The Blood they couldn't bury

The earth shook again beneath her feet.

Zora didn't hesitate. She bolted forward, boots slamming against cracked stone and rusted debris as Vektar moved beside her in perfect sync. The Hall of Origins crumbled behind them, pillars toppling, metal groaning as if the kingdom itself was protesting her return.

"Left!" Vektar shouted, scanning with his mechanical eye. "Drone cluster incoming from the east!"

"I don't care where they're coming from, just get me out of this death trap!" Zora yelled back, ducking under a collapsed beam.

The two darted through the collapsing ruin, Zora's breath sharp and fast. Her legs burned,half-machine, half-muscle, but her body was finally responding. The glitching from earlier had settled… for now.

Vektar slid to a stop ahead and reached down, pulling open a rusted hatch buried beneath a shattered statue. "Through here!"

Zora dove into the hatch without question, landing on a grated slope and sliding down into a long-forgotten tunnel. The air was warm and metallic, scented with oil and ash. She hit the ground hard but rolled up smoothly, surprised at her own agility.

"Well," she muttered. "That was… surprisingly badass."

Vektar landed behind her with a solid thud. "You're adapting. Faster than expected."

She brushed a gear fragment off her shoulder. "Yeah, well. It's either adapt or explode."

The tunnel led them up through a craggy hillside littered with twisted machines and the charred bones of what once might've been towers. When they emerged onto the ridgeline, Zora finally saw it.

Songrin.

But not her Songrin.

Below the hill, the once-magnificent capital city stretched out like a graveyard. The skyline was jagged and broken. Smoke trailed from dozens of factory towers. Drones glided overhead like vultures. Giant mechanical walkers stomped through the streets, herding lines of civilians in chains.

Zora's breath caught.

"They enslaved it…" she whispered. "They turned our city into a machine for suffering."

Vektar stepped beside her, quiet. "This is the cost of silence. Seven years of unchecked rule. Horam controls the sectors, the food, the surveillance grid. But here… here you'll find people who haven't given up. Who are still waiting."

"Waiting for what?" she asked bitterly. "A miracle? A girl in pieces who can't even run without glitching?"

"They're waiting for blood," Vektar said softly. "Royal blood. And that means you."

Zora didn't answer. Her gaze stayed on the city as wind whipped her hair back.

Finally, Vektar pointed toward a smog-filled district near the city's edge.

"There," he said. "Lower Sector Five. I know people there, Mechan dissidents, outcasts, the ones who refused to serve Horam. It's not safe, but it's quiet. You can lay low. Train. Learn your body."

She turned to him slowly, eyes narrowing.

"You sure that's all you want from me?"

Vektar blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean my mother's voice rang in my skull like a damn warning bell. Said not to trust you." Her tone was calm, but her words carried steel. "So... tell me, Vektar. Are you planning to turn me in?"

"No."

"Planning to control me? Reprogram me?"

"No."

"Then say it," she challenged, stepping closer. "Say you have no intention of betraying me."

He didn't blink. "I have no intention of betraying you."

Zora studied him for a moment longer, searching for cracks in his composure.

"Fine," she said. "But don't expect me to stop watching you."

"That," he said, "would be wise."

She turned away before he could say more, her boots crunching on broken stone.

They descended toward the outer ruins in silence, their path weaving between decayed metal trees and half-toppled statues of past rulers. Vektar began outlining the plan... secure a safehouse, meet with a rebel mechanic named Senn, and gather intel on Horam's new chain of command.

Zora only half-listened. Her mind kept replaying the voice. Her mother's voice. Whispering warnings no one else could hear.

She didn't know what was real anymore but she did know her gut. And her gut said: Stay sharp. Don't sleep on trust.

"So," she said, breaking the tension with a smirk, "any chance this rebel safehouse has a real bed and not just a metal slab that smells like armpits?"

"If it does," Vektar said, "we'll both be shocked."

"Oh joy," she muttered. "A rebel sleepover. All I'm missing is nail polish and unresolved trauma."

He gave a small, brief nod that might've been a chuckle.

They turned a corner and stopped dead.

Something was there.

A tall, armored figure stood in the middle of the rubble-strewn road ahead. Its frame gleamed obsidian-black, sleek and silent. A glowing red optic blinked from behind its helmet. Across its chest, etched deep into the metal, was the royal symbol of Songrin.

Zora's blood ran cold.

"Dromain," Vektar whispered. "One of the Hunters. Advanced tracking unit. It shouldn't be this far out."

The figure stepped forward. Its voice was smooth, almost human, but tinted with distortion.

"Princess Zora," it said.

She tensed. "It knows my name."

"It knows more than that," Vektar said, stepping forward.

The Hunter's scanner pulsed as it locked onto her. Symbols danced across its chest display. Zora could see the text:

Subject: Zora Aiden.

Classification: Unknown Asset.

Threat Level: Processing...

DNA Match: 100%.

Bloodline Confirmed.

It raised a weapon, the barrel glowing red. Zora reached for her blade.

But it didn't fire.

Instead, it stared for a long moment. Then it slowly lowered the weapon and tilted its head.

"Your blood survives," it said. "I know your blood."

And then, with a shimmer of light, the Hunter disappeared into stealth mode and was gone.

Zora stood frozen.

"They're not just hunting me," she said quietly. "They're recognizing me."

She turned to Vektar with a slow, growing smile.

"Good," she whispered. "That means Songrin hasn't forgotten me."