The Spire’s lower levels groaned, its corroded metal ribs shuddering as Seraphina’s group pressed deeper. Flickering lumen strips cast jagged shadows across the gangways; the air was thick with the acrid tang of overheating machinery. Seraphina’s boots echoed too loudly with each step.

  Lyra trailed close behind, her breath hitching every time the floor trembled. “I don’t like this. We should have stayed with the main group.”

  “We will be much faster on our own.” Elara checked her comm before continuing. “They are still 26 levels above us.” She continued on, her gaze darting to every flicker of movement while the two new guards scanned the shadows, their pulse rifles humming at half-charge.

  A holo-screen crackled to life on a shattered wall panel, bathing the corridor in blood-red light. A stand-by for an announcement showed for a few seconds before Alex’s voice erupted, raw and unyielding, echoing through the hollow bones of the Spire.

  "People of Drakara. You've been fed lies with your rations. Told scarcity is inevitable. That cruelty is efficiency. No more. Effective immediately, Spire officials responsible for this will face judgment. Corruption. Fraud. Negligence. Those found guilty will be executed. No clemency. There are no hidden deals. Justice will be public—for all of Drakara to see.”

  Lyra’s gasp cut through the broadcast. “He’s going to execute them?” She gripped Seraphina’s sleeve, her fingers trembling. “Sera, he can’t—this isn’t justice, it’s a purge!”

  The broadcast continued. "–my words are not empty—every execution will be public. Broadcasted, witnessed by all of Drakara. The Spire might be first. But each city, each outpost, everywhere will be subjected to the same rules. I, Alex Draven, Baron of Drakara and your governor will prove this to you. I will correct the corruption and poor standards of Drakara. To show this. Starting today. Every child under 13 will have access to free education. No more lost generations. No more stolen futures. If they have no home, one will be given...."

  The screen went back to the standby screen before finally flickering out. Seraphina stepped toward the blank screen. Her mask held, polished and impenetrable, even as Alex’s words carved fissures in her chest. Public executions. Broadcasted. Witnessed by all.

  The cold calculus of it—the performance—chilled her. This wasn’t the Alex who’d whispered secrets in the dark, who’d hesitated when their hands brushed. This was a ruler, a blade honed by necessity. A man who could order executions with the same voice he once used to promise her safety. And that terrified her.

  She only hoped he wouldn’t become the cold person she feared he could be. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. Not in anger—no, something colder. Something she couldn't name.

  Elara’s voice sliced through the static. “He’s baiting the ministers. Provoking them to overreach.” Her eyes narrowed, dissecting Seraphina’s profile. “But you already knew that.”

  Seraphina’s jaw tightened. Yes. She’d been taught the play herself: isolate enemies, force their hand. But hearing it in his voice—the jagged edge of fury barely leashed—made her throat burn.

  “He is consolidating power,” she said, cool as glacial glass. “A necessary measure.”

  Lyra took a step back, eyes wide. “Necessary? People will die—”

  “People are already dying,” One of the guards muttered, his scarred knuckles whitening on his rifle. His gaze flicked to a makeshift shrine further down the corridor—a pile of ration tins and faded synth flowers, tokens for the lost. “Better a quick blade than slow starvation.”

  The other guard grunted in agreement, though his eyes lingered on the holo-screen’s now dead screen. “Still. Kid’s playing with fire.”

  Lyra’s composure frayed. “What if he’s wrong? What if this is the only thing—”

  A tremor rocked the gangway. Metal screamed as the overhead lumen strips exploded in a shower of sparks. The floor buckled, hurling a guard into a support beam. Civilians flooded from the side tunnels, their panic a living thing. A mother dragged a sobbing child. A scavenger clawed over a fallen man, desperate to escape.

  Elara barked orders, shoving Lyra toward an access shaft. “Move! Now!”

  Seraphina lunged for the guard, not thinking about what she was doing as she hauled him upright as the ceiling rained debris. “This way!” she shouted pushing the guard ahead of her as Lyra glared at her.

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  Lyra’s eyes flicked between the crumbling ceiling and Seraphina’s face. She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I should have been there with him.” Her voice cracked. “I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve said something—”

  Another tremor rocked the corridor. The floor lurched, metal screaming as a door slammed down between them.

  “Lyra!” Seraphina’s cry dissolved into static as her comm spat broken syllables: —structural breach—sector 8—

  Before cutting out. Casting her into an eerie silence.

  Seraphina’s breath came in short, uneven gasps as she slammed her hand against the door. “Lyra! Elara! Can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  A shudder ran through her, and she fumbled with her comm, Turning it again. Begging for it to connect. Seraphina let out a pained breath before switching to Alex’s channel. It clicked, but there was no return signal—only dead air. She swallowed hard, forcing her fingers to steady as she recorded a message.

  “Alex—” Her voice wavered. She clenched her teeth. Breathed in. “I’m in the lower levels. I got separated from Lyra and Elara. The Spire’s coming down, and—”

  She pressed her forehead to the cold metal. “I don’t know if I’ll make it back. But I’ll try to find my way back. Just—”

  The words hung there, too raw, too real. She wanted to erase them, replace them with something stronger. Something he wouldn’t hear as fear. But the next tremor stole the choice from her—another explosion rocked the Spire, and the comm crackled with interference.

  She forced out a breath, adding, “ Just don’t do anything reckless.”

  Then she hit send and started moving. The silence echoed as loud as the deafening noise only minutes ago. The crowd was gone. She knew that she was alone.

  The darkness pulsed with the echoes of distant screams. Seraphina pressed against a fractured wall, her pulse pistol drawn. A child’s whimper echoed nearby, followed by the sickening crunch of metal.

  A hand seized her ankle.

  She spun, pistol aimed at a person’s wild eyes. “Please—” he rasped, blood pooling beneath him. “The Baron… he’ll save us… right?”

  Seraphina froze. The man’s grip slackened.

  You’re asking the wrong person, she thought, bitterness sharp on her tongue. As she turned and ran.

  Seraphina flinched as she sprinted through the labyrinth of decaying corridors, Her breath coming in ragged gasps. The dying man’s voice clung to her like a spectre. “He’ll save us… right?” She shoved the memory aside, focusing on trying to fix the uneven rhythm of her breathing—in, out, steady—as her father had drilled into her during combat training. But her mind betrayed her, replaying Alex’s broadcast. Public executions. Free education. Promises carved from fury and desperation.

  A metallic shriek split the air. Seraphina ducked as a conduit exploded overhead, raining molten shrapnel down in front of her. She pivoted into a narrow maintenance shaft, the walls slick with algae and coolant leaks. The shaft trembled, vibrations humming through her bones. Somewhere above, the Spire was tearing itself apart.

  She grimaced as a memory came up unbidden. Alex’s hands, trembling as he moved a hair away from her face.

  “You don’t have to be afraid,” he’d said, voice frayed at the edges. “Not with me.”

  She’d almost believed him.

  Seraphina shook her head as the shaft opened into a derelict reactor chamber, its core long stripped for parts. Feral shadows danced across the walls—people hunched over a sparking power grid. Seraphina flattened herself against a rusted beam, counting: four, no, five figures. Their faces were masked by grime and respirators, but their hands glinted with jury-rigged blades.

  One laughed, the sound distorted by a rebreather. “That minister’s gonna feed us real good after we gut this pretty baron fellow.”

  Seraphina’s grip tightened on her pistol. They were here for Alex. They’re not random people. They’re hired. Criminals. One of the Minister’s fingerprints was all over this—stoking chaos to bury Alex. The question was who.

  As she tried to process this, fear gripped her, making her hesitate. One of the criminals looked up and spotted her. He lunged forward. Seraphina hesitated—just for a breath, just long enough for doubt to sink its claws in.

  Then instinct took over. Her pistol bucked in her grip.

  The first shot struck his shoulder—he twisted, staggered—then tumbled into the reactor pit with a strangled yell. The others scattered, hissing. Seraphina lunged for cover as a blade whirred past her ear, embedding in the wall.

  “You bitch!” one snarled. “You gonna regret that. Oh, you’re gonna beg before this is over. Ain’t nobody here to hear you, sweetheart.”

  She didn’t answer as she let out her breath. Just as Elara had taught her.

  Five shots later, three bodies lay on the ground. The last scavenger fled, his footsteps echoing into the Spire’s bowels.

  Seraphina approached the reactor’s edge, her stomach twisting. The fallen criminal writhed below, his leg bent at a sickening angle. She levelled her pistol. “Who paid you?”

  He spat, blood flecking his mask. “Draven’s gonna burn. This planet along with him.”

  Seraphina heard the click. Her breath caught. Then she saw it—the dull, metallic shape rolling from his fingers.

  Her stomach dropped. A cold spike of fear shot through her. She turned—

  —BOOM

  Too late. A shockwave slammed into her, fire licking up her spine. The world flipped—ceiling became floor, steel buckled beneath her. Pain shot through her ribs as she fell, and then—nothing.