The Anomaly's Path

The corridor leading to the lower levels was different from the rest of the mine.

The stone here was older and darker, slick with moisture that dripped from the ceiling in slow and steady drops, each one landing on my forehead like a cold finger tapping my skin.

Green torches were fewer and farther between, their sickly light struggling to reach the corners where the shadows gathered like hungry things. The air was heavy, thick with a sweet, cloying smell that clung to the back of my throat and made my stomach turn.

Then I realized what it was.

Rot.

Old and deep, soaked into the stone itself, layered over years of death. It was the scent of bodies left too long in the dark, of blood that had dried and been rewetted and dried again—the smell of something that had been alive once and was now nothing but meat.

Footsteps echoed behind me, faster than mine, heavier. I turned to see Ren catching up, his face pale and breathing ragged. Elena and Dorian followed close behind, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the gloom for threats.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Ren shook his head, his jaw set in a way that told me his mind was made up. "The others can handle themselves. Cassian is keeping Kael busy, and the knights are taking care of the demons. We are not letting you go down there alone."

Elena stepped forward, her twin swords gleaming in the dim light. "We have come this far together. We are not stopping now."

Dorian said nothing, merely adjusting his grip on his claymore with a grim nod.

I wanted to argue, to tell them to save themselves and not throw their lives away for a mission that was never theirs. But I saw the look in their eyes, the same stubborn resolve Roran used to have. They were not going to leave me to face whatever waited below.

"...Fine," I said, turning back to the darkness ahead. "But stay behind me. If something happens, you run. You do not look back. You get the children out."

Ren opened his mouth to argue, but I was already walking.

_

The corridor twisted and turned, narrowing until the walls pressed in on us from both sides and forced us to walk single file.

The ceiling was so low that I had to duck my head to avoid hitting it, and the floor was uneven, slick with something that squelched beneath my boots with every step. The sound was wet and soft, and I tried not to think about what was making it.

The stench grew stronger with every step—a layering of horrors.

The sharp ammonia of urine that had been left to fester. The cloying sweetness of dried blood that had soaked into the stone and never been cleaned. The sour stench of infected wounds left too long without care, the kind of wounds that had turned black and green and were crawling with things.

Beneath it all, a deeper and muskier odor that I did not want to name, the smell of bodies that had given up and were slowly and quietly rotting where they sat.

Elena gagged behind me. Dorian’s breathing became shallow and forced. Ren whispered a prayer that was swallowed by the darkness.

We passed the first row of cells.

The bars were rusted and stained, brown in some places and dark red in others, and the floors inside were slick with a greasy film that could have been water or could have been something far worse. The green torches did not illuminate so much as they stained the gloom, turning everything the color of old bruises and older blood.

In the first cell, a body lay crumpled. I could not tell its gender; the face was gone, eaten away to reveal raw flesh and the white gleam of bone. The hands were clasped as if in prayer, but the fingers had been severed at the knuckles, leaving only stumps wrapped in black, dried gore.

In the second cell, a boy lay on the floor. He could not have been older than seven.

His ribs were visible through a torn shirt, his arms covered in needle marks and yellow-green bruises. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but they were as empty as the void that had lived in my chest since Wayford.

I stopped walking. Ren put a hand on my shoulder, his fingers warm against my cold skin. "Leo—"

"Keep moving," I said, my voice flat and stripped of anything human. I did not recognize it as my own. "...We cannot help them. They are already... gone."

We kept moving.

The cells stretched on, row after row, each one worse than the last.

Bodies lay in heaps, some fresh enough that I could still see the terror frozen on their faces, some so decayed that they had collapsed into themselves, nothing left but bones and rags and the dark stains where their blood had soaked into the stone.

The smell was overwhelming now, thick enough to choke on, and I felt my stomach turn with every breath.

Demonic guards patrolled the edges of the chamber, their whips crackling with that sickly green energy, their iron masks hiding whatever faces lay beneath. They moved in slow, lazy circles, their eyes scanning the cells.

They had done this so many times that they had stopped paying attention.

They did not see us coming.

I did not give them a chance to scream.

I moved before Ren could speak. My feet carried me across the stone faster than sound. My blade opened the throat of the first guard before it could raise its whip. Black blood sprayed in a wide arc, and the creature crumpled.

The second guard turned just as my sword drove through its chest, piercing its heart. I pulled Tempest free and slammed the third guard’s head into the wall. The crack of its skull echoed like a thunderclap.

Ren stared at me, his eyes wide. "Leo—"

"They were going to kill us," I said, wiping my blade on a guard’s robes. "I just did it first."

_

We found the children in the deepest cell.

The bars were thicker here, the locks heavier, and the green torches on the walls were so dim that they barely cast any light at all. I pressed my face against the cold iron and looked inside, my breath fogging the metal, my heart pounding in my chest.

They were huddled together in the corner, a small pile of thin bodies and pale faces, their arms wrapped around each other as if they were trying to hold themselves together against the darkness.

Their clothes were torn and stained with things, and their hair was matted and dirty, clinging to their scalps in greasy strands. Their skin was so pale that it looked almost translucent in the dim light, the blue veins visible beneath the surface, and their eyes were hollow in a way that made my chest ache.

I recognized some of them.

Lily was there, her small body curled into a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her face was buried in her arms, and her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs that she had learned to make silent a long time ago.

Tobin and Sera were beside her.

There were other children from the orphanage and from other places too.

I dropped to my knees and reached through the bars, my fingers stretching toward Lily’s shoulder. "Lily. Lily, look at me."

Her head lifted slowly. Her eyes were unfocused at first, lips cracked and dry. Then, she saw me. Recognition and disbelief flickered in her gaze.

"Leo?" Her voice was a cracked whisper. "Is that really you?"

"Yeah, it’s me." I smiled, even though I wanted to cry. The smile felt wrong on my face, like a mask that did not fit, but I held it there. "I am here. I am going to get you out."

I raised Tempest and brought the blade down on the lock. The metal shattered, and the door swung open with a groan of rusted hinges.

The children poured out of the cell, clustering around me like frightened birds seeking shelter from a storm. Some of them were crying, their voices thin and reedy, and some of them were silent, their eyes hollow in a way that made my chest ache. Lily grabbed my arm and held on so tight that her nails dug into my skin through my sleeve.

"We thought you were dead," she whispered. "We thought everyone was dead."

"I am not dead," I said, looking down at her pale face. "...And neither are you."

I looked around at the children, at their thin bodies and pale faces, at the bruises on their cheeks and the needle marks on their arms. Rage burned in my chest, hot and bright, but I pushed it down. There would be time for rage later.

There would be time for vengeance later.

"Where is Mia?" I asked. "I do not see her."

Lily’s face crumpled. Tears streamed down her cheeks, cutting tracks through the dirt and grime. "He took her. The doctor. He took her to his laboratory. He said she was special, she was going to help him create something beautiful."

My blood ran cold.

"Where?" I asked. "Where is the laboratory?"

Lily pointed toward the end of the corridor, where the darkness was thickest and the green torches did not reach. Her finger trembled.

I stood up and looked at the others. "Take the children," I said. "Get them out of here. I am going to find Mia."

Ren began to protest, but I did not give him the chance. I turned and walked into the dark.

_

The corridor ended at a massive iron door, rusted and scarred, with a handle that looked like it had been forged from bones. The metal was cold beneath my palm, and I pushed it open.

The smell inside was worse than the rot—it was the scent of a process. Chemicals, fresh blood, and something cloying.

The room beyond was vast and dark, lit by a single row of green torches that lined the walls like soldiers standing at attention. Shelves covered every surface, filled with jars and vials and tools that I did not want to look at.

Jars held organs, preserved in murky fluid, their shapes distorted by the glass, their colors wrong. Vials held liquids that glowed with an unnatural light, pulsing like hearts, like they were alive. Tools lay on tables, stained with old blood that had dried to a dark brown, crusted and flaking.

In the center of the room, a massive glass chamber bubbled and hissed, filling the air with a foul, chemical smell. Tubes ran into the top and bottom, pulsing like veins.

I walked toward it.

The chamber was filled with a glowing and murky green fluid, thick and viscous, with tubes running into the top and bottom that pulsed like veins. Inside the vat was a nightmare.

A mass.

A fused and pulsing lump of flesh and limbs that had been sewn together and left to grow. Arms jutted out at wrong angles, their fingers twitching and grasping at nothing. Legs ended in hands, their nails scratching against the glass with a sound like nails on a chalkboard.

Faces pressed against the inside of the vat, their mouths open in silent and eternal shrieks, their eyes rolled back in agony, seeing nothing, feeling everything.

...And among those faces, I saw them.

A man and a woman. Their features were blurred and melted, the skin stretched and warped.

I pressed my hand against the glass. The faces inside turned toward me, as if they could sense my presence, like they knew that someone had come. Their mouths moved, but no sound came out. Bubbles escaped their throats and rose to the surface of the fluid.

Help us, their lips seemed to say. Help us.

"...I am sorry," I whispered. "I... am so sorry."

"Beautiful, is it not?" The voice was soft and rasping, like dry parchment being torn in half.

I turned to see a man stepping into the green light.

He was thin and gaunt, with pale skin stretched tight over sharp bones. His hair was thin and greasy, plastered to his scalp in uneven strands, and his eyes were sunken and dark, burning with a manic light that never seemed to go out.

His hands were long and pale, the fingers stained with old blood that never seemed to wash off, and his robes were splattered with fresh blood that still glistened in the dim light.

Doctor Voss.

He spread his arms wide, his bloodstained robes fluttering. "So, the little spark finally arrives, huh?"

I tightened my grip on Tempest. "...Voss."

"The one and only." He smiled, revealing teeth that were jagged and stained, yellow and brown. "I was wondering when you would show up. Mia kept talking about you, you know."

He walked in a slow circle around me, his boots clicking on the stone floor, his eyes never leaving my face. "’Leo will come. Leo will save me. Leo will find me.’" He laughed, a dry and rasping sound that echoed off the stone walls. "It was almost touching and... pathetic."

I took a step forward. "...Where is she?"

Voss tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming. "Eager, are we? I understand. You have come a long way. Killed a lot of my people. Freed a lot of my prisoners." He shrugged, a casual gesture that seemed out of place in the horror around us. "...But you are too late."

My heart stopped. "What?!"

"Mia is no longer the girl you remember." Voss turned and walked toward a door on the far side of the chamber, his robes trailing behind him on the stone floor. "She is something more now. Something greater. My masterpiece. My.... perfect vessel."

He stopped in front of the door and looked back at me. His smile widened. "She has been waiting for you," he said. "Do not keep her waiting any longer."

The door opened.

Darkness spilled out from the room beyond, thick and cold, and I felt my heart sink into my chest. The darkness was not empty. There was something in it. Someone.

A cold, heavy darkness spilled out. From the shadows, a figure emerged. She walked with hesitant, silent steps.

I knew who it was and my breath caught in my throat.

"...Mia."