The underground dam stretched before them like a forgotten artery beneath the town. The faint glimmer of torchlight—or maybe cracks in the stone above letting thin shafts of moonlight through—danced across walls slick with damp, casting long, jagged shadows that twisted unnaturally with every subtle movement. The smell of wet stone and stagnant water clung to the air, mixed with the faint metallic tang of rusted metal fittings and the faint decay of algae along the edges of the channel. The trickle of water echoed off the stone in uneven rhythms, creating a quiet, constant hum that seemed to whisper secrets of what the dam had witnessed over the years.
The walls were rough-hewn, but not uniformly. Some stones jutted slightly; others were worn smooth by years of water flow. Small pools reflected the weak light, making the ground slippery, forcing every step to be calculated. Tiny insects clung to the damp crevices, barely visible, their occasional movements breaking the suffocating silence.
As they advanced, the dam widened into a cavernous space where the water channel split off into a smaller stream, moving toward a shadowed corner where the walls seemed to lean inward unnaturally, as if hiding something. The air here was heavier, thick with moisture and the faint chemical stench of something unnatural, clinging to the stone like a ghost. Every drip of water from the ceiling sounded magnified in the emptiness, like a hammer striking the floor in measured beats. Something was off.
He halted and gestured toward the walls. "Ashborne, Liora—look closely at the architecture. Lines, patterns, anything uneven. The structure doesn't feel right."
They moved silently, eyes scanning, fingers grazing the cold stone for irregularities. Liora's steps were soft as a whisper; Ashborne's presence melded with the shadows, his senses stretching across the room.
Then—click.
Ashborne froze, a faint glimmer of light reflecting off the stone floor. A section of the wall near the dam shifted, revealing a narrow staircase leading downwards. Water trickled along a side channel, moving into the darkness below. Wads furrowed his brow, stepping closer.
The hidden staircase that Ashborne triggered led down into a narrower tunnel, carved roughly but with signs of human engineering—metal braces along the walls, grooves cut into the stone for water management. The faint scent of chemicals grew stronger, mingling with the odor of wet earth and rotting wood from makeshift shelving along the side.
"If the base is underground," he murmured, "how did the drugs—or the Elixer—pass through the dam without alerting the guards?"
He glanced at Ashborne. "Go first. Check if there are more men below." Ashborne nodded, disappearing into his own shadow as silently as a wisp of smoke. Wads' chest tightened with unease. Something about the space below didn't sit right. He pressed the communicator in his collar.
"Your Highness…are you there?" His voice was low, careful.
"Here," Reiyell replied promptly.
"The dam. The water flow…can it be traced through the map Kaizer gave us?" Wads asked, tone serious. A brief pause followed.
"No," Reiyell's voice came back shortly, concise.
Wads' brow furrowed. His mind raced through possibilities. Where did the water come from? How did the drugs pass between towns undetected? Bribing the guards was impossible—they would risk their families; the Royal Article demanded that anyone conspiring against the kingdom, with malicious intent, be executed—bloodlines included. His gaze drifted to the dam's shadows, every scenario twisting in his head, escalating the unease.
Then, Ashborne's voice cut through the communicator.
"Wads…stairs end at a door. Beyond that…a cell, and another door."
Wads' heartbeat quickened. "That door—?"
"I peeked," Ashborne continued, voice low, "wide room. Smells like chemicals, stacks of boxes everywhere…"
"Anyone inside the cell?" Liora whispered, eyes scanning.
"There is…" Ashborne tone was soft, controlled. She glanced at Wads, who gave a subtle nod. She used her wind to speed up and descended towards Ashborne.
"Is the water still flowing?" Wads asked, studying the channel beside him.
"Yes," Ashborne confirmed.
That struck a thought in Wads. He spoke quickly into the communicator. "Your Highness, I need you to order Klyden—and take Keiya with him. Give them a new clean parchment. They track the water, its origin. They don't need to know the exact end, just the flow. I need a route mapped."
"Understood," Reiyell replied.
Wads followed, descending the final steps. When he reached the inner room beyond the door, the space opened into a dimly lit warehouse-like chamber. Crates and barrels were stacked haphazardly, some leaking faint, pungent fumes into the air. The floor was slick with a thin layer of moisture and an oily residue, evidence of spilled chemicals or poorly contained liquids. A faint, acrid smell stung their noses—the unmistakable scent of alchemy in use, combined with the sickly sweet trace of the Tres drug Wads had seen before.
The cell, an iron-barred enclosure in the corner, was grotesque. Bodies slumped against one another, pale and rigid, some limbs twisted at odd angles. The stone floor was darkened by spilled liquids, some chemical, some perhaps blood. A metallic tang hung in the air, clinging to the back of Wads' throat. The walls were etched with scratches and marks, maybe attempts at escape, maybe signs of desperation. Overdose victims—Tres, or some related chemical, Wads assumed. The stench was overpowering, but he forced himself forward. Liora's jaw was tight, a soft exhale following as she composed herself. Ashborne leaned against a wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"There's no one here… but there's another door," Ashborne murmured. Wads nodded. He tapped Liora's back, and they advanced carefully.
The narrow corridor leading to the second inner door smelled worse—a combination of dampness, decay, and the heavier, almost suffocating scent of chemicals that made the air feel thick enough to taste. The faint illumination here came from small, flickering lamps, their light reflecting off glass vials and metallic surfaces, casting eerie shadows that shifted with every tiny movement.
Even the water channel here seemed purposeful, diverted to run along the wall beside the doorway, disappearing into darkness beyond. It carried the sound of flowing water, muffled but persistent, adding to the oppressive ambiance of anticipation and danger.
Every step Wads, Liora, and Ashborne took echoed differently depending on the stone beneath, and the combination of shadows, faint smells, and distant water sounds made the environment a character in itself—dangerous, unpredictable, and alive, pressing on their senses as if testing their focus and composure.
The inner room was dim, boxes stacked unevenly, fumes of chemicals making the air heavy. They froze at the sound of movement—a soft creak from the door to their right.
They melted into the shadows, suppressing their auras completely.
The door opened slowly. A young girl, around five feet tall, pink hair tied into twin tails, stepped inside, moving confidently to a desk piled with chemicals. Behind her, a bald, muscular man followed. Every movement suggested authority and training, his physical prowess evident in his posture.
"Threnzz, how long do we stay hidden?" the girl asked, hands moving over vials.
"Until orders from above," the bald man answered, voice firm, controlled.
Wads' eyes flicked to the tattoos etched on their bodies: butterflies, small yet intricate. Patterns repeated elsewhere in their intel.
He whispered through the communicator, projecting his thoughts to Liora and Ashborne. Both stiffened instantly, understanding the gravity.
"Target confirmed by tattoos. We eradicate the two," Wads ordered, mind sharp and precise.
Liora nodded, her body tensing for swift action. Ashborne's red eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"Liora, you handle the girl. Ashborne, I trust you with him. I'll back both of you. They must not escape. No one can be informed, no mistakes."
The three of them shifted slightly, blending with shadows, ready to strike. The smell of chemicals, the metallic tang of the air, and the oppressive darkness of the underground chamber seemed to press around them. Every heartbeat echoed loudly in Wads' mind, every breath a measured calculation.
They waited, poised to launch, the silent anticipation heavy like a drawn bowstring.