The archive wing smelled like damp paper and sweat.

  Not the normal kind of sweat from school after gym. The sick kind. Fear sweat. The kind that makes your skin feel sticky even when the air is cold.

  We were wedged between two shelves so tall I couldn’t see the top. Old books lined the rows. Some leather-bound. Some wrapped in cloth. Some with metal clasps like they were hiding secrets.

  Right now, I didn’t care about secrets.

  I cared about breathing quietly.

  Somewhere below us, people were shouting.

  “Move back!” a soldier yelled.

  A woman screamed a name like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

  Gunshots popped in short bursts. Not random. Controlled. Like the soldiers were trying hard not to waste ammo.

  Then there was a heavy thud.

  Then another.

  Like something hitting a door from the wrong side.

  Lioran had both hands over his mouth, eyes wide. He looked like he was trying not to make any sound at all. His knees were pulled up to his chest. He kept rocking just a little, like his body didn’t know what else to do.

  Nysera crouched beside Cirellan. One hand rested on Cirellan’s wrist, steadying her. Cirellan’s face was pale. Her eyes kept drifting toward the aisle behind us, like she expected Ardent or Solmere to suddenly appear.

  Lucien stood closest to the edge of the shelf gap, peeking through a thin space between books. His breathing was slow, controlled on purpose. His hands were clenched so tight his knuckles looked white.

  I was between them, trying to keep my brain from falling apart.

  My family was out there.

  Or in here.

  Or nowhere.

  I hated that I didn’t know.

  A scream ripped through the air again. Closer this time.

  We all flinched.

  Nysera whispered, “Shut up, shut up,” like she was talking to the whole building.

  I whispered back, “We can’t stay here.”

  Cirellan snapped her eyes to me. “We can’t leave either.”

  Lucien turned his head slightly. “We don’t have a choice.”

  Lioran finally pulled his hands down and whispered, “Are they still outside?”

  “Some,” Nysera said. “Some are inside too. You saw the courtyard.”

  My stomach tightened at the memory. Dirty water bursting up. Bodies rolling out like trash. Those cloudy eyes opening. The way the bite happened and then the person changed like a switch got flipped.

  I tried not to think about it.

  But it kept pushing into my head anyway.

  I swallowed and whispered, “My stepmom is smart. She would head for a refuge.”

  Lucien’s voice came out low. “If she got the message.”

  “We got it,” Lioran whispered. “Everyone got it.”

  “Not everyone,” Cirellan said. Her voice was flat, like she was trying not to cry. “Not my brothers.”

  Nysera tightened her grip on Cirellan’s wrist. “Cire.”

  Cirellan shook her head once. “Don’t.”

  Silence fell for a moment, filled only by distant yelling and the deep, steady pounding of something hitting something.

  Lucien leaned back from the shelf gap. He looked at all of us.

  “I’m going to say something,” he whispered. “And I need you not to lose it.”

  Nysera’s eyes narrowed. “If this is a speech, I swear.”

  “It’s not,” Lucien said. “It’s reality.”

  I watched him, waiting.

  Lucien continued, “This place is failing.”

  Lioran’s voice came out sharp and scared. “No, it’s not. The soldiers are holding.”

  “The soldiers are holding a doorway,” Lucien said. “The building itself is not holding.”

  Cirellan’s fingers twitched against her knee. “The courtyard collapse…”

  “Exactly,” Lucien said. “If the ground breaks again, we die here without even fighting.”

  Nysera whispered, “So what’s your plan, Valcrest?”

  Lucien hesitated, like he hated that he had to say it.

  Then he said, “We go up.”

  My throat tightened. “Up where?”

  Lucien’s eyes met mine. For once, no pride. Just stress.

  “Zone 5,” he said.

  Nysera’s mouth opened in disbelief. “Zone 5? That’s not a walk.”

  “It’s not a walk,” Lucien replied. “It’s a goal.”

  Cirellan finally spoke. “Why Zone 5?”

  Lucien exhaled through his nose. “Because Zone 5 is split by water.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  Lucien nodded. “Zone 5 is the canal belt. It divides a lot of the upper zones. Water routes, flood channels, transport docks. That whole zone was built to handle overflow.”

  Nysera whispered, “And you think water stops them?”

  “I don’t know,” Lucien said, honest. “But water slows people. It blocks crowds. It creates chokepoints. If those things move slow, water might be the only thing that buys time.”

  Lioran shook his head hard. “We can’t just leave. My mom is still out there.”

  The words hit like a punch because I wanted to say the same thing.

  I whispered, “My family is out there too.”

  Cirellan’s voice trembled. “My brothers are out there.”

  Nysera looked between us like she wanted to scream.

  Lucien’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

  His voice dropped even more. “My parents aren’t here either.”

  That stunned me for a second. I knew he didn’t find them, but hearing it said like that made it real.

  Lucien continued, “Listen. I’m not saying forget them. I’m saying if we stay in Zone 8, we have no foothold. We have no stable spot. We keep running in circles while the city burns.”

  Nysera scoffed. “Stable spot. Like this one?”

  Lucien nodded once, like he deserved that. “This was supposed to be stable. And it broke.”

  He looked straight at me. “Rafa, your stepmother is the kind of person who would move upward. Right?”

  My chest tightened.

  Selene’s voice in my head: Think beyond your street.

  Move up. Think long-term. Don’t get trapped in the middle.

  I hated that it made sense.

  Lucien added, “If your family survived, they are not going to stay in the chaos. They will go toward the places the military will defend the hardest. The upper zones.”

  Lioran whispered, “My mom would not leave without me.”

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  I stared at him. I didn’t say it. I couldn’t.

  Nysera said it anyway, softer than I expected. “People leave when they don’t have a choice.”

  Lioran’s eyes filled with tears instantly.

  Cirellan’s shoulders tensed like she was bracing for impact.

  Lucien went on, “We don’t go straight to Zone 5. We go to Zone 7 first.”

  Cirellan blinked. “Zone 7?”

  Lucien nodded. “Zone 7 is built like Zone 8. Same kind of streets, same kind of stairways, same kind of buildings. It’s familiar. We can move through it without freezing.”

  Nysera’s voice was sharp. “And how do we even get there? The gates are a mess.”

  Lucien tilted his head toward the back of the archive wing. “Service exits. Scholar routes. The old inter-zone utility corridors.”

  I stared at him. “You know those?”

  Lucien’s mouth twisted. “My family pays for everything. That includes maps.”

  Nysera muttered, “Must be nice.”

  Lucien didn’t argue. He just looked tired.

  Another burst of gunfire popped below. Closer now. Then a shout.

  “Fall back!”

  A thud shook the floor under us. Dust drifted off the shelf edges.

  Cirellan flinched. “We need to move.”

  Nysera nodded. “Now.”

  Lioran’s voice cracked. “Wait. Are we just leaving everyone?”

  I grabbed his shoulder. “We’re not saving anyone if we die.”

  He stared at me like he hated that I said it.

  Then he nodded, barely.

  Lucien whispered, “Stay close. No hero moves. No yelling.”

  Nysera glared at him. “Stop talking like you’re leading a team.”

  Lucien looked back at her. “Then tell me what you want me to do.”

  Nysera froze for half a second.

  Then she said, quieter, “Keep talking. Just don’t act like you’re above us.”

  Lucien nodded. “Fair.”

  Cirellan stood up slowly, knees shaking just a little. Nysera helped her without making it obvious.

  I stood too. My legs felt wrong, like they didn’t trust the ground.

  We moved down the aisle between shelves, stepping over scattered books and broken lantern pieces. The emergency lights along the wall flickered like they couldn’t decide if they wanted to stay alive.

  The archive wing was quieter than the main hall. That was not comforting. Quiet meant empty, and empty meant something could be hiding.

  Lioran walked so close behind me I could feel his breath on my neck.

  “Stop,” I whispered.

  “What?” he whispered back.

  “You’re stepping on my heel.”

  “Sorry,” he whispered, then did it again.

  Nysera hissed, “Focus, Lioran.”

  “I am focusing,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I’m focusing on not dying.”

  We reached a stone intersection where two corridors met. One led down toward the main hall. The other curved upward into a narrower stairwell.

  Lucien lifted a hand, signaling stop.

  We froze.

  Voices echoed from below. Soldiers. Medics. Civilians.

  Then a different sound.

  Slow dragging footsteps.

  Not running. Not stomping. Just a steady scrape.

  Lucien leaned in and whispered, “Back.”

  We backed into the shadow of a pillar.

  Around the corner, a figure appeared.

  A man. Or what used to be a man.

  His shirt was torn. His chest was smeared dark. He moved like his joints were stiff, like he didn’t care about pain. His mouth hung open slightly, teeth stained.

  He turned his head, slow, like he was listening.

  I held my breath.

  Lioran’s hand clamped onto my sleeve so hard it hurt.

  The man took another slow step forward.

  Then another.

  He wasn’t looking at us. Not yet.

  Nysera reached behind her and quietly pulled a metal rod from a broken shelf bracket. She held it tight, ready.

  Cirellan’s eyes were wide, but she didn’t scream. She just stood there, shaking.

  Lucien whispered, “Do not move.”

  The man shuffled closer to the intersection, then paused, head tilting.

  A drop of water fell from the ceiling somewhere and hit the stone floor.

  Tap.

  The man’s head snapped toward the sound.

  He moved toward it immediately.

  Still slow.

  But direct.

  As he passed, his shoulder brushed the wall. He didn’t react. Like he didn’t feel it.

  He disappeared down the other corridor.

  We stayed frozen for three more seconds.

  Then Lucien whispered, “Go. Now.”

  We moved.

  Fast but quiet.

  Up the narrow stairwell.

  The stairwell smelled like wet stone and old incense. The walls were carved with faded symbols and prayers, but someone had added modern caution signs on top. “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” slapped over ancient carvings like nobody respected anything anymore.

  Halfway up, we heard a loud crash from below.

  A scream.

  Then more gunfire.

  The building shook.

  Dust fell.

  Nysera whispered, “Hurry.”

  We reached an upper balcony that overlooked part of the main hall. From here, I could see chaos below through gaps between pillars.

  People were packed tight in the aisles. Soldiers were shouting. Some civilians were being pulled away from a doorway. Others were pushing forward anyway, desperate, loud.

  The air was thick with dust.

  A soldier dragged a screaming man backward by his collar. Another soldier shoved a woman down behind a stone bench to keep her from running toward the wrong place.

  It was controlled chaos. Like the military was holding a lid down on a boiling pot.

  Lucien pointed toward a side bridge that connected to a long passage leading out of the compound. “That way. Service exit.”

  We started across the balcony.

  Then Lioran stopped.

  I didn’t notice at first. I kept walking until his grip on my sleeve disappeared.

  I turned back.

  Lioran stood at the balcony edge, staring down into the courtyard area.

  His face was white.

  His mouth was slightly open, but no sound came out.

  “Lioran,” I whispered. “Move.”

  He didn’t.

  Nysera snapped, “What are you doing?”

  Lioran’s voice came out like it broke on the way up. “That’s her.”

  My stomach dropped.

  I stepped back toward him. “What?”

  He lifted a shaking hand and pointed.

  Down in the courtyard, through an archway and broken stone, I could see the flooded area where the collapse happened. Water still moved, shallow now, swirling around rubble. Bodies lay in twisted piles.

  And among them were some that were moving.

  Slow.

  Dragging themselves across stone.

  I followed Lioran’s finger.

  At first it was just another figure.

  Then my brain caught the detail.

  The hair.

  Dark, curly, tied back like someone who always did it the same way.

  The jacket.

  A plain coat with a small patch on the sleeve, faded from washing.

  Lioran’s mom.

  I didn’t know her well, but I had seen her enough times at school pickups and street stalls. She always smelled like soap and fried onions. She always teased Lioran loudly in public.

  That figure below didn’t look like that anymore.

  She moved stiffly, stepping through shallow water, arms hanging a bit too loose. Her head turned slowly, not searching like a person, but scanning like a hungry animal.

  Lioran made a sound. A small broken sound.

  Nysera’s eyes widened. She stepped closer to him, cautious. “Lioran…”

  “That’s my mom,” he whispered again, like saying it twice would change it. “That’s her.”

  Cirellan looked down too, then looked away instantly, like she couldn’t handle it.

  Lucien’s hand clenched around the stone railing. His jaw was tight.

  I stepped in front of Lioran and grabbed his shoulders. “Hey. Look at me.”

  He didn’t look. He kept staring down.

  “She’s walking,” he whispered. “She’s still walking. That means…”

  “It doesn’t mean what you want it to mean,” I said, voice trembling.

  Lioran finally looked at me. His eyes were wet and wild.

  “You don’t know,” he snapped. “You don’t know if she’s still in there.”

  I swallowed hard. My throat burned.

  I wanted to lie.

  I wanted to tell him there was hope.

  But we saw too much already.

  Nysera whispered, “Lioran, please.”

  Lioran shook his head violently. “No. No. I have to go down there.”

  He moved toward the stairs.

  I grabbed his arm. “You can’t.”

  He yanked. “Let go.”

  “No,” I said, louder than I meant to.

  Lucien hissed, “Lower your voice.”

  I didn’t care. My whole body was shaking now.

  Lioran tried to pull away again. “Rafa, that’s my mom.”

  “I know,” I said, voice cracking. “I know.”

  He shoved at my chest. Hard.

  I stumbled back a step, shocked. He never shoved me like that. Not once in our whole friendship.

  He pushed again. “Move!”

  Nysera stepped in, grabbing Lioran’s wrist. “Stop!”

  He turned on her, furious. “Don’t touch me!”

  Nysera didn’t let go. Her voice rose, harsh and desperate. “If you go down there, you die. You understand that?”

  Lioran’s face twisted. “Then I die.”

  That made my chest feel like it collapsed.

  I grabbed him again, tighter. “No. You don’t get to do that.”

  His eyes snapped to mine. “Why? Because it makes you feel better?”

  I flinched like he slapped me.

  He was crying now. Full tears. Angry tears.

  “I can’t leave her,” he sobbed. “I can’t. She looked for me every day after school. She always waited. She always waited, Rafa.”

  I swallowed hard and pulled him close, not gentle. Like if I didn’t hold him he would jump off the balcony.

  “I’m sorry,” I said into his hair. “I’m sorry.”

  Nysera’s voice softened, but it still shook. “Lioran, she’s not waiting anymore.”

  Lioran made a sound that wasn’t a word. He shook in my arms.

  Below, the figure that was his mother turned slowly, like she heard something.

  Her head lifted.

  Her cloudy eyes angled upward.

  For one awful second, I thought she could see us.

  I held my breath.

  Then she turned away and kept moving, slow and steady, stepping toward a fallen body like it was food.

  Lioran saw it too.

  He went still.

  Then he made a soft choking noise.

  His hands clenched in my uniform fabric.

  Nysera looked down, then looked away, wiping her eyes fast like she hated herself for having them.

  Cirellan whispered, “We have to go.”

  Lucien’s voice was tight. “Now.”

  Lioran didn’t move.

  I leaned close to his ear. “We will keep moving. We will get to Zone 7. We will find a foothold. We will look for your family from somewhere that isn’t a death trap. Please.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Nysera crouched in front of him. “Lioran.”

  He blinked down at her.

  Nysera’s voice was low, raw. “I don’t know what it feels like to see that. But I know what it feels like to lose people while you’re still breathing. If you die here, you don’t honor her. You just add another body.”

  Lioran’s lip trembled.

  He whispered, “I hate this.”

  “Me too,” Nysera said.

  Lucien looked away, jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would break. “We can hate it later. We move now.”

  Lioran finally nodded. Small. Weak.

  I kept an arm around his shoulders, holding him like a cracked piece of glass.

  We moved across the balcony bridge toward the service passage.

  The passage was narrower than the main halls, lined with stone and pipes. Emergency lights buzzed overhead. The floor was damp. Water dripped from somewhere in the walls, making tiny tapping sounds.

  Every tap made my nerves jump.

  We reached a heavy metal door with a faded sign: SERVICE ACCESS. ZONE ROUTE 7.

  Lucien grabbed the handle.

  Locked.

  He swore quietly under his breath.

  Nysera whispered, “Can you pick it again, Rafa?”

  My fingers felt numb, but I nodded.

  I dropped my bag, pulled out the pick, and knelt by the lock. My hands were shaking too much at first.

  “Come on,” I whispered. “Come on.”

  Behind us, voices echoed closer.

  Soldiers.

  Civilians.

  Then a low dragging sound.

  Slow footsteps.

  I didn’t look back. I focused on the lock.

  Myron’s voice flashed in my head, calm and sharp: Fast hands, Rafa.

  I forced my breathing slower.

  The lock was old style, metal teeth, stiff.

  Click.

  Not yet.

  I adjusted.

  Click.

  The door handle shifted slightly.

  I held my breath and twisted.

  The lock gave.

  The door opened just enough to show darkness beyond.

  Lucien pulled it wider.

  Cold air rushed out, smelling like wet streets.

  We stepped into the exit corridor.

  Outside was Zone 7.

  I expected it to look different, richer, cleaner.

  But in the dark, it looked like Zone 8’s older sibling.

  Stone streets. Narrow bridges. Carved balconies. Old lamps. Modern wires overhead.

  Familiar.

  That should have felt comforting.

  It didn’t.

  It felt like the same nightmare in a slightly different outfit.

  We slipped out and pulled the door almost closed behind us, leaving a small crack so it wouldn’t slam.

  Lucien whispered, “We stick to alley routes. Avoid main roads.”

  Nysera muttered, “Look at you, giving orders.”

  Lucien shot her a tired look. “Do you have a better idea?”

  Nysera shook her head. “No. Keep going.”

  Cirellan glanced back at the door like she was leaving a piece of herself inside Saint Aurex.

  Lioran kept his eyes down. His face looked empty now, like all the crying drained him.

  I wanted to say something to him.

  Something that would help.

  But I didn’t have words big enough.

  We moved into the shadows of Zone 7, stepping quietly along the stone path.

  Ahead, the street opened into a small square with a fountain. The water wasn’t running. The lights above flickered weakly.

  A window on the far building had a lantern glow inside, warm and soft, like someone was still living a normal life.

  The glow flickered once.

  Then went out.

  We froze.

  None of us spoke.

  The silence felt heavy.

  Lucien whispered, barely audible, “Keep moving.”

  So we did.