Chapter 6: The Vault’s Shadow

"Move it, Kai—we're sitting ducks here!" Lena snapped, her voice cutting through the rain like a whip.

I stumbled out of the alley, my boots splashing in puddles, the cold biting at my skin. The slums were a blur—shacks leaning like drunks, lanterns sputtering out, the air thick with damp rot and that damn ticking in my head. My paradox mark burned under my sleeve, pulsing like it knew we were screwed. The safehouse was behind us, Reapers too close for comfort, and Mara's whisper—"You can't pay it back"—kept clawing at me, her face fading every time I tried to hold it.

Lena led the way, her hood up, dagger glinting as she darted through the shadows. Markus hobbled behind, cane tapping a frantic beat, his breath rasping loud enough to hear over the storm. Tali stuck close, her skinny frame shivering, eyes darting like she expected death around every corner. We'd barely made it out of that tunnel, and now we were running again—toward the Syndicate towers, toward the vault, toward something I wasn't sure I could handle.

"Over here," Lena hissed, ducking behind a pile of rusted barrels near the edge of the slums. The towers loomed ahead—sharp, gleaming spikes stabbing the sky, their bases swallowed by fog and filth. Eternals up top, Reapers below, and us in the middle, a handful of Fades with a half-baked plan. I crouched beside her, heart pounding, and peeked out. Syndicate patrols moved in the distance—black coats, relics ticking, their steps too steady, too damn calm.

"We can't stay long," Markus muttered, leaning hard on his cane. "That ticking you heard back there? Reapers don't give up—they're tracking your mark, kid."

"Great," I said, wiping rain from my face, my voice rough. "So it's not just a curse—it's a damn beacon." The mark flared, a jolt shooting up my arm, and I clenched my fist to keep it from glowing too bright. Lena shot me a glare, like I could control it.

"Keep it together, Voss," she said, her scar twisting as she frowned. "I'm scouting the towers—found a drainage tunnel near the east wall. It's tight, but it might get us under. Problem is, patrols are thick—whatever's stirring 'em up, they're on edge."

"Probably me," I muttered, thinking of the enforcers back at the checkpoint, turned to dust by this thing on my hand. "Or the vault. They know we're coming?"

Markus shook his head, grim. "Doubt it. Syndicate's paranoid—always has been. That stash down there's their lifeline. They guard it like it's their soul."

Tali shivered, clutching her chipped relic tighter. "I've been talking to runners—word's spreading from the safehouse. Got five more Fades ready to move, maybe more by dawn. They're pissed—say you're the one to break the Syndicate's grip."

I snorted, the sound bitter. "Me? I'm the one breaking everything else—time, people, you name it." But her words stuck—five Fades, plus the three from the safehouse. Eight wasn't an army, but it was a start. Mara's ache pushed me forward—she'd traded everything for me, and I'd be damned if I let it end here.

Lena crouched lower, peering through the rain. "Drainage tunnel's our shot. I'll check it—see if it's clear. Markus, you got that map ready?"

He grunted, pulling a soggy scrap of paper from his coat, the charcoal lines smudged but legible. "Main gate's a death sentence—Reapers crawl it. Side tunnels are better—narrow, but less guarded. Core's deep—relic-locked, pure time stashed behind it. Never saw what's inside, but it's bad news."

"Bad news like what?" I asked, voice low, rain dripping off my nose.

"Reapers are the least of it," he said, eyes dark. "Something's down there—old, twisted. Guards that don't die easy. We'll need more than knives and guts."

I clenched my jaw, the ticking syncing with my pulse. "Then we get Tali's crew and hit it fast—before they figure us out."

She nodded, slipping off to spread the word, her steps quick and quiet. Lena gave me a hard look. "Stay here—don't do anything stupid. I'll be back." She melted into the shadows, heading for the towers, leaving me and Markus under the barrels' cover.

The rain hammered down, soaking through my jacket, and I stared at the towers—cold, unyielding, a fortress of stolen years. "You really think this stash can fix it?" I asked, voice barely above the storm. "Undo what Mara did?"

Markus coughed, a wet rattle. "Maybe. Time's a mess—trade it wrong, it breaks. Trade it right, might mend something. Your mark's the key—problem is, it's a bomb too."

"Perfect," I muttered, rubbing my hand. The mark pulsed, hotter, and I felt it—a shift, like the air thickened. My head spun, and then it happened—time slowed. Raindrops hung mid-fall, Markus's breath stretched into a low groan, the patrol's steps crawled. I froze, panic spiking, and yanked my sleeve down as the mark glowed bright, a damn spotlight in the dark.

"Kai, you idiot—" Markus hissed, voice dragging, but it was too late. A shadow moved—cloak shimmering, ticking louder than mine. A Time Reaper, scythe raised, cutting through the slowed rain like it didn't care. It was close—too close—its hollow eyes locking on me.

I stumbled back, time snapping back to normal with a lurch. Rain slammed down, Markus cursed, and the Reaper lunged. I dodged, barely, its scythe slicing the barrel beside me, metal screeching as it aged to rust in seconds. "Run!" I yelled, shoving Markus toward the alley. He hobbled fast as he could, and I bolted after, heart in my throat.

The Reaper's ticking chased us, relentless, joined by another—two now, cloaks blending with the storm. My mark flared again, unbidden, and the alley warped—walls cracking, then snapping back, a puddle freezing mid-splash. I tripped, caught myself on a crate, and kept going, the Reapers' rasps—"Paradox detected—erase"—ringing in my ears.

We hit a dead end—a wall of jagged stone, no way out. I spun, fists up, mark burning like a brand. The Reapers closed in, scythes gleaming, and I braced for it—dust, death, whatever. But then boots splashed behind them—Lena, dagger flashing, with Tali and five Fades at her back, knives drawn, faces hard.

"Get down!" Lena shouted, tackling one Reaper, her blade sparking off its cloak. The Fades swarmed the other, a big guy with a scarred nose slamming a relic into its chest. Time stuttered—my mark or theirs, I couldn't tell—and the Reapers faltered, one aging a flicker, the other slowing. I lunged, smashing my glowing fist into the second's hood, and it crumpled, dust spilling out like a broken hourglass.

Breathing hard, I staggered back as Lena finished the first, her dagger buried in its core. The ticking faded—just mine now, loud and steady. She glared at me, rain streaking her face. "Told you not to do anything stupid."

"Wasn't my plan," I panted, shaking my hand, the mark dimming but still hot. Tali and the Fades stared, wide-eyed, the big guy muttering, "Shit, he's for real."

Markus limped up, grim. "They'll send more—Reapers don't stop. We've got tonight, maybe, before they lock it down."

Lena nodded, wiping her blade. "Drainage tunnel's clear—for now. We hit it tomorrow night, full crew. No screwing around."

I met her gaze, then looked at the Fades—eight of 'em now, ragged but ready. "You're in?" I asked, voice rough.

The scarred guy grunted. "Syndicate's bled us long enough. You're the spark—let's burn 'em."

They murmured agreement, and I felt it—the weight of their trust, Mara's ghost, the vault's shadow looming. My mark pulsed, a reminder of what I'd started. We had a shot—one night to break in, grab that stash, maybe fix this mess. But as the rain hammered down, I couldn't shake the feeling we were running out of time—fast.