A flicker of silver cut through the dark behind them before anyone could move.

  One of the men jerked, then dropped.

  The second attacker turned, mouth open to scream. He never finished.

  Reuben moved like a glitch in a low-budget holo-vid—a half-seen blur of matte-black armour and neural interface cables snaking down his neck.

  Seraphina’s concussed mind fractured the violence into snapshots: A boot crushing a throat—a knife-hilt slamming into a temple. A spine twisted sideways with a wet crunch—no wasted motion. No hesitation. His eyes flickered faintly, pupils dilated too wide, backlit by the cold blue of his Eyes. Seraphina knew what that glow meant. He had a military nexus.

  Not human, she thought dizzily. Just another weapon the empire spat back out.

  The last thug lunged, rusty blade raised. Reuben caught his wrist. The man stared at his arm for a heartbeat, bending the wrong way, bones splintering under Reuben’s enhanced grip. Then the scream came. Seraphina’s stomach heaved.

  Her legs folded, her spine too heavy to hold her upright anymore, as her body gave out.

  She sank, knees buckling, but the ground never hit. Thin arms caught her—a girl reeking of sweat and grease, her face a patchwork of dirt and defiance. “Easy, there,” Nolena muttered, lowering herself against the wall. “Breathe through the pain. Makes ‘em easier to count.”

  “She’s not one of them,” Nolena barked at Reuben, yanking Seraphina’s hand upright. “Look at her hands. Soft as shit. She’s running from them, not with ’em.”

  Reuben didn’t look. He wiped his blade on a corpse’s shirt, nexus-enhanced gaze scanning the ceiling. “Doesn’t mean she’s useful. Could be a trap.”

  “Then let the Spire sort her out,” Nolena shot back. Her fingers, calloused and quick, probed Seraphina’s ribs. “But we don’t leave strays to die.”

  Seraphina’s vision dimmed, but not before she saw Reuben’s jaw tighten—a micro-expression, there and gone.

  When she woke, the air tasted of antiseptic and burnt sugar. Bioluminescent fungi clung to the walls of a gutted storage crate, their sickly glow painting Nolena in greens and greys. The girl hummed as she stitched a gash on Seraphina’s arm, her needle flashing with white thread.

  “Jinx says you’ll live,” Nolena said, nodding to the threadbare teddy bear wedged in her belt. One button eye hung loose. “He’s a shit medic, but he’s cheap.”

  Seraphina’s throat burned as she tried not to chuckle. “Who gave him to you?”

  Nolena’s smile faltered. “Someone who didn’t stick around.” She tossed Jinx into Seraphina’s lap. “Here. Hold him. You look like you’ve never seen a toy before.”

  ‘I haven’t,’ Seraphina almost said. Her childhood had been marble floors, combat drones and pain, not stuffed bears. Instead, she rasped, “Sera. My name’s Sera.”

  “Liar.” Nolena yanked the stitch tight. “But I like it. Better than ‘corpse.’”

  The crate door screeched open. Reuben stood silhouetted against the Spire’s pulsating dark, his eyes flashing faintly. “Up. Now.”

  Nolena blocked his path. “Her ribs are cracked. She needs medical attention”

  “And we must reach the deep caverns before the sector shifts.” His voice was a vibroblade—cold, precise. “If she dies, she dies. Move.”

  Seraphina shoved upright, biting back a scream. “I’ll keep up.”

  Nolena caught her arm, leaning close. “He’s full of shit. We’ve got a stash below. Just stay on your feet, Sera.”

  The tunnels deepened, walls bleeding rust like old wounds. Rebel sentries melted from the shadows as Reuben passed, fingers flicking in some coded salute. Seraphina counted their weapons—old military pulse rifles and vibro blades, a few pipe rifles, shock batons, a child’s slingshot loaded with glass shards. Not weapons that could win a war.

  “Shrine ahead,” Nolena whispered, nodding to an alcove with melted dog tags and handwritten names. “They don’t burn them. Just… leave them where they are.”

  Reuben paused, his nexus flaring as he pressed a palm to a security panel. The metal groaned, veins of blue light spreading under his touch. Hacking, Seraphina realised. He’s bypassing security systems.

  Nolena steadied her as they slipped through. For a heartbeat, Seraphina let herself pretend the hand on her arm was Elara’s.

  Then Reuben froze.

  His comms screeched—a sound like metal teeth grinding. The screech made her head throb. Like razors against her skull..

  “The Baron’s here,” he said, too quietly. “Clearing the sector.”

  Nolena whirled. “You said we had time!”

  Reuben didn’t answer. His nexus flickered, blue fracturing into static. “Lock her up in the holding cell, Nolena.”

  Nolena pushed Teddy Jinx into her arms as Seraphina watched Nolena go ahead, arguing with Reuben. A guard stepped beside her, ushering her in the opposite direction.

  Seraphina heard the distant thrum of weapon fire in the silence as they walked.

  And beneath it, someone screamed, not from pain. It was a scream of rage.

  The holding cell wasn’t a cell—just a rusted maintenance closet stripped of everything but the ghosts of its purpose. Seraphina slumped against the wall, Nolena’s teddy bear still clutched in her bloodied hand. Through the cracked door, voices carried:

  “—two of the Baron’s cyborgs crawling Sector 9, full augments, thermal scopes—”

  “—and that witch from the upper floors is hunting. Ripped Marsha’s squad apart like paper—”

  “You call that intel? I call it a death warrant!”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Rebel boots scuffed on the floor outside. Seraphina pressed her eye to the door seam. A gaunt man gestured wildly at Reuben, his voice a frayed wire. “We’ve got metal freaks on one flank and a psycho with a blade on the other. You promised us a path, Reuben. Where’s your godsdamned backup now?”

  Reuben stood motionless, his back to her. His eyes pulsed faintly, syncing with the Spire’s corroded data streams. “The cyborgs track heat signatures. Flood the eastern vents with reactor exhaust. Blind them.”

  “And the witch?”

  “Let her come.” Reuben’s hand drifted to the knife at his hip. “She’s just meat.”

  The rebels scattered, but not before Seraphina caught the glance they exchanged—a mix of fear and venom. Not a leader. A weapon they tolerate.

  Nolena slipped inside, tossing Seraphina a canteen. “Don’t drink it all. Tastes like piss, but it’s wet.” She leaned against the doorframe, eyes on the chaos outside. “Reuben’s got a plan. Always does. Doesn’t mean it’s good.”

  Seraphina’s ribs throbbed in time with the Spire’s distant groans. “Why help me?”

  Nolena flicked Jinx’s dangling eye. “You’ve got that look. Like someone who’s still surprised the world eats its own.” She nodded to the hall where Reuben stood, a statue wired into the Spire’s dying brain. “He used to be like that. Before the empire ate his sorry ass.”

  A scream echoed through the vents—too high, too human. Nolena stiffened. “That’s the witch. She likes to play.”

  Seraphina looked at Nolena. “Why do you call her a witch?”

  She shrugged before answering. “It's what some of the soldiers started calling her. Been a day or so since she appeared, but she… She doesn't have any fear or feelings.” Nolena’s voice trembled. Her small frame shook as she spoke. “She’s cut down so many people. Real brutal, that one.”

  Outside the door, Reuben’s head snapped toward the sound from the vent. His eyes were glowing. “Move. Now.”

  The rebels surged into the dark, but Seraphina delayed her escort, hoping to glimpse these dangers, her palm against the closet wall. The metal shuddered—not from the Spire’s usual groans but something rhythmic. Heavy. Deliberate.

  Footsteps.

  Two sets. Perfectly timed. Unwavering. With a third set, walking with a faster, yet softer pace.

  Nolena yanked her forward. “Don’t look back, Sera.”

  But she did. Down the ravaged hall, shadows pooled. Then a glint—a rifle barrel, then another, their wielders hidden in the gloom. No breath. No tremble. Just the steady, predatory click of augmetic joints.

  A voice cried out. “Where is she? “

  Reuben’s voice cut through the dread. “Seal the vents. Now.” The Spire screamed with them as the doors slammed shut.

  The rebel comms erupted like a detonated hornet’s nest. Seraphina strained to listen, the voices overlapping—a chorus of static and terror:

  “—Contact lost with Sector 9 patrol—

  —thermal signatures inbound, two hostiles, full augmetic rigs… There fucking cyborgs run!—

  Fuck! FUCK! They’re carving through the east vents like—”

  A scream drowned the transmission. New voices hijacked the frequency, warped and glitching:

  “—Found another one, boss. Still breathing. Should we—?”

  CRUNCH.

  —Non-priority target. Discard. Proceed with sweep.—

  —Beta 1 move forward.—

  —Pull back. Pull back.”

  Seraphina’s breath hitched. She could make out Alex’s voice. Cold. Clinical. He didn't sound normal. His voice was more strained. Where was Jax? He should have been with Alex.

  Nolena went through a door before them and dragged Seraphina behind her. “Reuben’s sealing the sector. We’re moving deeper.” Her hands trembled as she shoved a stolen pulse pistol into Seraphina’s grip.

  Outside, the rebels’ panic crescendoed:

  “—witch just took Garret’s squad! She’s heading for the medbay—

  —Not a witch, you idiot, it’s a monster. A fucking monster—

  —Elara! Her name’s Elara”

  BLAM.

  The gunshot silenced the speaker. Seraphina’s ribs turned to ice. Elara. The rebels didn’t know. They couldn’t see that the monster gutting their ranks was the same woman who’d once braided Seraphina’s hair by firelight.

  Nolena dragged her into the corridor. “Don’t listen to them. Spire messes with your hea—”

  “—SERAPHINA!”

  The scream tore through the comms, raw and unhinged—Elara’s voice. Seraphina’s knees buckled. Nolena’s eyes narrowed slightly, flicking from the comms to Seraphina’s face.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming! I’ll burn this rusted hell to ash! Where is she!”

  Rebels froze mid-retreat. Even Reuben hesitated, his eyes flickering.

  “What the fuck is that?!” a rebel hissed.

  “The witch,” Reuben muttered. “She’s… calling someone.”

  Nolena’s grip tightened on Seraphina’s arm. Seraphina swallowed. ‘She knows.’ Her thoughts screamed. She couldn’t tell if fear or longing made her heart clench in her chest.

  The comms exploded again—A new group of soldiers came through, transmissions crisp and lethal.

  “Advancing on sector 12-B. No survivors.”

  “Copy. Cleanse and clear.”

  Reuben barked orders, but the rebels were fracturing. A woman hurled her rifle. “You said we had time, that we could counter the government’s tech! You said—”

  “I said run,” Reuben snarled, shoving her toward the tunnels. “Or die useful.”

  Nolena pulled Seraphina into a side passage. “There’s a lift shaft. Goes straight to the deep caverns.”

  “Why… help me…?” Seraphina gasped, each step grinding her ribs. “Leave me. You know it's me there after.”

  Nolena didn’t look back. “I know you’re the only one they’re both screaming for. That makes you either the key… or the detonator. Reuben will kill you if he finds out.”

  Above them, the Spire shuddered. Dust rained down as something—someone—slammed into the upper decks.

  CRASH.

  “SERA-PHINA!”

  Closer now. Elara’s voice splintered into static-laced laughter. “You can’t hide her from me! I’ll peel this place open!”

  Nolena cursed, yanking Seraphina into the lift shaft. “Go. Now.”

  “What about him?”

  “Don’t worry about him. Move.”

  The lift cables screamed as they descended. Seraphina pressed Jinx’s threadbare fur to her nose—burnt sugar and blood—as the voices above warped into a hellish duet:

  Another static radio call came through. “Target acquired. Terminating hostiles.”

  A feral scream followed. ‘She’s MINE. She’s MINE!”

  Seraphina’s lips parted before she could think. The name caught in her throat—Elara—just a breath away from escape. But she bit it back, teeth clenching so hard it hurt.

  That wasn’t the woman who had once braided her hair. That was something else. Someone broken by the loss of something dear. And she knew that without her, Elara would keep searching, spiralling down more and more. She had saved Elara once. Seraphina only prayed that should could again.

  Nolena said nothing, but her eyes flicked toward Seraphina—sharp, observant.

  She saw the way Seraphina flinched at the voice on the radio.

  She was slowly putting things together.

  Metal shrieked as the lift descended. Seraphina closed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she thought, unsure who she meant. ‘I’m so sorry.’