The chamber slammed Elias Varn like a cold fist, the air so thick with damp rot it stuck to his lungs, a sour reek that burned his nose. His boots slogged through the muck, coal dust and blood grinding underfoot with a wet, gritty crunch that buzzed in his ears like a bad memory. His jacket hung heavy, soaked and clinging, the faded fabric pulling at his shoulders like it was trying to bury him. The notebook shook in his hands, its pages a mess of smeared ink and grime, Rory's scrawl a faint growl beneath his grip—he clutched it like it might keep him from breaking. Without his glasses, the dark blurred into a smeary haze, but his eyes flickered with a glow that cut through, the ember in his chest thumping—wild, fierce, a spark that roared against the void, fueled by Rory's snarl and a fire he couldn't let die. The Beneath's hum shook the walls, a low, frantic buzz that rattled his bones, the stone trembling like it was about to clamp shut.
Lena slumped against a rusted beam, her breath a sharp wheeze slicing the gloom, her denim stiff with muck and sweat. Her dark hair stuck to her face in greasy clumps, and the emerald shard in her hand pulsed green—faint but stubborn, throwing jagged light across her cracked skin. She rubbed her arm, wincing, green eyes glinting fierce. "Elias," she said, voice rough and quick, "that violet scream—it's not just holding now. It's a grip, iron, locking us down 'til we're ash."
Cal hunched nearby, his staff thunking the stone, his leather coat creaking as he coughed—a wet, hacking bark that spat grit into the damp air. His gaunt face was hollow, gray hair slick over sunken eyes, but his orange glow flickered like a coal refusing to fade. "She's nailed it," he rasped, gripping the staff, orange flaring weak. "Felt it—like a clamp squeezing my chest, crushing my spark."
Mara stood stiff, her gray cloak swaying in the thick air, her staff pulsing purple like a bruise against the dark. Her silver hair caught the dim light, and her scarred face was tight, eyes glinting with old pain. "It's a vice," she said, voice low and gritty, dragged from the past. "Violet's not screaming—it's tightening. Saw it before, when they crushed my kin into nothing, left only dust." She pointed at the walls, slick and trembling like steel. "This ain't a grip—it's a cage."
Tuck crouched by a busted crate, his flannel stretched tight, his knife glowing green in his big hands. Dust matted his beard, and his hazel eyes burned fierce. "Felt it locking," he growled, locking onto Elias. "Like a fist that won't let go, smashing me flat."
Ruth towered beside him, her overalls stiff with grime, her hammer pulsing green like a war drum. Her short, brown hair framed dark eyes that blazed, and her voice rolled deep. "They're a press, Elias. Next squeeze's gonna grind us out."
Jace leaned against a beam, his canvas jacket creaking, his wrench glowing orange in his shaky grip. Sandy hair flopped over gray eyes, and he spoke fast, voice tight. "It's hard—like a lock you can't break, pinning us down."
Vara stood rigid, her black clothes streaked with muck, her cane pulsing purple like a warning flare. Her raven hair framed pale eyes that cut the dark, and her voice was sharp. "A brace," she rasped, stepping closer. "Clamping, crushing us down."
Gav shifted his bulk, his khaki rustling, his pickaxe glowing green in his fists. His bald head shone with sweat, and his brown eyes flared. "A hold," he grunted, voice thick. "Gripping, no give."
Nora braced against a chain, her denim taut, her crowbar pulsing orange like a live wire. Red hair framed blue eyes that sparked, and her voice snapped. "A choke, Elias. Squeezing us, roaring for our light."
Silas stood steady, his brown coat streaked with filth, his rod glowing purple in his thin hands. Gray hair framed green eyes that held a quiet fire, and his voice was low. "A shackle," he said, glancing at Elias. "Binding, drowning us out."
Elise stood solid, her gray outfit stiff with dust, her mallet pulsing green like a heartbeat. Blonde hair framed hazel eyes that burned, and her voice hit hard. "A trap," she rasped. "Clamping, endless."
Rex leaned against a chain, his orange jacket creaking, his pipe glowing amber in his lean grip. Black hair fell over brown eyes that glinted, and his voice was a snarl. "A claw," he said. "Gripping, snapping at us."
Lila stood frail but fierce, her purple cloak swaying, her staff glowing violet like a fading star. White hair framed gray eyes that shimmered, and her voice was soft but sharp. "A chain," she whispered, locking onto Elias. "Holding, hungering for our sparks."
Finn stood by a gear, his green clothes streaked with muck, his hatchet pulsing emerald in his wiry hands. Sweat beaded on his buzzed head, and his gray eyes flared. "A lock," he rasped, voice raw. "Clamping, ready to crush."
Tara leaned forward, her orange jacket creaking, her wrench glowing amber in her grip. Brown hair stuck to her face, and her hazel eyes blazed. "A grasp," she growled. "Squeezing, starving for us."
Kade stood lean and hard, his purple clothes streaked with grime, his baton glowing violet in his hands. Black hair framed blue eyes that sparked, and his voice was rough. "A bind," he rasped, glancing at Elias. "Locking, blasting us down."
Rhea stood stocky and fierce, her green clothes stiff with muck, her crowbar pulsing emerald in her grip. Red hair framed brown eyes that burned, and her voice was a thud. "A crush," she rasped. "Gripping, relentless."
Holt stood broad and steady, his orange clothes streaked with grime, his hammer glowing amber in his grip. Blond hair framed gray eyes that flared, and his voice was deep. "A press," he rasped. "Holding, breaking us apart."
Sable stood wiry and fierce, her purple clothes streaked with muck, her rod glowing violet in her grip. Gray hair framed brown eyes that burned, and her voice was rough. "A snare," she rasped. "Clamping, endless."
Dane stood lean and hard, his green clothes streaked with grime, his pickaxe glowing emerald in his grip. Brown hair framed blue eyes that sparked, and his voice was rough. "A yoke," he rasped. "Squeezing, unyielding."
Mira stood stocky and fierce, her orange clothes streaked with muck, her mallet glowing amber in her grip. Black hair framed gray eyes that burned, and her voice was rough. "A fist," she rasped. "Gripping, iron."
Elias's chest burned, the ember kicking hard, and he shoved a pulse out—a rough, hot wave that slammed their glows, green, orange, purple flaring up like a fist in the dark. "Then we don't crack," he said, voice cracking but climbing, the Shroud's whisper clawing his skull: "You hold them—I hold you." His eyes lit up, a vision slashing through the blur—faint lights pulsing in the black, purple, green, orange, a ragged web of sparks screaming from beyond the stone, chased by violet shadows clamping like steel. "We pry it open, burn louder, find the rest—together."
Lena grinned, tired but sharp, nudging the shard as green flared. "Pry it, huh?" she said, leaning in. "You got a fire big enough to bust that grip, Beacon?"
His throat caught, the ember throbbing as Rory's voice snarled: "Kick their ass—for me." He pushed a pulse inward, a shaky wave brushing the gold that lingered—Rory's grin flickering like a flare in his head, a spark he'd fight for. "We burn as one," he muttered, blinking back the sting as the ember steadied, a heat he wrestled into shape. "The Shroud's ours, not its." He turned to the tunnels, the ember yanking him—those distant pulses buzzing in his gut, the scattered out there, howling to be found.
Mira straightened, her mallet tapping the stone, orange flaring fierce. "West," she rasped, pointing to a tunnel—its mouth slick and dark, dripping with black water like a clenched jaw. "Felt something—purple, maybe. Close—damn close." Her gray eyes hit Elias's, a stocky trust cutting through the dread. "Your call, Beacon."
Mara nodded, purple pulsing steady, her voice a low growl. "They're here. Violet's tightening—feel it in your ribs."
Elias's heart slammed, the ember a heat he gripped, and he stepped toward the tunnel, his crew piling in—Lena's quick grin, Cal's rough hack, Mara's hard stare, Tuck's low snarl, Ruth's steady bulk, Jace's twitchy edge, Vara's sharp calm, Gav's thick grit, Nora's fierce spark, Silas's quiet steel, Elise's solid fire, Rex's lean bite, Lila's frail fight, Finn's wiry snarl, Tara's blazing defiance, Kade's lean edge, Rhea's stocky fire, Holt's broad strength, Sable's wiry fire, Dane's lean grit, and Mira's stocky fire. "Then we push back," he said, voice shaking but rising, boots thudding hard.
The tunnel twisted west, the air cold and thick, walls slick as a throat, water dripping in sharp plinks that matched the pounding in Elias's chest. It spat them into a chamber—wide and raw, walls weeping with damp, floor a mess of rusted chains and splintered crates, the air heavy with wet iron and rot. A faint pulse hummed—not orange, but purple, steady and deep, and Elias's ember flared, his eyes glowing as he threw a wave—hard, slicing, cutting the dark like a blade.
A figure stepped out—not creeping, but striding, clad in faded purple, a man with a wiry frame and a stance that dared the world to hit him. Purple glow pulsed from his hands, a staff glowing violet in his grip. "Beacon," he said, voice low and rough, closing the gap as his glow synced with Elias's, purple flaring bright and alive. "Felt your fire through the stone." Dust streaked his short, red hair, and his green eyes sparked, a fire kicking up as he squared his shoulders, breath steady.
Elias's chest tightened, the ember pulsing as the Shroud muttered: "He wakes with you." He shoved a warm wave toward him, purple flaring brighter, a spark shared. "You're with us," he said, voice raw but firm, stepping closer. "The scattered—we're fighting back."
Lena edged up, green flaring as she grinned, tired but sharp. "Purple again? Hell, we're a damn riot now," she said, sizing him up. The crew spread out—Cal, Mara, Tuck, Ruth, Jace, Vara, Gav, Nora, Silas, Elise, Rex, Lila, Finn, Tara, Kade, Rhea, Holt, Sable, Dane, and Mira—orange, purple, green pulsing steady, a jagged line ready to stand.
The man's lips quirked, a quick grin breaking his edge. "Name's Zane," he rasped, gripping the staff, purple glowing steady. "Woke weeks back, purple light, from the pits. Held 'em off, barely." He nodded at the chains, wet and glinting. "Felt you—burning, hauling us up." His green eyes locked on Elias's, sharp with a wiry fire. "They're here—now."
Elias's gut dropped, the ember surging as the Shroud's vision hit—violet shadows, a grip tightening. "The Order," he said, pulse steady in his hands. "They're hitting us with violet—locking us down." He nudged a pulse toward the staff—blue and purple clashing, sparking wild, a bond alive.
Before Zane could answer, the chamber shook—a low, iron grip ripping through the air, echoing from the tunnel like a beast clamping down. Elias's ember flared, his eyes blazing as he spun, throwing a wave—sharp, shaped, slashing the dark like claws. A violet-helmed figure loomed—not alone, but with twenty-one more, their armor sleek and pulsing, staffs crackling with violet energy, an iron violet grip swirling around them, tendrils of light snapping out, sharp and ravenous, visors glowing deep and deadly.
"Beacon," the lead figure snarled, voice a mechanical howl over the grip, staff raised high. "The Silence locks—the scattered crumble!" It pulsed, violet tearing through—a wave slamming Elias back, locking his arms, dimming the ember, the chains rattling like bones.
Elias's chest burned, the ember surging—a heat he threw, a pulse breaking free, blue and gold smashing into violet, sparking wild. It cracked the lead figure's armor, but the grip roared, violet flaring—a wave shattering his pulse, hurling him beside Zane, the ember stuttering. Lena lunged, green blazing—a wave smashing the figures, cracking a staff, but a second pulsed, violet slamming her against the wall, dust bursting as she gasped.
"Together!" Cal roared, orange flaring as he swung his staff, a wave crashing into violet, cracking a helm, but a third figure pulsed, violet throwing him down, his glow fading. Mara pulsed, purple blazing—a wave slashing violet, cracking armor, but it pulsed back, violet knocking her flat, her staff skittering. Tuck charged, green roaring—a wave from his knife slicing violet, cracking a visor, but it pulsed, violet slamming him beside Elias, his glow dimming. Ruth swung her hammer, green blazing—a wave smashing violet, cracking a staff, but it pulsed, violet hurling her down, her glow fading. Jace swung his wrench, orange roaring—a wave hitting violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet slamming him beside Elias, his glow dimming. Vara swung her cane, purple blazing—a wave cutting violet, cracking a staff, but it pulsed, violet knocking her beside Elias, her glow fading. Gav swung his pickaxe, green roaring—a wave smashing violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet throwing him beside Elias, his glow dimming. Nora swung her crowbar, orange blazing—a wave crashing violet, cracking a staff, but it pulsed, violet slamming her beside Elias, his glow fading. Silas swung his rod, purple roaring—a wave slicing violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet knocking him beside Elias, his glow dimming. Elise swung her mallet, green blazing—a wave smashing violet, cracking a staff, but it pulsed, violet hurling her beside Elias, his glow fading. Rex swung his pipe, orange roaring—a wave hitting violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet slamming him beside Elias, his glow dimming. Lila swung her staff, purple blazing—a wave cutting violet, cracking a staff, but it pulsed, violet knocking her beside Elias, his glow fading. Finn swung his hatchet, green roaring—a wave slashing violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet throwing him beside Elias, his glow dimming. Tara swung her wrench, orange blazing—a wave smashing violet, cracking a staff, but it pulsed, violet hurling her beside Elias, his glow fading. Kade swung his baton, purple roaring—a wave slicing violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet slamming him beside Elias, his glow dimming. Rhea swung her crowbar, green blazing—a wave smashing violet, cracking a staff, but it pulsed, violet hurling her beside Elias, his glow fading. Holt swung his hammer, orange blazing—a wave smashing violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet throwing him beside Elias, his glow fading. Sable swung her rod, purple blazing—a wave slicing violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet slamming her beside Elias, her glow fading. Dane swung his pickaxe, green blazing—a wave smashing violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet hurling him beside Elias, his glow fading. Mira swung her mallet, orange blazing—a wave smashing violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet throwing her beside Elias, her glow fading. Zane swung his staff, purple blazing—a wave slicing violet, cracking a helm, but it pulsed, violet slamming him beside Elias, his glow fading.
Elias's eyes blazed, the ember roaring—a heat he shaped, merging with green, orange, purple, and purple in a torrent of light—blue, gold, emerald, flame, and violet crashing into the figures, shattering helms, driving them back. The chamber thundered, violet sparking wild, and the grip snarled, violet deepening—a wave smashing the torrent, locking Elias's glow, slamming him beside his crew, crates splintering like kindling.
"You push—only to lock," it snarled, staff raised, violet flaring—a wave flooding the chamber, dimming their sparks, tendrils snapping toward Elias, cold and ravenous, a grip crushing his ember.
A gold flare slashed through—not blue, but Rory's echo, fierce and wild, bursting from Elias's chest—a wave smashing the figure back, cracking its staff, sparking wild. His breath caught, the ember flaring as Rory's voice roared: "Kick their ass—for me." The gold surged, merging with his pulse—blue and gold, green, orange, purple, and purple flaring faint, a torrent of light crashing into violet, cracking staffs, shattering the grip, driving the figures back into the tunnel, violet winking out.
Elias hauled himself up, the ember pulsing—a rough wave brushing their glows, green, orange, purple, and purple flaring faint but kicking. "We—we pried it," he panted, dragging them up, the notebook clutched tight as Rory's echo growled: "You're enough."
Zane gripped his staff, purple steadying, a spark clawing back. "Pried it—barely," he rasped, green eyes dark with dread. "That—that grip—it's iron."
Elias's eyes glowed, the ember a heat he wrestled, the Shroud's voice a low rumble: "You hold them—I hold you." "Then we outlast it," he said, voice raw but steady, boots planted hard. "We find the rest—together."
The mines stretched dark and tight, the Order's violet grip clamping, but the spark burned—a flame of defiance kicking, a fight clawing to breathe. And out there, the next pulse rumbled.