The shelter was beginning to stir as Estelle, now Lily, and her siblings moved through the dimly lit corridors. The walls were rough-hewn stone, and the air was cool and damp, with the faint scent of earth and metal lingering. The distant hum of voices and the occasional clatter of tools echoed through the narrow passageways, a reminder that this place was alive with activity, even in the early morning hours.
As they walked, Estelle couldn’t help but feel a growing curiosity about how their fight the night before hadn’t alerted anyone. Given how crowded the shelter seemed, it struck her as odd. She instinctively glanced at Dante, her question forming on her lips. “Why didn’t anyone hear us last night?” she asked, her tone curious. Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering across his face as he weighed the importance of sharing such information with her.
Realizing she might have overstepped, Estelle quickly added, “Never mind, I didn’t mean to—”
But Dante cut her off, his voice even. “We’ve got enchantments in place. Soundproofing wards to keep us hidden from the outside, and some rooms, like ours, are soundproofed even from within the shelter.”
Estelle nodded, absorbing the information. She noticed the slight tension in Dante’s response and the careful way he spoke, as if he was deliberately choosing what to share. As she mulled over his response, she couldn’t help but wonder if the extra precautions meant something more. Was it simply practical, or did it reflect a deeper level of distrust among those in the shelter? The thought lingered, making her uneasy, but she decided not to press further for now.
Their conversation faded into an awkward silence after that, the weight of unspoken thoughts lingering in the air. After a moment, Dante broke the silence with a suggestion. “Let’s get some breakfast first.”
Breakfast was a quiet affair. The communal area was filled with long, sturdy tables and benches, where resistance members sat in small groups, eating their meager rations. Estelle noticed the weary expressions on many of their faces—eyes shadowed with fatigue, shoulders hunched from the weight of their struggles.
Dante led the way to an empty spot at one of the tables, and they sat down to eat. The food was simple—bread, a thin soup, and some dried fruit—but it was enough to fill their stomachs. Mira stayed close to Estelle, her eyes darting around the room as if she expected something to happen at any moment. Finn, who had rejoined them after his morning patrol, was unusually quiet, his usual energy subdued.
As they ate, Estelle couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She glanced around, noticing the curious glances from other resistance members. Though they tried to be discreet, she could feel their eyes on her, questioning and assessing. It made her uneasy, but she forced herself to remain calm, focusing on her food.
After a few minutes, one of the older resistance members approached their table, a wiry man with graying hair and a weathered face. He looked at Estelle with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
“Haven’t seen you around before,” he said, his voice rough but not unkind. “New recruit?”
Estelle nodded, keeping her tone neutral. “Yes. Just arrived.”
The man’s gaze lingered on the mask she wore. “Bit unusual, wearing a mask inside the shelter. You got something to hide?”
Before Estelle could respond, Dante stepped in smoothly. “She’s recovering from injuries. Caught in an explosion during an ambush. The mask helps with the healing process, and it’s better if she keeps her face covered for now.”
The man raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “I see. Well, welcome to the resistance. Hope you’re ready for what’s ahead.”
“I am,” Estelle replied, her voice firm despite the altered tone caused by the mask.
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The man gave a nod and moved on, leaving them to finish their meal. Estelle let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The brief exchange had reminded her just how precarious her situation was—any misstep could lead to questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
Once they had finished eating, Dante gestured for them to follow him. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. “It’s time.”
The walk to Alaric’s office was tense. The corridors of the shelter were dim, lit only by the occasional flickering bulb. The rough stone walls seemed to close in on them as they walked, the air thick with the scent of damp earth. Estelle kept her gaze straight ahead, feeling the weight of the mask on her face, its subtle hum of Essence a constant reminder of the delicate situation she was in.
Mira clung to her side, her small hand clutching the edge of Estelle’s jacket, while Dante walked ahead, his posture tense. Iris brought up the rear, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings, ever watchful. Finn, usually so eager to talk or joke, was uncharacteristically quiet, his expression serious.
As they passed a room with the door ajar, Estelle glimpsed a row of cots lined up against the wall, each occupied by a figure wrapped in blankets. The low murmur of voices and the soft groans of pain filtered out, reminding her that this was not just a shelter—it was a haven for the wounded, the weary, and the broken.
Finn glanced at Estelle, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution. “You okay?” he asked in a low voice.
Estelle nodded, though her heart was pounding. “I’m fine,” she replied, her voice slightly altered by the mask. “Just… trying to take it all in.”
Finn gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We’ve got your back.”
As they approached the door to Alaric’s office, Dante slowed his pace, lost in thought for a moment. He then turned to Iris, signaling with a nod. She caught his meaning immediately, turning to Mira and Finn. “Come on, let’s head out,” Iris suggested, her tone gentle but firm as she guiding them toward another corridor.
Mira, however, refused to let go of Estelle, clinging to her with determination. Dante sighed, the tension in his expression softening slightly, and he ultimately relented. “Alright, Mira, you can stay,” he said quietly, earning a small nod from her.
Finally, they reached a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor. Dante knocked, and after a brief pause, the door swung open to reveal Alaric’s office. The room was cluttered with maps, papers, and Essence-based devices, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and metal.
Alaric stood behind a large desk, his back to them as he studied a map spread out before him. He turned as they entered, his gaze briefly flickering with curiosity as he noticed Mira clinging to Estelle, though he quickly masked his reaction, his focus shifting to Estelle herself. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as they regarded each other—Alaric’s gaze intense and scrutinizing, Estelle’s heart pounding beneath the mask.
“Alaric,” Dante began, stepping forward, “this is Lily, the new recruit we mentioned.”
Alaric nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Estelle. “Lily, is it?” he said, his voice measured. “Tell me, where do you come from?”
Estelle hesitated for the briefest moment before answering. “I was with a group based in the eastern region. We were ambushed during a mission. I’m the only one who made it out.”
Alaric’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing her words. “And the mask?”
“It’s to help with my recovery,” Estelle explained, keeping her voice steady. “I was caught in an explosion. My face was… badly injured. The mask helps with the healing, and it’s better if I keep it on for now.”
For a long moment, Alaric said nothing. He simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. Estelle could feel the tension in the room, the way Dante and Iris held their breaths, waiting for his reaction.
Finally, Alaric nodded, though his gaze remained sharp. “Very well. We could use all the help we can get, especially from someone with experience. But know this, Lily—trust is earned here, not given. You’ll need to prove yourself.”
Estelle nodded. “I understand.”
“Good,” Alaric said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I’ll have someone show you around, get you settled. We’ll see where you fit in.”
Before he could say more, the door to the office burst open, and a young resistance member hurried in, her face pale. “Sir, we’ve just received word—there’s a raid happening at one of our safehouses. They’re requesting immediate backup.”
Alaric’s expression hardened, and he turned to Dante. “Get a team together. We move out in five.”
Dante nodded sharply and was about to leave when Alaric’s gaze shifted back to Estelle. “Lily,” he said, his tone appraising, “I hope you’re ready for your first mission.”
Estelle felt a rush of adrenaline, her heart pounding even faster. “I’m ready,” she replied, determination in her voice.
“Good,” Alaric said with a curt nod. “You’re with us. Let’s move.”
As they hurried out of the office, the tension in the air was electric. Estelle knew this was more than just a test—it was her chance to prove herself, to show that she could be trusted, even if she wasn’t exactly who they thought she was.