Location: Beneath the Ruins – Old Capital District, Tavara
The descent was silent, except for the occasional groan of rusted metal and the echo of their footsteps on the ancient spiral staircase.
Damien led the way, armed with a tactical flashlight and a custom sidearm holstered under his coat. Nora followed close behind, her fingers wrapped tightly around the shard pendant that now pulsed faintly—its glow reacting to the location.
"This place hasn't seen sunlight in centuries," Damien murmured, scanning the walls. Faded murals decorated the corridors—symbols of a forgotten dynasty and an older civilization long erased from Tavara's history books.
"I recognize this one," Nora said, pausing at a carving. "It's the seal of the Celestine Line. My mother once showed it to me… before everything fell apart."
The path ended in a wide steel door, sealed by a circular locking mechanism that looked centuries ahead of its time. Nora stepped forward, holding the pendant near the center.
A soft hum resonated, followed by the slow grind of ancient gears.
Then, silence.
The door split open, revealing a vast chamber beyond—an underground city, dormant but intact. Glass towers bathed in dim blue light stood surrounded by overgrown moss, abandoned trams, and skeletal remains of what once was a bustling haven.
Damien's eyes narrowed. "This… is the Remnant Core?"
"It's been sealed since the Great Purge," Nora said, voice barely above a whisper. "My ancestors ruled from here before the Order rose to power. This was their stronghold."
They stepped into the city, every movement echoing across abandoned streets.
Suddenly, movement.
Damien stopped.
A soft scrape of boots across glass. The faint click of a weapon being cocked.
"Incoming," Damien whispered, grabbing Nora and pulling her behind a ruined structure.
Three figures emerged from the shadows, clad in dark exo-suits and armed with precision rifles. Their helmets bore a familiar insignia—a broken sun surrounded by thorns.
"The Black Circle," Damien said grimly.
"How did they get here before us?" Nora whispered.
"Someone tipped them off. Maybe Ariella."
A fourth figure appeared, stepping into the pale light of the chamber.
Tall. Cloaked. Familiar.
Damien's breath caught.
"Zayen," he muttered.
Zayen Vark—the former commander of Damien's black-ops unit. Presumed dead after a covert mission gone wrong in the Arctic Circle three years ago. They'd buried him—or what was left of him.
But now, he stood alive and untouched, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Miss me?" Zayen's voice echoed across the chamber, amplified by his comm. "I've always been fond of ancient cities. Yours has quite the charm, Damien. Shame it won't be yours for long."
Damien stepped out from cover, leveling his gun. "Why are you here?"
"I came for the truth," Zayen said, pacing. "The same truth you buried when you walked away from the program. Nora's bloodline, the Celestine inheritance, the shard… It's not just a relic—it's a map. A key. You knew it, but you ran."
"I ran to protect her."
Zayen smiled coldly. "And I'm here to claim what's mine."
Gunfire erupted.
Damien shoved Nora back, diving behind cover as bullets tore through the structure. He returned fire, hitting one of Zayen's men in the shoulder.
Nora ducked beside him, heart racing. "He won't stop, will he?"
"No," Damien said, reloading. "He's one of the best I ever trained. If we're going to get out of this, we need to outthink him."
She nodded, gripping the pendant. "Then it's time to stop running."
She held it up, and the pendant glowed brighter than ever—casting a beam of light onto the floor.
A circle of ancient script ignited beneath them.
A vault, buried beneath the city.
The real secret was never the city—it was what lay beneath.