I woke to static behind my eyes.
Not the dramatic kind just that low, whispery interference you get when a dream dies too fast to leave resolution behind. I blinked at the ceiling, unfamiliar and sporting a fine patina of mold, trying to hold on to the last flicker of the image.28Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrSIkfSkwGU
A woman, blue-skinned, eyes like lightning.
She was beautiful, sure, but not the soft kind. Her mouth had been forming words I couldn’t remember. Urgent. Frantic. But the moment I tried to focus, they crumbled into noise.
"You're staring at nothing," Aedan said.
I turned. He and Vex were already disentangling from their tiny cots, both moving like they didn’t trust rest. Vex’s hair looked like it had tried to fight sleep and lost. Aedan looked like he’d slept in a tactical formation.
“Dream,” I muttered, still scraping at the edges of it. “Someone trying to warn me. Blue skin. Didn’t catch the details. Just... urgency.”
Vex made a sound between a snort and a yawn. “Weird dreams are half this place’s charm. The other half is mold.”
“Maybe your brain’s rejecting cult hospitality,” Aedan added. “Stress dream. Makes sense.”
Maybe. But it hadn’t felt like stress. It felt… real.
The chamber, simple stonework, low ambient lights the color of bruises, fell quiet again. I got up, shaking off the dream like rainwater, and joined them.
A soft knock.
An acolyte stood in the doorway, young, shaved head, pale robes too big for her frame. She didn’t speak. Just gave a little tilt of the head that said follow me, and turned.
We followed.
The cleansing room was a circular chamber of polished stone, lit by a ring of pale blue fire suspended midair. Alcoves lined the walls like petals of a mechanical flower, each cradling a basin full of water so clear it made reality seem grainy.
"Guess this is the ‘sacred rinse,’" Vex muttered, peering at a basin like it might explode.
“I’m not complaining,” Aedan said, already rolling up his sleeves.
We washed in silence at first. The water was not cold, not warm, just right. My reflection flickered in the basin’s surface, and for a heartbeat, it wasn’t my face. It was hers. Pale skin. Eyes bright. Gone in a blink.
I dried my hands.
“They built this whole part of the city without modern tech,” Aedan said.
Vex’s head tilted. “You think this was theirs? Elder-era?”
“Would explain the lack of conduits,” Aedan said. “And the strange effects.”
The acolyte reappeared without sound, somehow already knowing we were done. She led us onward, down curving corridors until we stepped into that chamber again, the one that looked like a fossilized temple wired with ghost circuits.
The Vaulted Hall.
Same as before. Ribbed ceilings like a god’s cage. Alcoves humming with shifting images of Duvainor, every version a little wrong. A little too much like me.
“Not creepy at all,” I muttered. Arvie stirred faintly in my head but said nothing.
Selivar was already seated at the table, half a dozen ceramic platters spread before him. Steam. Spice. Salt. Fresh bread. Shimmerfruit. Something meat-adjacent that smelled like home and danger at the same time.
He rose as we approached, his face thin, like a candle stretched into a skull.
“Come. The wind has not broken the clouds, but the truth waits for no fire,” he intoned, gesturing to the floor cushions with the grace of a stage magician unveiling an illusion. “Sit, and break the fast with your kindred.”
We did. Hunger beat ceremony, as usual.
The meal was good. Like it had no right to be. Aedan chewed methodically. Vex picked suspiciously at her third roll. I let myself enjoy it just enough to remember what enjoying felt like.
“So. The plan?” Aedan asked, wiping his fingers on a napkin that might’ve been silk once.
Selivar didn’t answer immediately. He just watched us, eyes flicking across faces like he was memorizing the shapes of our souls.
Then he spoke. Slow. Melodic. With the edge of a distant storm.
“You see comfort. You smell bread. You wear robes washed in water drawn by hands you will never know. But this…” he swept a hand over the food “…is theater. The true weight of our world rests on those who will never set foot in these halls.”
Vex froze mid-bite.
“I speak of the rag-clad believers outside these walls. I speak of the children grown in shadow, who starve in the name of hope. Do not mistake this table for truth.”
Then, just like that, he went back to eating.
No one spoke for a beat. Then Aedan cleared his throat.
“Right. Rescue plan.”
We laid it out in pieces, tossed on the table between sips of dark brew and bites of spiced root. Fira would signal us the moment the Directorate officer met Jax. Timing was critical.
“Problem’s location,” Aedan said. “We can’t be half a sector away.”
Selivar nodded slowly. “There is one who owes me breath and blood. He keeps a home near the old silos. Hidden. Yours, if you wish it.”
That solved the staging ground.
“We hit the guards. Quiet,” Vex said. “Two outside. Standard stunners. We take those.”
“Non-lethal,” I said. “Until it isn’t an option.”
“Standard operation,” Aedan agreed. “Then we breach west side. Should be less fortified.”
“Multiple entries down there,” Vex muttered, chewing the thought like gristle. “Cramped. Barracks repurposed for Jax’s people. We’ll need split coverage.”
“And gas,” Aedan added. “Neurostun. Hit ‘em fast.”
Selivar tilted his head. “The air itself becomes our blade.”
“I like the sound of that,” Arvie piped up inside my skull. “Though I’d prefer it if one didn’t have to breathe it.”
We went quiet again.
I caught myself tracing a loop on the armrest, lost in thought. The motion startled me.
“Arvie. Multi-door lock sync, doable?”
“Doable, but not sleek.”
I looked up, mostly to the ceiling. “I could lock them in. Simultaneously.”
“Show-off,” Vex muttered.
Aedan tapped the table’s edge. “Then we’ve got our wedge. Once they’re secure, we’ve got a shot at the upper floor. That’s where Jax will be.”
“With the officer,” I said. “Window should give us sightlines. Snipers?”
Selivar gave a slow smile. “I have those who see in silence.”
“Jax’ll be the problem,” Aedan said. “We stun him if we can. Kill him if we have to.”
I didn’t say anything. Just nodded.
“After that?” Vex asked.
“We take the officer,” Aedan said. “Secure him. Exit fast. Hit the safehouse. Larek should be there.”
“Locked?” Vex asked.
“Probably,” I said. “But not for long.”
We leaned back. The plan sat between us, cooling like the last piece of bread. Arvie, mercifully, didn’t quip.
Then Selivar lifted his head, eyes tracking some invisible constellation only he could see. His voice returned in that deliberate lilt.
“You will find the rest near the forgotten silos. There, your true work begins.”
The silence that followed felt rehearsed.
The acolyte was already waiting in the archway, like she’d been standing there the whole time.
We followed her down the curving corridor, torchlight slipping over smooth white walls, the taste of the plan lingered, half-bitter, half-ripe.
And still… behind it all, that dream pressed against the back of my mind.
The girl with eyes like lightning. She’d tried to tell me something. Urgent. But I’d woken too soon.
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