“So,” Aiko said, voice low and calm, “are we safe here?”

  Kael scanned the hallway past the doorway. Shadows dripped down fractured stone, the dark stretching into crooked angles. Water tapped rhythmically from some unseen leak. “No idea,” he muttered. “I got here maybe a minute before you.”

  She nodded once, adjusting the strap at her waist. The hilt of her blade shifted with the motion.

  “Then we sweep. Fast. Look for a room with two exits, no overhead damage. If we stay, I want fallback options.”

  Kael followed her without question.

  She moved like someone who had done this a dozen times—and she probably had. Every student from seventeen onward trained for the Dive. They slept with their survival kit strapped to their thigh or waist, drilled in the dark to react without thinking.

  Aiko had hers.

  One hand rested on the pouch as she walked, fingers brushing the fabric now and then, like she was counting every step. Her eyes never stopped moving—checking corners, ceilings, every shadow longer than it should’ve been.

  They started with the east hall. Two rooms collapsed, one half-flooded. Nothing useful.

  The west was better—tighter layout, sturdier walls. One room had no windows, just concrete and rebar and a collapsed section of the far wall. A narrow gap near the back—just wide enough to crawl through.

  Two ways in. Two ways out.

  Aiko stopped just inside the doorway and gave a short nod. “This’ll work.”

  She crouched and unfastened her kit. Wire, anchor spikes, a compass, and a small firestone—barely larger than a fingernail, dull and matte until struck.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Kael hovered near the entrance, watching.

  No pouch. No blade. Just his wristwatch and the soaked remnants of his uniform, clinging cold to his skin.

  She glanced at him. Her eyes dropped once to his side, then came back up.

  “Where’s your kit?”

  Kael shifted on his feet. “Didn’t bring one.”

  Her brow arched slightly. “Why not?”

  “I’m sixteen,” he said, quietly.

  That gave her pause.

  A beat passed.

  Then she exhaled through her nose, sharp and quiet. “Shit.”

  Kael didn’t reply. His jaw tightened, just a little.

  “You weren’t supposed to Dive yet.”

  “No.”

  She looked at him for a moment longer. Not pity. Just calculation. Then she turned back to the task in front of her.

  “Wire first,” she said. “We set both doors. If either line breaks, the crystal’ll crack loud enough to wake us.”

  She drove a spike into the wall with the heel of her knife. Not gently. Not sloppily. Her movements were clean, precise. The wire looped around the base fast. At the midpoint, she clipped on the firestone.

  Then she struck it—just once.

  A faint vein of amber lit inside.

  Kael sat down across from her while she worked on the second door. The tension in his body eased just enough to breathe, arms resting around his knees.

  By the time she was done, they had a perimeter. Imperfect, but better than nothing.

  She tossed him a half-ration without a word.

  He caught it.

  It was dry and tasteless, but it filled the silence.

  After a while, Aiko spoke again. “You checked your Core yet?”

  Her voice was steady. Eyes half-lidded, still watching the dark.

  Kael shook his head. “Didn’t seem like the time.”

  “Same.”

  He tapped his watch. Arcane-glass shimmered faintly as the interface loaded. A slow pulse. Then a scan.

  Then numbers.

  He stared.

  The color drained from his face—not in fear, but something colder. A hollow revulsion. Like the world had slipped out from under him.

  He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink.

  Across from him, Aiko checked her own reading, silent and focused.

  She didn’t see the way Kael’s eyes lost their light.