Selene's POV
The side tunnel was a claustrophobe's nightmare. Selene led the way, her pale skin glowing faintly in the pitch black, a trait of her witch-blood she usually suppressed. Behind her, Kaelen's labored breathing was a constant, grating reminder of their vulnerability. The air was thick with the smell of damp stone and rust.
"Come on, just a little further," she whispered, her voice swallowed by the oppressive darkness. She'd seen these schematics in Dorian's obsessive files—this maze of cisterns and old pipeworks eventually connected to a drainage outflow near the eastern cliffs. It was their only hope.
Kaelen didn't respond, just grunted with effort. The wound he'd taken from the Reaver's glancing blow wasn't life-threatening, but the null-energy residue was slowing his natural Aerilon healing.
They stumbled through the dark for what felt like hours, guided by Selene's faint luminescence and her instinctive, witch-born sense of direction. Finally, a sliver of grey pre-dawn light appeared ahead, filtering through a heavy iron grate. With a combined effort, they pried it open and emerged into a cold, misty morning on the rocky bluffs overlooking the Silverwash Sea.
They were outside the academy's main perimeter wall. The sounds of the awakening campus were a distant murmur. They'd made it.
Selene's first thought wasn't of relief. It was of Arlan.
"We need to find a comms terminal," she said, urgency sharpening her tone. "We have to warn someone. We have to… we have to see if he made it."
Kaelen slumped against a rock, his face pale. "He's fast. And clever. He'll have shaken them."
Selene wanted to believe it. The image of Arlan and Lyra running together, the two most powerful first-years, was a comforting one. But a cold knot of dread sat in her stomach, unrelated to her vampiric side. Something about Lyra's sudden, decisive plan to split up had felt… too neat.
"Let's go," she said, forcing the fear down. "The lower town. We can use a public terminal at the airdock."
Disguised in stolen maintenance cloaks from an unlocked shed, they moved through the early-morning streets of the academy's service town. The place was quiet, but an unnatural tension hung in the air. Security patrols were more frequent, their eyes scanning the crowds with a new intensity.
They reached the public comms booth at the airdock. Selene's fingers trembled as she input Dorian's private, encrypted frequency. It rang. And rang.
Just as she was about to give up, a holo-screen flickered to life. Dorian's face appeared, pale and drawn, his usually immaculate hair disheveled. He was in a dim room—the back of a shop, by the looks of it.
"Selene? Thank the gods." His voice was a relieved whisper. "Your signal is ghosted. Where are you?"
"Outside the walls. Lower town. Kaelen's with me. Dorian, we have proof. The Accord is here. They're with Head Proctor Vance. They're planning to attack during the Grand Melee."
Dorian's face went from relieved to grim. "I know. The lockdown started an hour ago. No one in or out. Official story is a security drill, but… the guards arresting people aren't asking questions. They took Mira and Fen from the dorms."
Selene's blood ran cold. "What? On what charges?"
"None given. They just came and took them. I only escaped because I was… elsewhere." He meant his hidden data-den. "I think they're rounding up anyone connected to Arlan. Where is he, Selene? He's not with you?"
The knot in her stomach tightened into a vise. "We got separated. He and Lyra were leading the Reavers away. They were supposed to meet us… but they haven't."
Dorian was silent for a long moment, his analytical mind processing the worst possible outcome. "Lyra Solara," he said quietly. "Her family has been negotiating with the Council of First Families for weeks. Closed-door sessions. My sources went quiet."
"You think she's part of it?" Kaelen growled, leaning into the view.
"I think it's a possibility we can't ignore," Dorian said. "Which means Arlan walking off with her alone was…"
"A trap," Selene finished, the words tasting like ash. The memory of Lyra's cool efficiency, her strategic mind, now looked sinister. Had every suggestion, every moment of alliance, been a calculated move to get close to Arlan, to isolate him? "We have to find him."
"You can't," Dorian said sharply. "The net is closing. You have the evidence?"
Selene's heart sank. "Arlan has it. The data-chip."
Dorian closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. "Then it's likely lost. Selene, listen to me. You are now a fugitive. So am I. So is Kaelen. If they have Mira and Fen, they will use them. They will come for us. We cannot go back to the academy."
"We can't abandon him!" Selene's voice rose, a flicker of violet igniting in her eyes. Her magic, a blend of vampiric life-drain and chaotic witch-curse energy, stirred in her distress.
"We are not abandoning him!" Dorian snapped, then lowered his voice. "We are surviving to help him. If he's alive, he'll need allies on the outside. If he's…" He couldn't say it. "Our priority must be preserving the evidence in our heads and finding a way to strike back. We need to disappear."
Selene wanted to argue, to scream, to storm the academy gates. But Dorian's cold logic was a dam holding back her tidal wave of fear and fury. He was right. Walking back into the lion's den meant capture, or worse. It helped no one.
"What do we do?" she asked, her voice small.
"There's a place," Dorian said. "A safe-house my family maintains for… dubious dealings. It's in the underbelly of Sky-Crest City. We can regroup there. Gather information. Plan."
"How do we get there? Every transport will be watched."
"You let me worry about that," said a new, gruff voice from behind Dorian. An older man with a mechanic's build and a cybernetic eye moved into view. "Name's Rourke. I ferry things for the Ashcrofts that don't like official manifests. Got a sub-orbital skiff prepping now. Be at dock nine, service bay Gamma, in thirty minutes. Don't be late."
The transmission cut.
Selene leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the comms booth. Arlan was gone, possibly dead. Mira and Fen were captured. And the woman she'd begun to see as a wary ally was likely the architect of their destruction.
"Selene," Kaelen said softly, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "We move. For them."
She nodded, straightening up. The sorrow in her heart didn't vanish; it crystallized. It hardened into a cold, sharp purpose. Lyra Solara had taken something from her. The Accord had taken everything from Arlan long ago. It was time to start taking back.
Her eyes, when she met Kaelen's gaze, were no longer just the eyes of an outcast half-blood. They were the eyes of a huntress. A vengeful spirit.
"Let's go," she said, her voice devoid of all warmth. "We have a skiff to catch."
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