Stradling the sides of the hill were the command offices and quarters of the officers of the Sangoran Syndicate. Not much more sanitary than the rest, though shit did tend to roll downhill. The tents were as patched up as the next one, but there was an air about the place she wasn’t too comfortable with. Perhaps it was the ruthlessness she knew resided here. Perhaps it was just the dank scent of nutmeg and sulfur lingering in the air.

Dark red and tall, the grandest of them all rose amid four medium-sized tents crowding it to the north and west. Even with the patchwork of wood and metal, the craftmanship was evident to the keen eye. The roof split into three points, lending an elegance to an otherwise inelegant place. It was the only color that still seemed as fresh as the day it’d been put up and it appeared unnaturally clean, untouched by the black dust and ash that coated the rest of the base. There was no mistaking who it belonged to. Sturdier than anything else, the general’s quarters were meant to outlast its surroundings. 

As El approached the main entrance, a broad wooden frame with double doors bolted into it, she couldn’t help but wonder which mood the general would be in at this hour.

"You have done nothing wrong," she told herself firmly. "You are here, well within the deadline."

"At the cusp of it at least," came the sarcastic retort.

“Can you be quiet?” she snapped out loud before slapping a hand to her mouth, holding her breath.

There was no movement. No one seemed to have taken notice. Relieved, she tapped her fingertips together in a repeating pattern until her heartbeat was under control. That was when she heard it. Loud voices stayed her hand when she reached out to rap on the door, followed by a shriek and a heavy thud.

“Mercy! Mercy, please!”

That voice. El recognized it anywhere. It belonged to an illevian colonel who arrived with the second wave. An engineer heralding from a long line of engineer-supremes. And the very man who had hired that boy to give her the commission. She leaned in further, her breath bouncing back on the wood of the door.

“I dislike laziness, colonel.” Alexandre Kollisi was adept at making even the slightest whisper sound like a roar. “You have been given more chances than you deserve.”

She could hear slow footsteps and a sound she could not identify. It scared the colonel though.

“Please, I'll do anything. Anything!”

“Anything is so boring, Boll,” Kollisi said and there was another yelp from Boll. “I gave you a very simple task. And yet you failed.”

“No! No! Not me! The girl! I told you she is bad news! She is trying to betray you. Drumming up a resistance right under your nose. I bet she’s given you bad materials. I told you she can’t be trusted, and this is my proof. I sent her that message two full days ago and I heard from the messenger she took that commission and went straight to that druid Hana.”

“Boll!” El growled as she pushed the door open with such force it banged on its hinges and swung back with the sound of a whip crack. "You egotistical, coat-turning, lying sack of shit!" Her cheeks were hot, but not as hot as the rage inside her. Yes. Yes, she was a spy. Yes, she was going to betray them. No, this was not the way she was going to do it. Ignis, it was too crude, too unrefined. The audacity of that man to even suggest it set her blood boiling.

The air inside was stuffy and reeked of booze and something distinctly metallic. Maroon tapestries tainted with gold draped the room and gave a claustrophobic sense of doom. Tables and chairs had been carefully placed along the edges, waiting to be used, with parchments displaying maps covering the walls. Kollisi was standing over the rotund man crouched on the floor, covered in sweat, dirt, and blood with a large gash across his forearm that he was cradling to his chest. The supreme general himself looked as if he had just taken a brisk walk.

She ground her teeth and set the transistor down on the table next to a box of other pieces of disjointed machinery Kollisi had ordered in the last few months. For good measure, she made sure the tiny thing made a loud clank.

“El, what a lovely pleasure. We were just talking about you.” Kollisi said, deciding whether to be amused or annoyed.

“Yes, this one was rather loud about it,” she snapped.

His lips tightened into a line. “That he was. Never mind. You must understand my conundrum, my dear. When I ask for such a simple favor, I expect it to be carried out with haste. I so hate waiting.”

“Choose your messengers yourself then,” she said with a slight sangoran drawl, biting off a more inappropriate remark. “The colonel here apparently did not find one until yesterday, and that scrawny thing didn’t even make the delivery till three hours past.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

They stared at each other, waiting for the other to blink first. Looks that took in everything and revealed nothing. The gaze bore into hers with all the might of a man with absolute power. Fickle without a flicker. She braced herself against the onslaught that didn’t come. Chuckling, the general gestured for the poor colonel to get out. Which he did. As if they had set his ass on fire, chased by the hounds of hell. Kollisi turned his head ever so slightly.

“Colonel.”

Boll stopped dead in his tracks, halfway out the door, every inch of him trembling. “Yes, sir?”

“Time to earn your stripes. You know what to do.”

Boll gave a curt nod and fled. Time seemed to move excruciatingly slow as El took in the implications of that order. Questions roared through her mind. What? Where? When? No matter the answer, it was nothing good. Of that, one could at least be certain. The general, seemingly unmoved by the recent events, sauntered over to a cupboard and retrieved a pair of glasses, pouring Varuvian moonshine into both.

“Have you tried this? It is to die for,” he said, his tone seductive.

Moving away, he indicated the filled glass next to him. Hesitating only for a second, she took it and drank. It was vile. “I think some have,” she choked.

She coughed and took another sip while her mind raced with a thousand thoughts. It did not improve, but it killed the taste buds and calmed her nerves.

He laughed and raised his glass, downing the liquid without a flinch. “You have a sharp tongue.”

She shrugged. “Gotta make a living.”

“In this shithole? Someone like you would be better off, well, anywhere else really,” he said, pouring himself another healthy round of the unhealthy drink.

“Anywhere else is not here. It may be hell, it might be barely fit for living, but it is something.”

He paused, a slight crease in his brow. “And why is that?”

Vile as it was, the liquid burned a lovely burn down her throat, filling her chest with warmth and setting her ears buzzing. For a second her vision swam before it focused once more, and there was a small voice in the back of her mind that told her to bite her tongue, lie, and back away. Neither of those things happened.

“I know a damn sight more than any of youse in the inner circle believe,” she said and added, “Sir. Where else would I go, when this base is mine as much as it is yours?”

A smile that would have comforted a toddler but sent shivers down her back curved his lips upward. “Finally.”

“Sir?”

“Come now. Surprise does not become you, El. We have been through far too much together to keep lying now, don't you think?”

He squinted at her, eyeing her posture, the raised chin, her expression.

“Old habits die hard,” she admitted, forcing the words from her very dry throat.

“Indeed,” he agreed and fixed her with his impossibly blue stare. “Indulge me, darling. Tell me what you think you know.”

The gaze was sharp, captivating. A challenge. The devil asking what you desire. She was missing something. It was right at the tip of consciousness, but the moonshine seemed to wash it away each time she went to grab at it. Kollisi didn’t move, except for lightly tapping his finger against the glass. It was a gamble. Her mind racing through every detail of the past 80 years. Every move and whisper she’d committed to memory. The state of morale, the constant shelling, the following skirmishes and victories... It all fell into place like a massive, beautiful, intricate puzzle that had been there all along. Kollisi grinned when the gasp escaped her lips.

“You’re the shelling ghost,” she said. It was not a question.

“Finally. Only James figured it out before you. Bravo.” Kollisi's eyes gleamed. "Now tell me why."

Why. Why was so obvious she was surprised she’d missed it in the first place. “You make yourself what they fear and what they need. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Each time one step ahead. Each time a small respite. A crack in the case. You built a new quarter from the rubble of a shelling, becoming the hero rising from the ashes. Another opened the Southern Well. Then General Tiloron…” she swallowed as the rest of the sentence faltered on her lips.

His grin was mad. “Poor, poor general Tiloron. Such a tragedy to befall our eminent leader. A matter of simply the wrong place at the wrong time. Well, third time’s the charm, isn’t that what they say?”

El’s vision keeled. Three attacks just to assassinate the former leader of the Syndicate? Three attacks and no regard for the collateral lives shattered. He was too close now, despite standing still. Even his presence sent fresh shivers down her skin. His words terrified her less than the look he gave her now. Despite her low opinion of him, she had still managed to underestimate him.

“Why today?” She hated how weak her voice sounded to her ears. “Why shell them today?”

“I need them awake,” he said with a tiny shrug. “And I was bored. Why else?”

"Why indeed," she agreed, taking a drink to hide her fear.

“Think about it, girl,” he said, still grinning as if he’d emerged victorious from a battle. "I am there, one step behind, barely scraping by. But scraping by, nonetheless. Everything I do brings them together, binds them, forges them in fire and blood, gives them hope. I am, after all, their saving grace.”

“And their common enemy,” she said with reluctant awe. "Effective."

“We all have our parts to play. You play yours and I play mine. If I need to become the villain to save them, then so be it. So what are we going to do about you? You are insolent. Troublesome. Reckless. You play the Reds as well as you do Hana and you bribe my guards. Shall I go on?”

"If you must, sir."

She watched him drink, bracing herself for the unavoidable. It was a fate she had made her peace with long ago. There was always the possibility of a day when her presence would no longer be idly accepted. When smart remarks would no longer be enough to sway the fickle tempers here. When one step became one step too far. The scars on her back served as a constant reminder that there was a fine line between insolence and resourcefulness. And usefulness. Kollisi put the glass down on a coaster.

"You have an eye for patterns.”

“I dabble as a compound guide, sir, it comes with the territory.”

“I have dealt with many such guides, and they all come up woefully short,” he said with a small sigh. “Yet you never do. It is like the maze confides its secrets to you and no one else. Quite infuriating, I must admit.”

“Why be anything, if you can’t be the best?” she asked, suppressing the smile that tugged on her lips.

He laughed at that. Now was a good time to down the other half of her drink. It was all she could do to not cough as the liquid seared her throat.

"Why indeed? No. There is still the little matter of your debt."

El stilled. "Are you still sore about that toad for a major?" She did her best to sound jovial.

"No. Turns out he was a spy sent by the Emperor. You actually did me a favor."

"Then what debt are we talking about? Last time I checked, I was square with the circle."

Alexandre Kollisi walked over in silence. Slowly and deliberately, waiting for her to flinch. Not wanting to give him the excuse, she waited. Posture suitably slouched, though it took all her self-control. It was then she realized his silence was more terrifying than his words could ever be. At last, she knew why he had risen as fast as he had. And why he had chosen to step forward now.

His eyes never broke contact when he leaned in, placing his hands on the table on either side of her. He was so close she could smell the faint lavender of his shampoo and the smell of moonshine on his breath. Close enough for her to see the muscles rippling through his shirt. She forced herself to keep breathing and smelled the unmistakable scent of adrenaline.

“I wish more of my men had that flame in their eyes," he whispered as she suddenly became aware of another mind trying to enter hers. "What is your name?"

The image of a young, black-haired street urchin in a frost-bitten back alley sprung to her mind. "Auriel."

"Where do you come from?"

The alley made way for a larger cityscape. Destroyed. Desolate. Scarred. "Japhaia."

Something in his eyes flickered, but it passed too soon for her to figure out what it was. "Who have you told about my plans?"

"No one," she said, genuinely taken aback by the question. "I don't know when your cause became my own, Kollisi, but it is mine all the same."

"I don't believe you are quite truthful with me."

He said it calmly, but there was nothing calm about it. His gun rested on his hip, and she didn’t doubt that he could reach it within seconds. Just as she didn't doubt she wouldn't reach her knives in time.

"Of course not," she said and stuck out her chin, leveling his gaze. "So why am I alive?"

With nothing to lose, she forged on, driving him back with a strength she hadn’t felt since graduating from the Academy. "Because deep down you know that we are the same. I, a girl from the Emerald District forced to survive in the ashes, fighting for food with the rats. You, a boy hauling his ódir through the mud harping on about some agarthian angel. I pitied you."

It was easy to lie. Too easy. This cover for a cover for the girl she'd once been, it was as if it inhabited every fiber of her being. She let her memories of Japhaia run wild at the surface of her thoughts she'd no doubt he was reading. Sprinkling them with a sense of anger and resentment that always lived at the edges of her heart.  "Who are you to command this army? Who are you to decide who lives and dies because of your boredom? No one. And I don't care. I forged my life from the ashes of my childhood. Our childhood. I bribe your guards with drugs cause it's the only way they won't desert you. I have made this base run for you so that one day you may just make it fly. And I hope you do a damn sight better with your people than you did with your so-called brother."

That last sentence came out like a hushed, fury of a whisper as she leaned in into all the rumors of the missing general O'Hagan. Something screamed and pulled at the back of her mind, but the moonshine silenced it. The man didn’t rise to the challenge, but there was anger towering clear in the corner of his mouth. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands.

"Good," he said after a very long silence. The confusion and relief must have shown because Kollisi pulled back with a bark of a laugh and poured them both a hefty top-up. She swallowed half of hers in one go before forcing herself to slow down. An addled brain was a dangerous thing and hers was beginning to swim. He eyed her up and down in a way she was not entirely comfortable with and felt his presence receded from hers.

“How would you like an assignment, Auriel?”

She forced a crooked smile. "I have one. I am the Maze Hunter."

“Do you know why I have had you collect these?” he asked gesturing towards the table where she put the transistor.

She shook her head, her heart in her throat. This was it.

"It is a weapon. Once that can cut through the security protocols of Agartha Nova."

"Impressive," she said, trying to sound disinterested.

"It is more than that. I will use their power to cause their doom. And then, then I can finally begin my mission."

El shuddered. "And what do you want from me, sir?"

"Only Arman can build a weapon like this. And he and I are having a little disagreement of sorts at the moment. You and him on the other hand," he said with a suggestive look, "don't seem to have that problem."

"And if he doesn't listen to me?"

"Then it is I who will pity you."

The change in him was subtle, but clear enough for her to take the box of components and leave without another word.

"Good girl," she heard him call out as the door swung shut behind her, and mentally she gave him a good beating.

Several blocks away and out of sight, she could still feel his eyes. The look of unfiltered hunger and that wicked smile that had played on his lips when he made his demand. But despite the near-death experience, there was a spring in her step that Elmira schooled carefully. Finally a crack in the mission! After all these endless years stuck in this hellhole, she was so close she could literally touch it. Again, something tugged at the back of her mind but whatever it was faded like a drop in rain.

Suddenly a sharp vibration against her wrist nearly made her drop the box she was cradling. Her karai'i was signaling. Not now, please not now, she thought as the gemcrusted stone woke up for the first time since she came to Khorun. Don't send me home. Not now. I need more time! 

"Your mission is complete," the little voice in the back of her head said from far away. "Agartha is in peril. And her Guardians are ready to rise."

El closed her eyes. "Fuck."

The confused array of thoughts and mixed feelings replaced each other like a broken record until she stood outside a rather sizable hut made of metal and wood. It was in good shape, carrying the humble symbol of the mechanic’s guild on its door. A far cry from Noke’s workshop. This man did not have to boast about his skill. Everyone knew. She put the box down outside the famous and infamous Arman the Mech’s workshop and faltered. There was no rational reason, it was just confusion. El’s confusion. After all, the two had been involved a fair bit in various matters over the years and spent a great deal of time together.

Naturally, she’d known the day would come. She was, in fact, aware of the passage of time. But it was too soon. During nights too cold to sleep in, she pondered and planned for every eventuality that could arise during her escape. And yet, here she stood, hesitating on the threshold of a man’s workshop.

A man she had come to… like very much. A brusque, humble man who didn’t belong in this place. It was too soon. Far too soon. As often happens on the brink of the end, the whirlwind of thoughts brought her back to their beginning:

“Not that it’s any of my business, but I’m pretty sure it’s called having a drink because you’re supposed to drink it,” said the pleasant voice with so much laughter in it.

Tired and in a bad mood, El glanced over and found it belonging to a rather attractive man who had just appeared at her shoulder at the bar. “Staring at it just makes it liquid in a glass. Hardly worth the iron, and it’s frankly not fair on the drink.”

The twinkle in his eye was mesmerizing, and El was instantly curious. This man whose hands still wore oil stains, whose clothes were wrinkly, and yet he was overall well-groomed with a stubble, and hair that smelled faintly of motor oil and flowers.

“You seem rather concerned about that,” she replied and eyed him up and down. “You look like you’re sorting that out.”

It wasn’t true, but she was sour. But Arman just chuckled, clutched his heart, and fell onto the barstool next to hers in mock surrender. When he stopped laughing, he looked at her. Straight at her. Like she was the only person in the world, and all her defenses crumbled.

“You look like you just lost your last friend in the whole wide world.”

“You look like you could use one,” she said without skipping a beat.

They stared at each other for a moment, sitting in a silence that felt natural. As if there weren’t a dozen other people in the bar or a noisy crap game in the corner. He gave her a brief smile, accepting the tall drink placed in front of him by the barman.

“I’m sure you’re busy,” he said, eyes downcast, but still twinkling with a cautious hope.

Truth of the matter was he was right. She was feeling homesick and discarded. A girl she mentored to become a compound guide caught a fever and died in the night. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Still, this man sat next to her, looking like the world was on his shoulders. Still, he somehow laughed and cracked jokes.

She smiled. “Nah, I’m free. Had a date that didn’t bother to show.”

“Ouch. Sorry,” he grimaced.

“Don’t be.”

Arman turned to her then and pointed at the drink before her.

“So, is a non-date all that drives you to make that drink lose its name?”

Elmira reached out to touch the solid oak door. It was cool and smooth. Newly oiled. She could enter, deliver the items, and head out. See him again. Ask him about his day. Make him laugh just one more time. Disappear like a shadow in the night. He was one of the few nice guys she’d met in the sangoran camp. Leaving it behind meant missing their weekly rendezvous at what passed as the local bar. Which had become the highlight of her time here. A watering hole for the weary, crammed into a closet.

Perhaps she could leave a note with the box. Explain what it was and who it was for. That there was no choice in the matter. That Kollisi demanded it. But then their plan would be put in motion sooner rather than later, and she had to remind herself she wasn't one of them. The illevans were her ancient enemy, despite the years she had spent drinking beside them. They had not changed. Instead of working together for the benefit of the universe, the illevians lied, cheated, and slaughtered everyone in their path. They had betrayed their truce and declared war.

“I am not one of you,” she told the door.

The street beyond the workshop teemed with people and livestock. Most sangorans walked around with tunnel vision, their head in a bubble, but even they would notice if she lingered much longer, yet something stayed her step. Guilt, she realized. There had to be another way. Putting her other hand on the doorframe, she pressed her forehead against the wood and sent him a prayer for forgiveness before she glanced around to make sure she wasn’t being watched.

Think, El, she told herself. The solution came to her clear as day. Plausible deniability. It's not like she hadn't done it before. So she set about the scene, taking a leaf out of Korp's old book of tricks.

Stepping into the shadows she scattered half of the contents of the box on the street around her, tucking away a few components inside her tunic for good measure in spite. With a dagger she cut her hand and placed a bloody print on the wall, and the ground, letting the blood splatter before she let out a bloodcurdling scream and dropped the box with a heavy clang. Before the first person had turned around, the Maze Hunter was on the roofs, flat on her belly in the overlap between two buildings, invisible from the street below.

The scene below erupted in chaos as some people came running, with others gathering in a curious crowd at both ends of the alley. The oak door swung open on its hinges and there he was, wild-eyed, wielding a crowbar. Arman. There was a pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach as she watched him and the others examine the box, the blood, looking around for clues. They would not find her.

Arman reached for the box and its contents with a small frown between his eyebrows. He looked around, his grip on the crowbar tightening as he saw the blood.

"El?" he shouted, the sound pierced her heart like a thorn. "EL!?"

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Refused to close her eyes as Arman traced her print. Of course, he would know her print. Someone shouted that the SPF was coming, distracting his gaze away from the rooftops. El couldn't make out what was being said as the wind picked up and carried the voices off. The discussions were heated, confused, with people pointing every which way. Arman said something harsh and two young men carried the contents of the box inside but remained in the alley, lingering with his shoulders slumped, the crowbar hanging limply in his hand. His mouth moved as his eyes looked up at the roofs. She ducked down, pressing her face against the tiles. Breath caught in her chest.

I am not one of you. I'm sorry, I am not one of you, she whispered in her mind over and over.

Eventually, they'd all figure it out. Eventually, word would reach Kollisi. Eventually, they'd know the Maze Hunter was gone - taken by gods know what. A fitting end. Rumours would do the rest. She only hoped Arman would survive it.

When the darkness became more dense, El made her way slowly across the rooftops and the Base Wall toward the southern edge of the Sangoran Plateau. Finding the overgrown path that wound its way down the cliff into a deep valley, El threw one last look at the place she'd called home for the past eighty years before she like a shadewraith slipped away unnoticed.