The alarm's blaring wail echoed through the cold, sterile corridors, red warning lights flashing in violent pulses. Karima barely had time to take in the moment—her father, finally free from his restraints, was weak but conscious, his deep-set eyes locked onto hers with a mixture of relief and urgency. Haytham's hands were already on Karl's arm, supporting him as they prepared for the inevitable fight ahead.
Heavy boots pounded against the stone floors outside. The guards were closing in. The time for subtlety had passed.
"Move!" Haytham barked, leading the way into the corridor. Karima followed, gripping her father's wrist as he struggled to keep pace.
Karl's breath was ragged, his limbs unsteady. "They—won't let us leave," he panted. "Not without… stopping me first."
"We're not giving them the chance," Karima said, tightening her grip. But even as she spoke, she saw the shadows at the end of the hall—guards pouring in, rifles raised.
Haytham didn't hesitate. He fired first, dropping two men with precise shots. Karima ducked, shielding Karl as the hallway erupted in chaos. The scent of burning metal and gunpowder filled the air as bullets ricocheted off the stone walls.
A cold realization struck her. They were outnumbered.
"We need an exit," she hissed to Haytham.
"There!" He pointed to a side corridor, narrower, darker. "It leads to an old maintenance shaft."
Without another word, they ran. The sharp metallic clang of alarms mixed with shouts of pursuit. The corridor twisted and narrowed before opening into a small, disused storage room. Rusted pipes lined the walls, and at the far end, a ladder led upward.
Karl stumbled against a crate, gripping his side. "I—I can't keep up."
Karima turned to him, panic rising. "We're almost out—just a little further."
Her father looked at her then, his gaze filled with something more than exhaustion. There was pain. Not just the physical kind, but something deeper, older.
"They won't stop hunting you," he whispered. "Not once they know."
Karima frowned. "Know what?"
Karl exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment before speaking again. "You don't understand what you are… what we are."
The words chilled her. "What do you mean?"
Haytham was already on the ladder, peering up. "Karima, we don't have time for—"
Karl's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "The bloodline. Our family isn't just another noble house. We're more than that."
She felt her pulse hammer in her ears. "What are you talking about?"
Karl pressed his hand to his chest, as if steadying himself. "The High Council—they don't just want me imprisoned. They want our lineage erased."
Karima's mind reeled. She had grown up surrounded by political intrigue, by whispered discussions of alliances and betrayals. But this—this was something different. Something personal.
"What lineage?" she demanded.
Karl met her gaze, his eyes dark with a secret long buried. "The blood of the First Wielders runs through us. The power of the old world—the power of Aura."
Her breath caught. The First Wielders. The ancient figures from forgotten history, the ones who had supposedly shaped the world with abilities beyond human comprehension.
"That's a myth," she whispered.
"No," Karl said. "It's real. And the Council has been eliminating every last descendant for decades. We are among the last."
Karima's mind spun with the weight of his words. She had spent her life believing in diplomacy, in reason. But this—this was a war she hadn't even realized she was a part of.
Haytham's voice snapped her back to the present. "We need to move. Now."
The pounding of boots was getting closer. Karl pushed himself upright, drawing what little strength he had left. Karima swallowed her fear and climbed the ladder, Haytham just ahead of her. Karl followed, each movement slow but determined.
They emerged into the open air. The Black Tower stretched behind them, its shadow casting long across the desolate landscape. But they weren't safe yet. Soldiers were already swarming the perimeter.
"We need transport," Haytham muttered, scanning their surroundings.
"There," Karl pointed toward a row of unmarked vehicles.
The three of them sprinted across the open yard, Karima's heart hammering as she heard the distant shouts of their pursuers. She threw herself into the nearest vehicle, Haytham hot on her heels. The ignition whirred to life just as the first shots rang out.
Bullets pinged against the metal as Haytham floored the accelerator. The vehicle lurched forward, tearing through the dirt roads, leaving the Black Tower behind.
Karima sat in the passenger seat, gripping the dashboard, her mind still reeling from what her father had told her. The bloodline of the First Wielders. The war that had existed long before she had even been born.
Karl leaned against the back seat, his breathing uneven. "They'll be coming for us," he said. "We need to disappear."
Haytham kept his eyes on the road. "I know a place."
Karima turned to her father. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Karl's expression was pained. "I wanted you to have a choice. But now, that choice has been taken from you."
A cold weight settled in her chest. She wasn't just running anymore.
She was a target.
And she was ready to fight back.