The Eidolon and the hounds faced one another. Bee, caught in the midst of this confrontation, took a tentative step backwards, her foot just managing to find the next step. The hooded warrior gestured protectively, urging Bee to continue moving away. Skillfully, she manoeuvred the sword in her hand, its glinting blade capturing the unwavering attention of the snarling hounds. In a deliberate motion, the Eidolon extended her left arm, draping her cloak in front of Bee to shield her from view. Bee gazed up at her newfound guardian, her eyes wide. Never before had she witnessed such a display of grace and confidence, someone standing so resolutely in her defence.
Holding her head high, the Eidolon watched as the monsters below stalked amidst the dead and dying. They crept slowly and methodically whilst their adversary watched, looking for an opening. The cloaked figure’s stance betrayed a mastery. The hounds did not. Even Bee could see that.
The gaunt hound made a sudden lunge towards the hooded figure. Bee, startled, stumbled backwards and collapsed onto the stairs, her back, wings, and elbows painfully striking the stone steps. The Eidolon, undeterred, held her ground, her star-metal blade unwaveringly pointed at the advancing creature. As its claws tore at the ground, the hound hesitated, recoiling slightly as the Eidolon stood resolute, refusing to back down. The beast snarled, its advance halted by the threat of the blade aimed straight at its head.
Amidst the chorus of hisses and baying from the other monsters, the Eidolon maintained her steadfast posture. The gaunt hound’s claws scratched against the stone, its growling intensifying as it cautiously retreated. The trio of menacing beasts regrouped, poised in a state of readiness, their hunger palpable in the tense air.
The Eidolon lowered her arm and cloak, turning her luminous yellow eyes towards Bee. But Bee couldn’t meet her gaze. Horrified, she peered around her protector to see the carnage. Bee’s eyes fixated on the hound equipped with the biocannon, the one responsible for decimating the soldiers. She was unable to tear her gaze away from the grotesque weapon, its cartilage and jointed chambers gruesomely flexing as they reloaded. The Eidolon, while maintaining her watch over the ravenous hounds, struggled to capture Bee’s attention. Her countless teeth flexed, voiceless. She gently squeezed Bee’s shoulder with a final, deliberate step back.
For a fleeting moment, their eyes connected. Then, the Eidolon shifted her focus forward, directing Bee towards a nearby passageway. Overwhelmed by urgency, Bee darted forward, stumbling over the fallen bodies and debris scattered from the cannon fire. Reaching the threshold, she threw back a glance, her chest tight with fear and heart racing. Ensuring Bee’s safe passage, the cloaked figure cast one last look around. Then, in that brief window, the hounds seized their chance to strike.
Two sinuous tongues shot out from the shadows, swiftly entangling the hooded warrior’s wrist. She fought fiercely, straining to regain control of her sword arm as the other two beasts attacked. Bee stood frozen at the threshold, watching as her protector’s form pulsated with newfound vigour — her augmented muscles bulking under strain, thick pneumatic hoses and actuators flexing hard. With a sudden burst of strength, the Eidolon jerked her arm back, sending the hound that had ensnared her sprawling forward.
The hooded figure then nimbly sidestepped, evading a swipe from one of the hound’s claws. Her blade sparked against the creature’s obsidian hide, seeking but failing to find a vulnerable spot to cut through. With deft footwork, she slid behind the beast and struck a powerful kick at the back of its knee, the impact hard enough to clap mist out of the humid air. The cannon-wielding hound let out a yelp as its injured leg buckled, and a bone snapped, causing the monster to fall to the ground.
The hound tried to crawl away, only for the Eidolon to grab it by the leg and drag it back. She stomped on its head — cracking the steps beneath it — before grasping the beast’s biocannon, redirecting it towards the ceiling where it posed no threat. But in that instant, the gaunt hound loomed behind her, poised to strike with a lethal claw raised for a devastating blow.
Unable to watch what might happen next, Bee closed her eyes and fled. Staggering into new depths, she plunged deeper into the labyrinth, navigating through a mix of constructed corridors and those that seemed to twist and grow organically. Driven by an unyielding resolve, the young vat-born pressed forward despite the aching in her legs and the rawness of her feet. The passageways sometimes narrowed to the point where she had to squeeze and crawl through. She made quick, instinctive choices at each branching path, having lost her sense of direction long ago, the worm in her ear trying to get her to stop and look around.
“Sweetheart, we need to get our bearings,” the Worm whispered. “If we get lost down here, we might never find the way out.”
Bee didn’t listen, this time. In her hurry, Bee blinked away the darkness with her augmented eyes, gazing into the infrared. Relentless stamping pneumatic machinery and corded musculature built into the City threatened to crush her as she refused to be turned back by the changing bioscape. Bee clambered around them when they filled what open space remained, not letting herself be impeded by the encroaching labyrinth as she sought a path through the dwindling open spaces.
This environment was far from a habitable space, a maze extending across three dimensions. Any semblance of a coherent structure that the City might have once mirrored had either been long lost or grossly misinterpreted. Roads spiralled around abyssal pits, and junctions seemingly existed solely to connect to other junctions. Machines engaged in an endless cycle of destruction and reconstruction. Pipeworks twisted through processing units, only to circulate waste and return it to the start, achieving no discernible purpose. To Bee, navigating this broken network was baffling. As she moved from one chamber to the next, the confounding layout quickly slipped from her memory, surrendered to the insanity of its own design.
Exhaustion gradually took its toll on Bee. Her legs quivered under the strain, battling both fatigue and a voracious thirst. Her breathing became laboured, each inhalation a sharp, short gasp as she scanned her surroundings. Yet, as she turned one corner and then another, a faint glimmer of light started to penetrate the oppressive gloom of these depths. Driven by a desperate hope, Bee hastened towards this hint of this new dawn, her breaths quickening with each step.
Suddenly, she found herself at the brink of a vast chasm in the City. Losing her balance, Bee skidded to a stop, her feet barely clinging to the rough, shelled surface at the edge. Across the chasm, numerous portals punctuated the far wall, their purpose and destination obscured from her view. The tunnel she had been following jutted out slightly beyond her precarious foothold, leaving the extent of her immediate surroundings shrouded from view.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Bee squinted upwards, her eyes drawn to the light crowning the chasm. Above, a once magnificent translucent crystal dome arched across the expanse. Time and neglect had marred its brilliance, leaving it coated in layers of acrid oils, stained with the residue of ash and sand.
Startled by a sudden, deep roar, Bee flinched as a train car hurtled past — its motion a blur of furious speed, crossing from one of the tunnels at the opposite side of the chasm to some other entrance adjacent to Bee but out of sight. Leaning forward for a better view, she discerned rails and a network of mechanical cables crisscrossing the vast gap. These structures connected various passages across the chasm, but nothing connected her own passage to the far side.
“You can make it,” the Worm whispered in her ear. “You just have to use your wings. You have to fly.”
“Fly?” Bee thought to herself, “I can’t fly.”
“But you can. Use your wings. Use them. Your augmentations are a part of you, Sweetheart. You just have to use them.”
Bee eyed the gap again. It was ten metres, maybe a shade less. She felt the bioengines in her back twitch and fire, churning to life with anticipation.
The sudden echo of rapid footsteps snapped Bee back to the present. She whirled around to see the hooded figure of the Eidolon emerging into the dim, obscured light. The figure flinched back, her pale skin and biomechanical frame showing a distinct sensitivity to even the murky illumination despite the protection of her tattered cloak. Both the Eidolon’s arm and leg bore visible wounds, still weeping blood and oil, and her once-steady sword now trembled slightly in her clenched grasp, reflecting her injury and fatigue.
Bee hesitated momentarily, scrutinising the enigmatic, faceless woman who had both defended her and posed an implicit threat of capture. With a thoughtful narrowing of her eyes, Bee assessed the situation. A sudden gust of wind swept through, sending Bee’s hair sweeping back and tugging at the Eidolon’s hood. The light caused the silent warrior to momentarily step back, adding a momentary pause to the tense standoff.
With a subtle shake of her head, Bee made her decision before turning and launching herself forward. Her heart leapt into her throat, a scream escaping her lips as fear gripped her. Yet, instinct prevailed, and the bioengineered machinery within her awakened, humming with newfound energy. A pink light escaped her heart, silhouetting her bones and plates through her flesh. The wings, which had been a burdensome weight for so long, suddenly sprang into action. They flicked, adjusted their angle, and descended in a forceful stroke, battling against the air, striving for flight. As Bee fell, they rotated in their mounts and swung back up. Then, with a buzz, they vibrated with force, moving faster than the eye could see.
Bee’s legs unconsciously kicked in the air as she propelled herself forward, clumsy with fright. She drew in a deep breath, both through her throat and the siphons on her back. She wasn’t falling anymore — instead, she was moving forward, gaining speed with each passing moment.
A sense of exhilarating thrill washed over her as she moved without touching the ground. The vat-born extended her hand toward the distant platform, her heart racing excitedly. Struggling to maintain her balance, leaning hard to correct a slight veer to the left, she grunted with the strain of this maiden flight. The platform seemed both tantalisingly close and yet just out of reach.
With her wings humming vigorously, Bee managed to navigate herself onto the far side, miraculously landing on her feet. The rush of excitement, however, overwhelmed her, causing her knees to buckle. She collapsed to the ground, laughing with sheer and unexpected delight.
Regaining her footing, Bee spun around to observe the hooded figure. Enveloped in her cloak, the Eidolon stood at the precipice’s edge. She appeared contemplative, her gaze sweeping over the chasm below and around, assessing the expanse as she searched for a means to cross.
Bee caught her dozen eyes, lifted her chin, and grinned.
“Can’t do that, can you?” Bee shouted across the divide, howling wind threatening to snatch the words from the air.
The silent figure took a determined step back, then another and another. Bee’s eyes widened, moving back from the edge herself when she realised what the Eidolon had decided.
The Eidolon poised herself for action, leaning into an athletic stance as she crouched low. Her muscles — taut beneath the interplay of skin, machine, and bone plates — flexed in preparation. Lifting her gaze, she locked eyes with Bee once again. In this moment, as Bee felt a surge of exhilaration course through her, the intent behind their mutual gaze was ambiguous.
“She’s perfect,” the Worm whispered in Bee’s ear, causing goosebumps to crawl up her skin.
Bee wondered whether her intense stare warned the Eidolon to keep her distance or acted as a silent challenge, daring her to attempt the crossing. Bee knew logically that she should be running instead of waiting. If the Eidolon got over here, she would be as good as captured.
“Let her come,” the Worm said. “Let her take you.”
Bee didn't even know what to say to that. She shook her head, dispelling the thought.
The Eidolon burst into a full sprint, culminating in a mighty leap. Her augmented legs propelled her into an impressive arc through the air. Bee watched, her eyes wide with awe and her mouth agape. However, in this moment of admiration, Bee noticed the Eidolon’s trajectory falling short.
Despite her tremendous strength, the injury to her leg had compromised the silent warrior, and she crashed into the ledge — frantically scrambling and clawing with her hands and feet in a desperate attempt to secure a hold. One hand managed to latch onto the oily-shelled surface at the brink.
As Bee watched, the Eidolon slipped a millimetre, then another. She hesitated. She decided.
Darting forward, Bee dropped to her knee, extending her remaining hand to grasp the Eidolon’s wrist. She tugged with all her strength, but the warrior’s weight proved too much. Bee grunted, straining to lift with her only good arm, but it was futile. Looking up from beneath her hood, the silent warrior met Bee’s gaze. In her free hand, she still clutched her sword, which trembled for a moment before she released it, letting it plummet into the depths below.
Bee’s eyes widened in alarm she noticed steam rising from the Eidolon’s pale skin, seared by even the faint light where it was exposed. Then, with a wince of pain, the silent warrior lifted her other arm. Bee, in turn, offered her amputated wrist. They connected, hand to elbow, and Bee summoned every ounce of strength from her arms, legs, and the steady hum of her wings. Her heart glowed that bright pink light as she hoisted the Eidolon just high enough for the silent warrior to swing her arms over the ledge and secure a grip on the curved shell that paved the ground.
Once the Eidolon firmly grasped the ledge, Bee shifted her efforts to assist by pulling at the warrior’s shoulder. With Bee’s help, the weary and wounded Eidolon managed to swing a leg over the edge and clamber to safety. She lay there, catching her breath, while Bee carefully draped her cloak back over her, ensuring her burning skin was covered once more. Bee observed as the silent warrior, gathering her strength, crawled towards the shade of their newfound alcove and the tunnel that lay beyond.
“Told you,” the Bee said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice as she caught her breath. She looked back at the chasm and its crystal dome, etching the image in her memory before turning her attention to the Eidolon once more.