The deeper tunnels of the Hollow twisted like the veins of a dying beast, their walls slick with frost and streaked with rust, echoing with the drip of unseen water and the distant clang of Ashhold’s forges. The air was a cold fist, squeezing breath from lungs, thick with the metallic reek of blood and steel. The Starlight Engine rolled through the dark, its wheels grinding a jagged hymn, core pulsing with a light that cast the crew’s shadows long and sharp against the stone—giants born of desperation. Lynn gripped its frame, knuckles white, the heat of its rods a lifeline against the chill. Behind him, Ella limped, arm bruised from the captain’s whip; Thorn loomed, bar slick with gore; Kael scouted ahead, wind whispering; Lyra cradled her cracked crystals; and Seryn trailed, glow faint, eyes haunted by echoes of the fight.

  “We can’t stop,” Lynn said, voice a low growl over the engine’s hum. His mind churned—visions of fire and steel warring with the weight of their wounds. They’re too close. Too damn fast. “That captain’s a hound—he’ll sniff us out.”

  Ella spat, blood flecking the ground, her ember flickering like a caged beast. “Let him come. I’ll roast his guts ‘til he begs.” Her bravado rang hollow—pain clawed her leg, her arm, her pride. She’d kill to prove she wasn’t broken, but the ache whispered otherwise.

  Thorn grunted, hefting his bar. “Hounds die when you snap their necks.” His bulk hid exhaustion, but his breath came heavy—each swing cost more now.

  Kael darted back, wind tousling his hair, eyes bright with a madman’s glee. “Tunnel splits ahead—left’s narrow, right’s wide. They’re behind, boots thumping. Pick fast, boss.”

  Lynn’s gut twisted. Narrow meant cover, but slow; wide meant speed, but exposure. He glanced at Lyra—her crystals pulsed erratically, their hum a fragile thread. “Can it take tight?” he asked.

  “Barely,” she said, voice steady but eyes sharp with fear. “Crystals are fraying—push too hard, it cracks.” She clutched them like a mother her child—her life was in those shards, and she knew it.

  Seryn spoke, soft as ash falling. “Narrow. They’ll bottleneck—less to fight.” Her glow steadied, a flicker of resolve, but inside, guilt gnawed like rats. I brought this. My maps, my sins. She’d kill to bury that voice, prove she’d changed.

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  “Narrow it is,” Lynn decided, shoving the engine left. The tunnel shrank, walls scraping steel, sparks flying as the beast squeezed through. Ella’s ember lit the way, a red snarl in the gloom; Thorn braced the rear, ready to crush; Kael’s wind probed ahead, a scout’s breath.

  The thump of boots grew—harsh, relentless. Torches flared at the tunnel’s mouth, and the captain’s voice boomed, raw with hate. “No running, rats! I’ll string your guts for the crows!” His whip cracked, stone splintering—a promise of pain.

  “Faster!” Lynn roared, muscles burning as he pushed. The engine groaned, steel grinding stone, core flaring brighter—too bright. Lyra cursed, adjusting crystals, their light spiking wild. “It’s eating itself!” she yelled, panic cracking her calm.

  A guard lunged from the dark, blade flashing—Thorn swung, bar meeting skull with a wet crunch, body crumpling. Another charged; Kael’s wind hurled him back, slamming him into the wall. Ella’s fire lashed out, searing a third—screams filled the air, sharp and brief. But the captain closed, whip coiling, eyes locked on Lynn.

  “You,” he snarled, lash snapping. It caught Lynn’s arm, tearing flesh—blood welled, hot and fast. He grunted, shoving the engine harder, heat blasting the captain’s chest. The man staggered, armor smoking, but his grin was a blade’s edge. “You’ll bleed dry first.”

  Seryn leapt, ice snapping from her hands—frost bit the captain’s legs, slowing him. He roared, whip slashing her side; she stumbled, blood blooming, but held. “Go!” she gasped, shoving Lynn on. Ella’s ember surged, a fireball rocking the tunnel—stone fell, guards scattering.

  The passage widened sudden, a cavern yawning black and vast. The engine lurched free, wheels spinning ash, and Lynn steered it to a halt behind a rusted hulk—old mining gear, a shield of decay. The crew collapsed, breaths ragged, the beast’s hum a heartbeat in the dark.

  Kael laughed, sharp and brittle. “Still kicking!” Thorn wiped gore from his bar, silent. Lyra checked crystals—two shattered, the rest dim. “We’re on fumes,” she said, voice tight.

  Ella tore cloth from her sleeve, binding her leg, glaring at Lynn. “That hound’s not done. What now?” Her fire was low, her soul lower—anger kept her upright, barely.

  Lynn pressed a hand to his arm, blood slicking his fingers. Too many hits. Too little time. “We build,” he said, steel in his voice. “Make this beast a killer. They want us? They’ll choke on it.” He met Seryn’s eyes—she nodded, weak but fierce, guilt forging into something harder.

  A distant rumble shook the cavern—deep, guttural, not boots. The air grew hot, heavy with sulfur. Lyra froze, crystals trembling. “That’s not them,” she whispered. Kael’s grin faded, wind stilling.

  From the cavern’s far end, a glow bloomed—red, molten, alive. Shapes moved within, tall and cruel, their shadows stretching like claws. The Flame Lords had sent more than men this time—something ancient, something hungry.

  Lynn gripped the engine, visions roaring—fire meeting fire. “Ready or not,” he muttered, “we fight.”