Through the Dark

Maren tightened the straps of her coat and slung her pack over her shoulder. The last of the rebels had retreated deeper into the tunnels, taking their maps and meager supplies with them. Only the echo of Kerrin’s warning remained.

“You don’t have to do this,” he had told her. But she’d already decided. She did have to.

The hum of drones pulsed faintly in the distance—a haunting rhythm that reminded her of the world she’d lost. Machines of surveillance and power, servants of the corrupt order that had ruined everything. They were close. Too close.

So she took her lantern, the same one that had guided her through the tunnels, and climbed the crumbling stairway that led back to the surface. The air that met her was cold and sharp, filled with the metallic scent of old rain and rust. Above her, the moon bled pale light through a veil of dust.

She emerged onto what had once been a train trussel—its steel skeleton still spanning the ravine like the bones of a fallen titan. Beneath it, the cracked riverbed wound its way toward the dead city. Every step she took sent echoes into the stillness.

Behind her, the faint whir of engines rose again.

Maren didn’t look back.

Instead, she lifted her lantern high, its golden light flickering against the twisted metal. A signal. A lure. The glow would draw them—the machines and the watchers behind them—away from Kerrin’s people, away from the fragile heart of the rebellion.

She moved slowly at first, her boots clanging against the trussel’s rails, then quicker as the first beam of artificial light swept across her shoulder.

They had found her.

A drone’s red eye locked on, humming higher as it descended. Another followed, their mechanical chatter echoing like the hiss of serpents. She ran now, her breath ragged, the lantern swinging wildly in her grasp. The bridge shook under her weight, and for an instant, she thought it might collapse entirely.

But the wilderness beyond called to her—the ruins giving way to a landscape reclaimed by time: twisted trees, cracked earth, the faint outline of mountains in the distance. If she could make it there, the dense brush might hide her trail.

She leapt from the trussel’s end, landing hard on the dirt below. Pain shot up her leg, but she pushed on, plunging into the thicket. Behind her, the drones fanned out, scanning the shadows, their light slicing through the trees like knives.

Maren pressed forward, forcing herself deeper into the dark wilderness. She knew the cost of this choice. If she stopped, the rebels would die. If she led the enemy too far, she might never find Silen again.

And yet—something inside her told her this was the only way.

For a long moment, she paused, breath trembling, the lantern’s glow trembling in her hand. The forest around her seemed to breathe. The mechanical hum had faded to a distant drone.

Had she lost them? Or had they simply decided to wait?

The wind shifted. Leaves rustled. Somewhere behind her came a faint crunch— deliberate, careful.

Not a machine this time.

A person.

Maren turned slowly, heart pounding, the lantern’s flame flickering in the wind as she raised it toward the sound.

And in the shifting half-light, a shadow moved—human, but unfamiliar.

A voice came softly through the dark.

“You shouldn’t have come here alone.”

The figure stepped forward, face still hidden beneath a hood.

Maren tightened her grip on the lantern, eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”

The stranger smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. “Someone who’s been waiting for you.”

The flame sputtered—and went out.