The quiet of the sewer junction pressed in, amplifying the drip of unseen water, the rasp of our breathing. Kaelen stoppered the waterskin, his gaze fixed on Caelum, who still stood sentinel by the dark tunnel entrance, a study in contained energy. The air hummed with unspoken questions, with the raw, jagged edges of our reunion.
"Right," Kaelen said, his pragmatic elven nature asserting itself over the shock. His voice was low but carried in the echoing space. "We can't stay here. Patrols sweep the main junctions eventually, even this deep. We need a plan." He looked pointedly at me. "We need to report in. Commander Valerius needs to know what happened, about the Inquisitor, the construct…" He hesitated, then added, his voice tight with suspicion, "…and about him."
I nodded, the familiar weight of Resistance protocol settling over me. Kaelen was right. Valerius needed intelligence, especially regarding Orlan and that Judicator. My first loyalty should be to the cell, to the network that had sheltered me, trained me, given me purpose after Havenwood.
But it wasn't that simple anymore. Caelum was here. A whirlwind of chaos and contradictions, inextricably linked to my past, brutally shaping my present. Reporting him felt… complicated. Like betraying a ghost I hadn't realised was still breathing.
"There's a safe house relay point under the Tarnished Kettle tavern," I said, forcing my voice steady. "Two levels up, closer to the lower market proper. We can access it through the old crypts connected to these catacombs. From there, we can use the coded signal lines to contact Valerius."
Kaelen nodded slowly. "Risky, moving up, but the signal lines are shielded there. It's viable." He looked back at Caelum. "And what about you? Your fight seemed… personal back there. Are you done, or are you going to draw every Templar in Oakhaven down on our heads?"
Caelum finally turned fully towards us, the lumen-stone light catching the icy clarity of his eyes. He didn't react to Kaelen's accusatory tone. "Orlan is responsible for the Whitefire Purge near Lake Evendim two years ago. He oversaw the slaughter of three dozen mythics, mostly families, hiding in the lakeside caves." His voice was utterly flat, reciting facts, but a chilling undercurrent of promised retribution resonated beneath the surface. "He didn't die tonight. My business with him isn't finished."
So, it wasn't just random vengeance. It was specific. Targeted. But no less brutal for it.
"And the construct? The Hunters?" Kaelen pressed. "You walked into a nest."
"The Judicator was unexpected," Caelum admitted, a minute concession. "Orlan usually relies on Hunters and Templar fodder. The machine suggests a larger operation. They weren't just reinforcing a cordon; they were searching, or preparing for something specific in that district." He paused, and his gaze flickered towards me again, sharp, analytical. "Perhaps related to why you were there?"
The implied question hung in the air. Valerius had sent us to scout because of the heavy presence. Had we stumbled into something Caelum already knew about? Or had his attack simply drawn the attention that led us all here?
"We were investigating the cordon because our scouts went missing," I answered carefully, choosing my words. "Standard procedure." I wouldn't reveal more Resistance operational details to him, not yet. Not while he looked at Kaelen, at the very idea of the Resistance, with such disdain.
"Standard procedure," Caelum echoed, a faint, humourless curl to his lip. "Hiding, reacting. While the enemy dictates the terms." He shook his head slowly. "That is not how this war is won."
"And charging in alone, leaving chaos in your wake is?" Kaelen countered sharply, taking a step forward. "We lost good people because of Ecclesiarchy crackdowns following lone-wolf attacks like yours! You think your personal vendetta doesn't have consequences for the rest of us?"
Caelum's eyes narrowed, the air growing colder. "The only consequence that matters is the enemy's fear. Their destruction."
"Stop it! Both of you!" The words burst out of me, louder than I intended. I pushed myself off the wall, weariness warring with frustration. "Arguing isn't helping. Kaelen, we need to get to the relay point. Caelum…" I looked at him, trying to bridge the impossible distance between us. "Are you coming with us? Or are you going back out there after Orlan right now?"
He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. I saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched slightly at his sides. He was a coiled spring, radiating barely suppressed violence. Following Resistance protocols, seeking shelter, reporting in – it clearly went against every fibre of his being, against the solitary, vengeful path he'd carved for himself.
"Orlan has withdrawn," he said finally, his voice clipped. "Likely regrouping after the loss of the Judicator's primary sensor and the Hunter squad. A direct assault now would be… inefficient." He tilted his head slightly, considering. "This relay point you speak of. How secure?"
"Layered wards. Hidden access. Used only for critical communication," Kaelen answered grudgingly before I could.
"And Valerius?" Caelum directed the question at me. "The Dwarf Commander. Does he know how to fight, or just how to hide?"
"He knows how to keep his people alive," I snapped back, stung by his dismissive tone. "He leads one of the most effective cells in the region."
Caelum held my gaze, then gave a curt nod. "Very well. I will accompany you to this… relay point."
Kaelen looked sharply at me, clearly unhappy, but Caelum's reasoning seemed pragmatic, if cold. He needed information, perhaps, or simply recognized the tactical advantage of temporary allies, even ones he clearly disdained. Or maybe, just maybe, some buried shard of him didn't want to leave me immediately after finding me again. I pushed that thought away. Safer not to hope.
"My path may converge with yours for now," Caelum continued, his voice leaving no room for warmth or reconciliation. "But make no mistake. My war is not yours. I hunt those responsible for Havenwood, for everything they've taken. I will not be constrained by your rules of engagement or your Commander's caution." He looked directly at me. "And you… you are not the girl I remember."
The words struck home, a confirmation of the gulf I already felt. He was right. Seven years of survival, of fighting in the shadows, of carrying the weight of his supposed death, had changed me as profoundly as his solitary agony had changed him. The innocence of Havenwood was ash, scattered by the winds of trauma.
"Neither are you," I replied quietly, holding his gaze, letting him see the pain his transformation caused me, mixed with the undeniable relief that he drew breath at all.
An uneasy truce settled over us, fragile as a spiderweb. Kaelen, still wary, nodded towards the tunnel he'd indicated earlier. "The catacombs are this way. Watch your step; some of the paths are unstable."
He led the way again, the lumen-stone casting dancing shadows. Caelum fell into step behind him, his movements economical. I hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath that tasted of damp earth and ancient dust instead of sewage – a marginal improvement. Then, steeling myself, I followed them into the darkness beneath the lower market, towards an uncertain sanctuary and an even more uncertain future, bound together by a past that refused to stay buried. The weight of his presence was a physical thing, a gravitational pull altering the course of my carefully constructed life. Whether it was towards salvation or destruction, I couldn't begin to guess.