The chamber was older than the Rings.
Nyra felt it the moment she stepped inside. The stone wasn't polished smooth like the upper city; it was rough, uneven, marked with shallow grooves that looked almost deliberate. Crystal veins ran through the walls, but they were dull, clouded—light trapped inside them like a thought that had lost its way.
Ilen nudged the door shut behind them. It didn't seal completely. It never did. The undercity liked exits.
"You can sleep," Ilen said, setting her pack down near one of the walls. "Or not. Either way, no one will come looking here tonight."
Nyra lowered herself onto the stone floor, back against the wall. The exhaustion hit her all at once, heavy and sudden. Her muscles ached like she'd been holding herself together with tension alone—and now that she'd stopped moving, it all wanted to fall apart.
She pulled the mask out again.
Ilen noticed but didn't comment. She crouched a few steps away, carefully unpacking crystal fragments wrapped in cloth—some chipped, some oddly shaped, none of them uniform.
"What do you do?" Nyra asked quietly.
Ilen glanced up. "I fix things people think are broken."
"That's vague."
"Accurate, though."
Nyra watched as Ilen pressed two fragments together. They didn't glow brighter. Instead, the light softened, steadied, like it had found somewhere it belonged.
Nyra looked back at her mask.
The crack was still there. Still wrong.
"I didn't mean to—" she began, then stopped. She wasn't sure what she'd meant to say. I didn't mean to be seen. I didn't mean to matter.
"I know," Ilen said, not looking up.
Nyra blinked. "You do?"
"No one ever means to break things in public."
That landed heavier than Nyra expected.
Silence settled again, but it was different now—less watchful, more… patient. The chamber hummed faintly, not with magic exactly, but with the absence of it. Like a space where power had once been loud and now refused to speak above a whisper.
Nyra's eyes drifted closed.
She didn't remember falling asleep.
⸻
She dreamed of mirrors.
Not glass ones—crystal. Tall and narrow, lining a hall that stretched farther than she could see. Every mirror showed her face, masked and unmasked and something in between. Some reflections moved when she didn't. Some didn't move at all.
In one mirror, her mask was whole again.
In another, it was gone—but her face was glowing faintly, the same wrong color as the crack.
She reached toward it.
The mirror fractured at her touch.
Nyra woke with a sharp inhale.
The chamber was dimmer now. Ilen sat nearby, knees pulled up, chin resting on her arms. She glanced over when Nyra stirred.
"Bad dream?" she asked.
Nyra nodded once. Her heart was still racing.
"Yeah," Ilen said gently. "That tracks."
Nyra pushed herself upright. "How long was I out?"
"A while. Not long." Ilen stood and stretched. "Long enough for things to shift."
Nyra frowned. "Shift how?"
Before Ilen could answer, footsteps echoed faintly outside the chamber.
Nyra froze.
Ilen's expression changed instantly—focused, alert. She lifted a finger to her lips and reached for one of the crystals at her belt. Not a weapon exactly. Something else.
The footsteps stopped just beyond the door.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a voice spoke from the other side—calm, familiar.
"You're bad at hiding panic," the boy said. "You leave it all over the floor."
Ilen rolled her eyes. "You're early."
"Unavoidable," he replied. "The city's already correcting itself."
Nyra's stomach tightened.
Ilen glanced at her. "He's not Crown."
"That's not comforting," Nyra whispered.
"It should be," the boy said mildly, stepping into the chamber. His fractured mask caught the low light strangely, scattering it instead of reflecting it. "They'd have been louder."
His gaze landed on Nyra—not sharp, not invasive. Curious. Like he was looking at a problem he didn't plan to solve yet.
"You rested," he noted.
"I slept," Nyra said. "There's a difference."
He smiled faintly. "You'll learn to appreciate small mercies."
Ilen crossed her arms. "What happened?"
"The Trial was halted," he said. "Officially, it was a crystal malfunction. Unofficially…" He shrugged. "They're afraid."
Nyra swallowed. "Of me?"
"Of what you imply," he corrected. "You didn't attack anyone. You didn't declare anything. You just… broke pattern."
That didn't feel better.
The boy shifted his weight. "We need to move you again. Not far. Just somewhere quieter."
Nyra looked between them. "You keep saying things like that," she said. "And no one explains why."
The boy met her eyes.
"Because explanations turn into certainties," he said. "And certainties are easy to weaponize."
Ilen nodded. "He's annoying," she added, "but he's right."
Nyra exhaled slowly.
"Then at least tell me this," she said. "Am I hiding from the city… or from what I am?"
The boy's pause was brief—but real.
"Both," he said.
And somehow, the way he said it made Nyra certain this story was only just beginning.