NERU.

  The grinding noise stopped. Dust hung in the air, thick and silver in the falling moonlight. It drifted aside like a veil of snow as Elios stepped out of the darkness. Close behind him, Neru followed.

  The stone beneath her boots felt colder here, from either scouring winds or the absence of humans.

  “The wind grows crueler up here. Can you handle it?” Neru asked, her gaze drifting toward the corridor windows, where the world beyond thinned into a haze, distant line.

  “I’m fine enough.”

  Elios answered as he walked, without looking back.

  He had insisted on moving unaided, though she had offered her shoulder. Something in him had shifted since the battle below. He had always been a man of quiet depths, true—but now, in those eyes, there also lingered an unnamed heaviness.

  Pity, perhaps. Did he feel uneasy about that Warden's fate? Warrior to warrior?

  “I meant our plan,” she pressed, her voice lowering. “You said too great a height would be dangerous and unpredictable. Can you really manage it?”

  Elios slowed his pace slightly, though each step remained firm.

  “I have to. No matter what.”

  He muttered something under his breath before continuing.

  “Also, I’ve made a rough estimate. Each Level of the Tower is about two hundred strides high. We’re at Level Nine. More risks, but we gain about two or three breaths to react if something goes wrong.”

  Then he pointed ahead, a flicker of hope lighting his eyes. “Once we reach the end of this corridor, there’s an ideal departure point. Come and see.”

  He did not explain further, but Neru already had a suspicion. Her heart quickened, and without realizing it, so did her steps...

  Of course.

  “The legendary Star Gate?” she blurted.

  Before them stretched a vast observation platform. An ancient terrace, at least fifty strides long, jutted out from the Tower’s stark vertical mass like the branch of a colossal tree. At the threshold between the Tower’s interior and the open sky stood a grand platinum archway, its surface carved with intricate patterns—faint shapes of the sun, the moon, and unfamiliar constellations etched into its pale metal.

  The moment they stepped past the arch, the wind howled. It roared across the platform like a living beast, shaking the air itself, as though an invisible veil separated two different worlds.

  “I thought it would be at the very top of the Tower,” Neru said in astonishment. When she was a child, hearing only poems and lullabies from her nursemaid, she had dreamed of standing here—shouting to the heavens that the world lay beneath her feet.

  “The conditions up there would kill a man in seconds,” Elios shouted back, dropping to one knee as the gale tore at his cloak. “No one could stand outside like this.”

  Neru was not frightened. She sank into a firm stance, rooting herself against the storm like a stone pillar.

  “A shame we don’t have the time,” she said with a wistful smile. “A night here—sword dancing, stargazing, with a bottle of snowmountain wine. That would be something to remember for a lifetime.”

  “Survive first, then,” Elios called out, grabbing her arm and pointing outward. “Back on Level Four, the wind was blowing south, wasn't it? Looks like it still is. Let’s hope it doesn’t change. That spot over there should be the best.”

  She followed his gaze.

  A jagged outcrop of stone extended farthest from the platform, even beyond the protective railing. Its edges had long since been smoothed by countless seasons of wind and frost. Not even moss survived.

  The gale once more swallowed every sound with its whip. Elios pulled her back inside the Tower, and only then did his voice become clear again.

  “That arch isn’t just decoration,” he said, gesturing toward the magnificent structure. “Those carvings track the movement of the stars. When a star passes through a specific groove in the arch, they know the exact moment of its passage. From that, they measure direction and time precisely."

  He paused briefly. "They even divided time into units smaller than a single blink.”

  “Interesting,” Neru said, her brows knitting slightly. “But why tell me all this now?”

  She did not laugh. If anything, she grew more focused. Elios was not the sort of man who flaunted knowledge for its own sake.

  “Because what we’re about to do depends heavily on time,” he said. “It needs to be exact and consistent. Counting by heartbeats or breaths would be far too crude.”

  His gaze sharpened.

  “I need you to learn this—and learn it quickly.”

  Without further preamble, Elios began briefly explaining the measures: the hour, the minute, even the second. He pointed to the arch, describing the true span each unit marked along its carvings, and how a person could estimate them without relying on pulse or breath.

  “And the best way,” Elios finished, “is to feel it for yourself.”

  He fell silent and waited.

  Given the circumstances, Neru abandoned the larger measure of the hour and focused only on seconds and minutes. Even she was surprised by how quickly her mind adapted. She had never even heard of such units of time before, yet now she could run a simple folk rhyme through her head, marking each beat with silent counts.

  A 'second' was easy enough.

  But larger spans—ten seconds, thirty seconds, a full minute—began to drift slightly from the marks carved into the arch up there.

  Then she remembered the inner force training her father had once taught her. The principle, he had said, was simple: Close the door to the world, let the mind become clear as a mirror, still as water.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She tried it.

  And strangely, it worked.

  Each passing second fell into place with flawless certainty, measured in her mind as evenly as bricks laid in a wall.

  Elios caught her hand, a rare spark of delight in his eyes.

  “Excellent. Even closer than mine.”

  Neru gave a faint, awkward smile and gently withdrew her hand. “That kind of absolute precision requires complete focus. I can’t fight or do anything else while counting like that.”

  Elios showed no disappointment.

  “That’s fine,” he said calmly. “We only need it leaving its mark in your mind. It will serve its purpose soon enough.”

  Another horn split the night—long, urgent, closer than before.

  “I’ll explain more when we have the luxury of breath,” he added. “For now, let's gather what we need.”

  Neru did not argue.

  To save time, they split up. Neru took the northern corridor, while Elios headed southwest along the row of training halls and equipment testing labs. He fixed the limit at five minutes—no matter what they found, or failed to find, they were to return here when the time was up.

  As she moved, the reddish-brown amulet proved far more useful than she had expected. At times it behaved like a key. At others, when placed in the right spot, it revealed the paths ahead like a map. A strange and remarkable device.

  Yet it was also the amulet that revealed something else. From a neighboring ascension pillar, she sensed movement.

  Someone was traveling through it.

  Leaving? No. Elios had been clear—at night, no one should be on this level.

  Then who was coming here?

  For a brief moment, Neru considered turning back to find Elios and warn him. But after counting the time in her head, she abandoned the thought. Only two minutes had passed. By now, he would not even have returned to Star Gate.

  What should I do?

  Act on instinct? Risk disrupting the plan?

  Then she drew a slow breath to steady herself.

  What was wrong with her tonight? She had always been decisive, accustomed to acting alone. Yet now she found herself hesitating, almost… relying on someone else.

  The thought annoyed her.

  With a firm motion, she pushed the door open and slipped into the chamber of the ascension pillar. The great stone doors were still sealed, but the rumbling of the rising platform echoed upward from the shaft below—stone grinding against ancient pillars—growing louder, closer… Until it slowed.

  A long hiss followed. The heavy doors began to part.

  Neru flattened herself against the wall beside the entrance, holding her breath.

  Three minutes passed. Two left.

  She could probably handle this herself.

  Seconds crawled by. And…

  Nothing happened.

  The doors stood open, yet nobody stepped out.

  Slowly, cautiously, Neru eased from her hiding place and glanced inside.

  Not a single soul.

  Had the ascension pillar malfunctioned? She stepped forward, mind racing.

  Three minutes and fifteen seconds.

  Should I return?

  No. Leaving the platform here was not safe. If someone sharp-eyed noticed that two ascension pillars had both stopped at Level Nine, it would raise far too many questions.

  Neru drew a deep breath, then stepped inside and crouched down at the edge of the stone platform.

  This ascension pillar was wider than the one they had used on Level One, though slightly smaller than the platform on Level Five where their brutal fight had taken place. Seven demilune stone columns curved tightly around the green platform, and at its center a great rune blazed faintly—carved in the shape of the word “Fyre.”

  She leaned forward and caressing the shimmering lines of the rune, thinking.

  According to Elios, anything from Level Ten upward required higher clearance to access. If that was true, then such a command would override those beneath it. Anyone calling the platform from Level One… Level Five… would not be able to summon it while it remained stationed at Level Ten, not until whoever used it had stepped off.

  If that was the case…

  Neru tightened her grip around the reddish-brown amulet. This level of authority is high enough, isn't it?

  She lowered her gaze and began tracing circles with her finger across the stone. She had watched Elios perform the motion several times already and understood the basics well enough.

  Her muscles tensed, power channeling into her legs as she calculated.

  Once the command was complete, she would have just over half a second to leave before the platform began to move—the delay she had noticed earlier. The ascent was slower than the descent, and factoring in the moment it would take for the stone doors to close, she would gain another second.

  One and a half seconds.

  One and a half seconds to launch herself out of the platform before it rose.

  More than enough.

  Her finger moved faster and faster across the stone, completing more than half of the pattern—then suddenly… it slowed.

  And stopped.

  Neru withdrew her hand, rose to her feet, and gave a faint, joyless smile.

  “Do you always have the habit of biting someone from the shadows while they’re drawing a command?”

  A cold laugh echoed from the darkness beyond the jagged stone pillars.

  “Uhadi, I told you to keep your killing intent in check.”

  Another voice answered from a pillar opposite.

  “Wasn’t me. That was Ziru.”

  A man crawled out from beneath the platform, slithering forward like a cockroach, grinning.

  “Can’t blame me. Her body was so inviting. How was I supposed to resist?”

  A fourth voice sounded from behind the pillar closest to Neru.

  “Ziru, you sick bastard. Fix that habit or I’ll kick you out.”

  But the final voice was the one that made her spine turn cold.

  “Enough.”

  A shadow dropped from high above, sliding down from the rafters.

  That one—she had not sensed at all.

  Five figures stepped into view. All wore the same Warden uniforms as the ones from before, and each carried a weapon. They formed a circle around her, denying her of any exit.

  How troublesome.

  Neru muttered through clenched teeth. Three minutes and fifty seconds had already passed.

  The man who seemed to be their leader studied her with careful eyes.

  “Night-patrol uniform. But too many things don’t match.” he flicked a hand. “Take her.”

  The Warden nearest to her pulled out a three-headed flail, its flanged heads shaped like wolves’ maws. His mouth cracked a smirk as he closed in.

  “I knew something had to be wrong up here. No ascension platform would stay that long on Level Nine at this hour.”

  Neru straightened, feigning calm confidence. Her hands folded behind her back as she lifted her chin.

  “Insolent. Don’t you know who I am?”

  “Whoever you are, you have no right to be here tonight.” Another Warden spoke, his sword unsheathed.

  She raised a hand. The amulet glinted between her fingers.

  “Actually, I do. I’m an aide to Elder Lynkhahn, here under his orders. With everything strange happening tonight, I should be the one asking questions. What are you doing sneaking up to Level Nine?”

  Four minutes.

  A few of the wardens hesitated at that, uncertainty flashing across their faces. Their leader did not.

  He only gave a thin, cold smile.

  “Even if Lynkhahn himself were standing here, with how serious tonight is, he’d still have to come with us and give an explanation.”

  Damn it. She had expected as much. Still, it had been worth trying

  Neru slipped the amulet back around her neck.

  “So you refuse to believe me?” she said lightly, though her hand had already closed around the knife and the length of cord.

  The man shook his head.

  “No more talk. Come with us and cooperate with the investigation. Everything will become clear.”

  “You don’t have the authority to give me that order,” Neru replied evenly.

  “I’ll ask once more.” His voice hardened. “Will you come quietly?”

  Four minutes, twenty seconds.

  Her eyes sunk.

  The Warden Zuri hissed, licking his lips.

  “Oh, girl. I can’t wait to see you in the Mud Cells. The questioning will be delightful. So many delicate things to break. But your mind—oh, I’ll save that for last.”

  "Goddamn it, Ziru," another Warden shouted. "Don't soil our names, you filthy dog."

  "Fuck you, Lalcen," Ziru barked. "I know you'll do just the same, so don't pretend to be better."

  They were bantering. Fooling around, as if she was not even there. And their leader didn't interfere this time.

  They thought they had it easy.

  Maybe they did.

  Five Wardens. One of them—almost certainly as strong as she was, if not stronger.

  What were the odds?

  Neru slowly sat down, drew a deep breath, closed her eyes and let herself sink into perfect stillness. Four minutes, twenty-five seconds.

  What would Father do?

  Fight like a warrior, to the bitter end.

  How would a man like Viltar solve this?

  Strike a deal they could not refuse.

  And Elios?

  An image flashed through her mind—Elios, broken and exhausted, yet somehow bringing down the mighty Talgan with a near-suicidal gambit.

  When she opened her eyes again, they burned with a mix of madness and cold excitement.

  She smiled.

  “Come quietly, you said? How about we all go with thunder.”

  As she spoke, her finger resumed tracing the unfinished pattern across the stone. Not the command for Level Ten, this time.

  Another command. The one Elios had warned her about.

  The captain seemed to recognize it. His mouth opened, but the realization was too sudden for words.

  “You—”

  Four minutes, thirty seconds.

  The sequence finished.