Fractured Alliances

Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another.

Ephesians 4:25

——————————————————————

The young girl's labored breathing echoed through the clinic, a haunting reminder of the price paid by the innocent in the Underworld.

Natasha finishes examining Maria, the young girl's dark skin contrasting starkly against her white coat. She frowns as she listens to her lungs and unnatural wheezing through the stethoscope. Unmistakable signs of illness.

"Maria, what have you been up to lately?" Natasha asks, pulling the stethoscope from her ears.

The girl shrugs, eyes downcast. "Just working in the mines, same as always. Nothing's changed with my diet or routine."

Natasha's heart clenches picturing a child Maria's age toiling in the mines. She bites back her concerns. "Any chance you could take a break from work for a bit?" she ventures, worried Maria might be developing pneumoconiosis.

Maria's eyes go wide. She shakes her head hard. "I can't," she whispers. "I need the money for my brother. He..."

Her voice trails off. Natasha nods, not pushing further. She places a hand on Maria's chest, feeling the rise and fall of her strained breaths. "Close your eyes. Breathe normally for me."

As Maria complies, Natasha's hand begins to glow vibrant green, mixing with the warm red-orange hues of the clinic lamps. A minute passes before she pulls away and the glow fades.

"How's that feel?"

Relief shines in Maria's eyes. "Much better. Thank you."

Natasha retrieves three test tubes from a nearby cabinet and hands them over. "One of these every seven days. If the symptoms come back, return to see me immediately."

Maria throws her arms around Natasha in a grateful hug. Natasha holds her close, savoring the fleeting connection before releasing her.

As Maria turns to go, she spots an old white-haired man with a mechanical arm in the doorway, his pensive expression at odds with his muscular physique and upright bearing. "Hi, Mr. Oleg," she chirps with a wave.

Oleg forces a smile and pats her head. "Feeling better?"

"All cured, thanks to Miss Natasha!"

"Good." His smile fades slightly. "Take care of yourself and your brother. Remember, if you ever need help, you can come to us."

Maria's face falls. She scuffs a foot against the floor. "I know, but...we still live in Vagrant territory. I don't want trouble."

Oleg's jaw tightens, but he keeps his voice gentle. "Regardless, you're always welcome here for emergencies."

Head down, shoulders slumped, Maria nods. Then she's gone, vanishing into the Underworld's bustling streets.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Oleg sighs heavily as if fending off a migraine. Natasha goes to him and rises on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to his cheek1. "We're doing our best," she murmurs.

"I know. But it never feels like enough." His eyes soften as he meets her gaze. "Thank you for helping her."

Natasha nods, expression serious. "What brings you here? I thought you were heading to the Great Mine to check on the Vagrants."

"I was. But I heard there was a commotion with a patient. Wanted to make sure things were alright."

She waves a dismissive hand. "Nothing major. Things got tense for a minute, but everyone cooled off. The instigator even apologized."

She hesitates. "It was one of the Overworlders. His companions too. Wildfire's watching them. Last I heard, he was chain-smoking and pacing around the viewpoint, reading some notebook. It's been hours and he's still there."

An eyebrow lifts. "Overworlders?"

"One of them is Bronya Rand. Cocolia's heir."

Oleg groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Reeks of Sampo's meddling."

"Yup." Natasha's mouth quirks wryly.

——————————————————————

I take a long drag from my cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly as I lean against the railing of the small viewpoint overlooking Natasha's clinic. Flipping open the pocket notebook in my hand, I mutter, "What are my options here?"

My gaze scans over the scribbled notes and diagrams, a scowl etching my features. The space anchors to teleport back to the surface are useless. According to the locals, they haven't worked in over a decade, not since Cocolia gave the order to seal off the Underworld. I remember cursing out loud in Spanish, Portuguese, and English when I first learned that little tidbit.

No space anchors, no access to the simulated universe.

Contacting Himeko and Welt? Out of the question. No signal down here, no way to call or message them. It took every ounce of willpower not to smash my phone against the ground when I realized that.

Jaw clenched, I snap the notebook shut with a sharp flick of my wrist. "I'm such an idiot!" Pacing back and forth along the narrow platform, I growl, "I was so close! So fucking close!" Raking a hand through my hair, the other clenches into a fist at my side. "And I have no one to blame but myself."

How could I have been so blind? The possibility of my Stellaron being connected to Belobog's should have been obvious from the start. But no, I let my paranoia over less important things get the better of me.

I stop in my tracks, staring out at the dimly lit streets of Boulder Town. If I had been more honest with Serval from the beginning, laid out the facts, she might have at least given me, March, and Dan Heng a chance. She could have taken us straight to the Stellaron. We wouldn't have lost so much damn time.

"Alexander."

The voice breaks through my inner ramblings, but I barely register it, too caught up in my own thoughts. Flipping open the notebook again, I swipe through the pages as I pace.

And then there's Sampo. That slimy bastard and the things he said. I shudder, remembering his words. "Stellaron Hunter," he had called me. Was he implying he knew me before I woke up on the Herta Space Station? But how could that be possible?

I rack my brain, trying to recall any memories from before that fateful day. A blank. A vast expanse of nothingness, as if my new life in this world began the moment I opened my eyes on that cold, sterile floor.

Teeth gritted, I slam my fist against the railing, the metal clanging loudly in the stillness of the night. Frustration bubbles up within me, a potent mixture of anger and confusion swirling in my gut.

What the hell is going on?

"Alexander!"

The voice, louder this time, more insistent. I spin around, ready to snap at whoever's interrupting me, only to freeze.

Sebastian stands there, hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket, an eyebrow raised as he regards me with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Those are the least of your worries right now, man." He shakes his head. "Look around you."

Taking a long drag from my cigarette, I exhale the smoke slowly as I turn my gaze towards the dimly lit streets of Boulder Town. Cobblestone roads wind between modest, gabled buildings, their intricate brickwork and wrought-iron balconies casting intricate shadows in the geomarrow's ethereal glow. Despite the warmth radiating from the luminous ore, the inhabitants bundle themselves in thick, weathered sweaters as they navigate the winding alleys, their soot-stained faces etched with weariness.

In the distance, the Furnace Core looms like a colossal pillar, its spiraling staircase connecting the underground to the surface above. The rest of Underworld stretches out around it, a vast subterranean expanse that seems to go on forever. The edges and ceiling of this realm are lost in the distance, obscured by a hazy mist that clings to the air like a shroud. It's a stark reminder of the sheer scale of this place, a world within a world, hidden beneath the surface.

"Alexander."

Sebastian's voice snaps me back to reality. I turn to face him, brow furrowed. "I have an extremely big problem to deal with right now, if you didn't realize," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "And you're asking me to look at the sights around me? Are you mad?"

Sebastian's gaze shifts to the expanse of Boulder Town, taking in the scene before us. "People have lived here, closed off from the surface, for what, ten years?"

"Closer to eleven," I correct, shaking my head. "But why are you asking that?"

He turns back to me, expression serious. "Don't lie to yourself. You know what I'm talking about, and where this conversation is leading. How do you actually think the living conditions are down here?"

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Why would I have to worry about that?"

Sebastian's eyes narrow. He points towards a street below, directing my attention to a group of children playing in a circle. One of them, a girl with dark skin and green eyes, turns and looks up at me, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"There are children here, Alexander." His voice grave. "What are you going to do about it?"

I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat. Sebastian strides towards me, face inches from mine, intensity burning in his eyes.

"Don't you fucking dare," he snarls, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Don't you dare try to convince yourself they don't matter, that you don't give a damn."

I hesitate, gaze dropping to the ground. After a moment, I look back up at the girl, now running off to continue playing with her friends, completely oblivious to the weight of the world around her. Studying her more closely, I notice the signs of malnutrition – thin arms, pallid skin. She looks so small, so fragile.

My mind flashes back to the faces of the children around me when I lived in Cali. My parents and I had temporarily found refuge in Potrero Grande, one of the poorest suburbs in the city. The kids there... skinny, malnourished like the ones playing right in front of me, but at least their skin looked better, thanks in part to the bright Colombian sun. Being located near the Equator had its benefits.

But these kids… they had been living underground for years – they had seen no light since they first opened their eyes.

"Easy to be tough when you have nothing but an enemy in front of you, am I right?" Sebastian says, his voice cutting through my thoughts. "Not so easy when life throws you something unpleasant and uncomfortable2 to look at."

I whirl around to face him, eyes narrowing. "You've got some nerve," I whisper fiercely. "My father didn't get us out of that hell by playing the hero, trying to save everyone else. He focused on what mattered most - keeping our family alive, keeping us safe. That's how we survived."

Stepping closer, defiant. "And when the streets of Rosario almost took him away from me, when they almost shot him to death while I was going to classes with you, playing carefree teenager, I did the very fucking same and got my family out of that other hellhole through my own sweat, blood, and tears."

Closer, voice a near-whisper, ready to explode. "And you have the balls to suggest I ignore what's happened to me? I'm fucking trapped in this shit, trying to make my way back to you, and you want me to focus on strangers?!"

Sebastian, unperturbed, just stares at me, his gaze icy. "Don't focus on me," he says, voice steady. "Turn your eyes to her."

I hesitate, gaze flickering back towards the little girl on the street. Still playing, still laughing in spite of everything crumbling around her.

Sebastian frowns. "Look at her, Alexander."

Pointedly not looking at the children, I turn my head down to the notebook in my hands. Jaw clenched, I flip through the pages, trying to focus on the scribbled notes and diagrams.

"If I could sock you in the face right now, I most definitely would," Sebastian says, voice dripping with frustration.

I scoff, not even bothering to look up. "Yeah, well, save it for when I finally manage to get back home," I mutter, tone dismissive.

Sebastian shakes his head, expression one of pure disappointment. "Even if you do make it back, you won't find anything there. Not after sacrificing so much of your values, of who you truly are deep down."

Snapping the notebook shut, I breathe deep, trying to calm myself. My rage is near its breaking point, a simmering volcano threatening to erupt at any moment. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do?" I ask through gritted teeth, finally meeting Sebastian's gaze.

He holds my stare, unflinching. "You know exactly what you should be doing. Be a fucking man and admit it to yourself."

Something snaps inside me. Before I can stop myself, I hurl the notebook at Sebastian's face with all my might. But instead of hitting its mark, the book passes through him as if he were made of dust, slamming into the nearby wall with a dull thud.

"Xander? Is this a bad time?"

I whirl around at the sound of March's voice, breath coming in harsh pants. Dan stands beside her, expression guarded as he takes in the scene before him.

For a moment, I'm tempted to lash out, to unleash the torrent of emotions raging within me. But then I catch sight of the concern etched on March's face, and something inside me deflates.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. When I open them again, my gaze is steady, voice calm as I walk to pick up my notebook, stashing it away. "No, March," I say, shaking my head. "You're free to talk to me whenever, bad or good time regardless."

March thinks on my words for a moment before walking around the viewpoint, hands clasped behind her back. She takes in the sights of Boulder Town, gaze sweeping over the dimly lit streets and bundled-up inhabitants navigating the winding alleys. Dan follows closely behind, expression guarded.

They come to a stop opposite me, and March meets my eyes, expression serious. "Xander, we need to talk."

Massaging my eyes with thumb and forefinger, I pinch the bridge of my nose as a wave of stress washes over me. But I shake it off, steeling myself for the conversation to come. "Hit me."

Dan steps forward, gaze piercing. "Xander, are you who you say you are?"

An eyebrow raised, I meet his stare. "What do you mean by that?"

"When we first met you inside the Herta Space Station," Dan explains, "you introduced yourself as just 'Xander'. You didn't offer any details about your life or background. We decided to take you in as a new member of the Astral Express crew, despite any potential risk your presence might have meant. For all we knew, we could have been welcoming an enemy."

He pauses, eyes narrowing. "All we had to go on was your story – that you were on your way to work, something hit you from behind, you blacked out, and woke up inside the space station, not knowing where you were. On top of that, you're a literal ghost because there's no information about you in the IPC databases."

March nods, expression grave. "And now," Dan continues, "we find out that there are apparently people in this planet who, somehow, know you from before." He glances at me, gaze unwavering. "People like Sampo, who claim your actual name is Alexander Salvatore."

A humorless chuckle escapes his lips. "It's really ironic and suspicious that all of this is coming to light just at the time when the Astral Express is stuck in orbit around Jarilo-VI, with no way of moving, and the three of us are down here in Belobog without the presence of Welt or Himeko."

I meet Dan's stare, jaw clenched. "Stop beating around the bush, Dan. State what you want to know."

Taking a deep breath, Dan steels himself. "Is what Sampo said true? Are you a Stellaron Hunter?"

I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief. "You'd believe the words of a stranger over those of your own crew?"

Dan's expression hardens, eyes narrowing. "Are you really a member of our crew, Xander? Sometimes, I don't feel like you're actually one of us, with all your lies and your distance."

Suddenly, the whispers begin, a faint murmur at the back of my mind, growing louder with each passing second.

"You're a fool, Alexander," the voice taunts, a cacophony of child and adult tones, male and female. "Did you really think you could escape us? That you could hide from the truth?"

Jaw clenched, I tighten my grip on the railing as I fight to maintain composure. The voice is relentless, probing at my deepest insecurities and doubts.

"They'll never trust you," it hisses. "How could they, when you don't even trust yourself? You're a lost soul, drifting aimlessly in a world that doesn't belong to you."

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the words, but they echo in my mind, reverberating through every fiber of my being.

"You'll never see them again," the voice continues, tone mocking. "Your parents, your friends, your love... they're gone, lost to you forever. You're alone, Alexander. Truly and utterly alone."

Biting down on the inside of my cheek, hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste fills my mouth. The pain grounds me, anchoring me to the present moment.

"What would you need from me to prove myself?" I ask, voice strained as I open my eyes to meet Dan's gaze.

March steps forward, expression earnest. "No more lies, Xander. No more half-truths or evasions. We need you to open up to us, to trust us."

Taking another drag from my cigarette, the embers glow brightly as I inhale deeply. The voice in my mind continues its relentless assault, taunting me with visions of my loved ones, their faces twisted in grief and anguish.

"They'll never know what happened to you," it whispers. "They'll spend the rest of their lives wondering, haunted by the mystery of your disappearance."

Exhaling slowly, the smoke curls around me like a shroud. "Am I a Stellaron Hunter? The truth is that I don't know the answer to that question," I say finally, voice quiet but steady.

Dan raises an eyebrow, expression skeptical. "You... don't know?"

Shaking my head, I meet his gaze unflinchingly. "I didn't lie when I introduced myself to you as Xander. I was on my way to work that day, bitter about having to work a half-turn before I could visit Sebastian and play some tennis with him."

The memories flood back, vivid and painful. Sebastian and I, laughing and joking on the court, our friendly banter echoing across the empty space. The promise of a cold beer and catching up afterwards, just like old times.

"You'll never have that again," the voice taunts, words like daggers piercing my heart. "Those moments are gone, lost to the void that has become your existence."

Gritting my teeth, I bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste blood once more, using the pain to anchor myself.

"After that, I was supposed to go to the airport," I continue, voice thick with emotion. "I was going to visit my parents, spend some time with them before..."

"Before what?" The voice in my mind seizes on the hesitation, laughter mocking and cruel. "Before you abandoned them?" it suggests, tone dripping with malice. "Before you left them behind, just like everyone else in your life?"

Eyes squeezed shut, hands balling into fists at my sides. The memories of my last conversations with Summer, Sebastian, and my parents flood my mind, each one a sharp reminder of what I've lost.

Summer's laugh, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. Sebastian's sarcastic wit, his unwavering loyalty. My mother's gentle embrace, my father's words of wisdom and encouragement.

"You'll never hear their voices again," the voice whispers, words like acid burning through my soul. "You'll never feel their touch, their warmth. Truly pitiful."

I open my eyes, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill forth. "I never got the chance to do any of that. Because something hit me from behind or the side as I was crossing an intersection. A truck, maybe a black SUV, I'm not sure."

March and Dan's expressions shift, eyes widening in surprise as the weight of my confession sinks in.

"I remember flying through the air," I continue, the memory etched into my mind with crystal clarity. "Everything seemed to slow down, like when I use Chronosurge. My thoughts raced, but there was a strange stillness, a sense of peace amidst the chaos."

A bitter chuckle escapes my lips, head shaking. "And then I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was staring at your face, thinking you were about to give me CPR."

Dan's expression shifts to one of mild embarrassment, and I can't help but smile wryly. "You know, I don't think I ever apologized for clocking you with that punch. I'm sorry about that. I know now that you were just trying to help."

Looking down at my feet, the cigarette burns low between my fingers. "After that, I don't remember anything else. The only possibilities I can think of are that I'm either in an incredibly vivid dream..."

I trail off, glancing up at March. She meets my gaze, eyes wide and earnest, silently urging me to continue.

"Or..." Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. "Or that I died in that crash, and this... This is some form of afterlife for me."

Dan frowns, brow furrowing in confusion. "Why would you think that?"

Taking a final drag from my cigarette, I let the smoke linger in my lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly. "What would you think, Dan, if your entire life was ripped away from you one morning, and the next thing you knew, you were face-to-face with strangers in a strange world, with literal cancer growing inside of you?"

Shaking my head, I flick the cigarette butt over the railing. "I didn't trust you when we first met. How could I? How could I even begin to trust my own senses when everything around me was stretching the boundaries of what I thought was possible?"

Meeting Dan's gaze, my expression somber. "That's why I presented myself using a nickname. The only time I revealed my real name was back when Pela and Serval had us at gunpoint. I told the truth in the hopes that Pela would spare you from any more pain."

March steps forward, expression one of determination. "But how would Sampo know about you as Alexander Salvatore, then?"

Sighing, I run a hand over my face in frustration. "I don't know, March. I really don't know."

Shaking her head, March's eyes narrow. "That's not enough, Xander. I want you to say everything that's on your mind, no more holding back."

Fists clenched, frustration bubbles up inside me as I glare at March. "You're seriously a pain sometimes. What part of 'I don't know' don't you understand?"

Dan tenses at my words, ready to step in, but before he can, March steps forward, expression resolute. "I know you're not sharing the full truth. I've picked up on some cues, some things you do when you speak. It's extremely subtle, but when you look at people in the eyes while telling lies or half-truths, you begin to blink way less often."

Shifting uncomfortably, her words hit a little too close to home. She's right, of course – lying can cause someone's blink rate to decrease while telling the lie, then increase rapidly afterward, almost like the eye muscles tensing in concentration and releasing.

March continues, voice softer now. "Maybe you're telling the truth, but my gut is telling me you're not saying everything. What else are you holding back?"

She looks at me, hurt evident in her eyes. "Even if you don't trust us, the moment we welcomed you into the Astral Express, you became a member of our family. Haven't I done enough to make you feel welcomed? Safe?"

Her words strike a chord deep within me, and I'm reminded of what she said back in the Herta Space Station.

The Astral Express found me. They took me in, gave me a home. They're good people. I don't know much about your situation, but I know, deep in my heart, that they would be good to you too. They could be a home for you, even when you're so far away from everything you know.

I hesitate, looking down at the ground, mind racing. How can I even begin to tell her that my fear is that I might have awakened time prior to the events at the Herta Space Station? That I might have known the Stellaron Hunters personally? And that my memories could have been wiped out, just like in the original story?

Bitterness washes over me as I think about how much I know about this world, this story that I've been thrust into without warning. How can I even begin to explain that to them?

"Poor, lost Alexander," the voice of Belobog's Stellaron taunts, tone mocking. "So desperate to hold onto the scraps of his former life, he can't even see the truth staring him in the face."

"Alexander!"

March's voice cuts through the haze, loud and insistent, shaking me from my depressive thoughts. Eyes widening for a second before I look at her, cold and guarded.

"March," I say, voice low and warning, "you have no right to call me by that name."

It's as if I struck her.

Visibly upset at those words, March takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "You know what? That's fine. We'll leave you alone for now. Maybe that's what you need – time for yourself to think and ponder and scheme. That's all you do, after all."

She turns around, shoulders squared. "We'll be seeing you at Natasha's clinic," she calls over her shoulder, before walking away.

Dan continues looking at me for a tense moment, expression unreadable. "Do you have anything to say?" I ask, voice laced with bitterness.

Shaking his head, gaze piercing. "I know what it's like. To keep secrets locked away, to guard the truth about who you are. I understand the fear, the hesitation to let others in. But I also know that when push comes to shove, when the lives of the people I care about are on the line, none of that matters. I'd tear down every wall, reveal every hidden piece of myself, if it meant keeping them safe."

He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. "Would you do the same?"

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Pacing back and forth, bitter thoughts racing through my mind as I try to calm down, clenching and unclenching my fists. The sound of approaching footsteps catches my attention, and I whirl around, thinking Dan or March might have come back to say something else.

Instead, I find myself looking into the eyes of the person I've been dreading meeting again – Sampo, looking uncharacteristically serious.

"Did I come at a bad time?"

——————————————————————

Bronya walks through the streets of Boulder Town, gaze taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling underworld community. Narrow cobblestone streets lined with modest dwellings, their gabled roofs and stepped facades giving the area a quaint, old-world charm. Despite the warm glow of the geomarrow lamps lining the walkways, an unmistakable chill hangs in the air, residents bundled up in thick, weathered sweaters.

As she continues her exploration, Bronya can't help but notice the precarious state of the people who call this place home. Faces drawn and gaunt, clothing tattered and worn. The buildings, though well-maintained, bear the scars of years of neglect and hardship. A far cry from the opulence and comfort of the overworld she's accustomed to.

A pang of guilt tugs at Bronya's heart. Is this the reality for all those who dwell in the Underworld? Have they truly been living in such destitution all this time, while she and the other Silvermane Guards remained oblivious in their ivory tower? The thought unsettles her deeply.

Lost in her musings and the unfamiliar surroundings, Bronya fails to notice the figure approaching until it's too late. A burly man barrels into her, his broad shoulder slamming into hers with enough force to send her staggering sideways. Instinctively, she opens her mouth to apologize, recognizing her own lapse in attention.

But the words die on her tongue as she takes in the man's appearance. Towering over her, face twisted into an ugly sneer, a group of similarly unsavory characters trailing in his wake. "Watch where the fuck you're going," he snarls, words laced with venom.

Bronya's pride bristles at the blatant disrespect, chin lifting defiantly. "Perhaps you should heed your own advice," she retorts, voice cool and measured despite the fire burning in her chest.

The man's eyes narrow dangerously. He takes a menacing step forward, looming over Bronya like a dark shadow. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" he growls, gaze flicking back to his cronies. "What the fuck have you been doing that she doesn't know who the fuck she's talking to right now?"

One of the older men in the group studies Bronya's uniform, brow furrowing. "Isn't that from the Silvermane Guards?" he asks, tone thick with disdain. "You an overworlder?"

The others crack their knuckles, stances shifting into something more aggressive. Bronya tenses, hand inching towards the hilt of her rifle as she prepares for a confrontation.

The leader turns his attention back to her, lips curling into a cruel smile. "If you're truly from the overworld," he says, voice a low rumble, "then I'd be very interested in knowing how you managed to come down from all the way up there." Another step closer, breath hot and foul on Bronya's face. "That Cocolia bitch messed us up real bad. You can understand we would like to mess up some of her people just as bad in response, right?" He spreads his arms wide, a twisted mockery of a welcoming gesture. "No hard feelings?"

Fingers tightening around the hilt of her rifle, jaw clenched, Bronya braces herself for the inevitable clash. But before she can make a move, a swirl of purple butterflies materializes in the space between her and the man, rapidly gaining size and substance.

With a deft swipe of a massive scythe, the butterflies part to reveal a lithe figure clad in shades of purple and black. "Are you seriously trying to attack someone in Wildfire turf?" a woman of long purple hair and eyes asks, voice low and dangerous.

The man tenses, bravado faltering ever so slightly. "How fortunate of us that the 'Babochka' herself graces us with her presence," he sneers, though there's a hint of unease in his tone.

The woman raises her scythe, the blade catching the geomarrow light and glinting menacingly. "Leave," she commands, eyes narrowing. "Or else."

The man's gaze flicks to the weapon, jaw tightening. For a moment, it seems he might defy her order, but then he lets out a harsh bark of laughter. "Wildfire defending trash from the overworld," he spits, shaking his head in disgust. "As if you couldn't fall any lower."

With a sharp jerk of his head, he signals for his men to follow. They slink away, leaving Bronya and the purple-haired woman standing in the center of the street. A small crowd has gathered, drawn by the commotion, but the woman's pointed glare sends them scattering.

"Rude," she mutters under her breath, before turning her attention back to Bronya. "So you really are the Silvermane Guard who's paying the Underworld a visit." Her tone laced with equal parts curiosity and disdain as she appraises Bronya from head to toe.

Bronya's forehead creases with frustration. "I am indeed a Silvermane Guard," she confirms, voice tinged with indignation. "Though I must admit, I'm at a loss as to how I ended up here in the Underworld."

Glancing around, taking in the dilapidated surroundings with a newfound sense of unease. "None have been able to provide a satisfactory explanation thus far," she continues, gaze settling back on the woman. "I demand answers."

The woman throws her head back, laughing sardonically. "Listen to you," she says, eyes sparkling with mirth. "You're still talking like an overworld princess."

Stepping closer, expression hardening. "Do you know what's become of things down here while you people live the easy life? Did you even consider the fate of the underworlders?"

Bronya bristles at the accusation, chin lifting defiantly. "The Silvermane Guards are far from 'living the easy life'. We are constantly engaged with the enemy, defending Belobog from the scourge of attacking monsters and protecting all those above and below the surface."

The woman laughs again, the sound harsh and mocking. "Hah, do you even hear yourself?" she scoffs. "You? Protect the underground? Redeploying every Silvermane Guard to the surface, sealing off the only passageway... protecting the so-called Architects, more like it."

Bronya hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. "The Madam Guardian has her reasons..." she begins, but her words lack conviction.

The woman simply hmphs, narrowing her eyes. "Enough talk. You're coming with me. Chief Oleg wants to see you, and he's got more than a few questions."

Bronya straightens, pride flaring once more. "I don't take orders," she retorts, gaze sweeping over the woman's form in a dismissive gesture, "least of all from someone of such poor manners who has yet to introduce herself."

The woman offers a mocking curtsy, lips curling into a sardonic smile. "My apologies, overworld princess," she drawls. "My name is Seele, the one person who's been assigned to look after the safety of her majesty." Meeting Bronya's gaze, eyes glinting with challenge. "Now, would her so kind majesty please come with me so that she may find the answers she seeks?"

Jaw clenching, fingers curling into fists at her sides as she fights to maintain composure in the face of such blatant disrespect. Drawing in a deep breath, Bronya forces herself to settle. Any further confrontation will only breed more hostility, and she needs answers.

"Fine," she bites out, gaze unwavering. "But I demand to be addressed as Bronya."

Seele's smile widens, eyes dancing with amusement. "Sure, overworld princess."

"Hey!" Bronya snaps, temper flaring once more.

——————————————————————

Serval sits alone in the dimly lit interrogation room, wrists bound by energy restraints, preventing her from accessing her lightning powers. Flickering fluorescent lights cast eerie shadows across her face, accentuating the deep frown etched onto her features. Her life has become a cruel, twisted comedy, a series of unfortunate events orchestrated by some sadistic higher power.

Her mind drifts back to the events that led her here, trapped within the halls of the Qlipoth Fort, awaiting questioning by the Silvermane Guards. Found unconscious, along with Pela, being tended to by her younger sister, Lynx. The guards frantically searching for Xander, March, and Dan, who had seemingly vanished into thin air.

Xander's words echo in her mind, a bitter reminder of the trust she had foolishly placed in him.

I'd never aim to hurt any of you.

"Damn you," Serval whispers through gritted teeth, grip tightening on the table's edge.

Rage bubbles within her as she replays the events. The ease with which Xander had incapacitated both Pela and herself - infuriating. The engineer in her curious, desperate to understand how he managed to diffuse her lightning-based attacks, but the romantic – the part she thought had died long ago – filled with a burning hatred.

All her life, betrayed by those closest to her. First, Cocolia, her once-best friend, kicking her out of the Silvermane Guards and the Architects, shattering her dreams and ambitions. Then, her own father disowning her, casting her out of the prestigious Landau family. Friends and colleagues from her job giving her the cold shoulder, believing the worst despite her innocence.

Even Gepard, her beloved younger brother, struggling to fully trust her in the aftermath of Cocolia's actions. A part of him harboring doubts about her innocence, no matter how hard he tried to support her.

And now, a man entering her life, seeming different from the rest. Not judging her for her past or background; caring little for what others thought. Sharing her love for music, her passion for rock 'n' roll. Worming his way into her heart, a feat she thought impossible after years of keeping her walls up, protecting herself from further hurt.

But it had all been a lie, a cruel deception.

Serval's heart pounds violently in her chest as the door creaks open. She braces herself, expecting another round of questioning from the Silvermane Guards. But when she looks up, the sight before her makes her blood run cold.

Cocolia.

The mere sight of the Supreme Guardian sends a wave of rage crashing through Serval's body. Fists clenched, she fights the overwhelming urge to spit directly in Cocolia's face. The hatred she harbors for this woman - a fire burning brighter than any resentment towards Xander.

Before Serval can even formulate a scathing remark, Cocolia moves with inhuman speed. In a blur, grabbing a fistful of Serval's hair, using unnatural strength to yank the engineer out of her chair. Serval cries out in pain as Cocolia slams her against the cold, unforgiving wall.

Vision swimming, a hand clamps down on her throat, cutting off her air supply. Gasping, lungs burning as she struggles to breathe. Through the haze of panic, she looks down at Cocolia, and what she sees shatters her perception of reality.

The composed, perfect image of the Supreme Guardian gone, replaced by a visage of pure anguish and rage. Makeup smeared, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks as if she had been crying. But it's her eyes that truly unnerve Serval – instead of their usual lavender hue, tinged with an unsettling reddish glow, flecks of golden yellow outlining the irises.3

Despite her disheveled appearance and the fury etched onto her features, Cocolia's tone unnervingly calm. "I've come to ask you some questions about Alexander Salvatore," she says, voice steady. "The suspect you all seem to know as Xander. I expect you to answer truthfully and leave out no details." Grip on Serval's throat tightening ever so slightly. "Otherwise, you won't even get to see the face of a dungeon. Am I clear?"

Serval wheezes, lungs screaming for air. Fear gripping her heart as she stares into Cocolia's monstrous eyes. Xander's words echoing in her mind, a chilling reminder of the words she had dismissed as mere ramblings.

How could Alisa Rand, she who evokes miracles, end a 30-year war in a single day? She asked the Stellaron for help. It corrupted her mind over time, and when all seemed lost, when the Preservation's strength wasn't enough to defeat the enemy, she listened, gave in to temptation, and made a single wish. The Eternal Freeze was the result.

Cocolia's eyes flash with a golden glint. "Am I clear, Serval Landau?" she repeats, voice laced with a subtle threat.

Serval nods, movements frantic and fearful. Cocolia releases her grip, and Serval crumples to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. As she struggles to regain her breath, Xander's words continue to haunt her.

Throughout the past seven centuries, the Stellaron continued holding influence over all Supreme Guardians. Alisa Rand was just the first. Svetlana, Alexandra, Fainka, Alina, Cyrille... Cocolia.

Serval looks up at the woman sitting across from her, crossing her legs and staring back with a blank expression. A terrifying thought creeping into her mind – what if the being she's facing isn't Cocolia at all, but rather the corrupting influence of the Stellaron itself?

With trembling hands, Serval massages her bruised throat and slowly rises to her feet. Taking her seat once more, nerves frayed and mind reeling. As she meets Cocolia's unsettling gaze, she can't shake the feeling that she's staring into the eyes of a monster, not her former friend.

With unnerving calmness, a sharp contrast against her disheveled appearance, the Supreme Guardian fixes her gaze on the engineer. "What do you know about Alexander Salvatore?" she asks, tone devoid of emotion.

Serval hesitates, heart pounding in her chest. "I... I don't actually know a lot about him," she admits, voice hoarse.

Cocolia arches an eyebrow, unnatural eyes boring into Serval's. "Explain," she commands.

Swallowing hard, Serval recounts her encounters with Xander. "I first met him while working on my workshop," she says, choosing her words carefully. "He had apparently met Pelageya while she was teaching a group of children about the history of the Everwinter Monument. He mentioned he was looking for a job, and Pela pointed him to my workshop after he confessed being a mechanic."

Cocolia leans back in her chair, expression unnaturally blank. "Continue," she says, tone almost bored.

Serval shifts in her seat, trying to ignore the dread coiling in her stomach. "He... he was a good mechanic," she continues. "I offered him a trial run, as I initially wasn't looking to hire anyone. It seemed like a good compromise at the time. He began working at the workshop every day, mornings and evenings."

Taking a deep breath, steeling herself for the next part. "He had mentioned being from the Underworld, but that turned out to be a lie. Or so he confessed when Pela and I tried to intercept him a few streets before arriving at Backwater Pass."

Cocolia's eyes narrow ever so slightly. "Reports say the Silvermane Guards found you two unconscious, being looked over by your sister," she says, tone sending a shiver down Serval's spine at the way she emphasizes the last two words. "Explain how you approached him and how he managed to subdue you both. What were his abilities and fighting capabilities?"

Instinctively, Serval massages her throat. "I can't say much because there wasn't much to see," she admits, voice strained. "He just moved really quickly, appearing next to us before we could blink. It was... inhuman."

"And his companions?" Cocolia prompts, gaze unwavering.

Serval swallows hard, mouth suddenly dry. "Did he say anything about his plans? Where was he going? What he was going to do next? His purpose?"

For a brief moment, Serval considers telling Cocolia about Xander's knowledge of the Stellaron and its influence on the Supreme Guardians, but…

Will you really hurt my own? With the very weapon you built together with the monster responsible for all this?

She shakes her head. "He had mentioned going to Backwater Pass," she lies, "and also something about a Stellaron in the Starlight Café, which you heard just as everyone did."

Cocolia's gaze remains fixed on her, unblinking. Serval holds her breath, feeling as if she's suffocating under the weight of the Supreme Guardian's scrutiny.

"Did he say anything else about it?" Cocolia asks, tone neutral.

Serval forces herself to meet Cocolia's gaze, willing her voice to remain steady. "He didn't," she lies again. "He got free of Pela's gravity cannon holds before we could press him further on the topic."

Silence stretches between them, the tension in the room palpable. Cocolia simply stares at Serval, expression unreadable. Serval shifts uncomfortably, feeling as if the air itself is being squeezed from her lungs.

Finally, Cocolia breaks the silence. "Your story matches that of Pelageya's when she was interrogated as well," she says, tone flat. "We're done."

With a fluid motion, Cocolia rises from her chair and moves towards the door. Just before exiting, she pauses and looks over her shoulder, unnatural eyes seeming to pierce into Serval's very soul. "For your family's sake, you can't say anything about what we've just spoken about," she warns, voice low and dangerous.

A smirk twisting Cocolia's features, making her appear even more horrifying. "Remember your NDA," she taunts, tone mocking.

Serval opens her mouth to respond, but the words catch in her throat. She can only manage a feeble nod, eyes wide with fear.

As the door closes behind Cocolia, Serval's composure crumbles. Tears welling up in her eyes, blinking rapidly, trying in vain to stop them from falling. She's a Landau, damn it. She needs to be strong, to protect her family. She can't afford to appear weak, not now.

As she regains her composure, the door opens once more, causing her heart to skip a beat in fear. However, the person who enters is none other than her younger brother, Gepard. Relief washes over her as she meets his gaze, but his expression quickly shifts to one of concern.

"Serval, you..." Gepard's words trail off as he takes in her appearance, brow creasing. "Are you okay?"

Serval forces a smile, pushing down the turmoil churning within her. "I'm fine," she lies, voice surprisingly steady. "Just frustrated with everything, that's all." Shrugging nonchalantly, hoping to alleviate his worries.

Gepard doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he sighs, shoulders sagging slightly. "I'm here for you," he says, voice tinged with weariness. "I've been occupied with reconnaissance in Backwater Pass, as we're still looking for Xander. We were also looking for—" He abruptly cuts himself off, shaking his head. "That's not important right now."

Serval watches as Gepard runs a hand through his hair, a gesture she recognizes as a sign of his frustration. "Anyway," he continues, "I was coming over because I wanted to talk to you, and I noticed the Supreme Guardian leaving the room. Did you two talk?"

Serval hesitates for a moment, weighing her options. "We did," she finally answers, voice devoid of emotion.

Gepard's eyes widen slightly, and he leans forward, curiosity etched on his features. "And...?"

"She only asked questions about Xander and confirmed that my story matches that of Pela's, which it did," Serval responds, carefully omitting any mention of Cocolia's disturbing behavior or the veiled threats.

Gepard's shoulders sag with relief, and he nods. "That means you'll both be out in no time," he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I knew Supreme Guardian Cocolia would understand that you weren't involved."

Serval feels a pang of despair at his words, heart sinking. There won't be any getting out, not with Cocolia in power. The Supreme Guardian's warning echoes in her mind, a grim reminder of the reality she now faces.

"Is that why you came, Gepard?" she asks, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Just to assuage your fears?"

Gepard's brow furrows at her tone, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he shakes his head. "I wanted to check on you. I also came to take you to another room. Someone was looking for you, in fact."

Serval raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite her inner turmoil. "Oh?"

Gepard nods, gesturing towards the door. "It's better if I just take you," he says, tone leaving no room for argument.

Serval follows her brother through the winding hallways of the Qlipoth Fort, descending deeper into the heart of the structure. The air grows cooler and drier the further they go, walls seeming to press in around them, creating a sense of claustrophobia.

Finally, Gepard stops in front of a nondescript door, pausing to glance at Serval before opening it. Serval blinks in surprise as she steps inside, gaze immediately drawn to the figure sitting behind a desk at the far end of the room.

Lev Landau, her father4, looks up from the documents he had been reading, piercing blue eyes locking with hers.

"It's good seeing you again, daughter."

——————————————————————

Countdown to Belobog's Long Night of Solace: 3.5 days remaining