The air aboveground tasted different.
Clean, but thin — like it hadn't been made for breathing after what they'd just crawled out of.
Luke stepped forward, boots crunching over debris. The midline sector was in chaos — alarms echoing, med drones zipping between rows of wounded miners laid out on stretchers. The smell of burnt ozone and metal hung thick.
Elias followed, blinking against the harsh white lights. "This can't all be from one shaft," he muttered.
Reina ignored him, barking orders at a nearby medic. "Triage first! Sector Five survivors to the infirmary! Get those conduits sealed — I don't want residual flux spreading up here!"
Her voice carried authority, but Luke could hear the edge beneath it — fear, barely buried. He moved beside her as medics rushed past. "Any word from Central?"
She shook her head. "Command sealed all channels. Only broadcasts coming through are Nova-related."
Luke frowned. "Nova-related?"
Before she could answer, a tremor rippled through the floor — not from below this time, but from the sky.
A low hum filled the air. The crowd stilled.
Then the holoscreens lining the sector walls flickered to life, casting everything in a golden glow.
A face appeared — serene, radiant, framed in light.
The Nova.
"Children of the City," his voice boomed, calm and commanding. "This morning, the earth trembled to remind us of our origins — of the flame that gave us life. The Nova Core has contained the anomaly. The faithful have nothing to fear."
The survivors turned to listen. Even the medics paused, transfixed.
"Those who perished shall return to the light. Their sacrifice strengthens the foundation of our Radiant Order. You, who remain, must rebuild. Endure. Believe."
The transmission faded into the Nova's emblem — a blazing circle wrapped in wings.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The golden afterglow reflected in every pair of eyes.
Elias exhaled shakily. "He… he makes it sound like it was meant to happen."
Reina wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "If the Nova says it's contained, it's contained. We follow protocol. No questions."
Luke glanced at her, then at the wounded — the bandaged faces, the blank stares. His hands tightened into fists. "Right. No questions."
But his voice lacked conviction.
---
Later, when the sirens died down and the medics finished counting the missing, Luke and Elias sat by the outer ramp, watching the smoke drift up from the sealed shafts. The horizon was pale — the artificial sky dimmed to mourning colors.
Elias broke the silence first. "You think he's right? That it was just… the Core acting up?"
Luke didn't answer. He watched a drone pass overhead, trailing sparks.
"…I think," he said slowly, "that whatever's down there isn't done yet."
Elias gave a short, nervous laugh. "You always think too much."
Luke managed a half-smile. "Someone has to."
A group of enforcers marched by — polished armor gleaming, banners of the Radiant Order fluttering behind them. One of them paused near the shaft entrance, bowing his head toward the sealed gates before moving on.
Reina joined them a moment later, limping slightly but standing tall. "Command's set up a perimeter," she said. "They're calling it a containment breach. No one's to speak of what they saw — not to press, not even to other sectors."
"Cover-up," Elias muttered.
"Control," she corrected. "Panic helps no one."
Luke looked at her, then back at the dark horizon. "And if it happens again?"
Reina's jaw tightened. "Then we pray it doesn't."
---
When night came — or what passed for night in the Undercity — the sector lights dimmed to gold. The survivors gathered near the lifts, heads bowed as the Priests of the Flame led a ritual for the fallen.
Luke stood in the back, the light of the candles flickering against his gloves. The chants rose and fell, familiar and heavy.
"From light we are born, to light we return."
The words felt different this time.
Not comforting — but hollow.
He didn't join in. Neither did Elias.
But when the priests lifted the Nova's sigil, he bowed his head anyway.
Out of habit.
Out of hope.
Because faith was easier than fear.