Aelric’s mind raced.

The Order’s trackers were too close.

He had checked every obvious exit, every crumbling corridor, every path that led back the way they came. There was nowhere to run.

Except…

They hadn’t checked everything.

Aelric turned his sharp gaze to the surrounding stonework. The temple had secrets. If there was any chance of escape, it had to be a passage the Order hadn’t discovered.

His fingers brushed against the walls, searching for any unevenness, any subtle inconsistencies in the stonework.

A loose groove. A hidden seam. A pressure plate. Anything.

He retraced everything they had seen so far, reconstructing the layout in his head. There had been no monsters—only traps.

That meant something.

And then, he found it.

A faint, almost imperceptible draft coming from a thin crack in the wall. He traced his fingers along the stone—too smooth, too deliberate.

A hidden door.

“Veyne.” Aelric’s voice was sharp and quiet. “Here. Push.”

Veyne, still gripping his sword tightly, turned and immediately obeyed. He pressed his palms flat against the stone and shoved.

At first, nothing happened. Then—a deep groan echoed through the chamber. The wall shifted, dust spilling from the cracks.

With a final heave, Veyne forced the hidden door open.

Beyond it, a narrow staircase spiraled downward into darkness.

Aelric didn’t hesitate. “Go.”

They slipped inside just as the door sealed itself shut behind them.

“They’re not here.”

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The voice belonged to one of the armored trackers.

A group of six stood in the ruined hall, dressed in the dark, battle-worn gear of the Obsidian Hounds—one of the Order’s most efficient pursuit squads.

At their head stood a man with crimson hair tied loosely at the back, sharp golden eyes scanning the chamber. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but the way his fingers tapped against his sword’s hilt betrayed his irritation.

Renard Varos.

One of the Order’s most relentless hunters.

One of the Hounds spoke. “They can’t have gone far. If they’re not here, they must be nearby.”

Renard exhaled slowly, looking around. His instincts told him something was wrong.

No footprints. No fresh disturbances. But also—no bodies.

The temple had been trapped. Yet, the intruders had made it through without setting them all off.

Which meant they were careful. Smart.

Renard smirked. “They didn’t leave. They’re hiding.”

His golden eyes flickered toward the walls, the stonework, the layout of the temple.

They couldn’t have just vanished.

“We sweep the perimeter,” he ordered. “They’ll make a mistake. And when they do—”

His fingers tightened slightly around the hilt of his blade.

“We’ll be waiting.”

The stairway led into silence.

Not the eerie silence of an empty ruin—this was different.

There was no dust in the air. No oppressive weight of something long dead. It was quiet in a way that felt recent.

Aelric’s torch flared to life, illuminating the space ahead.

And then, he stopped in his tracks.

Veyne nearly ran into him. “What is it—”

Then he saw it too.

And his breath caught.

A city.

Broken, abandoned, and forgotten—but a city nonetheless.

Stone buildings, cracked but still standing. Pathways half-collapsed but intact. Faded banners, their symbols too eroded to recognize.

Aelric had searched ruins before. But never anything like this.

His mind reeled. The Order had no records of a city beneath this temple.

Which meant…

They didn’t know it was here.

Veyne exhaled, stepping forward. “This place is…”

Aelric’s sharp eyes scanned everything. He took in the architecture, the layout, the way the buildings stood.

And then he noticed something.

The city wasn’t just abandoned.

It had been lived in.

The cracks in the stone were too recent in places. Some structures weren’t ancient—they were only decades old. And then there were other things.

Aelric stepped into one of the half-ruined homes. His eyes darted over the interior.

A ragged blanket, too fresh to be centuries old. A burnt-out candle, wax still hardened on a desk.

Then, his gaze landed on the small wooden table.

A simple bowl.

A bowl with dried remnants of soup.

Aelric’s mind locked into place. Someone had been here. Recently.

Just as he pieced it together—

A blur of movement.

**Veyne barely had time to react before something hit him—**hard.

The force sent him crashing through a wooden beam, shattering it into splinters.

Aelric’s gaze snapped up.

A girl.

Young. Sharp, predatory eyes. Her body moved with the precision of someone who had fought for survival her whole life.

She didn’t hesitate.

She lunged at Aelric.

Aelric immediately knew he had no chance.

Her stance, her speed—she was beyond him physically. A direct fight would be suicide.

So he didn’t fight.

He reached into his coat and slammed a smoke bomb onto the ground.

The chamber filled with thick, choking fog.

Aelric grabbed Veyne, dragging him into a ruined building.

Veyne coughed, shaking off the impact. “Who the hell—”

Aelric’s heart pounded.

He had searched ruins his whole life. Looking for any clue, any break in the Order’s perfect world.

And now—he had found it.

The ruined city. The recent traces of life. The girl who had attacked them.

This was what he had been looking for.

For the first time in years, Aelric felt pure exhilaration.

He didn’t need to fight.

He needed answers.

Aelric exhaled, then stepped out from hiding—hands raised.

The girl stood across from him, still poised to attack.

Aelric met her gaze.

“I surrender,” he said calmly.

“I just want to talk.”

End of Chapter 6