The Door Beneath the City

"You sure he's ready?"

The voice came from the shadows—deep, tired, unfamiliar.

Elior blinked under the flickering hallway light. His body still ached from the night before, but his mind… it was clear. Too clear.

Mira didn't answer.

She just opened the steel door.

The stairs spiraled down.

Past subway levels. Past utility lines. Past everything that should exist.

"Where are we going?" Elior asked.

"Somewhere the world forgot," Mira said. "But we didn't."

At the bottom: another door, older than the building, carved with three rings, stacked vertically.

It opened with a whisper.

And the Veiled revealed itself.

A hidden sanctum. Carved stone halls. Old tech beside glowing runes.

People moved quietly, purposefully. Some bore marks—one ring, two, even three.

A boy sat cross-legged, meditating mid-air.

A woman spoke to fire like it was listening.

A man passed by with a second face flickering in his shadow.

Elior stared. Mira said nothing.

Until they reached the inner chamber.

A circular room. Dozens gathered.

At its center: a large map of the city, glowing softly. Red markers pulsed along it.

"Every pulse," Mira said, "is a new Ringbearer.

Or a failed one."

Elior pointed at one that was moving.

"That one?"

"Not one of ours."

An older man stepped forward. Pale eyes. Robe with symbols Elior didn't recognize.

"This one," he said, "is hunting.

We believe it's Third Ring… and it's no longer human."

Murmurs followed.

Mira turned to Elior.

"You asked who we are. This is the real answer.

Not just survivors. Not just users.

We're the last line before the world tips over."

She stepped closer.

"You've opened two rings. You could walk away.

Let this fade. Live quietly."

Then, quieter:

"Or you stay. Train. Fight. Change what this world is becoming."

Elior looked at the map.

Then at the marks on his palm.

He thought of the man in the alley.

And the light inside the flame.

He didn't speak.

He just nodded.