The city above bustled with morning noise — cars, chatter, the hum of ordinary life. But beneath its streets, Zindra and Liyaya moved through darkness and dripping pipes, following whispers only they could sense.
They had tracked the first fragment of Sanavak to the abandoned subway tunnels — old routes sealed decades ago after a collapse. The shadows here felt thicker, as if they clung to the walls themselves.
Zindra moved ahead, one hand outstretched, the runes on his palm glowing faintly. Every so often, the Meakery Senlord pulsed against his chest, tugging him deeper into the maze.
Behind him, Liyaya gripped a flashlight in one hand and a piece of chalk in the other, marking walls to remember their path. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but she refused to slow down.
They stopped at a rusted metal door.