The Ghost lifted from the hangar floor with a low, almost imperceptible hum, the sound of its anti-gravity engines swallowed by the stone walls. It slid out of the fortress, a predator leaving its lair, before ascending rapidly into the twilight sky. Inside the cramped cockpit, the atmosphere was thick with focused tension. Haruto was at the controls, his eyes scanning the array of holographic displays that showed sensor readouts and topographical data. Akane sat in the co-pilot seat, her hands hovering over the weapons control console. In the small troop bay behind them, Kaito and Riku sat strapped into their seats, their faces illuminated by the green glow of their datapad displays, their knuckles white where they gripped their new plasma carbines.
"Engaging stealth field," Haruto announced, his voice crisp and clear over the internal comms. The world outside the canopy shimmered for a moment, and then the skiff seemed to dissolve into the background, becoming a transparent distortion in the air. To anyone on the ground, it would look like a heat haze, a trick of the evening light.
They rocketed towards Silverwood, hugging the contours of the land to minimize their detection profile. Forests and hills blurred into a dark green smear below them. The journey that had taken Himari and Sakura days on foot was covered in less than twenty minutes.
"Approaching the city's defensive perimeter," Akane reported, her eyes locked on a sensor screen. "I'm detecting spotters on the walls and watchtowers. Standard visual scans only. They won't see us."
"Don't get cocky," Haruto cautioned. "Their mages are an unknown variable. Akari, monitor for any anomalous energy signatures. If one of those Shadow Weavers so much as looks in our direction, I want to know."
**
They cleared the city wall without incident, a silent, invisible specter passing over the heads of the oblivious guards. Below them, Silverwood was a city under martial law. Torches burned in every street, and the black and grey figures of the Duke's soldiers were everywhere, moving in organized patrols, kicking in doors, and dragging people out for questioning. It was a city tearing itself apart in its hunt for two women.
"They've locked the place down tight," Kaito murmured, watching the scene on his repeater screen with a grim expression. "By the gods, it's a slaughterhouse down there."
"They're desperate," Riku added, his voice a low growl. "The Princess's miracle… it broke their fear. Now the Duke is trying to build it back up with steel."
"He's using terror as a tool of control," Haruto said, his eyes narrowing as he guided the Ghost between the silver-topped towers of the noble district. "It's a tactic of a weak leader, and it's going to be his undoing." He banked the skiff sharply, bringing them in low over the Artisan's quarter. "Target building acquired. Landing zone is the roof. It's flat, but exposed. We will have sixty seconds on the ground before our heat signature gives us away. Akane, suppress any hostiles that try to interfere. Kaito, Riku, you're with me. We go in fast, we get them out, and we are gone before they know what hit them."
The Ghost descended, its stealth field rippling as it slowed. It settled onto the flat roof of Minato's Weavings with a barely audible sigh of displaced air. The rear hatch hissed open. The sixty-second countdown began.
Haruto, Kaito, and Riku leaped out, their armored boots making soft thuds on the rooftop tiles. The air was cold and smelled of wood smoke and fear. From all around them came the sounds of the hunt—shouted orders, the clang of a city gate being barred, the distant scream of a citizen being interrogated.
Below them, in the darkness of the cisterns, Himari clutched the transponder, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know if her signal had been received. She didn't know if help was even possible. All she knew was that she and Sakura were trapped, and the sound of soldiers searching the tunnels was getting closer.
On the roof, Haruto located the building's weak point, a wooden attic door. There was no time for subtlety. He raised his armored boot and kicked. The door splintered inward with a sharp crack, revealing a dark, gaping hole that led down into the heart of the enemy-occupied city. Their rescue had begun.