Revival Of Stars

13 | In The Southern Mountains...

CHAPTER 13
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It was all just one big labyrinth—the sewer. Tunnel after tunnel, the three followed the old lady as she trekked through the sewage water that trailed under their feet.

An occasional water dripped onto Oran's hair, which earned an unsatisfied look on his face. Etta—who leaned against Oran—found herself in great anguish, but held in her groans, only scrunching her face as the burn continued to sizzle. And lastly, it was Lance that added on to the unnerving atmosphere of the whole situation. He only walked, trailing after the old lady with a flinty expression; his shoulders were tense and his eyes were squinting in the dark, the white glow in them slowly, slowly withering away.

He was calming himself. Making the bad man go away—he had said as a child.

Nevertheless, they continued to trudge on. But as time went by, they noticed that the old lady never once looked back to check on them. She only headed in whatever direction, her footsteps confident, seeming as if she had done this many times before. An easygoing attitude emitted off of her, for she didn't look scared or alarmed in any way. However she did make sure to walk with heavy footsteps and murmur from time to time so that the three could easily locate her. Odd, but helpful. None of them questioned it; for now, they considered her a savior.

After some time, though, it was obvious Oran was becoming curious. "Where are you taking us?" His words echoed throughout the tunnel.

The old lady didn't answer immediately. For a minute, her footfalls against the sewage puddles were the only sound. Until finally, her accented voice reverberated throughout the sewer. "Someplace safe."

Then she never spoke again for the rest of the walk.

It was squalid—everything in this situation. The bead of sweat trickling down all of their necks; the humidity of the dark tunnel; the occasional rodent that'd scurry past their feet; the bugs that'd pitter patter against the wall, right by their ears; and the rush of adrenaline as they escaped from the guards. It was bizarre and unnerving. If someone had told all three of them months ago that they'd be roaming underground, trudging through sewage water with an old lady—they probably would've laughed in horror.

After what felt like an eternity, the three finally came to a screeching halt as Lance had accidentally bumped into the old lady. She was still.

"What's going on?" Oran asked.

Moving towards the side, the old lady grasped for something in the darkness. A second later, they all heard a metal rattle.

"It's an easy climb," the old lady said. And the familiar feeling of her presence in front of them disappeared. Another sound of metal shifting could be heard. "Watch your step; don't slip and fall."

Oran groped in the darkness, in the direction where her voice was. After a moment, his fingers touched an iron bar—a cold, molding bar. Then he lifted his hand and felt another one.

"It's a ladder," he said before shifting and maneuvering Etta in front of him. "Can you climb by yourself?"

She gave a strained and awkward laugh. "I got it." Then with her hand and elbow, she climbed slowly.

Before Oran could look towards Lance, a flood of light poured into the space. At first, it was overwhelmingly bright. Then they all realized how gray it was—as if the sun had turned ghastly pale. Shortly afterwards, a waft of white fog crawled down the ladder and everywhere around them. Oran and Lance looked up and saw that the old lady was now staring at them through an opening in the ceiling, with a large iron lid clasped tightly in her hand. As soon as Etta had reached her, she helped her out.