Chapter 477: Sothing under the city
A few days later…
The sun was beginning to set over the devastated rooftops of Vorah, tinging the sky with shades of amber and rust. The city still breathed between moans and cries, but now there was a rhythm, a silent reconstruction. The bodies had been buried. The streets were finally beginning to open up again. And on that particular day, Samira and Rogue had already done more than their bodies could handle.
The door to Strax’s mansion creaked slightly before opening.
Samira threw herself onto the sofa as if she were falling from a tower.
“Aaah, by the thousand gods and the little ones too… If I have to dig another alley full of rocks, I’ll bury myself with them,” she muttered, her forehead sticking to the pillow as if it were her new ho.
Rogue entered right behind her, throwing her dirty cloak over a chair. It was covered in dust, dried blood, and a thin layer of residual magic that still crackled on her boots.
She fell down next to Samira, snorting. “I almost wished I was fighting dragons again. At least the adrenaline helped ignore the pain.”
“The city map is almost complete,” said Samira, without looking up. “Three more neighborhoods and we’re done. The main streets are open. Supply routes have already begun to circulate.”
“And my body has officially given up on existing.” Rogue closed her eyes, leaning back, too weak even to pull off her gloves. ‘Did you know that earlier today I found an activated containnt spell under a fruit stand?’
“Cursed fruit?” Samira muttered, opening one lazy eye.
“No. Just an explosion trap. And two rotten tomatoes floating inside it.” Rogue shook her head, exhausted. ‘Soone was protecting tomatoes with siege magic.’
Samira let out a hoarse, lifeless laugh. “Vorah is full of weird people. It always has been.”
The sofa sank under their weight as Strax’s mansion remained eerily silent around them. There were no guards, no screams, no smoke. Just the occasional sound of wind blowing through the curtains—and the soft sound of footsteps coming from the hallway.
Monica entered the room carrying a silver tray with three tall glasses of juice. Drops of condensation ran down the glass like blessings. There were even mint leaves and ice cubes, sparkling like sacred relics.
“Girls,” she said in a motherly tone, though her eyes carried the sa weariness as soone who had spent the last few days sealing portals and healing soldiers. “You look like poorly stacked corpses.”
“Thank you, Monica,” Samira murmured, raising a weak arm. ‘It’s nice to be recognized.’
Monica smiled, handing her the first glass. “Recognized? I’d say almost beatified. They’re saying you two saved three neighborhoods from collapse yesterday.”
“We saved the patience of the bricklayers who wanted to tear out runes with pickaxes,” Rogue grumbled, accepting the juice with a murmur of gratitude.
“What is this?” Samira sniffed the cup. “Does it have… lemon? And… blue flower?”
“Hibiscus.” Monica sat down in a nearby armchair, pulling her gray hair back. ‘An old recipe from the region, ironically. I thought it would be fitting for a day like this.’
“Delicious,” said Rogue, after a long sip. ‘You should open a tavern. I’d call it… ‘Apocalypse Break.'”
Monica laughed for the first ti in days.
“You have no talent for nas, but I admit the marketing would be good.”
Samira took a deep breath, her muscles beginning to relax.
“We’re lucky the house wasn’t attacked or anything, it would be very problematic not to have a roof, even if it’s dusty, it’s more than half the city has.”
“And add dusty to that,” said Rogue, looking up at the bookshelves. ‘Yesterday I had an allergic reaction because of all the dust we ended up breathing in while we worked.’
“Did you ss with the cathedrals? That’s really problematic,” Monica asked, frowning.
“I was trying to find a little boy. Everything was dusty.”
“You two need a vacation. A long one. On so island with no magic, no monsters, and food made by people who don’t conjure spices.”
Samira laughed again, but now there was sothing lighter on her face. A hint of normality. Maybe even hope.
“Vacation…” she murmured. “It seems like a concept as distant as peace.”
“Elan is better,” Monica said suddenly, changing the subject. ‘Miro too. Kaith still has his leg in a magical splint, but he’s already training with his spear in the courtyard as if it were tomorrow.’
Samira smiled, tired but relieved. “At least sothing went right.”
The conversation was interrupted by the hurried sound of footsteps echoing through the stone corridor. It was the kind of footstep that carried urgency—but without panic. Just the concentrated tension of soone who had found sothing unexpected, sothing… important.
The door opened with a snap and Bellatrix entered first, her hair tied in a loose braid, still dirty with soot. Her golden eyes scanned the room as if searching for sothing.
Samira looked up, the glass still half full in her hand.
“Please tell it’s a hidden vault full of vintage wines and not another neighborhood blowing up.”
“I wish it were wine,” said Daniela, crossing her arms. “But no. We found sothing… under the city. A structure. It looks old. Older than Vorah.”
Cassandra stepped forward, her eyes lit with that peculiar glow of soone who lives with secrets.
“We were tracking the source of an unusual magical flow in the rubble of the old library sector—the underground sector that sank during the dragon attack. And we discovered a passage. It was sealed. Sealed with runes I’ve only seen once before, in one of the forbidden texts of the Dark Monastery of Arden.”
“That’s never a good sign,” Rogue muttered, settling down on the sofa with a groan.
“We thought it was just another old shelter, maybe an abandoned temple,” Bellatrix continued. “But… it’s not. There’s sothing down there. Sothing that pulses. And… sothing that’s starting to wake up.”
“Awaken how?” Monica asked, her voice lower now.
“As if it had been asleep for centuries… and our digging had been the alarm.” Cassandra frowned. ‘There’s magic trapped inside, thick, heavy. And it’s not even remotely human.’
Samira was already getting up from the sofa, the juice abandoned on the table.
“Then we have a new problem.”
“Could it be so kind of prison?” Monica ventured, her face pale. ‘A magical seal like that isn’t used to store things. It’s used to contain.’
“Or to keep out of sight,” said Daniela. “The question is… what would soone need to hide underground in Vorah, a thousand years ago?”
Silence fell over the room for a mont. The kind of heavy silence where everyone knew the answer wasn’t good.
“Can we go now?” Samira asked, already tying her hair into a bun. “Or is there soone else who’s going to show up saying they found a dragon sleeping under the central square?”
“For now, just strange runes, an ancient staircase, and… the sound.” Bellatrix looked at everyone seriously. ‘There’s a sound. Almost inaudible. Like breathing. Faint, but constant. As if sothing were waiting.’
Rogue sighed and reluctantly stood up, cracking her back.
“Of course. Because life can’t give us a single day of rest.”
“You wanted excitent, rember?” Samira nudged her, picking up her sword leaning against the wall.
“I said that before spending three days cleaning up magical debris.”
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