Kalaya's POV
Inside, the place was covered in thick dust, almost identical to the first armory. Swords hung in a neat line along the wall, and sets of armor slumped in different corners. Helmets scattered across the floor, each other one carrying small dents. I checked behind a few crates stacked near the back, brushing aside cobwebs as I walked by.
Holly kept watch through the narrow window slit, her eyes focused. Abigail disappeared into the connecting room; her orb of light which she placed in her bag after exiting the secret passage was dimmed so as not to draw attention from outside. Once she released it, the orb followed behind her as she moved deeper into the room.
Brynlie was on her hands and knees, patting the floorboards like she expected a trapdoor to magically reveal itself if she searched hard enough. But no matter how hard we looked, there wasn’t a single sign of the safe room. And the longer we came up empty, the more my stomach twisted. Not to mention what I was afraid would come next.
“Well, that just leaves one more,” Abigail sighed as she stepped out of the connecting room, brushing dust off her hands.
“Yep. Guess we’re going to a church after all,” I groaned, already feeling the dread settle in my shoulders.
“Whyyyyy,” Brynlie whined, dragging the word out in annoyance. Holly peeked back out the window while Brynlie stood up, absolutely coated in lint and dust.
“Here let me help brush you off.” I walked over, sweeping her shoulders and back as she bent over to focus on the bottom half of her skirt and pants. Her cloak puffed out little clouds of dust with every pat.
“Holly, can you see the church?” Abigail asked, stepping beside her.
“Yeah. Just in the distance,” she replied, leaning forward slightly. “But it’s on the other side of the inner wall, so it’ll take a while.”
“That far, hmm.” Abigail frowned.
“Also, just to remind you, we only have five hours until daybreak.”
“What!” Brynlie yelped, shooting upright so fast she bumped into me. I stumbled backward, crashing into one of the old armor stands. The metal piece wobbled, then launched itself into the air. Abigail darted forward, catching it midflight before it could hit the ground. The room fell dead silent. All of us stood in place, frozen. Watching, waiting, listening, for any sound from the guards above. Nothing.
“Sighhh, Brynlie.” Holly said with a long exhale, walking over with that calm, terrifying smile she used when she was trying not to strangle someone. She placed her hands on Brynlie’s shoulders. “Be more careful, ok!?” She warned her calmly.
“…Ok,” Brynlie squeaked, stiff as a statue.
“Good.” Holly turned and went right back to the window, sitting on a closed barrel like nothing had happened. A shiver crawled up my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to shake it off. Next to me, Abigail extended her hand, her expression starting to soften as she watches Holly. I took it and pulled myself back to my feet.
“So, five hours,” I repeated, rubbing my arms. “That’s way too little time to get there, and get everyone out, if we even find them.”
“I know,” Abigail said quietly. “But that’s all she said we have. So, we need to use it wisely.”
“Great,” I muttered, heading toward the side window. I pushed it open again and climbed onto the sill, glancing up at the rooftop. The guards were still pacing, still oblivious to our presence. For now. I gestured for the others to follow.
“Let’s move before our luck runs out.” I whisper, holding out my hand to the next person.
With our time slowly running out, we headed toward the church on the far side of the city, keeping to the narrowest alleys we could find. The church’s dark silhouette flickered in and out of view; its pointed roof briefly visible above the maze of leaning houses before vanishing again behind sagging walls. Slipping behind abandoned carts with missing wheels and ducking now and then under the collapsed porch front coverings that slumped in broken heaps above us. The deeper we pushed into the city, the more ruined it seemed to get as it thicken around us.
Buildings that once looked like tidy homes now angled inward; their beams exposed. Some walls had gaping holes large enough to walk through, revealing rooms stripped bare except for overturned furniture and drifting piles of dust. Doors lay face down in the streets, torn from their hinges, and nearly every window we passed was shattered. Some punched through violently; others cracked in delicate spiderwebs that caught the fading light.
And then… it hit.
A dreadful smell, so foul and sour it felt nauseating as it rolled over us in a thick, invisible wave. It punched straight through my senses, so sharp and sudden that my hand flew to my nose and mouth before I realized. The stench roamed through the air as it only got stronger and was soon overwhelming.
“Ughh,” Brynlie gagged, stopping short as the stench reached her. Abigail and Holly recoiled a heartbeat later, both of them coughing as they’re eyes watered.
“Where is that coming from?” Abigail managed, her voice tight with disgust. I stepped ahead, rounding the corner.
“I don’t know but it-.” Everything inside me froze. A cold, electric shock crawled up my spine as my feet rooted to the ground as utter terror filled me.
We had reached the square of the city’s inner walls, and the sight waiting for us was a silent, impossible nightmare. Bodies… dozens. Maybe more, lay scattered across the stone, motionless, like abandoned dolls. Even from where we stood, the marks of violence were evident. The sight of it all made my stomach turn as I looked around at the horror standing before me.
I’d seen scenes like this before, but not like this. This was worst. The familiarity doubled into shock. The way my mind tried to reject it anyway I could, insisting this couldn’t be happening, not here.
“What… happened?” Abigail whispered, her voice trembling as she stepped closer, Holly hovering just behind her in disbelief. A heavy, unnatural quiet settled over the square, pressing against my ears. And somewhere deep inside me, a single, unwelcome thought surfaced. That this might not be the end of it. Not even close.
Brynlie, who had been just behind me, stumbled backward until her shoulder hit a broken-down wall. Pebbles crumbled beneath her palms as she steadied herself; her other hand still clamped over her mouth as if the smell might force its way in again.
“We have to keep moving,” Holly reasoned, her tone firm. “There’s nothing we can do for them now. We’ll give them a proper burial when this is over.”
I’m not certain but to me, it seemed she was able to keep it together better than the rest of us. Or was just better at hiding it. Either way, it feels wrong to just leave them here.
“Yes, but…” I started, the words catching in my throat.
“Let get going.”
I hated that she was right. All those people, some still with swords in their palms, as if they’d died mid-defense. The sight was agonizing to look at, and somehow even worse to turn away from.
Holly stepped ahead of Abigail, the first to force herself past the scene. I followed with Brynlie close behind me, her footsteps somewhat uneven but determined. Abigail, however, stayed still in place. Her hands together in a trembling prayer over the dead, her lips moving silently. Then, not long after, she lowered her hands and walked toward us. Her face pale, her expression unreadable. She didn’t say a word. It was a bit unnerving as she walked pass Brynlie and me.
We continued down the narrow street, the air still thick with the lingering stench of death. As we rounded the next corner, the church came into view, its stone walls slightly cracked, its stained-glass windows shattered inward. The bell tower leaned at a worrying angle, the bell itself hung outside crooked, swaying slightly in the breeze with a faint metallic groan.
Abigail slowed again, her gaze drawn to the ruined doorway, but Holly gently touched her arm and guided her forward. “Later,” she murmured. “We’ll come back later.”
“…Ok.”
As we walked past the church, I tugged Holly on the sleeve, pulling her back slightly.
“Holly, is Abigail going to be ok? It’s odd to see her this way.”
“Yeah, she’ll be fine. It’s not the first time sadly.”
I frowned, glancing at Abigail, Brynlie walking beside her.
“Maybe, but… I guess you never really know… do you?”
“…Maybe not.”
We caught up to the others, pressing on, the streets growing narrower as we neared the wall of the inner district. Finally, after weaving through two more alleys and crossing a collapsed archway, the armory came into view.
Its heavy doors were closed off; a single lantern flickered near the entrance. I sprinted ahead, the door secured in place with a lock and chain.
The third armory was tucked between two abandoned houses; their windows boarded up, and their doors hanging crooked on rusted hinges. I crouched near the armory door, inspecting the lock.
“This one looks older,” I whispered.
“Maybe older means less complicated,” Holly added.
“Or more cursed,” Brynlie offered unhelpfully.
“Please don’t manifest that.” Abigail said, shaking her head still looking in the direction of the square.
“Let’s just get inside before something decides we look like dinner on a silver platter,” Holly remarked, scanning the alley behind us, hand resting on the hilt of her dagger as I glanced now and then.
I nodded and gave the lock a gentle twist. It clicked open with surprising ease.
“See?” I said proudly. “Not cursed.”
“Yet.” Brynlie muttered.
We stepped inside, and the smell of dust, metal, and something faintly sour floated in the air. The room was larger than the previous two, with rows of weapon racks stretching into the dimness. Most were empty, stripped with a few inches of dust. A few broken blades laid scattered across the floor; their edges dulled, and their hilts cracked.
Abigail reached into her bag, grabbing the orb of light, letting it hover above her palm. The glow spilled across the room, revealing more of the area. I walked around carefully, trying not to step on any of the swords spread across. Some lay flat, others at an angle, their edges catching the dim light in sharp, accusing flashes. Bits of armor were scattered everywhere; a single helmet resting upside down on the ground.
The bits of armor themselves looked hurled, as if the room were torn through with violent intent. Holly stood near the doorway, her stance leaning on the wall, watching the outside like usual. Her chin lifted slightly, fingers still hovering near her weapon. Brynlie crouched low, brushing her fingertips across the floorboards, searching once again for anything that might be hidden.
The air felt thick as I walked deeper into the armory, letting my eyes adjust to the shifting shadows of the orb. Something about the place felt… off. Not exactly dangerous. Just off.
“Well… no safe room here either,” she said, exhaling softly.
“Not even a trapdoor,” Brynlie added, tapping her boot against the floorboards again, the hollow thud echoing faintly across the room.
Abigail emerged from the back, dusting off her sleeves. “Whoever used this place… they cleared out fast.”
“Or someone cleared it for them,” Holly added; her voice edged with something she didn’t want to name.
Brynlie shivered. “I don’t like that theory.”
“Me neither,” I admitted. “So, if the safe room isn’t here… then where?”
I didn’t have an answer. None of us did. But the silence that followed felt uneasy.
“There has to be something we missed… right? Holly?”
She didn’t respond, nor reacted. Her eyes were fixed outside, then on the floor, her posture tense.
We drifted toward the center of the room to regroup. Abigail’s light flickered slightly, as if reacting to something unseen.
Then creak…
A sharp, splintering groan came from the floorboard under Brynlie’s boot.
“Don’t move!” Holly snapped. She stepped forward quickly, stopping just short of Brynlie as I stared at the plank. Holly crouched beside her, Abigail lowering the orb, so its light pooled across the floor. Brynlie slowly lifted her foot, and the board dipped slightly as it shifted.
She knelt, Holly running her hands along the edges. Her fingers paused at a thin seam, barely visible. Then found a small, circular cutout just big enough for a fingertip.
“Looks like you missed one,” she murmured, teasing her somewhat as she slipped her finger inside, lifting the plank.
The board rose with ease, revealing a dark, narrow gap beneath.
“Brynlie, what’s with you and unintentionally finding things?” I joked, leaning over Holly as she pulled the board aside completely.
But the humor died quickly.
Beneath the floorboards, a square iron hatch sat embedded in the foundation, its surface scratched, its hinges old but intact. A faint draft of cold air drifted up from the edges, carrying the scent of stone and old wood.
Abigail’s orb dipped lower, illuminating the faint outline of a symbol etched into the metal. It was worn yes, but unmistakably deliberate.
Holly’s breath caught. “Well, I think we found the safe room, or at least the entrance. Too bad it wasn’t on the map though.”
Brynlie swallowed. “So… do we open it?”
“You are, since you found it.”
“What?” Brynlie responded, unamused. “Fine.”
The iron hatch grunts as Brynlie pulls it open; the metallic hinges wailing as it echoed faintly through the armory. A rush of cold air spilled out that was both damp and earthy. Abigail lowered the orb further, and its glow spilled into the dark opening. Stone steps spiraled downward, carved unevenly into the earth.
The walls were lined with old support beams, some splintered; others wrapped in cobwebs that shimmered softly in the light. A faint draft drifted upward, carrying the distant sound of dripping water.
Brynlie leaned over the edge, her breath catching. “This… this is definitely not on any map.”
“No,” Holly said quietly, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the stairs. “Which means someone did a good job at hiding it.”
I swallowed, gripping the edge of the hatch. The air felt colder the longer I stood there. Abigail’s orb flickered again, once, twice, before steadying.
“There’s definitely something down there,” she whispered. “Not movement… just a presence. An Eeevil one.” Abigail teased, leaning towards Brynlie as she exaggerated.
She shivered. “Great. Love that.”
“Don’t worry,” Abigail laughed. “I’ll go first…again.” She shrugged, stepping onto the first stone stair, lightly tapping it with her foot before pressing down hard.
“Remember, no splitting up. Not down here.”
I nodded, my pulse thudding in my ears as I went second shortly after her. Brynlie followed close behind me, her hand brushing the wall for balance. Holly descended last, placing the plank back and closing the hatch behind us so as not to leave a trail. The orb floated just above Abigail’s shoulder, casting long, shaking shadows that crawled along the walls.
The deeper we went, the more the sounds from above faded, until all that remained was the soft drip of water, the echo of our footsteps, and the steady hum of Abigail’s light. Halfway down, the staircase opened into a narrow tunnel. The ceiling dipped low, forcing us to duck instinctively. Bricks were laid along the wall, some of which had weird writing carved into the stone. Most were worn down smoothly but still sharp enough to feel.
Brynlie ran her fingers over one. “These weren’t made in a hurry.”
“No,” Holly murmured. “This place has been built for some time now.”
The tunnel stretched ahead only a little farther before ending at a narrow, hidden door. A soft light leaked from the edge underneath into the dark passage. Abigail’s orb brightened in response, but then its light began to flicker repeatedly.
“Uhh… what’s going on with the orb?” I asked, watching it flicker to the point where my eyes were hurting.
“It’s about to disintegrate,” Brynlie sighed in annoyance.
“And?”
“And that means its summoning time is up.”
“So… what does that mean for us?”
The orb flickered again, shrinking as it dimmed, until the last pulse of light collapsed inward and vanished, plunging us into darkness.
“It means we have no light,” Brynlie answered flatly.
“Oh. Right, right, right.”
“We get it,” Holly muttered. “Now try not to step on each other’s feet. Preferably mine.”
“I can see how that would be a problem,” Abigail giggled softly.
“…Is that a pun I detect?!”
“Maybe,” she said, still smiling. “Now, let’s head for the door.”
We moved forward, guided only by the faint glow, seeping from beneath the door. The closer we got, the brighter it became, enough to outline our silhouettes against the stone walls, providing some visibility.
Abigail reached the door first, still giggling softly and pressed her palm against it. The light behind the door slowly faded inward as she pushed it with ease, until it was fully opened. A burst of brightness hit me full in the face. I raised my arm to shield my eyes, blinking rapidly as everything beyond the doorway came into focus.
A sharp, loud schring echoed abruptly through the tunnel.
“Who are you?!” a voice barked, unfamiliar. A long, sharpened sword was angled beneath Abigail’s chin, its edge gleaming in the light.
“You would do well to lower your weapon,” Abigail said calmly, lifting her hands. “It’s impolite to draw your sword in a lady’s face.”
“What lady?” Holly smirked sarcastically.
I drew my own blade in a heartbeat, stepping forward. The boy holding the sword had ginger hair that curled slightly at the ends, soft brown eyes, and clothes that were a mix of light browns and tans, tattered at the edges beneath a chest plate of chainmail.
“Hold on,” he said suddenly, his expression shifting. “I know that voice. Abby? What are you doing here?”
Wait, what?
I glanced back at Holly. She wasn’t even fazed. Her dagger wasn’t drawn. She looked… almost bored. Why was she so calm?
“What’s up, gingerbread?” Holly said, stretching her arms over her head as a yawn slipped out midsentence.
“Did you not get my message?” Abigail asked, lowering her hands as he sheathed his sword. “I tried to warn you ahead of time. Sadly, it seems it didn’t come through.”
He snorted, lowering his stance fully now that the danger had passed. “Nothing much. You? And no kidding!” He said with a breathless laugh.
“About the same,” Holly replied, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand. “Long night. Long… everything.”
He gave her a once‑over, half checking for injuries, half teasing. “You look like you crawled through a chimney.”
“That’s rich coming from someone who looks like he lost a fight with a wheat field,” she shot back, brushing off her shoulder sleeve in mock of his dingy armor.
A faint smile tugged at his mouth; the tension in the room easing just a little. The sword at his hip no longer felt like it was a threat strangely.
“Well, whatever the case, I’m glad you came.”
“As am I, Eric,” Abigail said, her hand placed firmly on his shoulder, giving it a friendly tug.
“Hold on a minute,” I said, staring between them in confusion. “You know this guy?!”
Abigail smiled with a wide grin, pulling him beside her.
“Yeah, of course. He’s, my brother.”
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