The hall was silent again, save for the faint hum of the vault's walls.
Wren stood over his tablet, eyes scanning the Dominion movements on the improvised map. Each red icon was a team, and the longer they looked, the more it felt like the whole estate was crawling with them.
"They're sweeping every room," Cara said, voice low. "If we try to push out, we're going to hit at least three teams head-on."
Wren glanced up, signing: Agreed. Deeper = less predictable.
She frowned. "Less predictable for them or for us?"
His only answer was a small shrug.
She sighed. "Fine. Deeper it is. But we're going to need more than adrenaline for this."
Dropping to one knee, Cara tapped the tattooed sword mark on her arm—only this time, she focused not on the blade but on the spirit storage space she'd discovered before meeting Wren. The air shimmered faintly, and her hand emerged holding a vacuum-sealed pouch of protein bars.
Wren didn't react. No raised brow, no startled look—just a brief glance before returning to his map.
She froze. "…You're not even going to ask?"
He looked at her again, and his mouth almost quirked, the kind of expression that said later.
She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, we're definitely talking about this later."
They ate quickly, the faint taste of cardboardy chocolate settling the edge in her stomach. She tucked the remaining bars back into the shimmer-space with a thought.
"Lead on," she told him, wiping her hands on her hoodie.
The next passage sloped downward again, the air growing cooler and heavier. Here, the walls changed—rough stone gave way to massive blocks, fitted so precisely together that she couldn't have slid a razor between them.
The floor bore marks: deep grooves as if something heavy had been dragged this way long ago.
[System Notice: Uncatalogued Depth Level Entered – Probability of Artefact Cache: 73%]
After fifty metres, the corridor widened into a circular chamber. Three archways yawned open in the far wall, each leading into pitch black.
Wren paused at the threshold, scanning the floor. Then he pointed to the middle archway, where the dust was subtly disturbed.
"You think someone's already been down here?" she whispered.
He signed: Recently.
That was all she needed to hear. She pulled her sword into her hand, and together they stepped into the dark.
Shadows in the Deep
The corridor narrowed again, the air shifting from cool to a damp chill that clung to Cara's skin. The glow from the crystals in the upper vault had vanished, replaced by total darkness.
Wren flicked a compact torch from his pack, the beam slicing across rough-cut walls and uneven ground. The path ahead ended abruptly—at a chasm at least ten metres across, the drop vanishing into black.
Cara stepped to the edge, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Finally, something fun."
Before Wren could sign anything, she backed up three paces, sprinted, and launched herself forward. Her boots hit the opposite ledge in a clean roll, momentum carrying her to her feet in one smooth motion.
She turned, brushing damp hair from her face. "Your turn."
Wren was already uncoiling a length of rope from his pack, one end fitted with a weighted grapple. He swung it once, twice, then sent it sailing across. It hooked on a jagged outcrop near her feet.
He tested the tension, then stepped back, took a short run, and used the rope to swing over, planting his boots hard into the opposite wall and climbing the last few feet with a mix of rope-work and rudimentary parkour.
"Not bad," Cara said, smirking.
He gave her a flat look that said you're still reckless, then coiled the rope back into his pack.
Beyond the chasm, the path became more treacherous—slopes slick with mineral build-up, tight squeezes between pillars of ancient stone, and at one point, a shallow flood they had to wade through in icy water up to their knees.
The system flickered occasional prompts in Cara's vision:
[Environmental Hazard: Slippery Surface]
[Minor Cold Fatigue – Stamina Drain +3%]
They emerged from a narrow passage into a low-ceilinged gallery carved with strange reliefs—scenes of battles, strange beasts, and what looked like men and women wearing crowns of light.
But they weren't alone, they both braced for a Dominion attack.
Shadows moved at the far end, lit by the dull glow of portable lanterns. Four figures, each in mismatched gear—leather armour, modern webbing, even a long coat that looked more Victorian than tactical.
They weren't Dominion.
One, a tall woman with a shaved head and a respirator mask, glanced up at them. Her hand went to the curved blade at her hip, but she didn't draw it yet.
The man beside her, narrow-faced with a crow's nest of dreadlocks, spoke first, his voice carrying clearly in the damp air.
"You're a long way from the surface. Question is… are you here for the same thing we are?"
Words in the Dark
Cara lowered her sword slightly but didn't sheath it, letting the blackened blade's hum fill the silence between them.
She tilted her head, giving the tall, masked woman a quick once-over before speaking.
"That depends," Cara said, her tone casual but edged. "If you're here for the vault, maybe we're competitors. If you're here for something else… maybe we're allies."
The dreadlocked man smirked. "Vault, huh? Interesting you'd know about that."
"I know a lot of things," she replied, stepping forward slowly, each boot crunching over grit and pebbles. "Like how you're not Dominion. Which means you're either scavengers… or you've got your own orders."
The masked woman's fingers flexed near her blade hilt, but she didn't draw. Instead, she spoke for the first time, her voice filtered and mechanical through the respirator.
"We're Seekers."
The word made Wren glance at Cara, just a flicker, but she caught it. He knew it.
"What's a Seeker?" Cara asked, feigning ignorance.
The dreadlocked man chuckled. "That's not how this works, love. You answer first. Who sent you down here?"
Cara didn't miss a beat. "The Archivist."
It was a gamble—she'd seen the title in one of the classified Solace files upstairs, but didn't know if it meant anything here.
The man's smirk faltered. The masked woman's gaze sharpened.
"…The Archivist's dead," the man said slowly.
"Then I guess we were both lied to," Cara said with a shrug. "Now, why don't you tell me what a Seeker's looking for in this pit before the Dominion flood this place and everyone here ends up in body bags?"
The masked woman studied her for a long moment, then finally spoke again.
"We're here for the Spine."
"Spine of what?" Cara pressed.
But before an answer came, Wren's fingers tapped her shoulder twice—a warning.
She followed his gaze to the gallery entrance. Faint red beams swept across the far wall.
Dominion optics.
The Seekers saw it too. The dreadlocked man cursed under his breath. "Looks like your 'friends' found us."
The masked woman drew her curved blade in a smooth motion. "Talk later. Fight now."
Ghosting the Seekers
The Dominion breach was clean and fast—three beams sweeping the gallery, followed by the low thump of boots hitting stone.
The Seekers moved immediately, fanning out into defensive positions, blades flashing in the dim light.
Cara caught Wren's eye and gave the tiniest nod toward the shadows at the gallery's far side.
Move while they're distracted.
They slipped into the darkness without a sound, her sword fading back into her arm to free her hands. Wren led, hugging the wall, weaving them between thick stone pillars and collapsed carvings.
Behind them, the first shots rang out—short, controlled bursts. The Dominion's rifle fire cracked like lightning against the deeper bass of the Seekers' strange weapons, steel ringing against steel.
The path Wren chose dipped into a narrow side tunnel, one the Seekers clearly knew about. Faint lantern glow bobbed ahead, half-obscured by twists in the passage.
They slowed their pace, staying just far enough behind to keep the light in view but not be seen.
[System Notice: Tracking Target Group – Estimated Distance: 14m]
Cara smirked faintly. Guess you're good for more than sarcasm, system.
The Seekers moved quickly, clearly familiar with the lower vault's terrain. They passed through a pair of ancient archways and over a bridge of cracked stone that spanned yet another drop into blackness.
Cara studied every turn, every landmark—mental mapping. If they lost the Seekers, she wanted at least a fighting chance of finding where they were going.
After another hundred metres, the tunnel widened into what looked like an antechamber. The Seekers' lantern light revealed more of those intricate wall carvings—this time showing a single towering spire surrounded by radiating lines, almost like veins.
"The Spine," Cara murmured under her breath.
Wren glanced at her but said nothing, just touched two fingers to his own eyes, then pointed to the Seekers.
Keep watching.
The tall masked woman moved to a section of the wall and pressed her palm to a particular carved panel.
Stone ground against stone, and a concealed door swung inward, revealing a passage lit by a faint golden glow.
The Seekers slipped inside one by one.
Cara and Wren waited until the sound of their footsteps faded… then moved into the cavern after them, silent as the grave.
The Spine
The hidden passage descended at a sharp angle, the faint golden glow strengthening with each step. The air here was warmer, thicker—charged, almost, like the space before a lightning strike.
Cara's fingers brushed the wall as she walked. The stone vibrated faintly beneath her touch, as if something deep below was pulsing.
Ahead, the glow widened into a vast cavern.
The Spine dominated it.
It wasn't a column in the traditional sense—it was a massive, vertical crystal formation, easily three metres thick and disappearing into darkness both above and below. Veins of molten gold ran through it like a frozen river, and every few seconds, a deep, resonant hum shuddered through the cavern floor.
The Seekers stood at its base, their lanterns casting fractured light across the surface. The masked woman placed her palm flat against the crystal, and Cara swore she saw the golden veins brighten in response.
The system flared in Cara's vision:
[Uncatalogued Artefact: The Spine of Solace]
Warning: This structure predates recorded history]
Function: Energy Conduit / Memory Lattice / Weapon Trigger]
Bloodline Resonance: Detected]
Her breath caught. Bloodline resonance?
The dreadlocked man spoke, his voice carrying clearly in the cavern. "It's active again. The Dominion's digging upstairs must've woken it."
The masked woman didn't look away from the crystal. "We don't have much time before they find this place. Get the extractor ready."
An older Seeker, his coat hanging in tattered folds, opened a heavy case and began assembling something that looked half like a drilling rig, half like an oversized tuning fork.
Cara's mind was racing. Energy conduit… weapon trigger… memory lattice.
If the system was right, the Spine wasn't just some relic—it was a core, a control point for something much larger.
She took one slow step forward, keeping to the shadows, trying to get a closer look at the golden veins.
They weren't random—they formed a pattern. And in the centre, faint but unmistakable, was the same sigil she'd seen engraved on her necklace.
Her heart thudded in her chest.
Wren touched her shoulder, his expression a silent question: Now?
She shook her head. Not yet. They needed to know exactly what the Seekers planned to do with the extractor before making a move.
The Spine gave another deep hum, and this time, she thought she felt it inside her bones—like it was… waiting.
The Cry
The extractor's frame locked into place with a sharp metallic clack. The older Seeker fitted its tuning-fork arms around the crystal, tightening bolts until they pressed flush against the golden veins.
The masked woman stepped back and nodded. "Do it."
The machine came alive with a deep, droning vibration. Gold light rippled through the Spine, pulsing faster, brighter—then a piercing note cut through the cavern, too high to be entirely sound, too deep to be entirely felt.
Cara staggered, clutching her head.
The system burst into her vision in blinding white:
[Bloodline Artefact in Critical State]
[Incoming Transmission: Direct Neural Link]
And then… she heard it.
Not in her ears—in her mind.
A voice, deep and resonant, layered like a choir but threaded with pain.
Child of my line… they are tearing the heart from me. Stop them.
Images crashed into her thoughts—cities blazing with golden light, colossal machines grinding through stone, a war fought not with armies but with storms of pure energy. And in the centre of it all, the Spine, shattering.
She sucked in a breath, steadying herself against the wall. Wren was watching her, eyes narrowed in silent question.
"They're killing it," she whispered, realising how insane that would sound to anyone else. "And if they succeed… I think it's more than this thing that dies."
Wren's gaze hardened. No hesitation—he slid his pack off, unzipped a compartment, and produced two smoke grenades.
The Seekers didn't see them move.
Cara leapt from the shadows, her sword materialising mid-air, black steel catching the glow of the crystal. She drove the point into the extractor's housing, severing one of its support arms in a spray of sparks.
Wren's grenades popped a second later, filling the cavern with a thick, choking haze.
Shouts erupted. The dreadlocked man swung his curved knife toward her, but Cara pivoted, hooking her blade with his and sending him stumbling. The masked woman charged through the smoke, blade singing.
Wren was already at the machine, yanking cables free, pulling out an entire power cell and stuffing it into his pack.
The Spine's voice thundered in Cara's mind again: Well done, child. Do not let them anchor it.
Two Seekers rushed Wren, but he met them with brutal efficiency—ducking under a swing, slamming an elbow into one's solar plexus, and sweeping the other off their feet with a sharp kick.
Cara pressed the attack on the masked woman, their blades clashing in a rhythm that felt almost like music. But the Seeker was good—fast, precise, and utterly unshaken by the smoke.
"Who are you?" the woman demanded mid-swing.
Cara's reply was a grin. "Nonya."
The extractor was half-ruined now, but the older Seeker was scrambling to patch it back together. Wren spotted it first, signing sharply: We end it now.
Cara nodded, and together they surged forward—him to smash the machinery beyond repair, her to drive the Seekers back from the Spine.
The golden veins in the crystal flared bright, almost blinding, as if the whole cavern was breathing again.