With Dawning Horror

The tunnels grew wider as Maren pressed forward, her lantern trembling in her hand. The air was thicker here, warm with the faint hum of hidden machinery—generators perhaps, or something older, reawakened after decades of silence. She could hear voices now, low and measured, echoing through the cavern ahead.

As she rounded a corner, the light spilled out before her—a vast underground chamber carved from the bedrock beneath Los Angeles. It was alive in ways the dead world above had long forgotten. Candles lined the walls, flickering against faces worn by years of struggle. Makeshift tables were cluttered with maps, radio parts, rifles cleaned and ready.

And at the center stood Kerrin Dault, the rebel leader. His sharp eyes caught her the moment she stepped into the open. The conversation stopped. Every face turned toward her.

Maren froze, her breath catching in her throat. Dozens of people stared—faces both cautious and curious. Some reached subtly for their weapons; others simply waited, expectant.

“I’m not here to fight,” she said, her voice unsteady but strong. “My name is Maren… I’m looking for someone.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. One of the rebels—a woman with short, soot-dark hair—narrowed her gaze. “Who?”

“My brother,” Maren said softly. “Silen.”

The name hung in the air like an invocation.

Kerrin stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Silen,” he repeated. “You claim to know him?”

Maren nodded, her grip tightening on the lantern. “He’s alive. I know it. I’ve seen signs. He was here, in these tunnels.”

Kerrin studied her for a long moment, then gestured to the map spread across the table. “If that’s true,” he said, “then you may have brought us more than hope. You may have brought us danger.”

The room went still.

Maren frowned. “What do you mean?”

The woman with the short hair stepped forward, voice low. “Someone’s been tracking him. Watching him. A drone convoy came through the lower tunnels two nights ago. They weren’t searching randomly—they knew exactly where to look.”

Kerrin nodded grimly. “They were after Silen. And now you’ve walked the same path.”

The words struck her like a blow. The faint hum she’d heard earlier suddenly felt different—closer, deliberate.

Maren’s eyes widened. “You think… they followed me?”

Kerrin didn’t answer. He moved quickly, signaling to his people. “Shut down the lights. Get the maps secured.”

All around, rebels moved with silent precision, dousing flames, hiding supplies, sealing off exits. The candles flickered out one by one until the cavern was a patchwork of dim shadows.

A distant metallic thud echoed through the tunnels—heavy, rhythmic. Not footsteps. Machines.

Kerrin turned back to Maren, his face now half-hidden in darkness. “If you are who you say you are,” he said quietly, “then you’ve brought the war to our door.”

Then, softer, almost to himself: “Let’s pray your brother’s worth the price we’re about to pay.”

Above them, the ceiling trembled as something massive descended into the earth. The faint whine of drones filled the air like mechanical locusts.

And deep beneath the city, Maren realized with dawning horror—she hadn’t just found the resistance.
She’d led their enemies straight to it, or had she....