightened, her fingers curling and uncurling along the frame. She didn't lift it, but her posture was tense. Her eyes flicked to a younger boy in the corner, no older than twelve, tapping his fingers on his knee in an anxious rhythm. She wondered how long he'd been down here.
"You're safe now," Rowan said gently, her tone disarming as she crouched next to the girl they'd saved. "Stick with them, alright? Nobody's gonna hurt you."
The girl glanced at Kev, then slowly nodded. She took his hand, her steps hesitant but obedient, and wandered over to a low-set table where other children sat sharing bowls of broth.
"Kev, what is this?" Amara asked, her voice colder than before. Her eyes didn't leave him.
Kev leaned on his halberd, his weight shifting lazily onto one leg like he had all the time in the world. His grin didn't reach his eyes. "You think I was gonna wait for an invitation from Darya? Nah. You'd have run off screaming 'traitors' first chance you got." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, grin fading to something sharper. "But after the way you stood up for those outsiders... well, now I'm not so sure."
"My loyalty hasn't changed," Amara snapped, the words biting harder than she'd intended.
Kev watched her for a second longer than was comfortable. His gaze was a quiet weight pressing down on her. "Maybe," he said finally. "Guess we'll see."
His halberd clicked against the ground as he walked toward the center table. "Sit," he said over his shoulder. "We've got a lot to discuss."
The rebels gathered slowly, their movements deliberate, eyes locked on the newcomers. They didn't sit. They watched. Predators didn't sit when prey was still moving.
Juno entered like a storm rolling in. Her braid swung behind her with every step, her pole staff tapping in rhythm against the stone. Her eyes were sharp as broken glass, but her smile was softer — too soft. She stopped just short of Amara, tilting her head slightly.
"So," Juno said, her grin inching wider. "He finally brought you here." Her voice dripped with something like amusement, but it tasted wrong. "Thought he'd be smarter than that."
"Watch your mouth," Kael muttered, his broadsword hanging low at his side. His eyes, however, were locked on hers.
"No," Amara said, stepping forward, her gaze fixed on Juno's. Her grip on the rifle was steady, but her stance shifted, feet firmly planted. "Let her talk."
"Darya's been using us and the darkness as scapegoats for years." Juno said, taking one step closer. Her staff dragged behind her, the wood scraping stone like nails on slate. "She says it is 'always to keep everyone safe.' But I see it for what it is. Pruning. Cutting away anyone too bright, too bold, too stubborn to bow." Her eyes darted toward the girl Rowan had saved. "That one? She was next."
"Don't," Amara's voice was sharper than any blade in the room. "You don't get to say that."
"Don't I?" Juno asked, eyes half-lidded like a cat watching a cornered bird. "She's pretty, isn't she? Young. Hopeful. They all start with a whisper. Then they are too bold, too bright, and then it's our fault when she vanishes."
Amara's hands tightened on the rifle. Her heart beat hard, steady, too loud in her ears.
"Stop," she said, quieter this time. "Stop talking."
"Why?" Juno asked, grin fading. Her eyes locked on Amara's, voice dropping to a near whisper. "Because you know I'm right?"
Silence.
"Amara," Sylva's glow brightened just slightly, her voice a calm tether in the storm. "Breathe."
Amara inhaled sharply through her nose. Her grip on the rifle loosened just a little. Her eyes didn't leave Juno.
"You're useful, Amara," Juno said, stepping back. Her grin was gone now. "That's why she hasn't touched you yet. But the minute you're more trouble than you're worth…"
Her voice faded, but the meaning stayed.
"You're next," Juno finished, letting the weight of it settle.
"Enough," Kev muttered. His halberd thudded hard against the ground, like a gavel declaring judgment. "She gets it."
Kieran leaned in, muttering to Rowan, "We're wasting time with these conspiracy theories. We need facts, not whispers."
Juno snorted but stepped back. The rebels dispersed, but their eyes stayed on Amara. No one trusted her anymore.
As they followed Kev deeper into the tunnels, Aiden glanced at Amara. "You alright?"
Her eyes stayed forward, unwavering. "I'm fine."
Sylva floated closer to the Amara, her glow brightening slightly. "These are serious claims," she said. "But without evidence, they're just that—claims."
"Stubborn to a fault arent you," Rowan replied, her grin sharp and knowing.
Keiren stared dejected, realizing his words had fallen on deaf ears.