"Rat poison," Kael replied, his smile hidden but audible in his smug tone.
"Let's move."
He led them toward an alternate exit, his steps sure, his machine gun slung over his shoulder.
The tunnel was a haze of smoke and death, the rats' dying gasps fading behind them.
Freya's hands glowed faintly, her energy nearly spent, but she summoned a shimmering pedestal of ice, lifting them upward through the manhole.
The ice groaned under their weight, but it held, carrying them out of the sewer's suffocating depths and into the open air.
Kael jumped out first and then helped the others out.
They emerged onto an empty street, the noon sun harsh against their eyes, the world above a stark contrast to the nightmare below.
Clara's car was parked nearby, and she stood by the manhole, her green eyes wide with relief, her doctor's bag clutched tightly.
