-Tan'Thalon: The infirmary-
The infirmary was quiet. Too quiet. Elira stood just inside the doorway, one hand still resting against the frame. She had been inside military hospitals before. She had seen broken soldiers, burned soldiers, men and women missing pieces of themselves that would never grow back. But this was different. Serenya was not supposed to be here. She was supposed to be standing. Giving orders. Arguing with engineers. Telling Rhyssa to stop taking unnecessary risks. Telling Varros that he was too old to keep solving every problem by hitting it. Instead, she lay motionless beneath a pale thermal blanket.
Thin Lazulli conduits ran from a monitoring array beside the bed into the medical equipment surrounding her. Small lights pulsed in time with the machine's readings. A narrow crystal sensor rested against her temple. Another was fixed around her wrist. A soft mechanical rhythm filled the room. Beep. Pause. Beep. Pause.
Varros stopped beside Elira. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. The great Varros, who could make a room shake with a laugh, suddenly seemed enormous and helpless.
He stared at Serenya. "She looks small."
Elira swallowed. "Don't."
"I'm not—"
"I know."
Varros looked away. The silence returned. Elira stepped closer to the bed. Serenya's face was peaceful. That almost made it worse. There was no grimace of pain. No clenched teeth. No angry demand for someone to explain what had happened. Just stillness.
Elira reached down and rested her fingers against the edge of the mattress. "She hates hospitals."
Varros gave a quiet grunt. "She hates being told to sit down."
"She hates being told to do anything."
"True."
For the first time, the corner of Elira's mouth moved. Then it disappeared.
Her eyes settled on the Lazulli monitor. "How long?"
"The physicians don't know."
"Will she wake?"
"They don't know that either." Varros stared at the floor.
Elira breathed slowly through her nose. "We're going back down."
Varros looked at her. "Today?"
"Not yet." She looked at Serenya again. "We need to make sure we're not bringing anyone else back like this."
Varros's jaw tightened. "Then let's make sure we don't."
Elira nodded.
She reached out and gently touched Serenya's shoulder. "We'll be here when you wake up."
Serenya didn't move. The machines continued their quiet rhythm. Beep. Pause. Beep.
The first field test of the new shields came two days later. Three Iron Vanguard soldiers descended into the tunnels beneath Tan'Thalon. Elira led them. Varros carried one of Eldran's prototypes. Rhyssa carried another. The shields were heavier than standard Vanguard equipment. Their Lazulli cores hummed faintly beneath reinforced steel, sending a subtle vibration through the arm whenever they were active. They had been designed for a simple purpose. Buy time. Nothing more.
The tunnel swallowed the light from their lamps. Old stone surrounded them. Not the clean masonry of Tan'Thalon's lower districts. Something older. The walls were irregular, but not crude. Long grooves ran through the stone at deliberate intervals, some filled with dead Lazulli channels.
Rhyssa crouched beside one. "Same material."
Elira looked down. "You're sure?"
"Not modern."
Varros tapped the wall with one knuckle. The sound travelled farther than it should have.
"Hollow."
Elira looked ahead. "Keep moving."
They continued. The deeper they went, the more frequently they encountered the constructs. The first emerged from the ceiling. Stone broke apart above them. Rhyssa barely raised her shield in time. The construct struck. The Lazulli barrier exploded into existence. A translucent field caught the impact. The force drove Rhyssa backward.
Her boots scraped across the floor. "Still standing!" she shouted.
Varros charged. His shield flared as another construct slammed into it.
He drove his shoulder forward. "Now!"
Rhyssa stepped around him. Her blade found the construct's exposed joint. The creature collapsed. For several seconds, nothing moved. Then Elira heard it. A click. Not from the construct. From the wall. She turned. A thin line of Lazulli had illuminated beneath the stone.
Rhyssa stared at it. "Did we trigger that?"
"I don't know."
The line travelled along the wall. Then another. And another. Within seconds, the entire tunnel was traced by faint blue-green veins.
They weren't random. They formed a pattern.
Elira stepped closer. "That's not a power conduit."
Varros looked at her. "What is it?"
"I don't know."
She followed the lines with her eyes. They curved around the tunnel. Crossed beneath the floor. Then climbed the opposite wall. Rhyssa slowly raised her lamp. The pattern continued farther ahead.
"Commander."
Elira looked up. Rhyssa was pointing. The tunnel wasn't ending. It was branching. Not like a mine. Like a network. Three passages divided ahead. Then five. Then more beyond them. Each one carried the same dead Lazulli channels.
Elira's expression hardened. "How deep are we?"
Varros checked the measuring device. "Deeper than the city foundations."
Elira looked at the walls. Then at the branching passages. Then back at the remains of the construct. Something bothered her. The construct had attacked them. But it hadn't wandered here. It had emerged from a recess perfectly concealed within the architecture. A recess that connected directly to the Lazulli network. She approached the opening. Her fingers brushed the stone. The surface shifted. A section of wall slid sideways with a deep grinding sound. Behind it was a narrow chamber.
Inside stood several empty frames. Not coffins. Not cages. Frames. Metal supports embedded directly into the floor. Each had a series of Lazulli connectors running into the walls.
Rhyssa stepped inside. "What the hell is this?"
Varros followed. Elira didn't answer. She was looking at the floor. There were grooves. Thousands of them. They converged beneath the central frame before disappearing into the stone.
She crouched. "This isn't where they stored the constructs."
Rhyssa frowned. "Then what is it?"
Elira looked toward the tunnel. The branching passages. The conduits. The hidden chamber. The constructs. And the strange architecture that seemed to connect all of them.
"They were built here."
Varros stared at her. "You're saying the tunnels are a factory?"
"No." Elira stood. Her voice had become quieter. "I'm saying we don't know what this place is." She looked back toward the passage they had entered through. "Think about it."
Varros waited. "Every time something happens, it happens beneath the city." Her gaze moved over the old stone. "The necromancer. The constructs. The corrupted Lazulli."
Rhyssa slowly lowered her weapon. "And the cult activity."
"Exactly." Elira stepped toward the nearest wall.
Her palm hovered over one of the ancient channels. "Everyone keeps treating these tunnels as places." She looked at the others. "What if they're infrastructure?"
Nobody answered. Elira's eyes followed the glowing lines deeper into the darkness. "Tan'Thalon wasn't built over empty ground."
The realization settled heavily between them.
"It was built over something."
Varros looked toward the branching tunnels. "Then we need to know what."
Elira nodded. "We're not going deeper until we understand the architecture."
Rhyssa raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like we're going back."
"We are." Elira looked toward the dead Lazulli channels. "But next time, we're bringing someone who understands old systems."
Varros glanced at the empty construct frame. "And if the council doesn't want us digging into it?"
Elira looked at him. "Then they can come down here and explain why."
For a moment, none of them moved. Somewhere deep beneath their feet, something clicked. All three turned. The Lazulli veins in the walls flickered once. Then went dark.
Elira stared into the tunnel. "Let's go."
She tightened her grip on her weapon. "Before this place decides to show us something else."
The following morning, Elira returned to the lower levels of Tan'Thalon with the smell of dust still clinging to her clothes. She had barely slept. The image of the underground chamber remained with her. The empty frames. The ancient Lazulli channels. The branching tunnels. And the realization that they had been walking through something far older than the city itself.
Varros walked beside her in silence. He carried the damaged prototype shield over one shoulder. Its Lazulli core had been removed after the field test, leaving the weapon looking strangely lifeless.
Elira glanced at it. "How did the shield hold?"
"Long enough."
"That's not an answer."
Varros shrugged. "Long enough for Rhyssa to kill the thing."
Elira nodded. "Then it worked."
"Mostly."
She looked at him.
Varros sighed. "It nearly threw me through a wall."
"Then we improve it."
He gave her a sideways look. "You sound like Eldran."
"Don't insult me."
Varros laughed quietly. It was the first real laugh either of them had managed since Serenya had been injured. The sound faded quickly.
They reached the central archive district. If there was anywhere in Tan'Thalon that might contain a record of what lay beneath the city, it was here. The library occupied one of the oldest surviving structures in the city. Unlike the gleaming Lazulli towers surrounding it, the building had been constructed from dark stone and reinforced with enormous iron ribs.
The librarian looked up as they entered. "Commander."
Elira placed a hand on the counter. "I need the original subterranean survey records."
The librarian blinked. "Of Tan'Thalon?"
"Everything."
He hesitated. "That's quite a lot."
"Then start with the oldest."
Varros leaned against a nearby pillar. "She's been like this all morning."
"I can hear you."
"I know."
The librarian disappeared into the archive. Several minutes later, he returned with a stack of bound volumes. Elira opened the first. Maps. District boundaries. Foundation depths. Water channels. Old maintenance shafts.
She turned pages rapidly. "These are modern."
"The oldest I could find."
"Older."
The librarian frowned. "Commander, the original foundation records were damaged during the eastern expansion."
"How damaged?"
"Sections are missing."
Elira stopped. "Missing?"
"Several volumes. Some maps. There are references to them, but the originals aren't in the archive."
Varros straightened. "Who removed them?"
"I don't know."
Elira turned another page. A diagram of Tan'Thalon's lower foundations appeared. She studied it.
Then frowned. "Wait."
Varros came closer. "What?"
She traced one of the marked tunnels with her finger. "This passage."
"What about it?"
"We were here."
The librarian looked over the map. "No."
Elira looked up. "Excuse me?"
The librarian pointed to the legend. "That section is listed as inaccessible bedrock."
Elira's expression hardened. "We walked through it."
She turned the map around. "Here." She pointed to another passage. "And here." Then another. "And this one."
Varros looked from the map to her. "All three?"
"All three."
The librarian swallowed. "That isn't possible."
Elira closed the book. "Apparently it is."
She pulled another map toward herself. Then another. The pattern became clearer. The tunnels they had entered weren't merely missing from the maps. They were absent from the city's records entirely. Not abandoned. Not sealed. Unregistered.
Elira stared at the maps. "Someone knew."
Varros nodded slowly. "The Circle of Veils."
Elira looked at him. "They've been rerouting Lazulli supplies."
"Through places nobody knows exist."
"They could be using the tunnels."
Varros's expression darkened. "To move people."
"Supplies."
"Weapons."
"Or worse." Elira closed the final book. "We need to find out how extensive they are."
She gathered the maps. Then stopped. A familiar voice came from somewhere between the shelves.
"You won't find that in the city records."
Elira turned.
Calenelda stood at the end of the aisle. Bare feet against the stone floor.
Her pale green eyes faced slightly away from them, her head tilted toward the sound. Talia stood beside her. Foxglove stood behind them. The Nyxir no longer seemed interested in pretending to be human. Her wings were fully visible now, folded loosely against her back. Her ears and fur were uncovered, and her dark eyes moved across the library with the resigned expression of someone who had already accepted that people were going to stare. Several patrons were, in fact, staring. Foxglove noticed.
She sighed. "Yes. I'm a Nyxir."
A young librarian immediately looked away.
Foxglove crossed her arms. "That usually works."
Talia suppressed a smile.
Calenelda tilted her head. "You didn't have to announce it."
"I was getting tired of pretending."
Elira barely noticed the exchange. Her attention remained fixed on Calenelda.
Elira stepped closer. "You."
Calenelda's posture changed slightly. "Took you long enough."
Talia glanced between them. "You know each other?"
Elira's jaw tightened. "Unfortunately."
Calenelda smiled faintly. "That's not how I remember it."
Elira stepped closer. "You nearly killed my commander."
Talia's expression changed. "What?"
Calenelda went completely still.
Elira's voice was low. "Serenya Kael is still unconscious."
Talia turned toward Calenelda. "You hurt Serenya?"
Calenelda's pale eyes shifted toward her. "Talia—"
"No." The word came out sharper than she intended. "Don't 'Talia' me."
Calenelda flinched. Talia saw it.
But she was too shocked to stop. "You said the Vanguard had the constructs handled."
"We did."
"Then how did Serenya end up unconscious?"
Calenelda's mouth opened. Nothing came.
Elira stepped forward. "Lightning."
Talia stared at Calenelda. "Lightning?"
Calenelda nodded. "It wasn't meant for her."
Elira's expression hardened. "But it hit her."
Calenelda lowered her head. "Yes."
Talia stared at her. She could still remember Calenelda's lightning from when she showed her. The flash. The thunderous crack. The way the desert had seemed to split apart beneath it. And now Serenya was lying unconscious because of it.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Calenelda swallowed. "I was going to."
"When?"
"I don't know."
"After she woke up?"
Calenelda said nothing.
Talia's voice trembled. "You should have told me."
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of you."
Talia's expression changed. "Me?"
"Of what you'd think."
Talia stared at her. "You thought I'd think less of you?"
Calenelda's fingers curled. "I didn't know."
"You don't get to decide what I think."
"I know."
"Then why did you hide it?"
Calenelda's breathing quickened. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me."
Elira's eyes returned to Calenelda. The anger remained. But something else had appeared beneath it. Fear.
"I've read the reports about you." Elira said slowly.
Calenelda frowned. "That's unfortunate."
Talia almost smiled despite herself. Elira didn't.
"Sandstorms stopped."
"That was the air."
"Stone moved."
"The earth."
"Metal ripped out of constructs."
Calenelda's expression became guarded. "How do you-.."
"Know about that?" Elira cut in like only an acting commander could. "You think the archivists don't report to us?"
That silenced Calenelda.
Elira continued. "Lightning." Silence. "Every report has another impossible thing in it."
Talia looked at Calenelda. She had heard some of those reports. She had seen some of them herself. But hearing Elira say them aloud made them sound different. More dangerous.
"The Vanguard has fought arcanists," Elira said.
She gestured toward Varros. "We've fought elementalists." Varros nodded. "We've fought necromancers." Elira's eyes remained on Calenelda. "We've held our ground against people who could kill ordinary soldiers before those soldiers even reached them." Her voice dropped. "And we know how to fight them." Calenelda said nothing. "We know their ranges. Their casting patterns. Their limitations." Elira took another step forward. "You're different."
Talia's eyes narrowed slightly. "Different how?"
Elira looked at her. "We don't know where your limits are."
That landed harder than Calenelda expected.
Elira continued. "And that's a problem when I'm responsible for sending soldiers against you."
Talia looked at Calenelda. The image of Calenelda holding back the desert wind came back to her. The earth moving beneath her feet. The impossible magnetic pull. The lightning. She had always known Calenelda was powerful. But Talia had thought of that power as something almost instinctive. Something beautiful. Something that belonged to Calenelda.
Elira was looking at it differently. As a battlefield commander. As something that could change the outcome of a fight before anyone else had the chance to react. Talia's gaze softened. She finally understood why Elira looked frightened. Not of Calenelda. Of what would happen if someone powerful enough to challenge Calenelda forced the Vanguard to fight her. The words struck harder than Elira intended. Calenelda's face went blank.
Talia noticed. "Elira—"
"No." Elira shook her head. "I'm not saying she's evil." Her eyes remained fixed on Calenelda. "I'm saying I can't protect my people from something I don't understand."
Calenelda's breathing became shallower.
Talia stepped toward her. "Calenelda."
But Calenelda backed away. "Don't."
Talia stopped. Calenelda's face had changed. The usual confidence was gone. So was the teasing smile. She looked lost.
"I can't do this." Calenelda's voice was tiny, panicked.
"Calenelda—"
"I can't." She turned.
"Calenelda!"
She ran. Her bare feet struck the stone floor as she disappeared between the shelves.
Talia froze. "Calenelda!"
Foxglove was already moving. Her wings snapped open. She shot upward between the shelves, knocking a stack of loose papers into the air.
"Foxglove!"
The Nyxir glanced back. "Stay here."
Then she flew after Calenelda.