The Escape

The Ossuaries had returned to their grim rhythm—scraping tools, shifting bones, the heavy silence of survival.

Then—

BOOOOM.

A thunderous clap split the air, louder than anything they'd heard before. The entire chamber shook, dust spilling from the high bone arches as lanterns flickered violently.

Moments later, the bone horn blared, its wailing cry reverberating through the stone corridors.

Confused murmurs rippled through the slaves. Then—chaos.

Without hesitation, everyone dropped what they were doing and began scurrying toward the exits in a rush of panicked movement.

Raine turned to Elara, pushing against the current of bodies. "This is strange," he muttered, keeping his voice low. "It's not time for us to be done yet."

Elara's eyes widened—not with fear, but with opportunity.

"Maybe this is perfect for us," she whispered, and without another word, she darted toward the exit, weaving through the crowd like a ghost.

"Wait—Elara!" Raine shouted, reaching for her. His fingers grazed empty air.

She was too fast.

He clenched his jaw and sprinted after her, shoving past shoulders and elbows, ignoring the confused shouts around him. The corridor twisted as they spilled out of the Ossuaries into a side wing lined with rusted doors and flickering lanterns.

Finally, Elara stopped—just in front of one of the doors.

Raine stumbled to a halt behind her, gasping for breath, his hands braced on his knees. "Where the hell are you running to?" he panted.

But then he looked up—and saw her hand on the latch.

Wait... is this her room?

Heat crept up his neck. His blood felt too warm. His face flushed red before he could stop it.

He opened his mouth, but no words came. His thoughts were spinning, tangled and stupid.

Then Elara grabbed his hand.

"Get in here."

Before he could respond, she yanked him inside and slammed the door shut behind them.

Raine stumbled into the room, still catching his breath. The door clicked shut behind him, muffling the chaos outside.

Elara was already moving—dropping to her knees beside the thin, creaky bed and reaching underneath with both hands.

Raine blinked, scanning the room.

It was… normal. Just like his.

Bare walls, cracked stone floor, the same scratchy linen bedroll. For some reason, he had expected something else.

Something softer. Something… cuter.

Then he remembered where they were.

"Got it!" Elara said, her voice bright with quiet triumph. She emerged holding three objects—two bone-carved daggers and a small, smooth device shaped like a black stone orb.

She stood and crossed the room to him, placing one of the daggers gently into his hand.

"Here. Take this," she said. Her voice was steady, but her smile had a softness to it. "Hopefully we won't have to use them… but just in case."

Raine looked down at the weapon. The blade was made of sharpened slave bone, reinforced with spirit iron at the hilt. He held it tight, the weight foreign but not unwelcome in his palm.

Then he glanced at the device in her other hand.

"What's that?" he asked, nodding toward it.

"Oh, this?" she said casually, lifting it between two fingers. "The guard gave it to me. Said to press this when we're ready—it'll alert him."

Raine's heartbeat stuttered.

The guard…

A pulse of anxiety surged through him. His stomach tightened.

"Wait," he began, but Elara's thumb was already hovering over the button.

She pressed it.

A soft click.

Nothing happened.

Raine flinched anyway, his whole body tensing as if it were about to explode in her hands. Cold sweat beaded down his temples.

For a long second, the room was quiet.

"…Now what?" Raine asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Then—

Knock… knock.

Both Raine and Elara froze.

They turned toward the door at the same time, eyes meeting in a shared flicker of uncertainty. No one should have known they were here. Not this fast.

Elara gave Raine a small, steady nod.

Open it.

He swallowed hard. His fingers tightened around the dagger in his hand. Slowly, he stepped toward the door, each step heavier than the last.

His hand hovered over the latch for a breath, then turned it.

The door creaked open, inch by inch.

A familiar face greeted him—tall, silent, wrapped in bone-plated armor.

It was the same guard from earlier. The one who had brought him the note.

Raine stumbled back instinctively, heart hammering in his chest.

He had been a slave for years, and never—not once—had a guard come to him without punishment following. Seeing one this close, unshackled by formality or orders, felt wrong.

The guard stepped inside calmly, then glanced once over his shoulder at the hallway. A few straggling slaves were still making their way to their rooms.

Without a word, he shut the door behind him. 

The guard reached up and removed his helmet.

Raine instinctively tensed—but what he saw wasn't what he expected.

The man's skin was pale, almost luminous in the dim room, smooth and unscarred. Not the weathered face of a brutal enforcer, but something refined—eerily flawless. His striking blue hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place, and his eyes… they were the color of deep ocean water. Calm. Endless. Impossible to read.

"We have to go. Now," the man said. His voice was firm but level, no panic—only purpose. "We won't get another opportunity like this."

"I'm ready," Elara answered immediately, slinging the bag of supplies over her shoulder. Her voice was bold, her stance certain. "Let's go."

But Raine didn't move. His brows pulled tight as he studied the stranger.

"How do we know we can trust you?" he asked, voice low, guarded. "We don't even know your name."

The man looked directly at him. No anger, no offense—just a tired sort of understanding. He let out a slow breath.

"My name is Neo," he said. "And I'm not really a Bone Spur guard."

Raine didn't respond, but his heartbeat quickened.

"I work for a group of rogues out in the Bleeding Frontier," Neo continued. "I was planted here as a spy, meant to gather information. Infiltrate. Report."

His gaze drifted toward the floor for just a second before returning.

"But after seeing what they do here—what they've turned this place into—I couldn't just watch anymore. I've helped others escape. But the window's closing fast. If we wait any longer, we don't leave at all."

Silence settled between them. Elara was already by the door, her hand resting on the handle, waiting.

Raine looked at her, then back at Neo.

Raine tightened his grip around the dagger, then nodded once.

"Alright," he said. "I'll trust you."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Neo's lips. Without another word, he slid the helmet back onto his head. 

"Alright then follow me," he said, "And whatever happens—don't speak to anyone."

The three of them slipped out of the room and into the hallway, moving quickly but silently.

The corridor was empty—eerily so. Only the distant hum of spirit lanterns filled the air, accompanied by the soft thud of their footsteps on cold stone.

As they moved deeper through the sect's inner passageways, the environment began to shift.

The polished walls of the main hall gave way to darker stone, slick with condensation and streaked with reddish stains. The air grew colder, thicker, and carried the faint scent of ash and blood. The lights dimmed, replaced by flickering lanterns hanging on bone hooks, casting long, skeletal shadows that crawled along the walls.

Raine felt his skin prickle.

"This way," Neo muttered under his breath.

They rounded another corner, passed through two rusted gates, and finally came to a heavy iron door. Strange symbols—etched deep into its surface—glowed faintly, like dying embers.

Neo stopped. "There's a waste chute just beyond here," he said, pressing a hand against the door. "We use it to carry out rot and scrap from the inner sanctum. It drops into a gorge outside the walls. It's not pretty—but it'll get us out."

Raine stepped forward, eyes drifting to the strange symbols carved into the metal.

And suddenly—

Ba-thump.

His chest tightened.

Ba-thump.

His heart began to pound harder, faster, as if something inside him was reacting to the runes.

"Raine…"

Elara's voice sounded distant. Muffled.

"Raine?"

He couldn't answer. Could barely hear her.

The symbols pulsed—just once—but it was enough. A strange warmth spread through his chest. His breath hitched. His knees almost buckled.

His eyes were locked on the door, unable to blink, unable to think. Something about those symbols was calling to him.

Then—

A strong hand gripped his shoulder and shook him.

Raine blinked.

Neo was in front of him, face close, visor lifted just enough to show his eyes. "Snap out of it."

Raine stumbled back a step, gasping, the pressure in his chest fading.

"What was that…?" he murmured.

Before Neo could answer—

"HEY!"

A voice rang out behind them.

"What the hell are y'all doing down here?"