Page 125 of The First Scar
Then the world exploded.
A blast tore through the catacombs, shaking the stone beneath me, rattling my teeth in my skull. I was on my feet before my eyes were fully open, daggers in hand, my weight low and every muscle pulled tight as a trap.
Around me, rebels scrambled from bedrolls, stumbling over each other in the dark. Shouts. Screams. The frantic scrape of boots on stone. The dying embers of the bonfire cast wild shadows across faces twisted with confusion and terror.
Then the light came.
A blinding, furious flare erupted above the central altar—so bright it burned afterimages into my vision. And in that light, a figure took shape. Massive. Shimmering.Terrible.
The King.
His holographic form blazed against the cavern ceiling, his face contorted with pure, absolute fury.
"Dual-marked abomination." His voice boomed through the stone, resonating in my bones. His gaze found me through the shimmering projection—found me andbrandedme. "And you, Uncrowned! All who harbor the dual-marked shall share one fate: Unmaking."
The crystal powering the broadcast shattered.
A devastating blast that dissolved it into blood-red splinters, raining down on the screaming rebels like crimson snow.
And beneath the screams, beneath the alarm that now shrieked through the tunnels—a sound that made my blood turn to ice.
Howling. Guttural. Hungry.
Nullatheon hounds. They had our scent.
"Move!" Kaelen shouted through the frenzy. He was already on his feet, shoving rebels toward the eastern passage. "To the safehouse! It's on the route to the Rupture Site—GO!"
We ran.
The ceiling dropped within the first hundred yards—low enough that I felt stone graze my scalp. My boots hit standing water and the cold shocked up through my shins, each stride sending black spray against the walls. The tunnel was narrow. Too narrow. Shoulders snagged on rough stone, elbows cracked against outcrops I couldn't see, and every impact spun me sideways before momentum shoved me forward again.
The howling bounced off the walls—ricocheting, multiplying, until it came from everywhere at once. Ahead. Behind. I couldn't tell how close they were. Couldn't tell if the sound was ten minutes away or ten seconds.
The alarm kept shrieking. Rebels fell behind, and I couldn't stop to help them, couldn't do anything but push forward, the Codex a dead weight in my satchel, mocking me with every step.
Serenya. Where was Serenya?
I twisted, scanning—bodies shoving past, faces streaked with terror, none of them hers. My chest seized. The crowd was too thick, too frantic, everyone running in the same direction but no one together.
"Serenya!"
My voice was swallowed by the screams.
Then—a flash of dark hair. A familiar silhouette stumbling against the tunnel wall, one hand braced against it.
I shoved through the bodies between us, elbows and shoulders, not caring who I knocked aside. My hand found her arm and I grabbed on like she might dissolve if I let go.
"I've got you." I pulled her close, tucking her against my side. "Stay with me. Don't let go."
Her fingers twisted into my sleeve. She didn't argue.
We pushed through the tangle of panicking bodies, fighting the current of rebels fleeing in every direction. I kept one hand locked on Serenya, the other on my dagger, and didn't look back.
We won, I'd thought.We actually won.
What a fool I'd been.
Why had we stayed?The question clawed at me, bitter and merciless. We'd erased the names—sent a declaration of war rippling through every patrol writ in the kingdom—and then what? Threw a party. Drank ale.Fell asleeplike the King wouldn't notice his ledger going dark.
