The tunnel seemed endless.
Every step echoed against stone and steel, a hollow rhythm that kept time with the pounding in Kale's chest. His clothes were torn, soaked with rain and smoke, his hands trembling around the small metallic sphere that still pulsed faintly — his father's last invention.
He tried not to think about the house above him — or what was left of it. But every few steps, his mind betrayed him: flashes of blue fire, his mother's voice, his father's final smile.
He stumbled against the wall, chest heaving. The air was damp, thick with the scent of moss and rust.
"Keep moving," he whispered to himself. "You promised."
But the word promised cracked something inside him. His legs gave out, and he sank to the cold ground, curling around the stabilizer orb like it was the last piece of his family.
For the first time, he let himself cry. Not loudly — just small, broken sounds swallowed by the dark.
He didn't know how long he sat there. Minutes. Hours. Time didn't mean anything anymore.
Then — a sound.
Footsteps.
Kale froze. He wiped his face quickly, his body tensing. He couldn't tell if the sound came from ahead or behind, only that it was getting closer.
He rose slowly, clutching the stabilizer in one hand and searching the walls for a weapon. His fingers found a loose metal pipe. Not much — but enough to swing.
The footsteps stopped.
"Easy, boy," a voice said. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered to speak first."
Kale spun toward the sound. A faint orange glow illuminated a tall man emerging from the shadows — a lantern in one hand, a staff strapped across his back. His hair was streaked with silver, his clothes worn but clean, his eyes sharp as cut glass.
"Who are you?" Kale demanded.
The man's gaze flicked to the faint blue shimmer leaking from Kale's wristband. "You must be Alaric's boy."
Kale stiffened. "How do you know my father?"
The man sighed. "Because he sent me this signal." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small crystal — it pulsed in rhythm with the stabilizer in Kale's hand. "He told me that if this ever lit again, it meant the worst had happened."
Kale's throat tightened. "They're dead."
The man's expression softened. "I'm sorry, lad. Alaric and Mira were good people. Braver than most."
Silence hung heavy between them. The only sound was water dripping from the ceiling.
Finally, the man stepped closer. "My name's Elric. I was your father's partner — once. He helped me hide from the witches years ago. Guess it's my turn to repay the debt."
Kale looked up at him, searching for deception, but found none.
"Come," Elric said, turning toward the tunnel's deeper end. "There's a safehouse not far from here. You can rest there. After that, we'll talk about what comes next."
Kale hesitated. "And what is next?"
Elric glanced back, eyes reflecting the faint light of the lantern. "That depends on you, boy. On what you choose to do with what they left you."
Kale followed, the stabilizer still clutched in his hands.