Lucien was studying the wires intently, tracking where they all lined up at the corner, before disappearing around a bend. How large was this place? What else was hidden down here?
Auren was rubbing his thumb over the back of Vesperin’s hand as he murmured, "Do not frighten me like that, Hunter. I grew worried."
"Sorry," she whispered. "I don’t know what came over me…"
Lucien stepped away from them, following the thin tubes and wires on the ground. They were empty, hollow, but from how they snaked up the top of each glass tube, pouring into it, he knew that whatever blue liquid that was, it had once traveled through the wire-like tubes on the concrete ground to be dumped into the glass.
His ears strained for the sound of voices—or even the hum that Vesperin had mentioned—but he heard nothing. Were they truly the only ones down here?
"Rhyden?" Lucien asked. Silence. He tapped the small piece behind his ear. "Rhyden? Come in." Nothing. He swallowed, fear curling inside him as he turned back to Auren and Vesperin. They’d walked closer to Lucien. Auren’s grip on her hand kept her tethered to his side, and away from the tubes of liquid—though, Lucien saw how she couldn’t look away, entranced. "The comms are broken," Lucien told them, tone grave.
Vesperin drew in a sharp breath. "Okay, it’s fine. We can handle this. I still remember the code to the door, and we have—" She lifted her other arm, the one Auren wasn’t holding, to show her watch, but she paused. "My watch is dead." She turned her wrist out, and Lucien saw the black screen.
Lucien remembered his phone and pulled it out of a pocket on the inside of his suit coat. He pressed the button on the side. It didn’t come on. "My phone died, too."
"Whatever is in those tubes, it’s interfering with the…" Vesperin’s trembling voice trailed off; she shook her head. "With our tech," she finished.
Lucien gripped her cheeks, turning her face up to his. Her lips were open, her cool breaths on his palms as he held her face. Her eyes were unfocused. "It’s interfering withyou, Vesperin. We need to get out of here. We have no idea what is in those tubes and what it is doing to you. For all we know, it could be radioactive. We could already be exposed?—"
"No, this is our only shot. We have to see this through," she begged. "We don’t need tech to gather hard evidence. We just need hard copies of files, written documentation—anything. There has to be something here we can use."
"Fine," Lucien gritted out, "but quickly."
Weavingfate was no easy feat, but Atlas would do so for eternity. The shadows rippled around him as he stepped out of them with a silent laugh. He had done so forever. He had woven the rise and fall of planets, and even the recent creation of one. The age of the Earth was slowing. The Celestials were angered by what had been done to this once-beautiful, promising planet of blues, greens, and browns. He had known, and he knew, still, what was to come. The worst of all. He would let her go once more. Though this time, it would only be the start of their forever.
Atlas studied the trio closely. He would always desire to stare at Vesperin, but this time, he allowed himself to stare at the Soul Searcher. Soon, they’d meet.
Atlas stood, entirely unknown and unseen to them. As he’d always been.
They would not know how he had led Kiton here, how he curated the evening to ensure the lab was empty for them to discover Talor and Sabine Blackfall’s plans.
The Celestial could not account for everything. He knew there was another watcher, just as he knew how this night would end.
Auren shadowedVesperin as they followed the tubes, and just before they rounded the corner, Auren thought he heard something, saw a shadow shift on the wall—a reaching hand, a heavy presence.
He stilled.
"Wait," Auren breathed, thinking that, perhaps, they should not venture further. Luck was running thin. Better not to press it. His fingers brushed the ends of Vesperin’s hair, spilling over his fingertips as she stepped out of his reach.
Auren shook his head with a low sound, forced to follow Vesperin and Lucien. The three rounded the corner, and he kept his scythe at the ready, pushing past them both.
The blue glow from the tubes struggled to pierce the darkness of the low-ceilinged room.
His eyesight was better than their human senses. He held out a gloved hand, silently urging them to pause as he swept over the room.
Desks with dark monitors. A large blackboard on the wall, papers pinned to it. White chalk scratched in odd symbols. A lone steel door in the back. The concrete echoed underfoot.
And most important of all, it was empty.
Auren lowered his scythe, still on edge, however. "We are alone."
"It’s so dark," Vesperin breathed, stepping closer to him. "How can we see?" Her bare arm brushed his fingertips, where they wrapped around the handle of his scythe. The handle warmed under his gloves, a faint, otherworldly glow zinging down the blade, answering her call. It pulsed pale white. Vesperin met his eyes in the thin light. "Your scythe…"
Auren held it out. "Touch it again, Hunter. Together, perhaps we can light up the dark."
Vesperin smiled up at him, then reached for his hand, wrapping her slender, pale fingers around the handle, just beneath his. The scythe warmed and pulsed like a living thing beneath their joined palms, then the glow increased, filling the room and lighting her gorgeous features beautifully.
"Oh," she breathed.
