The Underbelly of Cinder hold was a wound in the earth, a labyrinth of tunnels and caverns carved from the bones of some ancient beast. Kaelith descended a rickety staircase, the wood creaking under her boots, the air thick with the stench of sweat, rot, and something sharper—blood, maybe, or the acrid tang of forbidden magic. Torches sputtered along the walls, their flames casting jagged shadows that seemed to move on their own. The noise was relentless: shouts of hagglers, the clink of coin, the wail of a child somewhere deep in the maze. This was where the desperate came to hide, to trade, to die.
Kaelith kept her hand near her knife, her eyes scanning the crowd. Scavengers with hollow cheeks bartered scraps of bone and metal. A woman with one eye peddled vials of glowing liquid, her smile too wide. A hulking figure in a hooded cloak leaned against a wall, watching her too closely. She felt exposed, the Obsidian Key in her satchel a beacon she couldn't dim. It was quiet now, its heat faded, but she didn't trust it. Not after the hounds, not after the vision that had branded Shardbearer into her soul.
Varyn walked beside her, his cloak pulled tight, his face half-hidden by his hood. He hadn't spoken since they entered the Underbelly, his usual grin replaced by a tense frown. The blood from his nose had dried, leaving a dark smear across his cheek, and his steps were uneven, like the magic he'd used against the hounds had drained something vital. Kaelith didn't care about his pain, not really, but she needed him alive. He knew Zorath, knew the key, knew the Cabal. For now, that made him useful.
"Which way?" she muttered, dodging a drunk who stumbled into her path, his breath sour with cheap liquor.
Varyn nodded toward a tunnel branching left, its entrance framed by bones lashed together into an arch. "Zorath's deep in. Keeps to himself, but he's known here. We'll find him."
"You'd better be right," Kaelith said, her voice low. "If this is a trap, you'll regret it."
He glanced at her, his eyes glinting in the torchlight. "You're not wrong to doubt me, but I'm not the one you should worry about. The Underbelly eats trust like meat."
She didn't answer, but his words sank in. The crowd pressed closer, bodies brushing against her, fingers twitching toward pockets. She tightened her grip on the satchel, her other hand ready to draw her knife. The Underbelly was a predator, and she was prey unless she proved otherwise.
The tunnel narrowed, the ceiling low, forcing them to duck. The air grew colder, the torches fewer, their light barely reaching the damp stone walls. Strange symbols were scratched into the rock—runes, maybe, or warnings. Kaelith's skin prickled, the key's pulse stirring faintly, like a heartbeat waking up. She ignored it, focusing on Varyn's back, his muttered chants a faint hum. He was weaving something, a subtle shield, but it felt fragile, like glass ready to crack.
The tunnel opened into a cavern, its floor littered with crates and barrels, its walls draped with tattered cloth. A makeshift market sprawled across the space, stalls manned by figures in rags and masks. The air buzzed with voices, some bargaining, others threatening. A cage in the corner held a snarling creature, its shape too blurred to name, its eyes glowing red. Kaelith's stomach twisted. This wasn't just a market. This was a place where the Veil's decay seeped through, where things that shouldn't exist were bought and sold.
Varyn stopped, his hand raised. "There," he said, pointing to a stall at the cavern's edge. It was smaller than the others, its table covered with books and scrolls, their pages yellowed and curling. Behind it sat a figure, cloaked in gray, their face hidden by a veil of beads that clinked softly as they moved. Zorath, maybe, or someone who knew him.
Kaelith started forward, but Varyn grabbed her arm, his grip tight. "Wait," he hissed. "Something's wrong."
She followed his gaze, her heart sinking. The crowd had shifted, subtly but deliberately, forming a loose circle around them. The hooded figure she'd noticed earlier was closer now, joined by two others, their hands hidden in their cloaks. The air grew heavy, the key's pulse quickening, its heat spreading through her satchel. Kaelith's mouth went dry. "Cabal?" she whispered.
"Not hounds," Varyn said, his voice barely audible. "Agents. Lower rank, but dangerous. They've been tracking us since the gates."
Kaelith cursed, her knife drawn now, its blade catching the torchlight. "You said we lost them.""I said they'd wait," Varyn snapped, his hands moving, runes flaring at his feet. "They're patient. We're not."
The crowd parted, and the three figures stepped forward. Their cloaks were embroidered with silver threads, forming patterns that pulsed faintly, like the hounds' runes. Their faces were masked, not with bone but with smooth, featureless metal, reflecting the cavern's light in distorted glints. One raised a hand, and the air crackled, a wave of pressure slamming into Kaelith's chest. She staggered, the key flaring hotter, its pulse a drumbeat in her skull.
"Give us the key," the figure said, its voice a low rasp, neither male nor female. "And you may live."
Kaelith's grip tightened on her knife, her fear burning into anger. "Come take it," she spat.The figure tilted its head, as if amused, and the other two moved, their cloaks billowing as they drew curved blades that shimmered with unnatural light. Varyn's runes erupted, a shield of yellow light snapping into place, but it flickered, his face paling, blood trickling from his nose again. "I can't hold them long," he gasped. "Run for the stall. Zorath's our only shot."Kaelith didn't need convincing. She bolted, weaving through the crowd, the key's heat guiding her like a beacon. The stall was close, its veiled figure watching, unmoving. Behind her, Varyn's shield shattered, his grunt of pain drowned by the agents' rasping chants. The crowd scattered, screams echoing, as the cavern became a battlefield.
Kaelith reached the stall, slamming her hands on the table. "Zorath!" she shouted. "We need Zorath, now!"
The veiled figure tilted their head, beads clinking. "You carry a heavy burden," they said, their voice soft, almost melodic, but laced with something ancient, knowing. "The key sings, and the Veil listens."
"Are you Zorath?" Kaelith demanded, glancing back. Varyn was on his knees, his runes fading, one agent's blade at his throat. The other two were closing in, their masks glinting.
"I am his shadow," the figure said, rising. They were tall, their cloak revealing glimpses of pale, tattooed skin. "Zorath waits deeper, but you must prove your worth. The Cabal's reach is long, even here.
"Kaelith's frustration boiled over. "Prove my worth? They're going to kill us!"The figure's beads clinked again, and they raised a hand. The air shimmered, not like Varyn's magic but softer, like moonlight on water. The agents froze, their masks twitching, as if caught in a web. "Go," the figure said, pointing to a curtained alcove behind the stall. "Zorath will see you. But the sorcerer's fate is his own.
"Kaelith hesitated, her eyes on Varyn. He was bleeding, his face twisted in pain, but his gaze met hers, fierce and defiant. "Go!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "Don't let them get it!"
She wanted to hate him, to leave him to his fate. He was a liar, a Cabal deserter, a risk. But he'd saved her from the hounds, guided her here. She cursed, grabbing a crate from the stall and hurling it at the nearest agent. It hit their mask, staggering them, and Varyn seized the moment, his runes flaring one last time. A burst of light blinded the agents, and he scrambled to his feet, stumbling toward her.
Kaelith grabbed his arm, pulling him through the alcove's curtain. The veiled figure's magic held, the agents' rasps fading as the curtain fell behind them. The alcove led to a narrow tunnel, its walls pulsing with faint, blue runes. Kaelith's chest heaved, the key's heat a steady burn now, its pulse syncing with the runes. Varyn leaned against her, his weight heavy, his breathing ragged.
"You're an idiot," he gasped, coughing blood. "Should've left me."
"Shut up," Kaelith snapped, half-dragging him. "You're not dying until I get answers."
The tunnel sloped downward, the air growing colder, the runes brighter. Kaelith's mind raced, the veiled figure's words echoing: The key sings, and the Veil listens. She didn't know what Zorath was, or if he could help, but he was her only lead. The Cabal was relentless, their agents everywhere, and the key was a chain she couldn't break. She thought of her brother, of his steady voice, his warnings. Stay sharp, Kael. She was trying, but the Underbelly's teeth were closing around her, and she wasn't sure she'd escape.The tunnel ended at a heavy door, carved with a serpent like the key's handle, its eyes glowing red. Kaelith's breath caught, the key flaring in response, its pulse a song only she could hear. Varyn straightened, his face pale but determined. "Zorath's behind that door," he said. "But be careful. He's not human, not anymore. And he'll want something for his help."
Kaelith nodded, her hand on the door, the key's heat a fire in her veins. She didn't know what waited beyond, but she was done running. The Veil had chosen her, for better or worse, and she'd face it head-on—or die trying.
She pushed the door open, and the darkness swallowed them.