Bernard sat in the flickering half-light, the decryptor a heavy weight in his hands.
Each second seemed to stretch, thick and heavy as syrup.
Mara had fallen into a restless, shallow sleep, her face drawn tight with pain even in unconsciousness.
The stillness of the underworld pressed in around him, a suffocating blanket of mildew, rust, and old, broken things.
Bernard's mind raced in endless circles.
You don't have a choice.
Her words had cut deeper than he wanted to admit.
He turned the decryptor over again, his fingers tracing the worn plastic casing.
Small, almost invisible etchings lined the sides—runes of a forgotten language, or perhaps just the mindless scratches of long use.
No going back.
No second chances.
A tiny, defiant part of him stirred.
If he was going to be dragged into this war, he would at least try to understand it.
Bernard powered on the device.
The decryptor buzzed faintly, a soft vibration that seemed to echo against the walls.
Its tiny cracked screen flared to life, displaying a simple prompt: INPUT TARGET.
Bernard carefully slid the battered wallet from his jacket pocket.
The thing that had started it all.
The thing that had already cost blood.
With shaking hands, he held it up to the decryptor's sensor.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then the screen shifted, strange characters scrolling rapidly across it.
A deep, mechanical whirring sound filled the small room.
Bernard held his breath.
And then, just as abruptly, the decryptor beeped—and the screen stabilized.
One line of text blinked up at him:
"A grave beneath a broken star."
Beneath it, a set of GPS coordinates flickered faintly.
Bernard's skin crawled.
The words felt... wrong.
Old.
Like a voice speaking from beyond the grave.
He didn't understand it—but somehow, he felt it.
This was only the beginning.
---
Mara stirred, wincing as she sat up.
Her eyes landed immediately on the decryptor.
"You found something," she said hoarsely.
Bernard nodded mutely and passed it to her.
She studied the screen for a long moment, her brow furrowing.
"Grave," she muttered.
"Broken star."
She turned the device back to Bernard.
"You ready to take a field trip?"
He swallowed hard.
"No. But I'll go anyway."
For the first time, Mara gave him a genuine smile—tired, but real.
"Good. You're learning."
---
They left the safehouse an hour later, slipping back into the underworld's tangled arteries.
Mara moved slower now, her injuries clearly hampering her—but she refused Bernard's offers of help with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
Above ground, the city stirred into full chaotic life.
Morning rush hour.
Thousands of oblivious souls streaming through streets that, just beneath their feet, hid a very different world.
Bernard found himself wondering how many of them were truly free—and how many were trapped, like him, by invisible chains.
They surfaced through a maintenance hatch in a grimy alley.
Bernard blinked against the harsh light.
The GPS coordinates led them uptown, to the forgotten outskirts of the city where abandoned buildings slumped against each other like drunken old men and the streets were cracked veins of asphalt.
Their destination appeared at last: a derelict observatory, its dome crumpled and rust-streaked, a broken star atop its roof—once a proud monument, now a silent ruin.
Bernard shivered.
The broken star.
Exactly like the clue had said.
---
The front gate hung twisted on its hinges.
They slipped through into the overgrown courtyard, weeds brushing against their legs.
Vultures wheeled lazily overhead, their cries harsh and cold.
The observatory's front doors were boarded up, but Mara led them around the side, where a service entrance yawned open—almost invitingly.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and rot.
Broken glass crunched underfoot.
Graffiti scrawled across the walls in wild, angry slashes.
The shattered remains of once-precious telescopes and computers littered the floor like the bones of a long-dead animal.
Bernard fought back a wave of unease.
"This place feels wrong," he whispered.
Mara's face was grim.
"Good. That means we're in the right place."
They moved deeper into the building, guided by the faint glow of Mara's flashlight.
The coordinates led them to the main dome.
It had collapsed partially, the twisted framework casting spiderweb shadows across the cracked floor.
In the center of the ruin lay a stone slab—out of place amidst the wreckage, pristine and untouched by decay.
A grave marker.
Bernard's heart pounded wildly.
They approached cautiously.
Words were carved into the slab, almost worn away by time.
Bernard knelt, brushing dirt aside to read:
"HERE LIES NO ONE. REMEMBER THE FORGOTTEN."
He looked up at Mara, baffled.
"No name?"
Mara's lips thinned.
"Gideon loved riddles. He knew they would be looking for him."
Bernard studied the grave, frowning.
"So what now?"
Mara didn't answer.
She simply knelt beside the grave, pulling a slim metal rod from inside her jacket.
A lockpick? A crowbar?
No.
She jammed it into a tiny, almost invisible seam at the edge of the stone and twisted.
The grave slab shifted with a low grinding sound.
Beneath it, a staircase spiraled into darkness.
Bernard stared.
"Seriously? A secret passage under a fake grave?"
Mara flashed him a tight, humorless grin.
"Welcome to Gideon's world."
Without hesitation, she started down the stairs.
Bernard, cursing under his breath, followed.
---
The stairwell plunged deep underground, the air growing colder and damper with every step.
Faint electric lights buzzed along the walls—emergency bulbs on ancient batteries, flickering weakly.
At the bottom, they found themselves in a narrow corridor lined with reinforced steel doors.
Each door bore a number, scrawled in red paint: A1, A2, A3, and so on.
Mara consulted the decryptor.
"A7," she muttered.
They moved quickly, passing door after door.
Something about the place set Bernard's nerves on edge—the silence was too complete, too absolute.
Finally, they reached door A7.
It was different from the others—newer, more solid, with a biometric scanner embedded beside it.
Mara hissed under her breath.
"Of course. Gideon wouldn't make it easy."
Bernard stared at the scanner.
A tiny pad for fingerprints.
A retina reader.
"Can we hack it?"
Mara shook her head grimly.
"Not without triggering alarms. We need the right biometrics."
Bernard's stomach dropped.
"Great. So we're stuck."
Mara's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Not necessarily."
She knelt beside the scanner, pulling a slender wire from her pocket.
"Keep watch," she ordered.
Bernard turned away, heart hammering.
The hallway stretched empty in both directions—but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.
Behind him, Mara worked quickly, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cold.
Minutes crawled by.
Bernard thought he heard a whisper—barely audible, like a sigh of breath.
He spun, scanning the corridor.
Nothing.
And then—
A low, metallic click.
The door slid open with a reluctant groan.
Mara staggered to her feet, grinning triumphantly.
"Let's move."
---
Inside, the room was surprisingly small.
A single steel table dominated the center, upon which rested a sealed black case.
Mara approached cautiously, scanning for traps.
Finding none, she opened the case.
Inside lay a tablet—sleek, black, and humming with latent power.
The screen flared to life at her touch, displaying a single icon: a stylized eye, wreathed in flame.
Mara's face went pale.
"The Eye of Thren," she whispered.
Bernard frowned.
"What is it?"
Mara shook her head slowly.
"Proof. Blackmail. Secrets so dark the Foundation buried them even from themselves."
Bernard felt a chill slither down his spine.
"And now we have it."
Mara looked up at him, her expression grim.
"No. Now we have a target painted on our backs the size of a goddamn skyscraper."
Even as she spoke, the tablet emitted a sharp, shrill tone.
An alarm.
Mara cursed violently.
"Move!"
They sprinted for the exit, the corridor lights flashing red.
Somewhere behind them, doors slammed open.
Heavy boots thundered in pursuit.
Bernard didn't look back.
He simply ran, lungs burning, heart exploding in his chest.
They reached the stairwell just as figures in black tactical gear poured into the corridor.
Bullets sparked against the walls as they threw themselves down the stairs, the echoes deafening.
---
They burst out into the ruined observatory just as a black SUV screeched to a halt outside the courtyard.
More armed figures spilled out, weapons raised.
Mara grabbed Bernard's wrist and dragged him toward the crumbling fence.
"No choice," she gasped.
"We fight through!"
Bernard had never fought anyone in his life.
He barely knew how to throw a punch.
But something primal rose up inside him.
The will to survive.
The will to defy.
As Mara ducked low and charged the first attacker, Bernard followed, screaming in fury and terror.
---
The fight was brutal, chaotic.
Bernard swung wildly, managing to catch one man in the throat.
Mara moved like a whirlwind, all sharp elbows and savage kicks.
Still, they were outnumbered.
A rifle butt cracked across Bernard's ribs, sending him sprawling.
He rolled, gasping, just as a booted foot stomped where his head had been.
Move, move, MOVE!
He surged up, grabbed a broken length of metal pipe, and swung.
The man fell.
Mara grabbed his jacket, hauling him toward the SUV.
"Drive or die!" she snarled.
Bernard didn't argue.
They tumbled into the vehicle.
Bullets shattered the windows as Bernard fumbled with the keys—mercifully still in the ignition.
The engine roared to life.
He floored it.
The SUV smashed through the courtyard gate, scattering attackers.
They tore down the street, tires screaming, sirens rising behind them.
Mara slumped in the passenger seat, clutching the tablet to her chest.
Bernard gripped the wheel, his hands slick with sweat and blood.
"What now?" he gasped.
Mara's voice was hoarse but steady.
"Now," she said grimly, "we bring down the gods."
And behind them, unseen, the city watched—and the hunt truly began.
---