King Without a Throne

One hour. The time Lyra gave them felt like a cruel joke. There was no real rest. Torvek spent it preparing Kairan as if he were a soldier, not a boy on the verge of death. The last strips of his tunic were torn away, then wrapped tightly around Kairan's worn boots. The purpose was singular: to muffle sound. He checked the bandages on Kairan's hip and chest, making sure they were firm enough to hold the crude stitches but not so tight as to choke the boy's already shallow breaths. Every movement was silent, efficient. The routine of a man who had spent his life preparing for the worst.

Kairan could only endure. His body had no protest left in it, his mind too busy mapping the new sensations bombarding him. The mark on his chest, a patch of ice that never melted. From it, he could feel the other two in the room with a frightening clarity. Torvek's will, hard as granite, a solid, protective wall. And Lyra, who had just slipped back in without a sound, felt like a sharp knot of tension—a mix of impatience, vigilance, and hidden greed.

"Time's up," Lyra whispered. She carried no torch. In her hand, a dull, fist-sized crystal began to emit a pale, cold blue light as she gripped it. Enough to see a few steps ahead, but too dim to draw attention.

The stone door closed again. Lyra didn't lead them back to the market. She approached a large drain grate in the floor. With a small crowbar, she pried it open, revealing a gaping black hole. A thicker, older stench immediately wafted out.

"Our way," she said simply. "Old maintenance tunnels. Built before my grandfather was born, abandoned after a partial collapse a century ago. The guards would never think to look here." The blue light from the crystal made her eyes look like two chips of ice. "The rules are simple. Stay behind me. Step where I step. Don't make a sound unless your life depends on it. Understood?"

Torvek nodded, his face grim. Kairan, leaning on Torvek, managed a weak nod as well.

Lyra went down first, as nimble as a spider. Torvek followed, painstakingly lowering Kairan before jumping down himself. The moment their feet touched the tunnel floor, the world changed. The sounds of Velmire they knew vanished. All that remained was a pressing silence and the eternal echo of dripping water.

This was a world beneath worlds.

The corridor was narrow and curved, built from massive stones that were now wet and slick, covered in a moss that glowed faintly with a sickly greenish light. The air was heavy and cold, smelling of wet earth, decay, and something else… something metallic, like long-dried blood. They walked in single file. Lyra in front, her crystal their only sun. Kairan in the middle, supported by Torvek who walked last, his throwing axe always ready, his eyes never ceasing their sweep of the darkness behind them.

Every step was torture for Kairan. His wounded leg throbbed, the stitches in his hip felt like they were being pulled taut. He bit his lip until it bled to stifle a groan. But the physical pain wasn't the worst of it. The worst was the sounds.

The mark on his chest had become a resonator of sorts, picking up the echoes left in these ancient stones. He could feel the history of the place. The despair of the workers who built it. The terror of the fugitives who once hid here. And he felt something else. Something older, hungrier. A presence slumbering in the deeper darkness, a collective consciousness that felt like a swarm of insects crawling under his skin.

He stumbled. Torvek caught him. "Easy, kid."

"There's… something here," Kairan whispered, his voice trembling.

Up ahead, Lyra stopped. "Of course there's something here," she said impatiently. "Rats the size of dogs, cave spiders. Keep moving."

But Kairan shook his head. "Not that. Something else. They're… watching."

Lyra gave him a sharp look, about to argue, but then she saw the expression on his face. It wasn't the fear of a child. It was the wariness of a predator sensing another. She didn't understand how the boy could know, but her own instincts told her to be cautious. "Hurry," she hissed.

They arrived in a wider area, a junction where several tunnels met, most of them collapsed. In the center, a large, still pool of black water stretched out, reflecting the blue light of Lyra's crystal. It smelled of chemicals and death.

"We have to cross," Lyra said, her voice barely a whisper. "The depot is on the other side. Follow the edge. Don't touch the water."

They moved slowly along the slippery edge of the pool. It was then that Kairan felt it with full force. The presence was no longer distant. They were here. In the water. Waiting.

Suddenly, Lyra raised her hand. She extinguished her crystal. The thick darkness swallowed them.

Plop.

A small sound from the middle of the pool. Followed by another. Plop. Plop. Like pebbles dropping into water.

"What was that?" Torvek whispered, tense.

Lyra didn't answer. Just gestured for silence.

Kairan closed his eyes, focusing on the Voidmark. He didn't need to see. He could feel them. Dozens of cold, hungry points of consciousness, moving silently beneath the surface. No emotion. Only one thing. Hunger.

Then, the silence broke.

A fast scraping sound, a sharp squeal, and the sound of tearing flesh from across the pool. The shriek of a giant cave rat. Cut off abruptly. Replaced by the sound of wet, ravenous chewing.

Torvek's heart stopped. Whatever was out there had just easily taken down something large.

Slowly, Lyra re-ignited her crystal, aiming it across the water. There, a pale creature was hunched over the rat's carcass. Its form was like a cross between an insect and a human, with too many long limbs. Its skin was as pale as a fish's belly, and it had no eyes. Only a gaping mouth full of needle-sharp teeth. A Trench Crawler.

The creature looked up, its eyeless head seeming to sense the light. It made a strange clicking sound from its throat. And in response, dozens of other clicks were heard from all around the room. From the water. From the cracks in the walls.

They were surrounded.

Kairan's already trembling legs finally gave out. He slipped. Torvek managed to catch him, but his cloth-wrapped boot made a small splash as it hit the edge of the pool.

The sound. As small as it was, it was like an explosion in the tense silence.

All the clicking stopped.

Across the pool, the Trench Crawler dropped its prey. Its eyeless head turned with a horrific, jerky motion, straight towards them.

In the water, the previously calm surface began to ripple. Dozens of pale shapes moved towards them beneath the surface.

"Run," Lyra hissed, panic finally creeping into her voice.

But it was too late.

Without a sound, just a blur of pale white shot out of the water near their feet. Silence. Then razor-sharp claws aiming directly for Kairan's injured leg.