The docks reeked of salt, rust, and smoke.
Moonlight spilled across the water, fractured by the silhouettes of cargo ships that loomed like giants against the night. Lanterns bobbed along the piers where mercenaries patrolled, their rifles gleaming beneath heavy coats.
Arya crouched in the shadows beside Ivy, her pulse thundering. Every creak of the dock seemed deafening. Every flicker of torchlight a threat.
"This is insane," she whispered.
Ivy's hand rested lightly on her arm steady, grounding. "It's necessary. You see those crates?" He nodded toward a row of steel containers marked with the mercenaries' sigil. "Weapons. Medicine. Supplies. If Serah gets them, we get leverage."
Arya swallowed hard, her throat dry. "And if we get caught?"
"Then we don't," Ivy said simply, eyes hard as stone.
Across the dock, Serah's smugglers were already moving, ghosts in the dark. A signal flashed three quick flickers of light. The operation had begun.
Arya and Ivy slipped forward, silent on the wet planks. The cold air bit at Arya's face, her breath fogging as she forced her fear down. Beside her, Ivy moved with lethal grace, every step calculated.
When they reached the first container, Arya ducked behind it, clutching the small blade Ivy had given her. Her hands trembled, but she tightened her grip.
Then…
Footsteps. Voices.
Two mercenaries rounded the corner, rifles slung carelessly as they joked in low voices. Arya's heart leapt to her throat. They were too close. Too fast.
Before she could react, Ivy's hand brushed hers. A signal: stay still.
She froze.
The mercenaries passed within arm's reach, one dragging a cigarette, the other laughing under his breath. Arya felt her muscles ache from holding so still, her pulse screaming in her ears.
And then silence again. The men walked on, oblivious.
Arya exhaled shakily. Ivy's gaze met hers in the shadows, steady, unwavering. For a heartbeat too long, neither moved.
Then Ivy turned away, his voice barely audible. "This way."
At the second container, Serah's crew was already prying the lock. Arya kept watch, nerves stretched taut, while Ivy scanned the patrols with a predator's focus.
"Almost there," Serah muttered, sweat glistening at her temple. With a sharp crack, the lock gave way. The doors swung open revealing crates stacked high, stamped with military codes.
Weapons. Ammunition. Medicine. Enough to arm a rebellion.
But before relief could set in;
A whistle cut the air.
Arya's blood turned to ice. She knew that sound. The same signal from the forest.
The mercenaries had spotted them.
"Move!" Ivy barked.
The docks erupted with chaos. Shouts, running boots, rifles snapping into position. Gunfire cracked, splinters flying as bullets tore into the wooden planks.
Arya ducked, adrenaline roaring through her veins. Serah's men scrambled, dragging crates onto a waiting truck, returning fire as they moved.
Ivy grabbed Arya's hand and pulled her behind cover. "Stay low!"
"But…."
"No arguments." His eyes burned into hers, fierce and unyielding. "We walk out of this alive. Together."
Arya's chest tightened at his words, but there was no time to think. More mercenaries poured in, their boots hammering the docks.
Ivy leapt from cover, blade flashing. He moved like a storm, cutting through one man, disarming another before firing his rifle into the dark.
Arya forced herself to follow, darting behind crates, striking when an enemy got too close. The fear in her chest became something sharper, fiercer survival.
At last, the final crate slammed onto the truck. Serah shouted from the driver's seat, "We're leaving!"
Ivy seized Arya's arm and pulled her up onto the truck bed. Bullets sparked against metal as the engine roared to life, tires screeching across the docks.
Mercenaries gave chase, their shouts swallowed by the night as the truck barreled through the gates and into the dark city streets.
Arya collapsed against the crates, breathless, her entire body shaking. Her hand brushed Ivy's, and when he didn't pull away, she left it there.
For a moment, just a moment, the chaos faded.
They were alive.
Together.
The truck sped into the shadows of the city, carrying stolen weapons, stolen medicine, and the first spark of rebellion.
And though Arya didn't say it out loud, deep inside she knew this was only the beginning.