The basement was a tomb of forgotten utilities, smelling of rusted iron, damp cardboard, and the lingering, metallic scent of ozone that seemed to cling to Arveth’s very skin. Linaya sat on a crate, her breath still coming in short, sharp hitches, her hand pressed against the jagged tear in her tactical vest where a piece of rebar had grazed her ribs during their desperate scramble. Tessa stood by the narrow, high-placed window, casting a nervous glance toward the street level, where the occasional, muted rumble of passing vehicles suggested the city above was still oblivious to the rot beneath its foundations.Arveth, however, was in a world of his own. He huddled in the corner, his back pressed against the weeping concrete wall. His breathing was erratic, and every time he moved, the amber veins beneath the translucent skin of his forearms flared with a sickening, rhythmic pulse. He looked like a creature caught between two states of being—part man, part something else entirely, som