The cave behind us collapsed in on itself with a deep, tired groan. Not from force, but from time. From purpose fulfilled. As if it had held its breath for five days and could finally exhale now that we were leaving.
Violet stood beside me, hood drawn, eyes forward. I could feel her focus—sharp and silent like a blade tucked against your back. She didn't speak, and neither did I.
We ran.
The Wastelands stretched in every direction, a fractured sea of dust, stone, and bones of a world long dead. Our boots kicked up trails behind us that vanished in seconds beneath gusts of dry wind. No hesitation. No looking back.
South.
That was the direction.
Toward the Underground.
Toward answers.
The first ruins we passed looked like twisted spires of metal stabbed into the earth. Once, they were probably towers. Now? Just leaning silhouettes, held up by rust and regret. Vines had taken root where glass once shimmered. I counted six. Maybe seven. One still had a broken sign half-buried in sand that read ZONE R-9. Meant nothing now. I logged it anyway.
We moved like ghosts through the wreckage.
A collapsed shuttle lay on its side between two broken hills. Massive. Split clean through, like it had been peeled open by a god's fingernail. Something had burned the interior—deep scorch marks layered over melted seats and ribbed panels. Violet slowed for a second, eyes scanning. I caught the same symbol etched along the hull: Interlogue Unit 4B.
The second one we've seen in two days.
We pressed on.
Past a fallen bridge with no origin point. Past a riverbed long since turned to ash. Past what looked like an entire research center that had caved inward, forming a blackened crater lined with bones.
It never stopped.
The further we went, the more the world seemed to confess. As if it had tried to bury its sins under sand and silence but couldn't hold them down anymore.
We passed a battlefield next. Or the remains of one. Dozens of armored corpses still locked in position, swords and rifles frozen mid-strike. Time hadn't touched them. NULL had. I could smell it in the air—a bitter, ozone tang that tasted like static.
Violet said nothing.
Neither did I.
We just ran.
By the time we crested the last ridge, the sun had started to die behind the clouds. That's when we saw it:
Herra.
A city—or what remained of one. Stone structures, rusted scaffolding, the skeletal ribs of towers wrapped in patchwork metal. The streets were cracked and uneven. Makeshift lights hung from cables strung between buildings like threadbare clotheslines. It wasn't dead. But it wasn't alive either.
Something in-between.
We slowed at the gates. Two guards looked up, rifles already halfway raised before recognition settled behind their cracked visors. Violet pulled her hood back just enough for them to see her face.
They nodded. Let us pass.
Inside, Herra was louder. Busier. People moved. Not many, but enough to keep the place from collapsing. Most wore scavenger gear—makeshift armor, welding goggles, breathing cloths. A few wore NULL-sigils on their sleeves. Not Dracus. Runners. Mercenaries. Survivors.
"Guild territory," Violet murmured.
I nodded, scanning every window, every rooftop. My senses still hadn't settled. My body still remembered the Watcher. Still remembered Ren.
We passed an old billboard that had been turned into a mission board. Scrawled parchments and torn datapads hung from it, held in place with rusted nails. Wanted signs. Supply lists. Contracts.
At the center of it all stood a building that still held its shape—old stone, reinforced with newer plating. The emblem above the doorway was clean:
THE GUILD.
And there, leaning against the railing of the top balcony, was a woman watching us.
Beautiful with Long brown hair and Green eyes. She was leaning casually, like she hadn't a care in the world—but I could feel her.
Powerful.
NULL danced along the edges of her fingers like it answered to her, not the other way around.
"Cali Emerald," Violet said.
Her tone had changed.
Respect.
I stared up at her.
She hadn't blinked once since we entered the city.
The air between us hadn't shifted.
But something told me this was no longer just a journey.
It was a test.
Her gaze never wavered. Not even as voices rose and fell behind her from inside the Guild hall. Herra's streets moved around us—noise, life, tension—but none of it reached that balcony. Not where she stood.
I could feel Violet tense subtly beside me. It wasn't fear. It wasn't even apprehension. It was readiness.
"Come on," she said under her breath. "Let's not make her wait."
We crossed the broken courtyard. People watched. Heads turned. I caught the subtle movement of hands drifting toward holstered weapons—just in case. Herra was the kind of place where reputation could carry you halfway to safety.
But step out of line once?
You didn't make it the rest of the way.
As we reached the front entrance, the heavy door opened with a groan. A man with a jagged scar across his cheek nodded to Violet, then gave me a once-over. He didn't speak, but his eyes lingered just long enough to make his opinion known.
Cali was already waiting at the top of the stairs.
Up close, she was even more striking. Younger than I expected. Maybe her mid twenties. But her presence—her weight—was that of someone who'd outlived her own warnings.
"You're the one who made it out of the northern wastes alive," she said, more observation than question. Her voice was smooth. Controlled.
I didn't answer.
She looked to Violet. "You vouch for him?"
"I do," Violet said. One hand on her hip. No hesitation.
Cali nodded once. Then looked back at me.
"You look like someone who's been marked by the wrong gods."
I met her eyes. "They picked the wrong body."
A small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Good," she said. "I like broken things that fight back."
She turned and walked inside.
Violet and I followed.
The interior of the Guildhall smelled like metal, oil, and old sweat—layered with incense, like someone was trying to mask how many ghosts still lived in the walls. The floor creaked beneath our boots, polished stone partially covered by worn rugs and crates of salvaged gear. People moved in the shadows, some glancing our way, others pretending not to notice. But they all felt it.
Me.
Cali led us through a narrow corridor lit by dangling bulbs and humming NULL-charged conduits. Her posture never shifted. Relaxed, but not casual—like someone always ten seconds away from drawing blood. The way she carried herself reminded me of soldiers who'd died twice and came back wrong the third time.
She opened a door and stepped into a wide, circular room—part war chamber, part sanctuary. A massive map covered one curved wall, peppered with faded markers, shifting pulse-lights, and crude drawn lines.
Cali stopped at the table in the center and turned toward us.
"You heading south?" she asked, already knowing.
Violet nodded. "The Underground."
Cali's brow lifted, but only slightly. "Long run. Dangerous stretch. You're going through the teeth."
"We know," Violet said.
Cali's eyes settled on me again. She wasn't trying to intimidate. It was more like she was reading something buried beneath the skin—measuring weight I hadn't admitted to carrying.
"You're the reason the sky cracked open, aren't you?" she asked.
I didn't blink. "No."
"Then why are they watching you?"
"Because I didn't die when I should have."
The room went still for a beat.
Then she laughed. Not loud, not mocking—just one of those rare, sharp exhales that said she respected the answer more than she let on.
She turned toward the map.
"There are three routes south," she said, dragging her finger along each. "One's direct. Fastest, but it cuts right through Dracus patrol zones. One's a detour through the western gullies—flooded out last month, unstable terrain, and crawling with scavenger packs." Her finger tapped the third. "This one's the quietest. Takes longer. But it's got landmarks we've used for shelter before. Less likely to get seen."
She looked at Violet. "Your call."
Violet turned to me.
I scanned the map. Routes. Risks. Distances. My gut tightened as I looked at the direct path—but something in me already knew we couldn't afford to move slowly anymore. Not with the glyph still pulsing under my skin.
"Fastest route," I said. "We'll take our chances."
Cali tilted her head. "Ballsy."
I met her gaze. "So is standing still."
She grinned again. This one wider.
"Alright then. You leave at first light."
I nodded.
Violet crossed her arms. "Anything else we need to know?"
Cali turned back toward the map. "Only this—once you leave Herra, you're alone. No signals. No Guild cover. If you get caught out there, no one's coming."
"Wouldn't expect them to," I said.
Cali's grin faded into something harder. More real.
"Good. Then maybe you'll actually make it."
We left the chamber in silence, footsteps echoing behind us like fading gunfire. The Guildhall swallowed the noise whole.
And somewhere deep in my bones, I knew—
This was the last safe place we'd see for a long, long time.