A deep hum.
A metallic floor vibrating beneath him.
The taste of iron and oil in his mouth.
Luke groaned, blinking against the pounding in his head. His wrists ached — metal cuffs biting into skin. For a second, he thought he was still dreaming, that the golden light of the Nova's hall hadn't faded. But the glow was gone. Everything was dim, grey, cold.
A rhythmic clank echoed in the air — the steady beat of heavy wheels grinding along some unseen track.
He turned his head, vision slowly adjusting to the low light filtering through thin metal slats. Across from him sat Elias, chained the same way, slumped against the wall of what looked like a large steel container.
"Elias," Luke whispered hoarsely.
The older boy stirred, grunted, then squinted through the gloom. "...We're still alive?"
"Barely."
Elias blinked, scanning the walls. They were thick, riveted, slightly curved — like the inside of an armored train car. "Where are we?"
Before Luke could answer, the door at the far end slid open with a hiss.
Blinding light spilled in.
A silhouette filled the doorway — tall, broad-shouldered, the outline of a rifle slung across his back. A guard.
He stepped inside, his boots heavy on the metal floor. The light behind him made it impossible to see his face.
"So," the guard said flatly, "the heroes are awake."
Luke tensed. "Where are you taking us?"
The guard ignored the question, pulling a pair of dark sacks from his belt. He tossed one over Luke's head, then another over Elias's before either could protest. The rough fabric smelled of dust and oil, pressing against their noses and mouths.
"Hey—!" Elias started, but the guard shoved him back with the butt of his rifle. "Quiet."
Luke tried to speak, but his voice was muffled by the cloth.
He felt movement — the guard's gloved hand tightening the ropes around their wrists, checking restraints. The sound of the door closing followed, sealing them back into darkness.
The vibration underfoot continued, steady and deep. The transport was moving again.
For a while, there was nothing but the hum of the engines and the creak of shifting metal. Luke's mind raced — replaying every moment since the Nova's "reward." The polite smile. The way the air had buzzed before they blacked out.
It wasn't mercy. It was disposal.
He took a slow breath through the sack, forcing himself to stay calm. "Elias," he whispered, barely audible through the cloth. "You there?"
"Yeah," came the muffled reply. "Still breathing. For now."
"You think we're… being sent to the mines again?"
Elias hesitated. "I don't think so. The air smells different. Colder. And the floor's shaking — like we're going up."
"Up?" Luke whispered. "You mean—"
Before he could finish, another voice cut in — high-pitched, nasal, almost cheerful.
"Oh good, you're awake! I thought you two were corpses. Would've made this trip awfully dull."
Luke stiffened. The voice had come from somewhere across the compartment — another prisoner.
"Who's there?" Elias demanded.
"Oh! Name's Silo. Don't worry, I can't see either — got the sack treatment too. Not exactly first class, huh?" The stranger's laugh was quick, jittery, oddly out of place. "You guys sound new. Surface folk? Mid-City? Ooh — maybe Crown defectors?"
Luke hesitated. "...Something like that."
Silo whistled. "Well, you don't sound like soldiers. Bit too polite. You're miners, huh?"
Neither answered.
Silo didn't seem to care. "Knew it! Heard some idiots from the Undercity tried to enter the tournament. Big scandal! Can you believe that?" He chuckled again, then added, "They say the Nova himself was impressed. Probably sent them somewhere nice. Shame if that's us, though."
Luke froze, heartbeat quickening. Elias groaned quietly.
Silo went on, tone still airy, oblivious. "I mean, I don't mind going wherever they send us. Beats the smog and sludge back home. Maybe there's real air where we're going! Or at least a better view."
The engine hummed louder, metal rattling around them.
Luke leaned closer toward where he thought Elias was sitting. "He's too calm," he whispered. "No one talks like that unless they're—"
"Crazy?" Elias muttered. "Yeah. Definitely crazy."
"I heard that!" Silo sang. "Don't worry, I'm not offended. I am a bit mad, sure. You have to be, living down there. But hey, crazy people survive. That's my philosophy."
Luke sighed under the sack. "Wonderful."
---
Time passed — minutes, maybe hours. The vibration shifted occasionally, sometimes slowing, sometimes speeding up. At one point, Luke thought he felt the pressure change — a faint pop in his ears, like the transport had climbed higher.
He tried to focus on small things: the rhythm of the wheels, the metal taste of the air, Elias's steady breathing beside him.
Then a new sound broke through — a groan. Soft, pained. From the far corner of the compartment.
Silo gasped theatrically. "Oh-ho! Another one joins the party. Told you there were more of us!"
Luke turned toward the sound, heart tightening. The voice that followed was weak, disoriented.
"Where… where am I?"
Luke's breath caught. He knew that voice.
"Reina?" he whispered.
There was a pause — then a sharp inhale. "Luke?"
"Yeah— it's me!" His pulse raced. "You're here too?"
"What— what's going on?" Reina's voice trembled. "The last thing I remember was— I was told I'd be rewarded or something. Then—" She stopped abruptly, realization dawning.
"They knocked you out too," Elias said grimly.
There was a moment of silence. The engine's hum filled the space where words didn't.
"You!" Reina said finally, voice tight, "it's all your fault!"
"What do you mean?" Luke replied quietly.
Silo clapped his bound hands together, the sound muffled. "Aw, small world! You all know each other?"
"Not your business," Elias snapped.
Silo let out a low whistle. "Touchy bunch. Relax — we're all in the same metal coffin, right? Might as well make friends before we die."
Reina shifted, the clink of her restraints echoing. "Who are you?"
"Name's Silo! Scavenger, storyteller. Long résumé. Pleased to meet you, ma'am — or at least your voice."
Luke muttered under his breath, "He never shuts up."
Elias huffed. "So far, he's the only one who sounds like he's enjoying this."
"Well," Silo said cheerfully, "when life gives you chains, make noise! Keeps the fear out."
Reina didn't respond. Her breathing had steadied, but there was tension behind it. "Luke, Elias… every time you guys mess up,I get in trouble too. Now look where it's got us now. I just wanted a normal life."
"Yeah," Luke said. "We figured. Sorry about that."
"So where to?" she whispered.
No one answered.
The hum of the engine deepened — a low, rising thrum like something massive shifting beneath them. Luke thought he heard distant machinery grinding, metal scraping metal.
And faintly, beyond that, wind. Real wind.
Elias whispered, "Do you feel that?"
Luke nodded, even though no one could see. "Yeah. Air's colder. Sharper."
Reina's voice came again, quiet but steady. "Then we're going higher. Maybe… to the Surface."
The word hung in the air like a forbidden prayer.
Luke felt it twist in his gut. The Surface — the mythical world above the Crown's shining spires. No one from the Undercity ever went there. Not even the Mid-City guards. Only the Nova's knights and engineers spoke of it, and even then, in whispers.
If they were being sent there… it couldn't be good.
The engine groaned, and the entire compartment jolted, throwing them against the walls. Silo laughed breathlessly. "Oh-ho! Rough landing ahead!"
Elias cursed. "If he's right, I'll strangle him with my cuffs."
Luke ignored them, focusing instead on the sound growing nearer — not the steady hum of machinery, but something rougher. Wind howling, heavy clanks, a metallic gate opening somewhere.
Then — a hiss. The air pressure shifted again. The compartment slowed.
They were stopping.
The brakes screeched. The vibrations ceased. For the first time since waking, there was silence.
Luke held his breath.
The door at the end slid open again — cold air rushed in, sharp enough to sting through the sack's fabric. Footsteps followed.
The guard's voice was clipped, harsh. "Everyone up. Move when I say."
Chains rattled. Someone — probably Silo — muttered, "There goes the five-star service."
Rough hands grabbed Luke by the shoulder, hauling him to his feet. He stumbled, blind, disoriented. The hum of wind grew louder now, swirling through whatever space they'd stopped in.
Elias grunted nearby, followed by Reina's soft gasp as another guard pulled her upright.
"Move," the voice barked again.
They shuffled forward, guided by firm shoves and the clinking of chains. The floor beneath them changed from metal to something rougher — gravel, maybe. The sound of the engine faded behind them, replaced by distant echoes and the low moan of wind through open air.
Luke tried to listen — every sound, every vibration — to piece together where they were. But the only thing he could tell for sure was this: they were outside the city now.
And whatever awaited them beyond the veil of the sack wasn't part of the Crown's light.