Escape was not a clean break; it was a desperate, bleeding retreat through the veins of the city. The moment they were clear of the plaza, the nature of the fight changed. The city-wide chaos dissolved into a focused, brutal manhunt. The Duke's Black Guard, enraged and humiliated, sealed the city gates. Patrols swarmed the main thoroughfares, their steel-shod boots ringing on the cobblestones. The hunt for the "witch" and her accomplice was on.
"This way," Himari hissed, pulling Sakura down a narrow alleyway that smelled of discarded vegetables and damp stone. Her knowledge of the city's hidden paths, the labyrinthine network of shortcuts and forgotten passages known only to those who had grown up within its walls, was now their most vital asset.
Sakura followed, her senses screaming with warnings. **
"There's an old cistern system beneath the Artisan's quarter," Himari said, as if reading her thoughts. "If we can get there, we can move across the city unseen."
They moved like ghosts in a collapsing world. They darted through covered markets, scrambled over residential walls, and used the chaos of the city's lockdown to their advantage. A patrol thundered past the end of their alley; they pressed themselves into a darkened doorway, holding their breath until the sound of armor faded.
Their luck finally ran out in a small square near the river. A patrol of four guards, their swords drawn, rounded a corner and spotted them. There was no time for stealth.
"There they are! The witches!"
Sakura reacted before the guard had finished his sentence. She shoved Himari behind a large rain barrel and drew her pistol. This time, it was set to lethal. The plasma bolts were still silent, but they left small, searing holes in the air. The first guard dropped, a smoking hole in his chest plate. The second fell, clutching his throat.
The remaining two, hardened veterans, charged, their swords held high. Sakura met them head-on. She sidestepped a clumsy swing, her hand a blur as she disarmed the guard and drove the hot barrel of her pistol under his chin. The fourth guard watched his companion fall and hesitated for a fatal second. From behind the barrel, Himari thrust out her hand. The cobblestones at the guard's feet buckled, ensnaring his legs. He stumbled, and Sakura was on him in an instant, a single, precise plasma bolt ending the confrontation.
The fight was over in less than five seconds. It was silent, brutal, and terrifyingly efficient.
"We have to move," Sakura said, her voice low and urgent, pulling Himari away from the scene. "They will know our position now."
As they fled, they heard the sounds of fighting from a few streets over—shouts, the clash of steel.
"Minato," Himari breathed. "The loyalists. They're creating another diversion for us." A wave of guilt washed over her. People were fighting, perhaps dying, for them.
"Then we don't let their sacrifice be in vain," Sakura stated, her voice devoid of sentiment but filled with a cold purpose.
They finally reached a rusted iron grate hidden beneath a weaver's discarded scraps. With a combined effort, they heaved it open, revealing a dark, circular shaft descending into the damp blackness. The smell of moss and stagnant water filled the air. Without hesitation, they descended, pulling the grate closed above them.
They were plunged into absolute darkness, the sounds of the city above muffled and distant. They were safe, for the moment. But they were also trapped, deep beneath a city that was now a hunting ground, with every soldier and every Shadow Weaver searching for the ghost of a princess and her silent, deadly companion. Himari took out the small, smooth stone Haruto had given her. Her hand trembled as she clutched it. It was their last resort. Their only hope.