Lord Silas Vance's expensive clothing hung crookedly from his body. Dust coated his hair. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow. The grand image of the Lord had been reduced to a trembling old man desperately trying to survive. Silas stumbled backward through the wreckage. His eyes darted wildly around the ruined stage. Searching. Then he saw it. The velvet curtains. A small section of the wall hidden behind them. His escape route. Hope exploded inside him. The tunnel nobody knew about. The tunnel that connected directly to the estate above. If he could reach it... If he could get through that door...He could summon reinforcements. Silas turned and ran. The movement was awkward and desperate. Nothing like the composed nobleman from earlier. His boots slipped on shattered wood. His breathing came in ragged gasps. Behind him, screams continued filling the auction hall. He shoved aside a section of torn curtain. His fingers found the hidden latch built into

Sheets of water crashed against rooftops. Thunder rolled across the night sky. Lord Silas Vance dangled helplessly from Kaelen's grip. The old noble's expensive silk collar was twisted around his throat. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. Three broken ribs shifted painfully with every breath. His face had become pale and clammy. The encounter with the Silence Curse had nearly killed him. Silas coughed weakly. His feet barely touched the floor. Every time he looked into the Deep-Iron mask, fresh terror entered his eyes. The mighty Lord of the Financial District no longer resembled a powerful noble. He looked like a hostage. Kaelen dragged him forward through the collapsing corridors. His movements were calm yet beneath that control, a storm raged. Elara. Every thought returned to her. Every breath. Every step. Every heartbeat. Behind Kaelen, Lyra followed. The silver-haired girl moved carefully through the rubble. Her violet eyes scanned every shadow. Every doorway. Every

The sewer tunnel fell silent. Water rushed through the ancient channels. Drops fell from rusted pipes overhead. Lord Silas Vance remained chained to the thick iron pipe. His body trembled from the aftermath of the Void-drain. Blood stained his expensive clothes. His face had become swollen. His breathing sounded wet. Yet despite everything, he suddenly began to laugh. The sound echoed through the darkness. Lyra immediately frowned. There was something wrong with it. Something unstable. Silas slowly raised his head. Dark blood dripped from his lips. His eyes no longer looked frightened. They looked mad. The noble began coughing. Blood sprayed onto the sewer floor. Then he laughed again. Harder this time. Kaelen stood motionless in the black water. His mask concealed everything. Only his black eye remained visible. Silas's laughter bounced through the tunnel like the cackling of a dying man. "The Sunken Vault." He laughed again. "Oh, this is beautiful." Lyra

Dawn arrived without warmth. Dark clouds smothered the sky above the capital. Cold rain hammered rooftops and stone streets. Thunder rolled somewhere beyond the distant mountains. The entire city seemed wrapped in grey. A fitting morning for what awaited below. Kaelen and Lyra moved through the abandoned outskirts of the old district in silence. This part of the city had been forgotten long ago. Ancient buildings leaned against each other. Broken statues stared blankly through curtains of rain. Weeds pushed through cracked stone roads. Yet beneath those ruins, something dangerous was hidden. The Sunken Vault. Neither spoke as they crossed the final street. The rain soaked their cloaks. Water dripped from Lyra's silver hair. Kaelen walked ahead with steady steps. His mask concealed his face. His iron sword rested across his back. Several knives remained hidden beneath his cloak. Eventually the ancient entrance appeared. It was enormous. Two massive iron gates stoo

The silence after the battle felt heavier than the fighting itself. Cold water rippled around dozens of broken bodies. Blood floated in thin crimson streams across the knee-deep water. The first sector had become a graveyard. Thirty elite Goons. Defeated and crushed. Left floating among the ruins of their failed ambush. Kaelen stood motionless in the center of the destruction. His breathing remained steady. His iron sword dripped blood. The Void remained absent. Lyra cleaned her silver daggers against a fallen guard's cloak. She tried not to stare at Kaelen. But it was difficult. "Are you injured?" she asked quietly. Kaelen glanced down at a shallow cut along his forearm. Nothing serious. Nothing worth mentioning. "No." Lyra sighed. Of course. The answer would always be the same. No matter how much blood covered him. No matter how many bones cracked. No matter how exhausted he became. The answer was always no. Kaelen stepped over a floating body and continued fo