The faction had structure. That was the first thing Jace noticed.
A barricade of scavenged sheet metal and scav packs formed the outer shell, but inside—actual order. Patrols rotated on schedule. Someone was tracking oxygen levels. Another marked rotation times into the stone with a coal shard.
Jace and Laziel didn't even make it two steps before they were stopped.
Three young men in matching segmented vests lowered rifles at them. Real ones. Old-world makes, charged with internal crystal cores.
Guard 1 (stern):"New arrivals. Strip-check. Weapons out. Hands open."
Jace (smirking):"Buy me dinner first."
No one laughed.
Rook did — full belly-laugh from behind Jace's shoulder. He leaned against the wall, slapping his thigh.
Rook:"Tough crowd."
Laziel sighed. "Just do it."
They were patted down, scanned with a rod that buzzed particularly loud over Jace's chest.
The scanner wielder paused.
Guard 2:"Double-stack. Unlucky Curse."
A third soldier grimaced. "Gods, why would they send another one?"
They let them through.
Inside the barricade, the difference was night and day.
Actual lighting—soft yellow filtered through scrap fabric.
Hot soup boiling in a rigged cooker.
People gathered around makeshift maps, marking routes, possible exit paths. Order.
They were greeted by a woman in slate armor, her hair twisted into tight knots. Her gaze scanned them like it was part of her training.
Slate-Armor Woman:"You don't look like ferals. Name?"
Laziel:"Laziel. Former B-rank entrance candidate. Trial drop: 14 days ago."
Jace:"Jace. I fall down holes and nap in murder tunnels."
Rook (clapping):"Put that on a résumé."
The woman didn't react.
She motioned them forward. "Come. Auren will want to debrief you."
Auren Fael didn't dress like the trench had touched him.
Clean boots. Slick uniform. Dark gloves that hadn't seen blood. He sat at a table covered in diagrams, flanked by two lieutenants—one thin and pale, the other broad and scarred. A rifle leaned against the desk beside him like it was ornamental.
He looked up.Smiled like a chess player who'd just taken a pawn.
Auren:"You're the newest ghosts."
Jace:"Alive ghosts. So far."
Auren (to Laziel):"I didn't expect you to last this long."
Laziel shrugged. "I stopped bleeding."
He nodded, then eyed Jace.
Auren:"And him?"
Laziel:"He found me."
Jace (smiling):"And fed her. And cracked jokes. And brought her here. Basically, your local hero."
Pale Lieutenant (cold):"We'll see about that."
They were given space near the edge of camp. Not close to the fire, not in the center. Enough to rest. Enough to be watched.
That night, while Jace counted vent valves to stay awake, Laziel sat across from a group by the light. Laughing. Listening.
He recognized the lean-in.That slight smile people used when they wanted to be accepted.
Rook (beside him, watching):"She's gone."
Jace (quiet):"She's investing."
Rook:"You gonna match the bid?"
Jace stood.
Next morning, he made his rounds.
Not to make friends — to understand the board.
He met Yasmin, the scarred soldier who taught others how to punch clean through constructs' throat plates.
He chatted with Ferrin, the cartographer who claimed he'd once found a staircase leading upward — then walked it for three days before realizing he was walking in place.
He offered help to Doss, a muttering tech who'd strapped three motion sensors to a feral squirrel and called it a scout.
Most of them looked at Jace like he was a clown.Which was fine.
He smiled. Played the fool.
Then listened.
He learned this:
The trench is alive. Not metaphorically — literally. It shifts based on psychological pressure. The more afraid the residents, the more volatile the geometry.
No one's ever reached the exit. Some have seen it. None survived it.
Everyone in this group had been here for weeks, some for months.
The Overseers stop watching after the first five days. After that? You're forgotten.
Auren doesn't just lead — he decides who gets food. Who gets weapons. Who gets blamed when someone goes missing.
Due to this, there's a group of outsiders who have been exiled. Yet they have unknown whereabouts.
Jace also learned that Auren had a plan: The Mirror Gate.
A passage that opened once a cycle — it was unstable, guarded, and full of illusions.
But behind it? Rumors of a way out.
Maybe even the surface.
Maybe.
Jace (to Rook):"What kind of madman names their escape plan after the one thing down here that lies to your face?"
Rook:"The ambitious kind. Or the desperate."
Jace:"Same difference."