Chapter 20

The shallow pool rippled around Ethan's boots, its icy bite seeping through the leather as he steadied himself against the jagged wall of the drainage shaft. The air was thick with the earthy scent of wet soil and the faint, metallic tang of rust, carried on a draft that whistled through the curtain of roots shielding their exit. The children clustered near him, their damp clothes clinging to their thin frames, their breaths fogging in the dim light of Rhea's device. Sarah's small hand brushed his, her presence a quiet reminder of the stakes he carried.

"We're not out yet," Rhea said, her voice low but edged with urgency as she adjusted the device on her wrist. Its faint beep pierced the stillness, a lifeline in the oppressive dark. "No signatures above, but this shaft runs parallel to the main tunnels. If they've got drones or trackers, they'll find us eventually."

Ethan nodded, his gaze tracing the roots—gnarled and ancient, like veins of the earth itself. The medallion pulsed against his chest, its warmth sharper now, syncing with a rhythm he couldn't place—something deeper, older than the city above. "Where does this go?" he asked, his tone steady despite the unease coiling in his gut.

Rhea tilted her device, its glow illuminating a faint path winding through the roots. "Downward, toward an old cistern—part of the pre-city network. It's off their grid, but it's a maze. We could lose them—or get lost ourselves." She met his eyes, silver-gray glinting with resolve. "Your call."

Ethan's senses stretched into the dark, catching the distant hum of machinery and the steady drip of water echoing ahead. The path felt alive, its pulse tugging at the wolf within—a call he didn't fully understand. "Down," he decided. "We've got no choice but to keep moving."

They pressed forward, Ethan leading the way as the children followed in a tight line, Sarah guiding the youngest with a quiet determination that mirrored his own. Rhea stayed close behind, her weapon ready, her steps silent against the slick stone. The shaft sloped steeply, its walls narrowing until the roots brushed their shoulders, their rough texture snagging at Ethan's jacket. The air grew colder, heavier, laden with a scent he couldn't name—something primal, like wet fur and moonlight.

As they descended, Ethan's mind churned, the medallion's rhythm syncing with his heartbeat. Lilith's retreat gnawed at him—her cryptic words about his blood stirring "old echoes." If she'd truly stepped aside, it meant something had shifted, something she feared or revered. The runes from the alcove flashed in his memory—lunar script, Rhea had called them, tied to his bloodline. What if they weren't just chasing him for Richards' experiments, but for something older, something the military hadn't even grasped? The thought tightened his jaw—he wasn't their pawn, not anymore.

"Ethan," Sarah's voice broke his reverie, small but firm. "The ground—it's shaking again."

He froze, senses flaring. She was right—a faint tremor rippled through the stone, subtle but growing, like footsteps of a giant stirring below. The children's murmurs rose, fear threading through their huddled forms. Ethan crouched, pressing a hand to the floor. The vibration pulsed upward, steady and rhythmic, matching the medallion's beat. "It's not them," he murmured, more to himself than the others. "It's something else."

Rhea knelt beside him, her device scanning the depths. "Seismic activity—deep, consistent. Could be natural… or not." Her silver eyes narrowed, a flicker of unease breaking her calm. "This cistern—it's older than I thought. We might be walking into more than a hiding spot."

The tremor intensified, a low growl rumbling through the shaft. Anticipation tightened Ethan's chest—what lay ahead? The wolf stirred, eager yet wary, its instincts clashing with his human caution. "We'll deal with it," he said, rising. "Keep moving."

The shaft opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling lost in shadow, its floor a shallow basin of dark water reflecting the faint light from Rhea's device. Massive stone pillars loomed like sentinels, their surfaces etched with more runes—spirals and claws, glowing faintly under Ethan's gaze. The air thrummed with a low, resonant hum, vibrating in his bones, and the medallion flared hotter, almost burning against his skin.

Sarah gasped, clutching his arm. "It's alive," she whispered, her eyes wide.

Ethan followed her gaze—a ripple spread across the water, slow and deliberate, as if something beneath had stirred. The children shrank back, but he stepped forward, claws flexing instinctively. "Stay behind me," he said, voice steady but taut.

Rhea raised her weapon, her stance tense. "Ethan, this isn't natural. Those runes—they're reacting to you."

Before he could respond, the water erupted—a massive shape surged upward, stone and shadow coalescing into a hulking form. It was no mech, but a guardian of rock and root, its eyes glowing amber like his own, its roar shaking the chamber. Ethan's heart pounded, the wolf roaring back in recognition—this was no enemy, but a test.

"Get back!" he shouted, shoving the children toward Rhea as the guardian lunged. He surged into battle form, claws gleaming, meeting its strike with a clash that echoed like thunder. Stone met flesh, but his strength held, the medallion's pulse guiding his movements. Each blow was precise, human mind and wolf instinct merging—a dance of power he hadn't mastered until now.

Rhea fired, rune bullets sparking off its hide, but it barely flinched. "Aim for the eyes!" she called, her voice cutting through the chaos. Ethan ducked a sweeping limb, leaping onto its back, claws digging into cracks. He struck its glowing eye, a burst of light flaring as it roared, staggering back into the water with a crash.

The guardian stilled, its form crumbling into dust and stone, leaving only silence and the hum of the runes. Ethan reverted, panting, the medallion cooling against his chest. The children rushed to him, Sarah's arms wrapping around his waist. "You stopped it," she said, awe in her voice.

"Yeah," he breathed, ruffling her hair. "I did."

Rhea stepped closer, her silver eyes studying the runes now dimming on the walls. "That wasn't random," she said, voice low. "It was waiting—for you. Your blood triggered it."

Ethan met her gaze, the weight of her words sinking in. "Then we're closer to answers," he said, resolve hardening. "And I'll find them—for all of us."

The hum faded, but a distant clatter of boots echoed from above. Rhea checked her device, frowning. "They're still coming. We've got a head start—let's use it."

Ethan nodded, lifting Sarah gently. "No stopping," he said, leading them onward, the pulse of the deep a silent vow in his blood.

[To be continued…]