Chapter 5

Elena stood alone in the wreckage of a collapsed tunnel, its jagged walls rising like the ribs of a decaying beast.

Beneath her boots, debris crunched—shattered concrete, twisted rebar, dust from a world long dead. The air was thick with damp rot and rust, the scent burrowing deep into her lungs. A cold draft whistled through the cracks overhead, where roots dangled like skeletal fingers, swaying with every distant rumble from the surface.

She had sent the meet-up details.

Here. Now.

And she waited, the communicator clutched in her burnt hand, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat.

None of the others had arrived.

Not surprising. Their cynicism was a wall she hadn't been able to break before—why should now be any different?

She sighed, breath fogging in the chill, but her good eye stayed sharp, scanning the dark.

Then—

A faint splash.

A shuffle of boots on wet stone.

Elena snapped to attention, her body tensing as two figures emerged from the tunnel's mouth.

Dax, his hood drawn low, his expression unreadable.

And Soren, her frost-kissed hair catching the dim light, a smirk on her lips as she twirled her wicked-looking blade.

"We couldn't stay away," Dax murmured, his voice barely a ripple against the dripping silence. "Wanted to see these heroes you're betting on."

Soren snorted, tossing her blade from hand to hand. "Curiosity got me. Let's hope they're worth it, Voss."

Elena's chest loosened just a fraction. A small victory. "They'll come. I know it."

Before she could say more, heavier steps echoed down the tunnel.

Kellan.

His broad frame moved like a walking fortress, his scarred knuckles flexing as he strode forward. Lira trailed behind, her cracked goggles catching the faint glow of the tunnel light, her jittery fingers tapping against her thigh.

Kellan let out a gruff grunt.

"Figured I'd see this through. Nothing else to do but rot."

Lira huffed, shifting on her feet. "Yeah, same. Let's meet your legends—or laugh when they don't show."

Elena motioned them closer. "Good. We wait together, then."

The five of them settled in, backs pressed to the crumbling walls, eyes locked on the tunnel entrance.

The silence stretched, only broken by the distant drip of water, the cold wind threading through the ruins above.

Every minute that passed gnawed at Elena's resolve.

Then—

A voice.

Distant. Young. Light, but uncertain.

"Think this is it?"

The words echoed through the tunnel, followed by the crunch of boots on gravel.

Then—

A sharp, angry retort, high-pitched and biting.

"No, Ryn! We shouldn't even be here—let's go home!"

Elena's pulse spiked.

She turned toward the tunnel's mouth just as two figures stepped into the light.

The man—Ryn.

Casual in a faded jacket and jeans, his lean frame loose, but his sharp eyes scanning the dark. His presence felt… unshakable, like he had never once questioned whether he belonged anywhere he stood.

Behind him—

A girl.

Small. Barely four feet tall, a black gown pooling around her like a shadow. Her dark hair framed a face twisted with irritation, her glare cutting through the murk as she clung close to Ryn, her fists balled tight.

Elena took a step forward, her tattered cloak brushing against rubble.

Ryn's eyes met hers. He tilted his head slightly, lips twitching into the barest ghost of a smirk.

"Elena Voss, I'm guessing?"

She let her hood slip back, revealing her scarred face—half-burnt, bruised, a map of survival.

"Ryn," she greeted, voice steady despite the tension coiling in her chest. "Good to see you."

Mira's tiny form tensed.

Her dark gaze flicked to the others, then back to Elena.

Ryn's smile faded slightly, his eyes lingering on Elena's scars.

His voice was softer this time.

"What happened to you?" A beat. Then—"That's… new."

Elena's burnt fingers flexed, but she kept her tone even.

"Headquarters attack. Got out—barely."

Mira snorted.

Her voice dripped venom.

"Looks like you got what you deserved. Justice served hot."

Silence fell.

Ryn's jaw tightened.

His glare flicked toward Mira, sharp. "Mira. Enough."

Elena dipped her head slightly, letting the sting roll off her.

"It's fine," she muttered. "I've heard worse."

Ryn sighed, shaking his head before glancing past her.

"And them?"

Elena turned, nodding toward her companions.

"Kellan, Soren, Dax, Lira," she said. "Last of us. High-rankers who didn't break or turn."

Kellan scoffed, eyeing Ryn up and down.

"You're too young. What are you, barely twenty?"

His gaze slid to Mira.

"And her? Your kid sister? You don't look like decade-retired heroes to me."

Lira smirked. "Fireboy and Darkshadow? More like a babysitter and his brat."

Soren twirled her blade, smirking. "Ten years out, and this is it? Don't match the hype, Voss."

Dax remained silent, studying them with hooded eyes.

But the faintest twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

Ryn stayed casual, hands in his pockets, ignoring the jabs.

Mira, however, stepped forward.

Her tiny frame practically shook with fury.

"Keep talking, big guy. I'll bury you right here."

Kellan's scarred fists clenched.

"Try it, runt. I'd snap you in half before you blink."

Elena raised a hand sharply.

"Enough! We're not here to fight each other."

Ryn sighed, rubbing his temple.

"She's right. What's the plan, Elena?"

Mira huffed, crossing her arms. "Should've stayed home. This is a waste."

Elena took a slow breath.

"We need you—both of you. The villains have everything—bases, power, numbers."

Her good eye locked onto Ryn's.

"We're the last stand. With your help, we can hit back—start taking them down."

Silence.

Then—

Mira scoffed, glaring at Kellan. "And get yourselves killed? Smart."

Kellan's patience snapped.

"Keep running your mouth, kid, and I'll—"

"Enough!" Elena's voice cut through the air like a blade.

She turned to Ryn.

Softer now.

"We can't do this without you."

Ryn studied her.

Something flickered in his expression—resolve, maybe. Or regret.

Mira tugged his sleeve.

"Ryn. We don't owe them anything. Let's go."

Ryn hesitated.

A long, heavy beat.

"Give us a sec," he muttered.

He pulled Mira aside, their whispers sharp, heated, too low to catch.

Elena exhaled.

Her burnt hand trembled slightly.

Dax leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper.

"They're not what we expected," he murmured.

"But they're here."

Elena nodded, voice rough.

"It has to be enough."

And they waited.

For Ryn.

For a decision that might tip the scales of the war.

For a miracle.