The world above full of sunlight, laughter, and life, faded into memory as the scene descended deep beneath the earth. A metallic clang echoed through the narrow corridors of the facility, bouncing between walls lined with rustling pipes and cables that pulsed faintly with blue light.
The air was heavy, moist and cold, the kind of cold that carried the weight of secrets. In one of the dimly lit chambers, a man sat hunched over a terminal that buzzed with quiet menace.
The glow of the monitor painted his face in flickering shades of green and blue. Narfius' eyes were glued, looking more like a corpse than a living person. His skin was pale, his movements stiff and uneasy.
Every twitch of his hands across the keyboard was unnatural, mechanical, as though his joints no longer obeyed him but the invisible strings of some unseen puppeteer. Lines of code cascaded across the screen in symbols that weren't part of any known language.
Characters bending in shapes that defied the logic of written systems. The hum of machinery was constant, broken only by the clatter of his uneven keystrokes. He took a shallow breath, his chest rising with effort.
"It's almost… complete," he rasped, voice strained from fatigue, or perhaps from something else entirely.
Behind him, on the stained concrete floor, lay a body bag. It was dark and slick with dried blood, the material stretched over something unmistakably human. The stillness of it was suffocating.
Then came a kick.
The bag shifted with a dull thud. Standing nearby was a boy, young, around fifteen, though his confidence and sharp glint in his eyes made him seem younger. The smirk that curved his lips didn't belong to a child, it was practiced, deliberate.
"You sure you wanna do this, kid?" Narfius asked, not looking away from the screen. His tone was flat, edged with fatigue. "You know what'll happen to you once I make this thing turn on, right?"
The boy snorted. "You're the one getting paid to do this, aren't you?"
That earned a low, gravelly laugh. "Heh… mouthy little brat," Narfius said under his breath. "You've got that same attitude as the rest of them." He glanced at the reflection of the boy in the screen. "You don't even know what kind of fire you're lighting."
The boy leaned against a pipe, arms crossed. "I don't need to. My job's to make sure you finish yours. What happens after, well, that's not my problem." Narfius stopped typing for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"You talk like you've seen the world. You haven't. You're only fifteen, and you've already decided what kind of person you are. That's the saddest damn thing I've heard all week."
The boy smirked wider. "You talk too much for someone on a leash."
That jab hit something in Narfius, his face tightening, but the grin returned almost immediately, cold and mirthless. "Heh. Maybe." His hands started moving again, faster now, typing strings of code that even he couldn't fully understand.
The terminal hissed as symbols danced across its surface, forming patterns that looked more organic than digital. The cables overhead pulsed in response, sending tremors through the room.
"Whoever made this," Narfius muttered, eyes glued to the screen, "they weren't just building a machine… they were building something incredible, a masterpiece in its entirety."
The boy tilted his head. "Why, you think you're gonna fail your job?"
"Me?" Narfius asked, chuckling as he tapped the side of the terminal. "You just sit tight, I'll get this working in a few."
He pressed another sequence of keys. The system groaned, letting out a low, mechanical hum that reverberated through the entire facility. Dust shook from the ceiling, falling like ash.
"Old-world tech, new-world purpose…" he mumbled. "Whoever built this is still alive. And somehow, they were able to understand so much technology from the old world. There's no way it wouldn't be from that time, it's too advanced, too… impossible."
The boy gave a low whistle. "Creepy talk for someone who claims to be a scientist." Narfius chuckled again, this time without humor. "I never said I was a scientist, kid. I can do many more things, but I'd be the last one they want with how much my services cost."
The screen flashed red, symbols rearranging themselves faster than the eye could follow. A deep chime echoed from somewhere deep below, vibrating through the metal floor. The boy straightened, smirk fading. "You did it?"
Narfius leaned in, squinting at the strange prompt that now filled the display. The letters shifted with every blink, forming words he didn't recognize, then breaking apart into gibberish. His mouth went dry.
"I didn't do anything," he said quietly. "It… opened itself."
The boy stepped closer, curiosity overtaking his arrogance. "So… what now?" Narfius didn't answer at first. His expression twisted into something between awe and dread. Finally, he spoke, voice barely a whisper.
"Now, we see if your employer has any idea what they've really found."
The hum grew louder, lights flickering in rhythm with something below. From somewhere in the depths of the facility came a slow, resonant thud, followed by another.
The boy turned his head toward the sound, unease creeping across his face for the first time. "What was that?" Narfius just smiled, his reflection flickering in the light of the screen. "The start of the very bad day."
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The room wasn't lavish, but it carried the quiet dignity of comfort, one of the mid-level suites meant for the long stays in the tallest hotel of the village. The corridor outside smelled faintly of polished wood and spice from the nearby kitchen, and the hum of the festival below reached them only as a distant thrum.
Ikra closed the door behind him, the lock clicking softly as he set down his travel bag. The long trip had left dust on their boots and weariness in their bones, yet the moment the children saw the clean beds and wide window view, their exhaustion melted into excitement.
Ryu immediately threw himself onto one of the mattresses, testing its bounce, while Iyu peered out the window, his reflection mixing with the lights beginning to flicker on in the streets below.
"Feels strange," Iyu said. "Being somewhere… normal."
Ikra gave a faint chuckle, pulling off his cloak and hanging it near the lamp. "Normal doesn't last long for us, son. You know that." He began unpacking his notes and tools onto the desk, arranging them with practiced precision.
Maps, folded letters, and sketches of insignias lined the surface, and before long, he was pinning the most relevant sheets onto the wall beside the window. Each page told a part of the same story, one that refused to end, no matter how far they traveled.
Behind him, the boys had begun bickering again, this time over who got the window seat. Ikra ignored them at first, adjusting a note to align with another, but when the scuffle started to sound serious, he turned just slightly, his tone calm but edged.
"Don't make me regret booking a room this close to the other agents."
Ryu froze, half-crouched on the bed with a pillow raised like a weapon. Iyu straightened from his seat by the window, a sheepish grin tugging at his mouth. "We weren't being that loud," Ryu muttered.
Ikra shot him a sharp look, the kind that silenced both boys without needing another word. The faint laughter and chatter from the neighboring rooms reminded him why he'd chosen this floor.
Far from the other agents.
It wasn't because he didn't trust them, but because the director's eyes didn't reach this far down. Up in the suites above, the director and his people liked to keep things official. Down there, Ikra could keep things personal.
He turned back to the wall of papers, letting the silence linger. "We don't need anyone knowing why we're here," he said, his voice low but firm. "If the director finds out, it might pique his curiosity, turn into one of his games."
"But this isn't his to meddle with."
Iyu leaned against the window frame. "You think he'd stop you?"
Ikra gave a quiet laugh, bitter and dry. "Stop me? No. But he'd twist it into something complicated. Means more work for me to do." His gaze drifted toward a photograph pinned near the center, the faded image of a man in uniform, his features half-torn by time.
For a moment, the only sound was the wind tapping softly against the glass. Then Ikra sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You two have been dragged along long enough. You need to breathe, see something good for once."
He reached into his bag and tossed a sack of coins to Ity, who barely caught it before it hit his chest. "There's a festival tonight. Go out. Eat, play, do whatever you want. Just don't draw unwanted attention."
Ryu sat up immediately. "Wait, really? No curfew? No one to watch us as we go around?" Ikra smirked faintly without looking back. "Don't make me change my mind." Iyu peeked into the coin pouch, raising a brow. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," Ikra said, adjusting one of the pinned pages. "I need time to think." His voice softened, almost too much for them to hear. "And I don't want you seeing what that thinking looks like."
The brothers exchanged glances, knowing better than to press further. Within minutes, they'd thrown on their cloaks and slipped out the door, the echo of their laughter fading down the hallway.
Ikra stood still for a while, listening to their footsteps vanish into the hum of the hotel. The moment the silence settled, he turned back to the wall. The network of maps and notes seemed to stare back. An endless, mocking puzzle.
At the center was a torn note marked with a single word.
Rahl.
Ikra's hand brushed over it, his expression darkening. "You think you can hide forever?" he murmured.
He sank into the chair by the desk, the candlelight flickering across his tired face. Below the window, the festival looked livelier than ever, the sound of drums and laughter drifting upward.
The two brothers stepped out of the hotel and into the warm afternoon sun, the air shimmering faintly above the sandstone streets. The village was coming alive, the stalls being set up for the evening festival.
Strings of colorful banners stretched from rooftop to rooftop, and the smell of grilled food drifted lazily through the air. The sound of laughter and hammering mixed with the rustle of fabric of vendors hurried to finish decorating their booths.
Iyu shaded his eyes and looked around. "It's a lot busier than it was this morning," he said, glancing at the bustling main street. Ryu nodded, his gaze drifting over the activity. "Guess everyone wants to make the most of the festival. You can't blame them."
"Yeah, but it's loud," Iyu said, rubbing his ear with a slight grimace. "Feels strange after how quiet the road was." Ryu chuckled. "That's because you're used to silence. Relax a little, will you?"
They started walking toward the main market road, their boots crunching lightly against the dusty ground. The heat of the afternoon wasn't unbearable, softened by the occasional desert breeze carrying the scent of spices and sweet bread.
Seeing that most of the festival stalls were already open, they decided to explore. Iyu turned to his brother. "So, where first?"
"The market," Ryu said almost immediately. "I want a snack. Maybe grilled corn or skewers."
"Of course you do," Iyu sighed, rolling his eyes. "But fine. The market's a good place to start. Warhound might be there, probably around the meat section if hes anything like how father described."
"Still thinking about him?" Ryu asked, glancing sideways at his brother. "Someone has to," Iyu muttered. "You act like it doesn't bother you."
"I didn't say that." Ryu stuffed his hands into his pockets, his tone even. "But getting obsessed won't help. We'll find him when we're meant to."
"Easy for you to say." Iyu sighed. "You're the calm one. I'm the one who worries." Ryu gave him a crooked smile. "At least you admit it." Before they entered the thicker part of the crowd, Iyu reached out and grabbed Ryu's hand.
"Don't even think about wandering off again," he warned.
Ryu raised a brow. "What am I, five?"
"You're worse than five," Iyu said flatly. "You have the attention span of a lizard when you see food." Ryu laughed. "Hey, lizards survive in the desert. That's a compliment."
"Keep telling yourself that," Iyu said, tugging him forward. The market was crowded and colorful. Vendors shouted prices, children darted between baskets of fruit, and a pair of musicians played flutes near a stall selling trinkets made of bone.
As they walked deeper in, the smell of fish suddenly hit them. "Ugh," Iyu groaned, covering his nose. "I regret this already." Ryu laughed and nudged him. "It's just fish. Come on, tough guy."
"I didn't sign up for this part of it," Iyu complained, voice muffled behind his sleeve. "You go first. I'll keep my eyes on you from back here."
"Oh, so I get to suffer for you?"
"That's what older brothers are for," Iyu replied, stepping back dramatically.
Ryu groaned. "You're unbelievable."
"You're still walking," Iyu shot back with a grin.
They made it through the fish aisle with Ryu laughing most of the way and Iyu glaring daggers while doing his best not to breathe. When they finally emerged into a wider plaza, the air was fresher, filled with the scent of roasting meat and sweet glaze.
"Better?" Ryu asked, handing him a skewer he'd bought from a nearby stand. Iyu took it gratefully. "Much." He took a bite, then paused. "Okay, maybe this festival isn't that bad after all."
"Told you," Ryu said. "You just needed food."
"You sound like Father," Iyu muttered, chewing. Ryu's smile faltered just slightly at the mention. "Yeah… maybe I do." They stood quietly for a moment, watching the crowd move.
Laughter echoed from the far end of the plaza, where a musician began to play a tune on a worn flute. After a while, Iyu spoke again. "You think Father knows we're out here?" Ryu smirked. "He knows everything. He's just pretending not to."
"So he's letting us?"
"He's letting us learn," Ryu said. "That's what he always does." Iyu frowned, looking down at his half-finished skewer. "I don't like learning this way."
"I didn't either," Ryu admitted, voice quiet. "But sometimes, that's how it goes." They kept walking, side by side, until Iyu glared around but followed close behind, still clutching his brother's hand to keep from losing him in the crowd.
Beneath the sunlight and laughter, Ryu's eyes scanned constantly, his grip subtly firm. He was the older brother teasing his sibling in the middle of a festival. But inside, every sense stayed alert, every muscle ready.
Because for all his easy smiles, Ryu had already decided as soon as he saw what happened to his father when his sibling was kidnapped. Nothing was going to happen to Iyu. Not here, not as long as he was there.
Ryu's gaze drifted from the crowd toward a small row of fruit stands near the end of the plaza. Bright piles of oranges, apples, and glistening berries sat under the warm light, their sweet scent cutting through the smoky air of the market.
He rubbed his stomach lightly. "You know what, I could definitely use something fresh right now. Stay here for a sec," he said, glancing back at Iyu. "I'll grab us a snack." Iyu blinked, annoyed. "What? Why do I have to stay here?"
"Because if I don't, you'll run off and complain we didn't get enough food."
"That's not–"
Iyu stopped mid-sentence, irritation bubbling up. Ryu was already halfway toward the stall, weaving through the crowd with the easy confidence of someone who trusted the world far too much.
Iyu muttered under his breath, "One day, you'll get yourself in trouble for that." He sighed and leaned against a nearby post, watching Ryu gesture animatedly with the fruit vendor, probably haggling for a discount he didn't even need.
But just as irritation began to fade, Iyu's eyes caught movement near the edge of the market. A man, cloaked in beige and far too covered for the warm afternoon, was slipping through the flow of people.
He wasn't browsing, wasn't talked, just moving. His steps were slow but precise, and his head tilted ever so slightly as if scanning his surroundings. The way his hand lingered near his belt set off an instinct in Iyu that he couldn't quite name.
Something about him didn't belong here. The man passed a stall of knives, then another selling dried meats, before heading deeper into the meat aisle. Iyu's pulse quickened as he began putting the pieces together.
That's strange…
He turned back to Ryu, who was still at the fruit stand, now chatting with another vendor about how to tell if a melon was ripe.
Typical.
Iyu hesitated. He knew what Ryu would say, Don't wander off. But the way that man moved… the tension in his posture, the intent behind every step, it felt too deliberate to ignore. He took a slow breath, reasoning with himself.
Just a quick look. If it's nothing, I'll be back before he even pays for the fruit.
He adjusted his cloak, lowering his hood just enough to blend in, and slipped into the crowd, keeping his gaze locked on the mysterious figure heading toward the meat stalls. The further he went, the quieter the noise became, with the shouted fading into the low hum of hanging carcasses and dripping water.
The smell grew thicker, almost metallic. And as Iyu trailed him deeper into the aisle, a quiet thought nagged at the back of his mind.
I thought the older one was supposed to be doing the heavy work.