Novels by ZHAO R

Jovan scrambled down the vertical maintenance shaft, his lungs burning from the exertion and the stifling, metallic air. Below him, Grum moved with an eerie, liquid grace, his paws making no sound as they connected with the slick rungs of the ladder. Every time Jovan slipped, his boots scraping loudly against the rusted iron, Grum would pause, his amber eyes glowing in the gloom like dying coals, waiting patiently."Easy, human," Grum rumbled, the sound vibrating through the shaft, a low-frequency hum that seemed to settle in Jovan’s very marrow. "The path is treacherous for those with such fragile bone."Jovan wiped sweat from his eyes, his breath hitching as he looked down into the seemingly bottomless abyss beneath them. "I’m moving as fast as I can, Grum. Just... give me a second to catch my breath. My legs feel like lead."Grum let out a soft, clicking chortle that might have passed for amusement. "Your kind tires quickly. You spend too much time walking on flat, dead stone. Down

The damp air of the filtration chamber felt heavy, vibrating with the latent power of the ancient city. Elena’s hand hovered over the burlap sack, her knuckles pale against the darkness. Jovan stood perfectly still, forcing his breathing to remain shallow."Go on then," Jovan said, keeping his voice light, almost mocking. "It’s not like it’s going to bite you, El. Unless you’re afraid of dried fish and grain."Elena didn't blink. She peeled back the edge of the burlap with a single, sharp motion. Inside, nestled beneath a layer of stale, slightly damp bread, were several small, vacuum-sealed pouches of common, pungent cat feed—the kind used by the slum-dwellers to keep the vermin population somewhat managed.She stared at the contents for a long, heavy moment. The faint, fishy odor wafted up, blending with the metallic tang of the tunnel."Cat food?" Elena asked, her voice flat, devoid of any inflection.Jovan shrugged, feigning a look of sheepish annoyance. "It’s for the strays. The

The heavy iron grate clanged shut, the sound ringing through the damp tunnel like a funeral bell. Jovan didn't stop. He scrambled down the slick, moss-covered ladder, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. His hands were still trembling from the narrow escape.He reached the bottom of the ladder and stood in the darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. This was the deepest he had ever come while carrying a haul. He looked down at the heavy, reinforced sack of provisions he had dragged from Garrick’s."Just a little further," he muttered to himself, his voice sounding small against the distant, rhythmic thrum of the city’s hidden heart. "Just get it to the drop-point, and you’re clear."He moved forward, his boots squelching in the shallow runoff. The air here was thicker, tasting of ozone and ancient, damp earth. He rounded a bend in the conduit, the narrow beams of his hidden lantern cutting through the gloom.He didn't make it five steps further."I knew you were a fool, Jovan.

The damp morning mist of Oakhaven clung to Jovan’s cloak like a second, heavier skin. He didn't look up as he navigated the crowded thoroughfare of the Low Market. Above him, the soot-stained rafters of the district groaned under the weight of the city’s endless, grinding industry. He kept his head down, his pulse steady, his mind a fortress of practiced indifference.He wasn't Jovan the scavenger today. He was just another face in the gray sea of laborers, his shoulders hunched, his hands deep in his pockets.He reached the threshold of Garrick’s Goods, a cramped stall that smelled perpetually of damp salt and cheap spices. He leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers in a rhythmic, casual pattern."Morning, Garrick," Jovan muttered, his voice raspy and bored. "Market’s slow today, huh?"Garrick, a man whose face looked like a topographical map of bad decisions, didn't look up from his ledger. "It’s the patrols, kid. Ever since the Inquisition started their ‘clean-up’ mandate,

The silence following Elena’s departure left the room feeling smaller, the air stagnant with the scent of her expensive, ozone-tinged perfume. Jovan stood motionless, the glowing map clutched in his hand. He wasn't entirely sure why she had really come. Was it a genuine warning from a childhood friend, or was she probing to see if he would crack?He shoved the map back under the floorboard and paced the narrow room. His heart was still doing that strange, rhythmic thumping—a echo of the subterranean pulse he had felt in the dark.He didn't have time to brood. A soft, familiar scratching sounded at his door.Jovan pulled the bolt back, his guard instantly slipping into a practiced mask of nonchalance."I thought you left," Jovan said, leaning against the doorframe, trying to act as though he hadn't just been holding the key to the city’s destruction.Elena stood in the dim corridor, her hand resting on the hilt of a thin, concealed blade beneath her coat. She looked at him with an expr

The trek back to the surface had been a grueling dance through steam vents and rusted conduits, but Jovan had made it. His skin was caked in a cocktail of grime, iron dust, and the lingering damp of the deep tunnels. When he finally hauled himself through the hatch into his cramped, attic-like room, the silence of his living space felt alien.His heart was still hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against his ribs. He locked the door, slid the heavy bolt home, and slumped against the wood."Safe," he wheezed, the word tasting like copper. "For now."He didn't waste time catching his breath. His hands, still stained with the dark residue of the under-city, moved with a feverish intensity as he reached into his satchel. He pulled out the bundle the troll leader had given him. He cleared his small, scarred wooden table of its sparse collection of junk—a cracked cup, a rusted bolt, a stack of unpaid dunning notices—and laid the parchment flat.As he unfolded the hide, the golden ink pulsed