10,000 Years Too Late

Moira swept into the room with her usual burst of warmth. "Morning, everyone."

Her arrival was punctuated by the aroma of fresh bread wafting from the basket on her arm. That smell alone jolted the group from half-sleep to eager excitement. They tore into the loaves with unexpected enthusiasm, crumbs trailing down chins that still bore traces of drowsiness.

"We're going shopping today," Moira announced as they ate.

Shen paused mid-bite. "Shopping? For what?" Despite the bread in his mouth, his tone carried a faint wariness. She might be their benefactor, but trust was still a fragile thing.

"Gear," Moira said, seating herself on a creaky stool. "You need supplies for the Undawild."

Alexander swallowed a mouthful and frowned. "Voss Thane showed us plenty of weapons already—ash-based tools, too. Isn't that enough?"

Kayode shook his head. "Not for the Undawild. The death rate down there is no joke."

Moira offered a calm, motherly smile. "He's right. Simple blades and ash won't cut it." She dusted flour from her hands. "We're talking true survival gear, not just trinkets."

A tense hush fell, only broken by the last crunch of bread. Then Moira rose, every inch the self-assured guardian. "Finish up. Market's waiting."

They reached the middle district by mid-morning. Narrow streets clattered with foot traffic; vendors shouted prices for stale produce or half-wilted flowers. Despite the district's relative wealth, rats scurried in gutters, and the stench of decay clung to crooked alleys. A few hunched beggars dotted the corners, hands outstretched but largely ignored by passersby. Shen grimaced at the sight of a body slumped in a doorway—likely a victim of disease. Even so, this was considered "tame" for the district.

Shen walked with his nose buried in a notebook, scribbling snippets of overheard gossip, the architecture of storefronts, anything that might be useful.

Alexander trailed behind, a magnet for curious smiles. A couple of local women paused to chat, drawn by his striking features and confident air. He played along with easy grins. Surya ambled beside Angela, who occasionally leaned against his arm to catch a dozy half-nap.

Kayode lagged at the rear, scanning rooftops and passing faces, as though he'd made himself the group's personal guard. Yet it was Rley's formidable Zelion frame—towering above most citizens—that truly kept strangers at bay.

Moira led them past stalls overflowing with mismatched wares: battered helmets, imported spices, tarnished trinkets of uncertain origin. The hawkers eyed the party with open curiosity, some sizing them up as potential buyers or gullible targets. A few persistent rats scuttled under makeshift tables, snatching whatever scraps fell to the dirt.

Shen wrinkled his nose. "Lovely place. The hospitality really shines." He scribbled something about the rodent infestation in his notebook.

"Focus on the goal," Moira said, weaving through the crowd. "We'll find a smith's shop soon."

Alexander sidestepped a puddle of questionable fluid. "Let's just hope it's better stocked than Voss Thane's arsenal."

"Or at least safer," Kayode added, eyes flicking to a ragged beggar who staggered past, muttering about curses.

Moira pressed ahead, ignoring the stares and the lingering odor of decay. "Trust me," she said over her shoulder, "if we're heading into the Undawild, we'll need more than everyday steel and a handful of ash."

They found a vendor perched behind a stall hung with strands of iridescent metal wire. Lanterns dangled from hooks overhead, each one shimmering in shifting colors. Alexander stepped forward to inspect them, glancing back at Moira with a question in his eyes.

"Ashen Lanterns," she explained. "Burn the ashes of the dead inside, and it'll give you a steady glow in the darkest caverns."

She lifted one lantern off its hook, holding it up for them to see. The glass sides caught the light, scattering rainbows across nearby crates. "They can do more than just shine," she went on, pulling free a thick, fiber-woven wire attached to a nozzle. She clicked the nozzle into place on a separate contraption, then poured a modest pinch of ash into the lantern's base. The moment she twisted a knob, a spit of flame erupted from the nozzle—wild and sudden. Riley flinched at the heat, but Moira only wore a small grin, the blaze casting shifting shadows over her face. She turned it off as swiftly as she'd ignited it.

"Devious bit of kit," Surya muttered, eyebrows raised.

Moira smiled. "One lantern, a fire nozzle, and these—" she reached for a pair of gloves hung on the side, "defibrillator gloves that can channel a bolt of lightning. All powered by the same lantern, so if the lamp fails, you're in trouble."

She paid the vendor, motioned for the group to move on, and led them deeper into the winding market.

Eventually they stopped at a small salon, the sort one might miss if not looking for it, its entrance half-concealed by brightly dyed cloth banners. Inside, a dressmaker with colorful ribbons in her hair beckoned them in, eyes alight with eccentric curiosity.

Moira introduced her as Drea, a master at outfitting raiders for the Undawild. "Stand straight," Drea said in a brisk tone, measuring tape in hand. "You all have... interesting physiques." She studied each in turn, adjusting her glasses every so often. "Zelion," she declared when she reached Riley. "We'll need a flexible but resilient layering—stainless steel weaves for that muscle bulk. And you—" she turned to Surya, "fast but wiry, so no heavy plating or you'll slow to a crawl."

She rattled off notes: Angela's half-lidded gaze required a lighter fabric that wouldn't snag if she dozed off mid-walk, or so the dressmaker joked under her breath. Shen's precise posture signaled she'd fit him with more pockets for tools or writing implements. Alexander's broad shoulders demanded something that could distribute weight across his frame evenly. Listik got a set of fitted arm-guards to accommodate quick reflexes.

Throughout it all, Moira and Drea peppered them with advice on venturing below. Proper fit could stop fungal spore infiltration, or shield them from spectral brush. Some raiders wore head-to-toe plating, but that slowed them down. Others favored looser cloth laced with minor ash pockets, but that lacked real protection from sharper threats.

In mere moments, Drea seemed to pull a whirlwind of fabric from nowhere, cutting and stitching with deft hands. The group watched, half in awe. Surya offered a jest, "So you can conjure outfits as fast as those ghosts can appear," but Drea only laughed, calling him a clown.

When she finished, each member stood in newly spun attire. A pair of standard sets, she said, but with specialized touches for their individual forms. Riley's, in particular, featured a flexible stainless-steel weave at the elbows and knees, plates that could shift with her Zelion strength yet wouldn't hinder a charging swing.

When they returned outside, Moira gave a satisfied nod. "You'll stand a better chance now. Lantern and gear for the tunnels, plus clothes that won't tear at the first sign of trouble."

Riley flexed a steel-plated elbow. "Feels expensive."

Moira offered a half-smile. "Better to spend coin now than bleed for it later."

They took a winding route back to the hideout, its crooked walls and boarded windows blending into the quiet neighborhood. Moira, walking a step ahead, mentioned a sudden development she wanted them to consider. The building they called home had an unused cellar, or so they'd assumed—until Moira explained there was more than a cellar beneath their feet. Somewhere below lay a direct drop, connecting to a pocket of tunnels no one had explored in years.

Once inside, they gathered in the lantern-lit main room. Moira removed her coat and set down a small basket of provisions on a rickety table. Without preamble, she told them about the miners: a group from the middle district who were hired to dig a vent shaft for some new expansion. They vanished not long ago. Rumor said their project reached an Undawild passage by accident, and the workers never surfaced again. Worse, the group had vanished directly beneath this very building, the same place they stood in now.

That part rattled them—knowing the missing souls were, quite literally, somewhere below their own lodging. Moira spoke calmly, adding that half the people she knew in the district had relatives among the missing. Fathers, husbands, wives, sons. She didn't hold out much hope; it was likely they'd dug too deeply, stumbled upon a dangerous tunnel system. Still, if a search could bring any certainty, it might ease the fears of their friends and kin.

She made it plain they weren't forced into anything. If they wanted to move on, they could, and no one would blame them. But she also pointed out that if they were truly "admirers of the great raid survivors," as they'd claimed, maybe it was time to prove their mettle and gain a real foothold in raiding. She shrugged, sliding the basket across the table, leaving them a warm meal. Then, as she did every evening, she took her leave, disappearing into the hushed night and leaving them to decide for themselves how far they were willing to go into the darkness below.

They gathered in the lantern-lit parlor of the hideout, each taking a seat around the battered table while the last of Moira's meal cooled in the center. Surya reached for a chunk of bread, then let his hand hover, gaze flicking over the others.

"So," he said. "We're doing this, huh?"

Listik leaned forward, elbows on the tabletop. "You heard Moira. The missing miners are right below us. All that rumor about them digging into the Undawild…" He shook his head. "Guess we don't have a choice."

Riley tested the weight of the new gloves she'd picked up at the market. "No choice is right," she said quietly. "We can't stay topside forever. We were always bound to head down there. That's where the threat is."

Alexander pushed his half-eaten bowl of stew aside. "It's not just about the threat," he added. "We stand to do some good here—even if we're not sure we'll find anyone alive."

Angela, half-lidded as ever, let out a gentle hum. "Moira's on to us, though, isn't she?" she said. "You saw the way she talked. She might not believe we're just novices."

"And we can't afford to blow our cover," Shen said, pressing a palm to the battered notebook he always kept near. "We are the threat— or at least we're meant to face it. But if Moira corners us about who we really are…" He exhaled, leaving the warning unspoken.

Surya let out a half-laugh, though tension edged it. "If we prove ourselves, maybe we keep her off our backs. Or maybe it gets worse, who knows."

Listik huffed. "We do the mission. That's all we can do."

They fell into a hush, each lost in thought. Shen broke the silence, clearing his throat. "And what about Dana—or, you know, Jennersen Salvarose," he said, glancing around the circle. "We figure we'll need to deal with that soon. If she's rising in power, we can't avoid crossing paths."

Riley lifted a brow. "Crossing paths is one thing. Teaming up is another. She's on some political climb—at least we know she's safe."

Angela rubbed her eyes. "Better off than Hayazaki, I guess."

They all nodded at that. Hayazaki was the wildcard. The Axis terminal said he was alive, but beyond that, they had nothing. Surya drummed his fingers on the table. "He's leveling up," he said. "Which means he's out there, somewhere, doing who knows what. At least he's not stuck under some pile of rocks."

A faint hum of agreement passed between them, a shared flicker of relief. Whatever their path, they took comfort in knowing he was still breathing, still forging onward.

"So, we do this job," Alexander concluded. "We find out what happened to the miners—or confirm the worst. Then we regroup, figure out how it ties to our mission… or to Dana's moves."

Riley gave a slow nod. "If we can handle this, we'll handle anything. We'll be one step closer to controlling our fate down there."

They talked in low voices for a while longer—about how they'd brace for more spectrals, how they'd use the ashen lanterns and the contraptions Moira had introduced them to. If everything went as planned, they'd descend into the tunnels at daybreak, or possibly the day after.

Eventually, Surya yawned and declared he'd had enough worry for one night. Angela half-smiled and pushed herself up from the table. One by one, they drifted to their corners and cots. Before Shen settled in, he took a final glance around the room, noticing the hush that came after they'd all spoken their piece.

He wondered if any of them truly believed they had another option. But at least, he thought, they had each other. Tomorrow, they'd find out if that was enough.

Riley blew out the lantern by the door, plunging the hideout into dim shadows. Their hearts felt heavy with the knowledge of what lay beneath them, yet none spoke another word. The night ticked on, and they fell into uneasy sleep, each carrying the silent promise to see this mission through—no matter what morning light revealed.