Crimson Bonds

The Descent

The darkness swallows us whole as we descend into the underground. The air grows colder with each step, thick and musty, as if no one has ventured down here in years. My footsteps echo in the cramped space, blending with the faint dripping of water somewhere far below. I grip the railing tightly, focusing on the feel of the cold metal under my fingers to keep myself grounded.

Dante leads the way, his movements sure and purposeful, while Lila keeps close behind me. I can feel her presence, steady and protective, though I don't turn around. Nikolai is bringing up the rear, his footsteps light and unbothered despite everything we've just been through.

I don't know how far down we go—my sense of time and space is warped in the oppressive dark—but eventually, the stairs level out into a long, narrow corridor. The walls are made of old stone, cracked and worn from age, and the air smells faintly of damp earth.

Dante stops in front of an iron door, nearly hidden in the shadow of the stone. He pulls out a key from his coat and unlocks it, the door creaking open with a groan that echoes down the corridor.

"This is it," Dante says, stepping aside to let me in first.

I hesitate, staring into the black void beyond the door. "How long are we staying down here?" I ask, my voice trembling despite myself.

"As long as it takes," Dante replies. His tone is calm, but the look in his eyes tells me that this isn't a short-term solution. "The rogues won't find us here. It's safe."

Safe. That word again. I keep hearing it, but I'm not sure I believe it anymore. Not after everything I've seen tonight.

I take a deep breath and step inside.

The room beyond the door is dimly lit by a few flickering lanterns, their warm glow barely cutting through the gloom. The space is small but functional—a few chairs, a table, and shelves lining the walls, stocked with supplies. It's not much, but it feels solid, secure. Like a bunker.

Like a cage. I shiver at the thought.

Lila walks in behind me, moving silently as she sets her bag down on the table. Nikolai slips in last, shutting the door behind him with a loud clank. For a moment, the silence is deafening, the weight of everything hanging in the air. It's the kind of stillness that feels both comforting and suffocating at the same time.

After everything we've been through—running, hiding, fighting—I finally have a moment to breathe, to take in the people I've been thrown into this strange new world with. I lean against the wall, my fingers gripping the edge of a table, and I look at them. Really look at them.

Lila perches on a chair, bathed in the yellow lights of the bulbs above her. Her red hair glows like molten copper, the strands shifting as she absentmindedly twirls a lock between her fingers. She's beautiful in a way that almost feels unnatural, her features too perfect, too sharp. Her green eyes catch the light, and even though she's looking off into the distance, I can tell she's still paying attention to everything happening in the room. There's something calculating in the way she moves, like she's always two steps ahead of everyone. But there's grace too, an effortless elegance that makes you forget how lethal she really is.

Nikolai is leaning against the far wall, his wild eyes tracking every movement Lila makes. His gaze is always restless, like he's waiting for the next disaster to strike. There's something dangerous about him—something unpredictable. His dark hair is a mess and his grin flickers in and out like he's amused by some private joke the rest of us aren't in on. But beneath that playful exterior, I see it now—the sharpness, the hunger. It's always there, just beneath the surface, reminding me that for all his teasing, he's a predator. But there's something else about him too- something I can't put my finger on.