10,000 Years Too Late

The Undawild's entrance yawned wide, a ragged hollow in the earth. Some said it looked like a mouth waiting for prey, beckoning the living to join the countless dead below. Surya swallowed hard at the sight, but Alexander caught his arm in a steadying grip. Surya glanced at him, momentarily placated by the other man's composed gaze. He found it ironic that Alexander's usually irritatingly handsome face suddenly helped ground him. Their mission, after all, was to confront the mass of death accumulating under the city. Any plan to stop it had to begin here. Surya glanced at Shen, who gave him a nod as though agreeing with his unspoken resolve.

Riley finished gathering her things—a couple of ash vials at best, because, as a Zelion, she didn't need much. They were almost perfect in physique, yet still required a few essentials. One was a small vial of "clarity tonic." According to Voss, Zelions sometimes flew into Berserker rages, so a steady mind was crucial. Riley blushed remembering how Voss had said she was oddly calm for a Zelion—something they typically were not.

Shen, who was checking his own gear, made a note in his Axis terminal that Riley seemed to like "big, strong men." She might have smacked him if she'd seen it.

A large halberd now strapped across her back had been crafted in the Thane household, their sigil emblazoned on the metal. Its emblem was a stylized hawk in mid-dive, wings outstretched over a stylized heart—symbolizing both vigilance and ferocity. A gift from Voss, apparently. Shen guessed Voss must be keen to keep Riley close. Angela, half-drowsy as always, noticed Shen's private speculation. She flashed him a lazy smirk that wordlessly said, Stop being jealous. He pretended not to see.

He turned back to his own Ashen Lantern, which attached by a thick cable to a brand-new shotgun—a Moira purchase. Its intricate design impressed him: the barrel bore etched swirls akin to swirling smoke, and the stock featured inlaid ash crystals that glowed faintly under certain angles of light. The gun fired shells packed not with gunpowder but with potent ash. If the lantern were activated, the shot could scatter an oncoming spectral—and presumably shred most solid foes too. Shen called it "awesome" in his notes, though he'd never tested such destructive force. He was the group's marksman now, better at distance and angles than close combat.

Alexander, meanwhile, finished checking his own Ashen Lantern, tethered by braided wire to a curious contraption slung over his shoulder. Dubbed "the Miraspin Unit," it resembled a compact harness with glass canisters and thin tubes. Each canister contained a swirling medical solution derived from specialized ash, capable of disinfecting wounds, delivering quick-fix anesthetic, or sealing open gashes. A small dial on its side monitored vital signs. Alexander was the group's designated healer; his calm steadiness and steady hands made him best suited for it. The Miraspin Unit allowed him to slip an adhesive wafer—infused with healing serum or disinfectant—directly onto injuries. Once attached, the canisters would spin out just enough fluid to keep a wound clean or speed clotting. It was a subtle piece of technology, not flashy, but invaluable underground where injuries were bound to happen.

He tested the device, flipping a switch on the side. The glass canisters hummed, spinning briefly, and a faint ash-smoke whirled in the tubes. Alexander allowed himself a small smile. If their success hinged on survival, he was determined to keep them all alive.

Their preparations complete, the group looked once more to the ominous maw of the Undawild. No speech was needed. One by one, they set foot toward the darkness below—lanterns aglow, hearts pounding, guided by the certainty that their mission, and possibly the fate of Sveethlad, began here.

They descended in single file down a cramped, winding shaft. Ahead of them, the entrance shrank in a circle of dim light. Angela, at the front, cast one last glance over her shoulder in time to see Moira's solemn wave. The gesture felt distant, a reminder that once they vanished below, the surface world would be an afterthought. Angela faced forward again and resumed her cautious steps.

Surya followed close behind her, then Kayode, Shen, Voss, and finally Riley—"toughest rear," as Voss had quipped. Riley had giggled at his remark, while Shen merely released a low sigh that Surya took every chance to tease him about. Angela kept walking, scanning the rough walls and uneven stone steps, mindful of the precarious footing. In the flicker of their ashen lanterns, she could see how the corridor's rough construction differed from the building's facade overhead. The stonework here had a natural texture—likely old, half-buried beneath more recent additions.

Shen, never without observation, noted that these steps must have been built much later; perhaps the original stone was sealed underneath. He jotted a quick mental note, while Argos—sometimes referred to as their "bagman"—and Voss exchanged a few quiet words behind him.

Argos murmured something about how these tunnels were sanctioned by some minor house—new upstarts in the city. He shrugged at the questionable engineering that had led the miners so far down, remarking that anyone with solid training would've predicted a path straight into the Undawild. Voss agreed with a quiet snort, adding that the miners probably didn't know better. Or if they did, they had no choice.

But Argos pressed on. The house in question, he said, should have foreseen this. Voss spat a curt phrase about that family's overreach, describing them as ambitious novices who thought they could expand new vents in the middle district. The plan, apparently, was for a sewage system to carry away murky water and fallen ash, freeing the upper levels from constant decay—but they'd bitten off more than they could chew.

Alexander, listening behind them, picked up on the undertone in Voss's voice: an air of old blood dismissing new blood. It was clear Voss's House Thane saw these new families as reckless. And Shen, overhearing too, drew his own conclusions. If these upstarts were indeed allied with House Salvarose, then everything tied back, in some small way, to Dana's new position and alliances. Shen silently hoped that whatever they found in these depths wouldn't derail their ultimate aim: reuniting with Dana, who was also making her own moves above.

They pressed on, lantern light bobbing across wet stone, the hushed drip of distant water echoing in the darkness. All of them felt the weight of the mission—searching for missing miners, unraveling a new family's miscalculated ambitions, and edging closer to a deeper threat they barely understood. They were entangled in the workings of a world that, not so long ago, they knew next to nothing about. Shen only prayed it wouldn't destroy them before they could do what they came here to do.

They descended further into the murk, guided by Angela's cautious lead. Every so often, she stopped to consult her device—an interconnected lens and lantern rig—then quietly gestured them onward. Voss watched her work with a faint hint of surprise, noting how smoothly she moved despite her seemingly drowsy demeanor. He also noticed that the group seemed unusually adept at orienting themselves. Little did he know they'd been mapping the tunnels in their Axis terminals and sharing the data among themselves, granting them an almost uncanny sense of direction.

At intervals, Angela ventured alone a short distance ahead to scout a branching corridor or a sharp turn, the lens over her eye clicking as she switched between modes—infrared for heat signatures, extra clarity for detail, or simply the normal setting. She would murmur a few words, and the team would follow, gliding with a confidence that made Voss narrow his eyes in curiosity.

They pressed on. Kayode kept a halberd clutched against his side, silently wondering why he even needed it, given that Riley carried a bigger, heavier one. He would've preferred a sword, if only to move more freely. But these thoughts felt trivial. His mind drifted back to Dana—he wished she were here, bickering with him about something insignificant, just like old times. Instead, she was forging her own path in the politics above. He only hoped that what they found down here wouldn't steal them too far from her.

Voss suddenly raised an open hand, signaling the group to halt. He nodded for Angela to slip a bit farther ahead, but it wasn't the scouting that made him cautious. Shen noticed the shift first: thick clumps of fungus sprouting along the walls, pale and rubbery, exuding a rancid smell. A trickle of murky water ran through a shallow channel along the floor, carrying bits of soggy ash and decaying matter. Clearly they were descending into a place older and more festering than the upper passageways.

Then, out of nowhere, a spectral drifted into view—a wispy figure that glowed faintly in their lantern light. It looked all the more unsettling for its human outline, as though half a woman, half fog. "Duck!" Voss barked, and they did so instinctively. The entity swooped past, fast enough to blur the edge of their vision.

"It's looking for live flesh!" Voss yelled. "One touch can hijack your body, but it doesn't last. You die within seconds if it grabs you."

Shen's mind sparked: "Like a parasitic fungus," he murmured, except Riley shoved him down again, and the spectral whooshed overhead, leaving a chill in its wake.

Voss called out, "It's slow compared to some, which means it's perfect training. Marksman!" He turned pointedly to Shen. "Show your worth!"

Shen sprang to his feet, but Riley pulled him down again as the spirit whirled near. "I don't need babysitting!" he snapped, regret flashing in his eyes as he realized he'd snapped at her in front of everyone. Still, the ghost had to be dealt with.

He sidestepped Surya and took aim with his rifle. The ashen lantern strapped to the barrel hummed to life, casting a pallid glow that amplified the swirling dust within. The spirit lunged at him, a flicker of a body dressed in ragged, ghostly fabric. Shen rolled into a low crouch, ignoring the pang of guilt at his harsh words to Riley. He forced his breathing steady, sights on the spectral. He squeezed the trigger.

A burst of ashen light flared from the muzzle. The ghost flickered, its half-tangible form warping in a silent shriek before it flared out of existence. Shen gasped, heart pounding. He recognized the logic behind Voss's explanation: a shot from an ash-fueled weapon could tear a spectral apart on contact. It all seemed real now, not just theory.

He stared where the ghost had been, mind spinning. Possessed for a few seconds, then dead again—that was all a spectral's stolen life amounted to. Shen felt an odd sympathy, remembering how they themselves had died and been reborn in another world. Maybe to a lost spirit, those seconds felt like an eternity.

He lowered the rifle. The silence that fell was tense, broken only by Surya's exhale and the slow drip of water. An intangible threat removed, a few more steps into the Undawild gained. They all knew this was just the beginning.