Neisa began to slowly open her eyes, as if someone were gently waking her. The surface beneath her back was rumbling.

  “Slowly,” said a voice.

  “What?” Neisa asked, dazed, her eyes scanning her surroundings.

  Isen was next to her, kneeling and held in place by a harness. His face was pained and exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  Suddenly, the soldier felt a sharp pain—something that, unfortunately, had started to become familiar. Instinctively, she tried to sit up, her left hand moving to her right side. However, a strong pain struck her trapezius, so she tried to push herself up with her other arm, but that one also ached. A groan of pain escaped her lips.

  “You’d better not move,” said an unfamiliar woman sitting beside her. She wore armor similar to hers, but black with yellow accents. Her face was speckled with small minerals. “The Akro plates of your chest armor stopped most of the damage, but it looks like the droka’s piercing limbs managed to get through the small gaps at your side and part of your trapezius that aren’t covered. That’s the only downside of the armor—sometimes, mobility comes at the cost of protection. But without a doubt, the worst hit was your arm. That bastard pierced your right arm and reached all the way to your armpit. We injected both of you with antidotes and used the last bio-regenerators we had, but if it hadn’t been for the combat mage, you wouldn’t be awake right now. He healed the most critical damage.”

  “Wow, you saved me again. Thanks...”

  The combat mage nodded, making her smile. She felt pain coursing through her body again, but she didn’t care. She was happy to be alive.

  “It would be nice... if you said ‘you’re welcome’ for once,” said Neisa.

  “You should’ve seen his face when he saw the droka lift you into the air,” said a voice Neisa immediately recognized as Bargu’s. He was sitting on a bench in front of her. Eliad was next to him. Around them were a bunch of drauos, and it looked like they were inside some kind of armored vehicle.

  Isen said nothing. With what little strength he had left, he sat on the bench, his back resting against the wall of the metal cabin.

  “You didn’t hold back either,” said Eliad, without adding anything more.

  “I…” The young drauo’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Neisa. It should be me in your place. Not you...“Neisa slowly shook her head.

  “I know you would’ve done the same for me,” she said softly. She wanted to say more, but the pain and exhaustion made her close her eyes again.

  ***

  “Can someone explain what the hell two soldiers from the Fierce Stewards, a combat mage, and a... whatever he is, were doing in a damn arruk tunnel?” the sergeant asked hours later, her voice commanding as she leaned against the door connecting the S-12’s rear cabin to the front.

  Bargu felt a strong urge to answer her. Not just because of the authoritative tone of her question, or the admiration he felt for the Death Miners, but because they had saved them. The sergeant’s squad had opened fire on the relentless arruks while escorting them into the vehicle. Once inside, they wiped out that wave and didn’t wait for another to come.

  “Chasing a demon,” said Isen, his face impassive but bruised and worn with exhaustion. The combat mage was sitting on one of the benches in the rear cabin of the S-12. Next to him sat Neisa, without her armor and with blood-stained bandages.

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  “How can he say something like that so casually?” thought Bargu, just as surprised—if not more—than some of the other soldiers.

  Neisa slowly and painfully brought her palm to her forehead.

  The sergeant seemed to hesitate before speaking again.

  “What do you mean by ‘demon’, combat mage?”

  “A being from the underworld... if that’s what you’d prefer to call it,” Isen said slowly, his face still weary.

  “Did you hear that?” someone whispered mockingly.

  “This aehul is insane,” said Brologa, one of the drauos who had helped them into the S-12.

  The sergeant stared at Isen for a moment, her harsh expression shifting into something visibly more concerned.

  “I remember once we found a miner surrounded by dismembered bodies... something similar to what we saw where we found you,” the sergeant began. The back of the truck fell into sudden silence. “The miner, desperate, kept hitting us so we’d let him go. He wanted to flee and just repeated one thing: ‘I have to run, the being from the underworld is here. It’s going to kill me.’” Someone cursed under their breath, and another gulped audibly. “In the end, he died of a heart attack, convinced that the being from the underworld that had slaughtered all his companions was hunting him.” The sergeant closed her eyes briefly. “Assuming you really were chasing one… where was it headed?”

  “To Catlon,” Eliad replied this time. “Or at least, that’s what it said its intention was. But we lost track of it in one of the drauo tunnels.”

  “Shit…” muttered the sergeant. “We’d better inform our superiors…” She made a face and looked at Bargu and the others. “But down here, it’s not like on the surface where cities, bases, and everything else are connected. In the old-world tunnels, we communicate using messenger moles. So we’ll have to reach one of the fortress-gates that connect the old tunnels to the new network, and from there, we can get in touch.”

  “And what’s the problem, ma’am?” asked Bargu. Just the idea of seeing one of the fortress-gates thrilled him. That, along with the strongholds of the old tunnels, was the only thing he hadn’t seen from the stories his father used to tell.

  The sergeant sighed.

  “Shame on you, skylicker,” muttered Brologa, the fiery drauo. Brakia elbowed him.

  “Hey, beardy,” said Neisa, staring at the drauo despite her condition, her tone defiant. “What the hell is a skylicker?”

  “That’s the problem with you skylickers, soldier,” the sergeant said this time. “You’ve forgotten where you come from. The tunnels of the old world have become a dangerous, crumbling labyrinth, and even though the actual distance isn’t great, it’ll take us at least a day or maybe two to reach one of the gates. And even then… Captain Graumgi’s a stay-above type. I’m not even sure he’ll believe us.”

  “Not everyone is capable of believing something like that,” said Isen. “In the likely case that he doesn’t believe it, could he at least take us directly to Catlon?”

  “Not without orders,” the sergeant replied. “In fact, if I hadn’t seen what I did with my own eyes, we would’ve dropped you off at the first fortified post we found and gone back to our job.”

  “Fair enough. At least from there we can contact our people.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Bargu, “what do you think Commander Froel and the Guardian of the Tower have said? Do you think André and Corporal Dragen are okay?”

  Neisa’s expression dimmed and grew distant, as if her thoughts had wandered to someone lost.

  “Sorry…” the young drauo said quickly. “I’m sure they’re fine. Though I’m not sure if anyone believed them. Who would believe that a worker at a runielectric plant would turn into a demon bent on destroying Catlon—or even the entire State?”

  Suddenly, Bargu felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. He felt foolish, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have. Several passengers were now staring directly at him.

  “Soldier,” said the sergeant with a frown, “this plant worker you’re talking about—he wouldn’t happen to be from the Tagrei runielectric plant, would he?”

  “That’s the one. How do you know, sir?”

  “Son of a bitch…” the sergeant muttered, slamming her fist against the door. “Your commander got in touch with the captains of the Death Miners in Catlon, told them to be on alert for a worker who had betrayed the State by siding with the savages and attacking the auxiliary runielectric plant in Tagrei. He said there was a high chance the suspect had entered the old tunnels to reach Catlon unnoticed and carry out a terrorist attack.”

  “Even if it’s a lie,” said Isen, “I think it was a smart move under the circumstances.”

  “Well, isn’t that fucking nice,” the sergeant snapped, blatantly ignoring rank protocol—just like Dragen had said drauos in the military often did. “Of course it’s us down here fighting and not you lot up top...”