The morning light in the West Wing didn't bring warmth; it only exposed the layers of dust that had settled over the furniture like a grey shroud. Caelum was already awake, his suit jacket discarded and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was crouched by a floorboard near the door, his fingers moving with the precision of a clockmaker as he reset a series of "Alarm Wards"—low-tier magic traps that would snap like a dry twig if anyone tried to enter while he was gone.
Elena watched him from the doorway, wrapped in a threadbare coat. She looked better than the night before—the color had returned to her lips—but the way she held her stomach told him the Star-Child was still drained.
"You move like a soldier, not a driver," she said, her voice raspy but clear.
"A good driver is just a soldier whose battlefield is the asphalt," Caelum replied without looking up. He stood, testing the ward one last time. "We're leaving. My car is still in the main garage. We have to get to it without alerting your father's 'Eye' mages."
"The Eye mages monitor the front gates twenty-four-seven," Elena warned. "As soon as the car moves, my father will know."
"Then we won't use the front gates." Caelum grabbed a small leather bag filled with basic tools and a silver vial he had hidden under the bed. "There's a service tunnel built for the old coal trucks. It leads out to the Industrial District. It's been blocked for thirty years, but a car with enough torque can push through the rot."
They moved through the shadows of the estate, ghosts in their own home. Caelum led her through the damp basement of the West Wing and into the subterranean garage. There, sitting under a heavy tarp, was his pride: an obsidian-black sedan. It wasn't a luxury model like Arthur's, but it was reinforced with cold iron and etched with dampening runes.
As Caelum pulled the tarp back, the car seemed to growl in the darkness.
"This is yours?" Elena asked, tracing the smooth, dark metal. "It doesn't have a Valerius crest."
"The Valerius crest is a target," Caelum said, opening the passenger door for her. "This car is a secret."
He climbed into the driver's seat and pressed his thumb against a small, hidden plate on the dashboard. The Eternal Heart pulsed, and the engine didn't just start—it hummed a subsonic frequency that made the loose gravel on the floor dance.
"Where are we going?" Elena asked as they sped through the dark, narrow service tunnel, the headlights cutting through decades of cobwebs.
"To the 'Rust Bucket,'" Caelum said. "There's an old medic there named Silas—no, not the High Lord," he corrected quickly, seeing her flinch. "A different Silas. A man who was exiled from the Mages' Guild for trying to heal commoners with high-tier mana. He owes me a favor."
"A favor? For what?"
Caelum took a sharp turn, the tires screeching against the damp concrete. "I drove him out of a war zone five years ago when the Ravens were hunting his head. I told him he could pay me back when the world finally broke me."
He looked at her through the rearview mirror, his eyes sharp. "The world tried to break us both yesterday, Elena. Today, we start fixing the pieces."
They burst out of the tunnel and into the smog-choked streets of the Industrial District. The luxury of the Valerius Estate was gone, replaced by rusting skyscrapers and the neon flicker of cheap mana-shops. This was the Underbelly—the place where the "Commoners" lived, worked, and died.
But as they reached the heart of the District, Caelum noticed something in the mirror. A black SUV with tinted windows was weaving through traffic, maintaining a perfect three-car distance behind them.
"We have company," Caelum said, his voice dropping into that cold, lethal calm.
"Is it my father?" Elena asked, her breath hitching.
"No," Caelum said, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "The SUVs are armored. Iron Reach markings. Silas has sent his personal guard."
He didn't panic. He shifted the gear into 'Sport' and felt the car's engine roar as the infused mana flooded the intake.
"Hold on, Elena. You wanted to see what happens when the Driver stops pretending? Watch the road."
Caelum slammed his foot on the accelerator. The obsidian sedan surged forward, a black streak against the grey smog of Oakhaven. The hunt was on.
Author's Note:
The car chase is on! Caelum's 'Sacred Vow' is being tested by the Iron Reach's elite. Will his 'Hidden Sovereignty' be enough to outrun the mages?