"We're going to find it," Lyric had said.
Ten minutes later, the adrenaline wore off, and the pain came back.
It started as a hum in the base of Lyric's skull, like a high-tension wire snapping. Then it grew into a roar. The Lighthouse was gone, the jammer was destroyed, and the "Zone of Silence" had evaporated.
Lyric stumbled, catching themselves on a stack of crushed cars.
"Woah, easy," Rook said, grabbing Lyric's arm—carefully gripping the fabric of the coat, avoiding the skin. "You okay?"
"No," Lyric gritted out. "It's loud. The static… it's worse than before. It feels like my brain is bleeding."
"That's because you got used to the quiet," Rook said, looking back at the smoking ruins of the tower. "Going from zero to one hundred is gonna fry you if we don't get underground fast. The rock layers down there block out most of the surface noise."
"How far?" Lyric asked, eyes squeezed shut to block out the flashes of other people's memories spiking in their vision.
"Two miles to the transit hub," Rook said. "Can you walk?"
Lyric took a breath. The air smelled of burnt plastic and ozone. "I don't have a choice. Lead the way."
The walk was miserable.
Every step through the Graveyard sent a jolt of emotion through Lyric. They passed a shattered mirror and felt a sudden wave of vanity. They stepped on a broken toy and felt a crushing loneliness.
Rook kept talking, trying to give Lyric something real to focus on.
"So, the Architects," Rook said, kicking a loose can. "You said that's what the Guild sends next. What's the deal? Do they build stuff?"
"They build traps," Lyric murmured, focusing on the back of Rook's jacket. "Hunters like the Silents chase you. Architects change the path so you run right into them. They rewrite the city layout. They change door codes, shift walls, reroute trains. If an Architect is after us, nowhere is safe."
"Great," Rook muttered. "I love it when the floor turns into lava. That's my favorite game."
"It's not a game, Rook."
"I know, I know. I'm just saying, if they can rewrite the city, why haven't they blocked the Underground yet?"
"Because the Underground doesn't use the city's grid," Lyric said. "It's analog. Old school. The Guild has no power there. That's why we're going."
They rounded a corner of the junk pile and saw it.
It looked like the mouth of a giant metal beast. A massive subway tunnel, half-collapsed, jutting out of the earth. The sign above it was rusted, but the word ECHO was still visible in faded yellow paint.
"Echo Station," Rook said. "The front door to the underworld."
"It looks abandoned," Lyric said.
"That's the point. Keeps the tourists out." Rook adjusted his backpack. "Now, listen. The Underground isn't like the Slags. In the Slags, people are poor. In the Underground, people are hiding. There's a Bouncer at the gate. Let me do the talking. I know him."
"You know everyone," Lyric said.
"I'm a social guy."
They descended into the tunnel. The air got cooler, damp and heavy with the smell of mold. The deeper they went, the quieter the static became. The thick earth above them was muffling the city's memory radiation.
Lyric rolled their shoulders, the tension finally easing a little. "It's better here."
"Told you," Rook said.
They reached a platform. It was lit by a single, flickering red bulb. A rusted turnstile blocked the path.
Sitting on a folding chair behind the turnstile was a man. He was huge—neck as thick as a tree trunk, wearing a vest made of tires and license plates. He was reading a comic book.
"Yo, Tiny!" Rook called out, putting on a big, fake smile.
The giant looked up. He didn't smile. He slowly closed the comic book.
"Rook," the man rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel in a blender. "You owe me fifty credits for that pass I forged you last month."
"I'm good for it, Tiny! I got a big job coming up," Rook said, leaning casually on the turnstile. "Just need to pass through. Me and my associate."
Tiny's eyes shifted to Lyric. He squinted.
"New face," Tiny said. "No Aura. Looks like a corpse."
"Rude," Rook said. "My friend here is just… private. Low profile. You know how it is."
"Entry fee is twenty credits. Each," Tiny said, holding out a hand the size of a shovel.
Rook patted his pockets. "Right. About that. We're kind of… light on cash at the moment. But! We have intel. Fresh gossip from the surface."
Tiny crossed his arms. "Not a bank, Rook. No cash, no entry. Go back to the junk pile."
Rook looked at Lyric, panic flickering in his eyes. "Uh, Tiny, seriously. We got heat on us. Big heat. We need in."
"Not my problem," Tiny said. He picked up his comic book.
Lyric stepped forward. The headache was dull now, manageable. The muscle memory was humming in their veins.
"We don't have credits," Lyric said calmly.
Tiny didn't look up. "Then walk away, corpse."
"But," Lyric continued, resting a hand on the rusted metal of the turnstile. "I can offer you something better."
Tiny looked up, bored. "Yeah? What? You got drugs? Tech?"
"I can offer you a fresh start," Lyric said.
Rook's eyes went wide. "Veyne, don't—"
Lyric didn't listen. They looked at the turnstile. It was a heavy, mechanical barrier. Steel bars. Locking mechanism.
Lyric focused. Not on the whole thing—that would drain too much energy. Just the lock.
Lyric placed a palm on the locking mechanism housing.
Erase.
There was no sound. Just a sudden absence.
The locking mechanism didn't break. It didn't explode. It just ceased to exist.
The heavy steel bars of the turnstile, no longer held in place by anything, swung open with a loud screech of rusty metal, swinging freely like a saloon door.
Tiny dropped his comic book. He stared at the turnstile. Then he stared at the spot where the lock used to be. There was just a smooth, empty hole in the metal.
He looked up at Lyric. His face wasn't bored anymore. It was terrified.
"What did you do?" Tiny whispered.
"I opened the door," Lyric said.
Tiny scrambled backward, his chair tipping over. He fell hard, scrambling away on his hands and knees. "You're a Void! You're a—"
"I'm just passing through," Lyric said, stepping through the open gate. "Come on, Rook."
Rook hurried through, glancing nervously at the terrified giant. "Sorry, Tiny! Put it on my tab!"
They walked past the checkpoint and into the darkness of the tunnel beyond.
Once they were out of earshot, Rook let out a long breath.
"You have a flair for the dramatic, you know that?" Rook said. "Tiny is going to tell everyone about that. By the time we hit the main market, people will know a Void is in town."
"Let them know," Lyric said, rubbing their temple. "Fear is currency, right?"
"In the Underground? Yeah. But it also puts a target on your back."
"I already have a target on my back," Lyric said. "At least down here, they'll be afraid to shoot."
They walked in silence for a while. The tunnel opened up, and Lyric saw light ahead. Not sunlight, and not the neon of the city. This was the warm, yellow glow of incandescent bulbs and lanterns.
The Underground.
It was a city built inside a massive cavern, structured around the supports of the world above. Ramshackle buildings hung from the ceiling like stalactites. Bridges made of rope and chain connected the different levels. It smelled of spices, sweat, and oil.
It was chaotic. It was dirty. And it was alive.
"Welcome to the Deep," Rook said, spreading his arms. "No laws, no memory debt, and the best rat-skewers in the world."
Lyric looked at the sprawling shantytown. "Where do we start?"
"We need a broker," Rook said. "Someone who deals in lost data. If there's a receipt for the person you erased, a Data-Broker will have it."
"Do you know one?"
"I know a guy," Rook said, grinning. "He's a paranoid slimeball, but he has the best servers in the Deep. His name is Finch."
"Finch," Lyric repeated. "Okay. Take me to him."
"One problem," Rook said, stopping. "Finch doesn't take credits. He trades in secrets. You want him to look up your past? You gotta give him something juicy."
"I don't have any secrets," Lyric said. "I erased them all."
"You have one," Rook said, pointing at Lyric. "You know what the Guild is doing. You know about the Architects. You know Unit 7 went rogue. That's high-value intel."
Lyric nodded slowly. "Trading my own bounty info for a lead. Risky."
"High risk, high reward," Rook said. "Come on. Finch's place is in the Boiler District. It's gonna get hot."
They moved through the crowd.
The people here were different. They didn't have the glassy-eyed look of the memory addicts in the city. They looked sharp, suspicious. Many had cybernetic limbs that looked homemade.
Lyric kept their hands in their pockets, shoulders hunched. The lack of an "Aura" was drawing looks. People stepped out of Lyric's way, sensing the emptiness like a drop in temperature.
They reached a heavy metal door covered in steam pipes. A sign painted in red read: SERVER ROOM - KEEP OUT.
Rook knocked. Bang. Bang-bang. Scratch.
A slot opened.
"Password?" a jittery voice asked.
"Password is 'I know about the Incident in Sector 4'," Rook said.
The eyes in the slot widened.
Locks clicked. The door opened.
"Get in, get in!" a man hissed, pulling them inside.
Finch was skinny, wearing a shirt covered in coffee stains, and he had four different pairs of glasses hanging around his neck. The room was a mess of wires, blinking lights, and cooling fans whirring at max speed.
"You're Rook," Finch said, pacing back and forth. "And who is this? Why does he feel like a black hole?"
"This is the client," Rook said. "And we need a lookup. A specific erasure event. Three days ago. Upper City. Private contract."
Finch stopped pacing. He adjusted one pair of glasses. "Erasure event? Do you know how much data flows through the Memory Market? Millions of transactions a day! I can't just—"
"It was a complete wipe," Lyric interrupted. The voice was quiet, but it cut through the whirring of the fans. "Person and memory. Both gone."
Finch froze. He looked at Lyric, really looked at them.
"A Void Wipe?" Finch whispered. "Those are… theoretical. Illegal. Only the High Guild can authorized those."
"I want the receipt," Lyric said. "I want to know who was erased."
Finch laughed nervously. "You're asking me to hack the High Guild archives? That's suicide! I'd need a root access key just to ping the server!"
"I don't have a key," Lyric said.
"Then get out!" Finch waved his hands. "I'm not dying for you!"
Lyric looked at the servers. "Rook said you trade in secrets."
"Good secrets! Not death sentences!"
"What if I told you," Lyric said, stepping closer, "that the Guild lost a Silent Unit? And that Unit is standing in your room?"
Finch stopped moving. He looked at Rook. Rook nodded.
Finch swallowed hard. "You… you're the rogue?"
"I am," Lyric said. "And if you help me, I'll tell you exactly how I escaped. You can sell that story. It'll be worth a fortune."
Finch licked his lips. The greed was warring with the fear.
"I can't hack the main archive," Finch muttered. "But… there is a backdoor. The Architects use it to update the city blueprints. If I can piggyback on an Architect's signal, I might be able to see the erasure logs."
"An Architect," Lyric said, exchanging a look with Rook. "We think one is hunting us."
"Perfect!" Finch said, clapping his hands. "If he's hunting you, his signal is close! We just need to lure him out, hijack his connection, and boom—we're in."
Rook groaned. "Let me get this straight. You want us to bait the guy who can rewrite reality?"
"Exactly," Finch grinned. "You just need to survive long enough for me to download the data."
Lyric looked at the monitors. It was a trap. But it was the only way.
"Do it," Lyric said. "Find the signal."