Footsteps echoed in the narrow corridor.The torchlight trembled against the stone walls, casting our shadows like lost ghosts hitching a ride with a caravan.
I walked at the very back. Not because I enjoyed the view of people's backs, but because Valmor refused to walk straight and needed to be pushed like a cart full of potatoes.
"Why do we have to go through this tunnel?" asked Miss Panic up front, her voice nearly cracking.
"Because up there, people are slicing each other up for comfy chairs," replied the old noble who'd been telling everyone to stay quiet—but never stopped talking himself.
This tunnel—so they say—was once a secret escape route from ancient times. Legend says it was used by royal concubines trying to flee from responsibility.Now, we're using it to escape a coup.
Me? I was still reflecting on one thing:Why do all the major problems in my life always involve dark tunnels and people who panic too easily?
"Stop." A sharp voice came from the front.
Everyone stopped. The torches stopped moving. The dripping water from the ceiling became the only sound left.
"There's blood," someone whispered.
I peeked between someone's shoulders.There was a red stain on the ground. Fresh. Still wet. Like... a very bad and very illegal tomato soup spill.
"Probably from an earlier injury," one of the guards said.
Or maybe… not.Because fifteen steps later, we found a shoe. Just one. Belonging to one of the survivors.And its owner? Nowhere to be seen—unless you want to count that red smear on the wall as an abstract representation of a human body.
"So we're being followed?" someone whispered.
I raised a hand. "If I were you, I'd save that question for later. Preferably after we confirm who still has their head attached."
The tension climbed. Someone lit more torches. The tunnel started to feel hotter.Valmor sneezed. Two people flinched and almost stabbed each other.I decided to start singing a song in my head for mental health. My favorite song right now? Anything without screaming.
After a few more minutes, we reached a fork in the tunnel.One path led left. The other right.
"Split into two groups," said the guard.
I immediately protested, "Wait. This isn't a horror movie. Why are we splitting up?"
"Because if someone's a traitor, it'll be easier to catch them."
…Terrible logic. But honestly, that's classic behavior in a leadership system that loves bribery and blames subordinates when earthquakes hit.
In the end, my group had five people: me, Valmor (who only counts because of his size), two guards, and one noble who looked a bit too calm the whole time.
We went right. Quiet. Silent. Still.
Until suddenly, the lights went out.
Not the torches. But like... the air itself got sucked out of the tunnel.Total darkness. My breath felt heavy.Valmor squirmed and muttered:
"There's something here. And not the kind you can chase away with kitchen spices."
Then… screaming. From the other group. Panic. Shouting. Running.
I pressed against the wall and gripped a stone.If this was a traitor, I hoped they were ready to regret it.
Suddenly, light appeared. From behind the wall.
Someone opened a hidden passage.A woman in a cloak stepped out. Her face was unfamiliar. But the symbol on her cloak was unmistakable: the old insignia of Astralis.
She looked at me. Then smiled.
"Those who do not choose," she said,"often end up witnesses to history.""But sometimes… witnesses can change it."
I stared.
Valmor:"Oh great. This must be the plot twist part."