They lay pressed against the cold, rough slate of the roof, the world narrowed to the steep pitch of the tiles and the sound of their own ragged breathing. The furious, frustrated shrieks of the wounded Harrier echoed from the other side of the building, a constant, terrifying reminder that their escape was a temporary one.
"Its flight pattern is erratic," Ben whispered, his silver-lit eyes focused on a point in the sky beyond the roof's peak. He wasn't looking, but his Insight was painting a clear picture in his mind. "The flash-bang caused severe retinal damage and likely disoriented its equilibrium. It's effectively blind, hunting by sound alone. However, its auditory senses are now heightened to compensate. It's listening for us."
Every scrape of their boots, every clink of their gear, was a potential death sentence. They were trapped in a prison of silence.
"We can't stay here," Kai said, his voice barely a murmur. "Sooner or later we'll make a sound, or it'll get lucky. We have to get off the roof."
"Back down to the Collectors?" Elara countered, her expression grim.
"No," Kai said, his gaze falling on the row of small, triangular dormer windows that dotted the roof just below them. "We go inside."
The plan was simple, born of desperation. The history department building offered a sanctuary from the sky. What horrors it held within were an unknown, but they were a preferable alternative to the known, circling death above.
They moved with the agonizing slowness of snails, their rock hammers and hands finding silent purchase on the slate tiles as they crept towards the nearest window. It was an old, wooden-framed window, its glass opaque with years of grime, its paint peeling.
It was probably painted shut decades ago.
Kai gestured for the others to wait. He braced his feet, gripped the small iron latch, and poured his enhanced Strength into a single, controlled, silent pull. The wood groaned in protest, a sound that seemed as loud as a gunshot in the tense silence. They all froze, their eyes fixed on the sky, listening. The Harrier's shrieks continued, but their pattern didn't change. It hadn't heard them.
With a final, shuddering pop, the latch gave way. Kai carefully, painstakingly, lifted the window just enough for them to squeeze through.
The air that wafted out was thick, stale, and heavy with the scent of dust, decaying paper, and time itself. One by one, they slipped through the opening, dropping silently onto the solid, reassuring floorboards of the building's attic. Kai was the last one through, gently lowering the window back into place without latching it, leaving them an escape route if they needed one.
They were in a vast, low-ceilinged space, a forgotten attic filled with the ghosts of history. Sunlight, thick with dancing dust motes, streamed in from the grimy windows, illuminating a labyrinth of discarded treasures. There were old wooden display cases, mannequins dressed in Revolutionary War uniforms, stacks of yellowed newspapers, and dozens of crates stamped with the university's seal.
It was a world away from the sterile, modern chaos of the science building. This place felt ancient, forgotten. For a moment, it was easy to forget the monsters outside.
"We need to find a way downstairs," Kai whispered, his voice hushed with reverence for the silent, dusty space.
"Wait," Ben said, his voice soft but urgent. He wasn't looking at the exit. His silver eyes were fixed on a large object in the center of the attic, covered by a thick canvas drop cloth. "My skill... it's reacting to something. A point of interest."
He walked towards it, his footsteps soft on the dusty floorboards. He reached the object and, with a sense of ceremony, pulled the heavy cloth away.
Beneath it was a magnificent, large-scale diorama of the entire university campus, a painstakingly detailed model from decades past. The buildings were all there: the library, the science center, the student union. But it was the details that made them gasp.
Stuck into the model were three small, ornate pins, each topped with a strange, glowing symbol.
The first pin was stuck directly into the roof of a tiny, perfect model of Thorne's Curios & Relics. The second pin was planted firmly in the center of the miniature library's Special Collections wing.
The third pin was not in the downtown district. It was here, on campus, piercing the spire of the tallest structure in the model: the old university clock tower.
"The Wayfinder was pointing us downtown," Elara breathed, her eyes wide with confusion.
"The Wayfinder points to the strongest Echo in the vicinity," Ben corrected her, his mind already connecting the dots. "A more powerful artifact. But this... this is a map. A map of the local Echoes."
They stared at the diorama, the implications washing over them. They weren't just blindly following a supernatural compass anymore. They had a guide, a list of objectives. They had a new target, one that was close, tangible.
The silence was broken by a sound from directly below them. It wasn't a monster's shriek or a Collector's thud. It was a soft, rhythmic scraping sound.
Scrape. Pause. Scrape.
The sound of a shovel against a stone floor.
They were not alone in the building. And whatever was downstairs, it was digging.