I woke to static behind my eyes, that low, whispery interference you get when a dream dies too fast to leave resolution behind. I blinked at the ceiling, unfamiliar and sporting a fine patina of mold, trying to hold on to the last flicker of the image.
A woman, blue-skinned, eyes like lightning.
She was beautiful, sure, but not the soft kind. Her mouth had been forming words I couldn’t remember. Urgent. Frantic. But the moment I tried to focus, they crumbled into noise.
“You're staring at nothing,” Aedan said.
I turned. He and Vex were already disentangling from their tiny cots, both looking like they didn’t have much rest.
“Dream,” I muttered, still scraping at the edges of it. “Someone trying to warn me. Blue skin. Didn’t catch the details. Just... urgency.”
Vex made a sound between a snort and a yawn. “Weird dreams are half this place’s charm. The other half is mold.”
“Maybe your brain’s rejecting cult hospitality,” Aedan added. “Stress dream. Makes sense.”
Maybe. But it felt like… something else.
The chamber fell quiet again. I got up, shaking off the dream like rainwater, and joined them.
A soft knock.
An acolyte stood in the doorway, young, shaved head, pale robes too big for her frame. She didn’t speak. Just gave a little tilt of the head that said follow me, and turned.
We followed.
The cleansing room was a circular chamber of polished stone, lit by a ring of pale blue fire suspended midair. Alcoves lined the walls like petals of a mechanical flower, each cradling a basin full of water so clear it made reality seem grainy.
“Guess this is the ‘sacred rinse,’” Vex muttered, peering quizzically at a basin.
“I’m not complaining,” Aedan said, already rolling up his sleeves.
We washed in silence at first. The water was just the right temperature. My reflection flickered in the basin’s surface, and for a heartbeat it wasn’t my face. It was hers. Pale skin. Eyes bright. Gone in a blink.
“They built this whole part of the city without modern tech,” Aedan said.
Vex’s head tilted. “You think this was theirs? Elder-era?”
“Would explain the rounded architecture,” Aedan said. “And the weirdness.”
The acolyte reappeared without sound, somehow already knowing we were done. She led us onward, down the curving corridors until we stepped into that chamber again, the vaulted hall.
Same as before. Ribbed ceilings like a god’s cage. Alcoves humming with shifting images of Duvainor, every version in a different scene. All of them the spitting image of me.
“Not creepy at all,” I muttered. Arvie stirred faintly in my head but said nothing.
Selivar was already seated at the table, half a dozen ceramic platters spread before him. Steam. Spice. Salt. Fresh bread. Shimmerfruit. Something meat-adjacent that smelled like home and danger at the same time.
He rose as we approached. “Come. The wind has not yet broken the clouds. This cannot wait,” he intoned, gesturing to the floor cushions with the grace of a stage magician unveiling an illusion. “Sit and break the fast with your friends.”
We did. Hunger beat ceremony, as usual.
The meal was good. Like it had no right to be. Aedan chewed methodically. Vex picked suspiciously at her third roll. I let myself enjoy it more than I should.
“So, the plan?” Aedan asked, wiping his fingers on a napkin that might’ve been silk once.
Selivar didn’t answer immediately. He just watched us, eyes flicking across faces like he was memorizing the shapes of our souls.
Then he spoke, melodic, with the edge of a distant storm.
“You feel comfort. You smell bread. You see robes washed in water drawn by hands you will never know. But this…” he swept a hand over the food “…is theater. The true weight of our world rests on those who will never set foot in these halls.”
Vex froze mid-bite.
“I speak of the rag-clad believers outside these walls. I speak of the children grown in shadow, who starve in the name of hope. Do not mistake this table for truth.”
Then, just like that, he went back to eating.
No one spoke for a while. Then Aedan cleared his throat.
“Right. Rescue plan.”
We laid it out in pieces, tossed on the table between sips of dark brew and bites of spiced root. Fira would signal us the moment the Directorate officer met Jax. Timing was critical.
“Problem’s location,” Aedan said. “We can’t be half a sector away.”
Selivar nodded slowly. “There is one who owes me breath and blood. He keeps a home near the old silos. Yours, if you wish it.”
That solved the staging ground.
“We hit the guards. Quiet,” Vex said. “Two outside. Standard stunners. We take those.”
“Non-lethal,” I said. “Until it isn’t an option.”
“Standard operation,” Aedan agreed. “Then we breach west side. Should be less fortified.”
“Multiple entries down there,” Vex muttered, chewing the thought like gristle. “Cramped. Two barracks. We’ll need split coverage.”
“And gas,” Aedan added. “Neurostun. Hit ‘em fast.”
Selivar tilted his head. “The air itself becomes our blade.”
We went quiet again. I caught myself tracing a loop on the armrest, lost in thought. The motion startled me.
“Arvie. Multi-door lock sync, doable?”
“Yes, sir.”
I looked up, mostly to the ceiling. “I could lock them in. Simultaneously.”
“Show-off,” Vex muttered.
Aedan tapped the table’s edge. “Then we’ve got our wedge. Once they’re secure, we’ve got a shot at the upper floor. That’s where Jax will be.”
“With the officer,” I said. “Window should give us sightlines. Snipers?”
Selivar gave a slow smile. “I have those who hit in silence.”
“Jax’ll be the problem,” Aedan said. “We stun him if we can. Kill him if we have to.”
I just nodded. He was too big.
“After that?” Vex asked.
“We take the officer,” Aedan said. “Secure him. Exit fast. Hit the safehouse. Larek should be there.”
We leaned back. The plan sat between us, cooling like the last piece of bread. Arvie mercifully didn’t quip.
Then Selivar lifted his head, eyes tracking some invisible constellation only he could see. His voice returned in that deliberate lilt. “You will find the rest near the forgotten silos. There, your true work begins.” The silence that followed felt rehearsed.
The acolyte was already waiting in the archway, like she’d been standing there the whole time. We followed her down the curving corridor, torchlight slipping over smooth white walls, the taste of the plan lingered, half-bitter, half-ripe.
And still… behind it all, that dream pressed against the back of my mind. The girl with eyes like lightning. She’d tried to tell me something. Urgent. But I’d woken too soon.381Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFsjbMm0oXk
and then Add to home screen.