Normally, when I look out from this vantage point, I’d see people bustling about in illuminated rooms and busy hallways, researchers moving between laboratories, meetings taking place behind glass walls. But now, as I gaze out across the endless floors that spiral around this giant hive-like structure, it’s hauntingly quiet. Different-colored lights still glow through the windows of various rooms—soft blues from computer labs, warm yellows from offices, the occasional flash of red from what I assume are restricted areas, but the silence is absolute. It’s like looking at a city where everyone has simply vanished.
I take a cautious step closer to the metal railing and peer down into the depths below. The floors continue wrapping around the central core, level after level disappearing into shadows until the architecture becomes indistinguishable and darkness swallows everything. I can’t even see the bottom… if there is one. The spiral of walkways and chambers seems to descend infinitely, like looking down a throat that has no end.
I wish I had a coin to drop to hear how long it would take to hit the bottom.
I was going to go look for Malachi but am starting to realize this might be the perfect opportunity to do some unauthorized exploring. With practically no one around to catch me snooping, I could finally see what the organization has been hiding in its deeper, more secretive levels.
I step into the glass elevator, noting that the display shows I’m currently on floor twenty-three, nearly at the surface level, since the elevator only goes up to thirty. I press the button for floor one and watch through the transparent walls as I begin to descend deeper into the Depths than I’ve ever ventured before. The crystalline light from the chandelier grows dimmer as I sink past level after level, each floor revealing glimpses of darkened laboratories, sealed conference rooms, and corridors that stretch away into shadow.
On the way down, I catch a glimpse of the garden level as the elevator glides past—or the “Enchanted Forest” as Bash once poetically called it. Through the glass walls, I can see the soft, warm glow emanating from that magical sanctuary, and I wonder if Atlas, the brilliant botanist who tends to that impossible ecosystem, is part of the skeleton crew left behind.
I’m tempted to stop there instead. I’d love to wander through that tropical paradise again, to see all the exotic flowers blooming in impossible colors and watch the butterflies that exist nowhere else in this perpetually freezing district.
But I force myself to stay focused on snooping as the elevator continues its descent into the darker, more secretive depths.
Finally, the elevator shudders to a stop at floor one, and I quickly press the button for floor twenty-six, sending it back up the moment I step out. Hopefully, no one noticed it making this unexpected journey to the bottom of the facility. The last thing I need is to trigger some kind of security alert.
The first thing I notice is a large, hastily made sign. “LEVEL CLOSED — PLEASE RETURN TO HIGHER LEVEL” is written in someone’s scrawled handwriting. It’s propped up on one of those yellow wet floor–warning stands, like they grabbed whatever was handy to keep people out.
Interesting.
I walk right past it.
This level is nothing like the polished, sophisticated floors above. The walls are rough concrete, and the lighting is harsh fluorescent that flickers occasionally, casting everything in an unflattering, institutional glow. The air feels thicker down here, stale and recycled, with an underlying chemical smell that makes my nose wrinkle.
I pass by several rooms, peering through the long observation windows that extend all the way down the hallway like aseries of aquarium tanks. Most of them appear to be empty, sterile chambers with nothing but bare walls and floors. One has furniture in it, but everything is covered in what looks like old painter’s drop cloths, as if someone tried to preserve or hide whatever was underneath.
I’m almost wrapped all the way back around to where I started when I see something that makes my blood run cold.
A medical stretcher is on its side a few feet ahead of me, one of its leather restraints still buckled tight, as if someone had been violently ripped from it. The metal frame is dented, and there are dark stains on the padding that I don’t want to think too hard about.
Along the wall behind it, a line of fogged observation windows watch me silently like dead eyes. Some have spiderweb cracks running through the thick glass. One is completely shattered, its jagged edges still glittering in the dim fluorescent light like a mouth full of broken teeth.
My deranged curiosity decides this is exactly the place to start digging deeper. I need to see what’s behind those observation windows. What kind of experiments were being conducted down here that required restraints and reinforced glass?
Oddly enough, I can’t find any doors leading into the observation rooms, only the ones that lead back out to the main hallway. The windows seem to be the only way to see inside, or in this case, the only way to get inside.
I approach the window with the shattered glass and slip off one of my leather loafers, using it to carefully brush away the remaining shards clinging to the frame. Ignoring every instinct screaming at me to turn around and leave, I hoist myself up and climb through to the other side.
The room beyond the shattered window is dusty and decrepit, seemingly abandoned for years. There’s a bustedcomputer terminal with its screen cracked beyond repair and a metal table with one of its legs snapped completely in half, leaving it tilted at an awkward angle. Papers are scattered across the floor, yellowed with age and covered in a fine layer of dust.
How long has the Syndicate been active?
Who used this silo before they came across it?
Even if this level is deserted and obviously old, I can’t understand what would have caused this kind of destruction down here. It looks like there was some kind of struggle, or maybe an explosion. Claw marks? No, that’s ridiculous.
Behind the overturned desk, almost hidden in the shadows, is another door. I twist the handle cautiously and pull it open.
What the fuck?
It’s a dark staircase descending into absolute blackness. After about a dozen concrete steps, the darkness becomes so complete that I can’t see my own feet. The air drifting up from below is even colder and carries a musty, underground smell that reminds me of old caves or forgotten basements.
Maybe I should go find Aurora and drag her down here with me. That would definitely be the more logical thing to do. Her fire abilities would be perfect for lighting the way, and having backup would be smart. But with both of us missing from the upper levels, that probably wouldn’t go unnoticed. Someone would come looking, and then we’d both be caught snooping where we clearly shouldn’t be.
Great, Kat, what are you getting yourself into?
I take a few tentative steps down, hoping my eyes will adjust and it won’t actually be pitch-black at the bottom. Thankfully, there are motion sensors down here, though most of the light fixtures are broken or burned out. As I descend, a couple of ancient fluorescent bulbs flicker to life overhead with a tired electrical humming sound, casting weak, unstable lightthat flashes every few seconds like they’re giving me the last bit of power they have left in them.
