The streets narrowed the deeper they walked.

  Cobblestones turned into metal grates. Lanterns dimmed with every step, wired into the walls. Pipes ran above and below, some dripping, while others shuddered.

  The sun was still low in the sky.

  Kael kept glancing at the others as they moved. Junnesa stuck close to Yoan’s side. Lira walked ahead, hands in her pockets. Mara and Eyrk trailed behind, quieter than usual.

  Kael stole a glance at Lira as they walked.

  She mentioned something last night that stuck with him. It was about how the Spine fed you dreams, memories, and visions. And sometimes worse. He didn’t know how much of it she believed. But he knew how it felt to wake up screaming and feeling flames burning his body.

  They passed a group of rough-looking seekers standing beneath a signpost. Their temporary names were visible on thin iron tags worn like dog collars.

  Whisper-Limb. Gallow-Breath. Ash-Tongue.

  Kael looked away.

  “Hey,” Eyrk said, squinting at odd runes carved on a spinning gear in the corner. “Was that some kind of warding circle?”

  “No,” Lira said, barely glancing back. “That’s a rank seal. Achievement-bound. Whoever completed it used a mid-tier shard as an offering.”

  “How do you know that?” Eyrk asked.

  She didn’t answer.

  Kael stepped in beside her, taking advantage of the situation. “What's the difference between the shards and the achievements?”

  Lira gave a quiet sigh. Not annoyed. Just tired.

  “Shards are memories,” she said. “Stolen from the dead, or the almost-dead. Sometimes they give you reflexes, knowledge. A few burn hot enough to feel like power. But it fades—unless you bind it correctly."

  “And achievements?”

  Those are gifts. The Spine gives them when it wants to. You don’t steal those. You earn them," Lira explained.

  Kael nodded slowly. “And True Names?”

  “That’s the Spine’s story about you. Not yours; its version.”

  A rusted sign hung crookedly at the mouth of a tunnel.

  ASHLEDGE PUMPWORKS – SPINEWEST GRID ACCESS

  Yoan stopped reading the lettering. “This is it.”

  Junnesa covered her nose. “It smells like something died.”

  Mara grimaced. “Probably did.”

  The air was thick. Hot. It made every breath feel like drinking metal.

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  Inside, the pumpworks pulsed with movement. Machines groaned as if alive. Great pistons slammed up and down, while glowing memory pipes shone like arteries.

  They passed machines taller than houses. Cylinders spun the liquid. Fans turned quietly. Gears were wide, like saw blades ready to cut through giants.

  “Any idea what we’re actually looking for?” Mara asked.

  “Memory containment unit,” Kael muttered. “Whatever that means.”

  Yoan nodded to a console on the wall, built like a boxy altar with a dozen levers and a half-broken screen. A sign was bolted beside it:

  PUMPWORKS SAFETY NOTICE: Hazard Class Yellow – Leaks can cause hallucinations, memory loss, nausea, or name changes.

  Junnesa squinted at the warning. “What’s… name degradation?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like,” Lira said. “Too much exposure to raw memory and your True Name starts to fray. You forget who you are—or worse, the Spine does.”

  Eyrk looked disturbed. “That’s a thing?”

  Lira nodded. “On the Second Floor, mostly.”

  They walked deeper into the hallway.

  Past the next corridor, they found a man hunched over a control panel. His face lit by the dull flicker of warning lights. His sleeved-up uniform revealed arms scattered with old burns. He wore a badge over his chest: Foreman Grett.

  He didn’t look up when they approached. “You’re here for the retrieval?”

  Yoan stepped forward. “We are.”

  Foreman Grett finally looked at them. He looked very tired, with dark bags under his eyes.

  He scanned the group. “Hope you’re not expecting clean work. You’re heading into leak zone nine.”

  “We read the posting,” Kael said.

  Grett grunted. “Then you know this isn’t just a fetch job. The containment unit’s cracked. Probably leaking raw memory into the gridlines. That stuff gets into your lungs, your skin, your name if you're stupid enough to breathe too deep.”

  Grett pointed down a grated hallway. “Unit’s about half a klick down. Looks like a heart. You’ll know it when you see it. If you’ve got a shard with resistance, now’s the time to burn it.”

  “We don’t,” Lira said flatly.

  He snorted. “Figures.”

  “Any hostiles?” Yoan asked.

  Grett rubbed his jaw. “Not that we know of.”

  “Noted,” Yoan said, his eyes serious.

  “Bring it back in one piece, and I’ll log your payment with the Hall.”

  He nodded toward the hallway again. “Gridline Nine. Don’t touch anything that talks back.”

  Kael turned back toward the others.

  “We’re not taking Junnesa in there.”

  Yoan nodded without hesitation. “Agreed.”

  The girl blinked. “I can help—”

  “No,” Kael said gently but firmly. “It’s not safe.”

  Junnesa looked like she wanted to argue, but didn’t. She shrank closer to Yoan.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Mara offered, stepping forward.

  The group hesitated.

  Kael’s eyes flicked to Yoan, then to Lira.

  No one said anything, but the silence said enough.

  Mara caught it. Her jaw tensed. “Look—I get it. You don’t trust me, not after the tutorial. But I’m not going to hurt her. Someone has to wait behind, and if it’s me, at least I’m good with a blade.”

  Junnesa looked up at Kael, uncertain.

  He studied Mara for a beat longer, then gave a small nod. “If she gets hurt—”

  “She won’t,” Mara said.

  Kael wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a threat. Maybe both.

  Yoan stepped closer to Junnesa and knelt beside her. “We’ll be back soon. Just stay close to her and don’t talk to strangers. Especially the ones who try to sound nice.”

  Junnesa gave a small nod.

  Kael turned to Lira and Yoan. “Let’s move.”

  Lira was already watching the mist. “Don’t touch the walls. Don’t breathe too deeply. And if anything talks to you, don’t listen.”

  Kael gave Junnesa one last glance, then stepped towards the beating heart.