The lower levels of Tyla breathed damp and alive.
Bioluminescent moss clung to the walls, mushrooms pulsed faintly at the seams, and pale aqualife drifted in the shallow tide that lapped against the cracked seastone walkway.
Above it all, the drone of factory machines mingled with the distant clang of miners in chains.
The old man led them on, his boots squelching against the wet stone.
"It's down here," he said.
"Appreciate this, old man," Dwarven grunted. "If it wasn't for you knowing about this other AquaTran, we'd be in deep shit."
The old man shot him a sharp look over his shoulder. "Old man? Stop calling me that. I told you my name—it's Mesmer. Mesmer Fox."
"Right, right. Thanks again, Mesmer." Dwarven turned to Jasper. "That reminds me—I never got your name either."
Jasper's lips quirked into the faintest smile. She slipped a metal card from her pocket and pressed it into his palm.
Etched into the steel was a name: Jasper L'Iz.
Dwarven read it aloud, low and steady.
Mesmer stopped mid-step. His ears perked. His gaze sharpened.
"House of L… huh?" His voice was quiet, edged with old weight. "How the mighty have fallen."
Jasper drifted closer, curiosity flickering in her eyes. Mesmer caught it and waved it off.
"Nothing. Forget it."
They entered a lantern-lit cavern, their footsteps echoing in uneven rhythm. Dwarven brushed his hands along the rough stone walls as they walked, feeling every jagged groove beneath his fingertips. The texture pulled him backward—memories of home creeping in.
He remembered the deep mines, the endless hours spent drilling, chipping, and hauling ore until the noise itself became a kind of madness. The whirring and pounding would blur together until his mind boiled, wild and trapped, like an animal ready to chew its own leg off to escape.
His hand jerked away from the wall, as if burned. No way he could go home yet. Shriek's words echoed in his head.
They pressed on until the tunnel widened into the AquaTran dock. Lanterns burned low, their glow rippling across the tidewater pooled beneath a web of massive gears and pulleys. The air smelled of oil and salt—half machine, half sea.
"So why are there two AquaTrans anyway? You'd think everyone would know about this." Dwarven asked.
Mesmer glanced back over his shoulder. "Simple—there's not supposed to be a second AquaTran. Only the families that've lived here for generations know about it, so I'd appreciate a little discretion."
Jasper zipped her lips and tossed away the imaginary key.
Dwarven chuckled. "Yeah, I don't think you've got much to worry about that."
Mesmer smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Back during the war, Tereliva was an impenetrable fortress. But Tyla… didn't have the same luck. The Aesir occupied us and turned the city into a garrison—a staging ground for attacks on Tereliva. The things they did here…" He shook his head.
He paused, glancing toward the water where the lanternlight rippled. "My old man built this dock in secret. Used it to smuggle people out of Tyla and into Tereliva. Saved hundreds. Maybe more."
Jasper let out a low whistle, impressed. Dwarven nodded. "Sounds like my kind of guy."
"Yeah?" Mesmer's smile was faint, weary—tinged with something darker. "Then what do you think the Aesir did when they found out my dear father was the one smuggling out their hostages?"
Jasper stared silently at Mesmer with gleams of sympathy behind her eyes.
"They threw him into the rapids for being a hero," Mesmer said quietly. "It didn't matter that he was eighty-five. Didn't matter he was the town's only Onyx. Didn't matter he was my father." He exhaled through his nose, voice thinning. "None of the townsfolks stepped in to save him, what could they do? So I retrieved his body and buried him with my mother. After that, I swore off being any kind of hero. It gets you nowhere but dead."
"Right," Dwarven said, "but you ended up helping us anyway."
Mesmer gave a dry chuckle, facing forward again. "Yeah, well… didn't have much of a choice, did I? You two would be up shits creek without me and I actually rather like you two."
The platform was quiet—too quiet. Mesmer frowned.
"I don't see Tom." He scratched his head, scanning the water. The dock was empty except for a few people lingering near the edge, watching the dark water below as if waiting for something that wasn't coming back.
"Hold tight," Mesmer muttered.
He strode toward the small group while Dwarven and Jasper drifted to the railing, peering into the view of the undercity—where the lanternlight dissolved into shadow.
Jasper's heels tapped restlessly against the stone floor. Her wristwatch glimmered in the dim light—each passing second tightening the knot in her chest. The delivery window was shrinking. She exhaled, spun on her heel, and laced her fingers behind her head, forcing herself to bide time.
She tried to hide her tension behind a mask of calm, but Dwarven knew the look. He recognized someone holding themselves together with effort alone.
He walked over, staring out at the dock beside her. Without a word, he patted her on the back—firm enough to jolt her forward. She turned, irritation flashing in her eyes, but it softened when she caught his half-smile.
"Hey," he said. "Don't worry. We'll get you there. I got you."
Jasper looked back toward the dock, her gaze climbing the cavern walls where the slums clung like nests to stone. The water shimmered below, quiet and waiting. She wanted to put her trust in Dwarven but she got the feeling he didn't understand the gravity of her situation.
A few tense minutes later, Mesmer returned, his expression tight.
"Well," he said, "there seems to be a problem."
Jasper tilted her head, brow furrowing.
"What else is new?" Dwarven muttered, voice dripping sarcasm.
"This might actually be a big deal."
Both of them waited.
"The Tran operator's missing."
Jasper groaned under her breath and leaned against the railing, arms crossed, eyes narrowing toward the dark water below.
Dwarven watched her, then turned back to Mesmer. "Missing how? You mean outside of Tyla?"
Mesmer shook his head. "No, he's still in Tyla. But there's a reason he's missing."
"Well, spit it out, old man."
Mesmer hesitated, scratching his jaw. "I'm just… confused it happened this early."
Dwarven's patience thinned. "What happened?"
Mesmer met his eyes. "They went on a DarkHunt."
Jasper's eyes cut toward Mesmer as she leaned back against the railing, posture tense.
These DarkHunts were Derelict extermination squads sometimes led by professional hunters, most times led by a group of townsfolk willing to put their lives on the line for their town. Derelicts are dangerous, unpredictable monsters so the chances of a group coming back unscathed is unheard of.
"Ooh, shit," Dwarven muttered, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"But here's the thing," Mesmer continued. "It's way too soon for a DarkHunt. We only get one every eight months."
Dwarven frowned. "Okay… and how long has it been?"
"Two," Mesmer said flatly.
Jasper pushed off the railing, drew her revolver, and aimed into the empty air. She mimed a trigger pull—click—then spun the weapon once before holstering it again. Her eyes slid toward Dwarven.
Dwarven smirked, one brow arched. "Really?"
Jasper stepped closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. She didn't need words. Her glare said it all: You said you had this.
Dwarven's grin faltered. "Yeah, yeah," he murmured, scratching his neck.
Dwarven swatted her finger aside and leaned in, eyes narrowing. "Fine." He turned to Mesmer. "I think what my persistent friend here is trying to say is that we should probably take care of this DarkHunt. Free of charge, I guess."
Mesmer blinked. "Well, that's nice—and I appreciate the confidence—but I'm not sure you're grasping the bigger issue. We don't have a way to get there."
Dwarven pivoted back to Jasper. "See?! How exactly are we supposed to get there!?"
Jasper stomped her foot, jabbing a finger at him before stepping on her tip-toes butting her forehead against his with stubborn defiance.
"Fine! Okay! Okay!" Dwarven shoved a hand against her forehead, pushing her back with a half-laugh. "Guess I did kind of make myself out to be a genius, huh?"
Jasper rolled her eyes, arms crossing in quiet annoyance.
Dwarven looked back, Mesmer was still staring, half-amused and half-bewildered by the scene.
"When you all left me earlier you were trying your best to understand her. Now look at you too, like an old married couple."
The two look at each other giving a disguised frown and thumbs down when Dwarven says "We just happen to speak the same language of eye rolls and threatening finger pokes what can I say. Alright," Dwarven said, straightening his poncho. "Lead me to the Tran. I've got an idea."