The battle had ended, but the aftermath was just as heavy.
The courtyard lay still, littered with debris, fallen weapons, and unconscious enemies. The grey morning light painted everything in dull, washed-out colors, as if even the world itself mourned the city's fall.
Fred stood at the top of the courthouse steps, his chest rising and falling steadily, sword dripping with both rainwater and blood. His coat clung to his tall frame, heavy from the mist and sweat. His face — usually composed — showed a flicker of exhaustion, but his eyes, those burning embers, stayed sharp.
Zara approached him first, wiping her blade clean on the cloak of a fallen foe. Her maroon jacket was slashed at the shoulder, exposing a shallow cut. She winced as she tightened the bandage Damon had hastily wrapped around her arm.
"You alright?" Fred asked, his voice low.
"I'll live," Zara replied, offering a small, grim smile. "Thanks to you."
Mira and Elise stumbled over, Mira supporting Elise, who had a nasty scrape along her forehead, blood matting her fiery hair. Mira's eyes were full of worry.
"We can't stay here," Mira said urgently. "They'll send reinforcements."
Fred nodded. His mind was already racing, piecing the next steps together. Above them, the courthouse doors groaned as they swung open, revealing a dim interior full of shadow and secrets.
Inside, the once-grand halls were a graveyard of forgotten dreams — broken furniture, faded portraits of past leaders, torn tapestries whispering stories of glory long lost.
But Fred's attention was drawn to something else: a massive mural covering the far wall.
It was a map — a detailed, intricate rendering of the entire city and the underground tunnels that spanned beneath it like veins under skin. At the center of the map, marked by a golden symbol, was a place Fred had only heard whispered about in old tales: The Heart of the City.
Before he could move, heavy footsteps echoed behind him.
Damon entered, his pistols holstered, his hands flexing with restrained tension. His grey eyes swept the room, wary.
"We need to move," he said. "Now."
Fred stared at the map a moment longer, committing it to memory. Then he turned to the group.
"We head to the Heart," Fred said, voice cold and certain. "Whatever they're after... it's there."
"But it's deep underground," Mira said hesitantly. "We'd need a guide. The tunnels are unstable."
Fred's jaw clenched. "We'll find one."
A sudden, sharp laugh echoed from the upper balcony.
The group spun, weapons raised.
Standing there, with a cruel smirk and a blade casually resting across his shoulder, was a man none of them had seen in years —
Lucien.
He had once been Fred's closest friend. A brother. They had fought side by side in wars no history book remembered. But greed, ambition, and betrayal had twisted Lucien into something dark.
Fred's hand tightened around his sword hilt.
"Well, well," Lucien drawled, his dark coat trailing behind him like a shadow. His skin was tanned from foreign suns, his eyes a venomous gold that seemed to see straight through them. "Look who finally decided to play hero."
"What are you doing here?" Fred asked, keeping his voice even though anger boiled beneath the surface.
Lucien's smile widened. "Saving the city, of course. Just… not in the way you would."
He gestured toward the mural.
"The Heart belongs to the Council now. And soon, everything else will too."
Zara took a step forward, her blade flashing. "Not if we stop you."
Lucien laughed again, the sound hollow and cold. "You're too late, children. The oaths you swore — the promises you made to protect this city — they're already broken."
Fred's breath caught for a split second. Memories crashed over him — days of camaraderie, nights of bloodshed, dreams of rebuilding something better. All gone.
Lucien's gaze fixed on Fred, a cruel glint in his eye.
"Come find me, Fred," he said, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If you dare."
With that, he vanished into the shadows of the upper halls, leaving only a mocking echo behind.
The group stood frozen for a heartbeat, the weight of betrayal heavy in the air.
Fred finally spoke, his voice a low growl.
"We move. Now."
And so, under the fractured sky of a dying city, Fred and his allies set out toward the underground labyrinth — chasing not just a lost treasure, but the shattered pieces of their own past.
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