Ellie had known that slipping through the streets of Greymire unnoticed would be difficult, but this? This was impossible.

She crouched low behind a crumbling stone pillar at the entrance to one of the town’s underground passageways, her breath shallow, her pulse hammering in her ears. The air down here was damp and thick, making it hard to breathe, but she had no choice. The tunnel stretched out in front of her, narrow and dark, with walls slick from years of moisture seeping in from the city above.

It was supposed to be safe. The guilds had dismissed the rumors, saying the old traps were inactive—rusted away, forgotten. But Ellie wasn’t stupid enough to trust hearsay. Even in its decline, Greymire had a way of surprising you, often with deadly consequences.

The faint glow of lanterns flickered down the passage, getting closer. The mercenaries were coming. She could hear their voices now, rough and edged with an almost eager excitement.

“Remember,” the woman from earlier hissed, her tone icy and precise. “We don’t confront her directly. Too risky. We corner her, block off all exits. She’ll have no choice but to surrender. No need for any of you idiots trying to be heroes.”

The men muttered their assent, footsteps slow and careful. The walls of the tunnel carried every sound, making their approach seem louder, closer. Ellie pressed herself tighter against the pillar, willing herself to be invisible. Maybe if she waited long enough, they’d pass by without noticing her.

“Just a little longer…”

But then, as she shifted slightly to get a better view, her foot caught on something—an uneven stone, a twisted root—she couldn’t tell in the darkness.

Thud.

Her pack slipped from her shoulder, hitting the stone floor with a sound that seemed to echo endlessly through the tunnel. Ellie’s breath caught in her throat, arms flailing as she tried to steady herself. She lurched backward, stumbling against the wall. A cascade of loose stones tumbled noisily down the passage, crashing into the darkness beyond.

No. No. Not now.

The mercenaries stopped dead in their tracks.

“What was that?” one of the men whispered sharply.

“Shut up,” snapped the woman, her voice suddenly tense. “Stay sharp.”

Ellie froze, heart hammering in her chest. Her hands fumbled to grab her fallen pack, the cold sweat on her palms making her movements clumsy. She reached out, her fingers brushing against something smooth, cold, and solid—something that didn’t belong in the rough, uneven floor.

No.

Her stomach dropped as she realized what it was.

Before she could pull back, the floor beneath her began to vibrate. A low, ominous hum filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. The vibration traveled up through her hands, crawling up her arms. She jerked away, staring wide-eyed as pale blue light began to seep from the cracks in the stone around her.

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“What the—” one of the mercenaries whispered, his voice barely audible above the growing hum.

The air around Ellie seemed to pulse, the very walls vibrating with an ancient energy. Her breath quickened, eyes darting to the glowing runes that had begun to flare up on the floor and walls, bathing the tunnel in an eerie light.

“It’s the traps,” the shorter mercenary gasped. “She’s… she’s activated them!”

“I didn’t—” Ellie began to whisper, but her words died in her throat as the hum grew into a roar.

Without warning, the ground trembled beneath her, and with a sharp click, a series of metallic spikes shot up from the floor, just missing Ellie as she flung herself to the side. She hit the ground hard, gasping as more ancient gears and mechanisms stirred to life around her. Chunks of the ceiling groaned and shifted, sending cascades of dust and stone raining down.

The mercenaries stood frozen in shock.

"Is she controlling this?" one of them asked, voice rising in panic.

"She’s not! It’s… it’s the old magic!" another replied, backing away, eyes wide as the ceiling began to collapse behind them.

"Fall back!" the woman barked, her calm veneer cracking as she watched the tunnel itself come alive around them. "Move, now!"

The mercenaries panicked, stumbling over each other in their haste to flee. Their earlier bravado had vanished, replaced with frantic fear. Ellie could hear their footsteps pounding down the passage as they retreated, their shouts growing more distant.

"I told you she was dangerous!" one of them yelled, his voice almost hysterical.

Ellie scrambled to her feet, clutching her pack to her chest as she watched the runes on the walls pulse brighter and brighter, the floor shifting beneath her. She didn’t know what she had triggered, but the ancient magic was alive now, responding to something buried deep within the tunnel.

The mercenaries were gone. Their footsteps had faded completely, leaving her alone in the chaos. The tunnel groaned again, and Ellie flinched as more chunks of stone fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing her.

“I didn’t mean to trigger anything. I didn’t—“

She staggered backward, her legs weak beneath her. The last of the spikes lowered back into the ground, and the rumbling gears slowly ground to a halt. The blue light from the runes flickered once, twice, then dimmed, leaving only a faint, eerie glow. Dust hung thick in the air, and Ellie’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.

For a long moment, she just stood there, staring at the now-still passage. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her legs threatened to give out. She hadn’t meant to set off the traps. She hadn’t even known they still worked. And yet, somehow, the ancient defenses had activated as if they’d been waiting for her, waiting for a sign to come alive again.

Ellie let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the wall. Her whole body was trembling, the adrenaline slowly draining from her limbs. She looked down at her hands, still covered in dust and scraped from her fall.

“Of course they’d think I did it on purpose.”

She could still hear the mercenaries’ voices in her head, could still see the fear in their eyes as the passageway came to life around them. They had run, terrified, convinced that she controlled the old magic. That she was some kind of mastermind, pulling the strings.

Ellie let out a bitter laugh, the sound rough in the silence. If only they knew. If only they understood how close she had come to being crushed along with them.

Her luck had gotten her out of this mess—but it felt more like a curse now.

The silence of the tunnel stretched out before her, and Ellie finally let herself sink down to the floor, her back against the cool stone wall. She wiped the sweat from her brow with a trembling hand, trying to steady her breathing. The tunnel was still again, but the danger hadn’t passed.

She wasn’t safe yet.

Her eyes flicked toward the faint glow of the remaining runes. The ancient magic had stirred, and she had no idea what else might be waiting for her in the depths of Greymire’s forgotten underworld.

Ellie closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers tightening around her pack. “No more accidents. No more mistakes.”

She would need all her wits about her if she was going to survive the rest of this.