Ashfall stayed where he was, hands at his sides, forcing himself to look calm. The four who had begged him not to follow Kael stood nearby, watching him like nervous animals. They didn't speak now, but their eyes said enough; fear, obedience, and something darker mixed behind them. He didn't know if he wanted to understand it.
When Kael and the pale girl finally returned, the silence in the tunnel thickened. The girl had blood across her cheek, droplets staining her chin. She wiped them away with the back of her sleeve as if it were nothing, as if it were routine. Kael walked beside her, calm, his coat splattered with red, his boots clicking softly against the wet ground.
Ashfall's stomach tightened. He'd heard the gunfire. He'd smelled the smoke. But this quiet, this casualness was worse.
Kael stopped in front of him. "Anything happen while we were gone?"
The words sounded light, almost conversational, but Ashfall could feel the weight behind them. He hesitated, his throat tight. He could lie. He could say he hadn't heard a thing. But the memory of those screams and the realization of what Kael and the girl truly were lingered like a knife against his ribs.
Before he could answer, the arrogant girl cut in. She tossed her hair, the same way she had back when she bragged about Sector Four. "Nothing," she said. Her voice carried a smug edge. "He didn't do anything, though he wanted to follow the gunfire."
She shot Ashfall a look that was half sneer, half mockery, as if she were happy to sell him out.
The four behind him stiffened. Their faces flickered with something like fear, recognition, before going blank again.
Kael's smile widened slowly, his head tilting. "Oh?" His voice dripped amusement, but it was the kind that made Ashfall's skin crawl. "So you wanted to peek, Ashfall? You wanted to see what we were up to?"
Ashfall opened his mouth, but Kael didn't give him the chance. His smile sharpened. "Then I suppose," he said softly, "we don't need to pretend anymore."
Kael's expression hardened, and in a blink, the arrogance beneath it was plain: a cruel, hungry gleam in his eyes, the kind of madness that wasn't loud or violent but coiled tight, waiting to strike.
The arrogant girl laughed nervously and moved closer to him. She slid a hand along his arm, leaning against him with a smile that was meant to be charming. "See?" she said. "I told you, I helped. I told you I was useful—"
Kael's head turned slowly toward her. His eyes were flat, his lips twisted into disgust. In one sudden motion, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her to the ground. Her scream echoed through the tunnel.
"Useful?" Kael snarled, his voice cracking like a whip. He loomed over her, his fist slamming down once, twice, into her face. Blood sprayed against the stone. "You think you're worth something? You think your filthy little origin makes you special here?"
"Kael...!" she gasped, blood pouring from her mouth. "I..."
Another blow silenced her. He spat down at her, his voice rising, words jagged and cruel. "Don't you dare mistake my patience for affection, you rich bitch. You're scum. Do you hear me? Scum. The only reason you're breathing is because I haven't decided otherwise."
Ashfall didn't move. He stood in the shadows, watching. His hands twitched, the urge to intervene pulling at him, but the thought evaporated as quickly as it came. This wasn't his fight. And if he stepped in now, he'd end up the same as her; broken, bleeding, useless.
Besides, part of him whispered, maybe she deserved it. She'd looked down on him, on everyone, bragged about her life while others starved. She'd laughed when she thought he was weak. And now she was learning what weakness really looked like.
He hated himself for thinking it, but he didn't look away.
The pale girl—Lyara, Kael had called her once, back when they were still pretending—stood silently by his side. Her lips moved faintly, whispers that Ashfall couldn't quite hear.
And then his body betrayed him. His muscles tensed against his will. His hands moved without permission. Slowly, as if guided by invisible strings, he reached behind his belt, pulled out his suppressed pistols, and laid them on the ground. His knife followed, the blade clattering against the stone.
His teeth ground together, rage flooding him. "What the hell—" he hissed, but his voice choked out as if something were gripping his throat.
Kael straightened, wiping the blood from his knuckles onto his sleeve. He looked at Ashfall with cold amusement, then crouched so their eyes met.
"You feel that?" Kael asked softly, tapping a finger against his own eye. The tattoo in his pupil glowed faintly, a thin line of light that made Ashfall's stomach twist. "That's the difference between us. You're still crawling at the bottom, stuck on your first hour. We–" He gestured to himself and Lyara. "–we've climbed higher. We've earned power. And with power comes obedience. Even from someone like you."
Ashfall glared at him, every fiber of his being screaming to lunge, to kill, to break free. But his arms wouldn't move. His body was no longer his own.
Kael chuckled, straightening. "Don't take it too personally. Lyara's gift only works on those I've touched. A little… insurance policy." He didn't explain further, and Ashfall noticed the deliberate omission. He was hiding more. He was stronger than he let on.
Lyara's whispers faded. Ashfall felt his limbs return to him in an instant, like breath rushing back into starved lungs. He staggered, flexing his fingers, swallowing his fury.
Kael turned away as if nothing had happened. "Welcome our new friend properly," he said to the four standing like statues behind Ashfall. His voice was mocking and triumphant. "Show him how things work here."
The four bowed their heads slightly, shadows crossing their faces.
"And clean up that mess," Kael added, jerking his chin toward the girl bleeding on the ground. "She's still breathing. Barely."
Two of them moved without a word, lifting her broken body from the floor. She whimpered, blood dripping down her chin, but no one offered comfort.
Ashfall's lip curled. This is what I've joined. This is what I'm walking with. Monsters wearing human skin.
They walked on. The tunnels widened, the air heavier with smoke and the stench of iron. When they turned the corner, the space opened into a decaying subway platform.
The sight stopped Ashfall cold. Blood stained the tiles, smeared across walls and benches. Shell casings glimmered like dull brass teeth in the dim light. Bodies lay scattered: faces torn, limbs twisted. But not one bore the features of a Mythborne. These were human corpses, civilians or soldiers, slaughtered without mercy.
And in the midst of the carnage, Ashfall's eyes caught on something half-buried under a corpse: A mask.
Not just any mask; a white cloth mask, the fabric wrapped tight around the head like bandages, featureless. A memory snapped like a trap inside him: Calethia, bound and dragged, her kidnapper's face hidden behind a mask just like this, though his had been black.
Ashfall's stomach sank. His fingers twitched toward his sidearm before he remembered he no longer had it.
Kael spread his arms wide, grinning with bloody teeth. "Welcome home," he declared. His voice was smooth, rich, like a priest blessing a congregation. "This is where we'll stay. This is where we'll build something greater."
He turned, eyes glinting. "Welcome to our new home."
Ashfall stared at the mask on the floor, his chest tight, his mind screaming. Calethia… what the hell have I walked into?