Patch of Druid-Chapter 15 – The Sewers

The water clung to their legs — thick, murky, reeking of filth and decay.

It coated Alex and Lyra's ankles as they trudged through the narrow, damp tunnels beneath the city. They moved almost soundlessly, pressing their bodies against the cold, grimy sandstone walls. They lifted their knees high, trying not to sink deeper into the foul sludge, where something occasionally shifted beneath the surface.

The dimness wrapped around them like a bottomless well. Only dripping water and their quickened breaths broke the silence. Every step had to be careful—stones were slippery, and parts of the floor vanished completely beneath layers of rotting muck. The narrow passages left no room to stand upright; at times they had to crawl, scraping shoulders against sticky walls streaked with moisture and decaying residue.

Alex ran his hand along the sandstone, seeking balance. Under his fingers, he felt grime, dried mud, and a stench that soaked into his skin.

They exchanged only the briefest whispers — "this way," "careful," "lower" — barely audible over the trickling water. They moved to the rhythm of their breaths. The air was thick and heavy, saturated with the stench of rot. When they reached a junction, Lyra suddenly stopped and raised her hand. Alex froze, every nerve in his body alert.

For a moment, there was only dripping and the soft sighs of their bodies.

And then — a rustle. Scratching. The scrape of claws on stone.

Rats emerged from the shadows.

First a few shapes, then dozens, then hundreds.

A wave of black, dripping bodies flooded the narrow corridor, weaving between their legs, leaping up the walls, climbing crumbling bricks. Alex barely suppressed a scream. One ran across his boot, another struck his shin, leaving a red mark from its sharp claws.

Lyra didn't flinch. She stood motionless like a shadow, eyes wide open, tracking the swarm with cold precision. Only when the last tail vanished into the dark did she give a small nod.

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She moved forward again, and Alex, throat tight and heart pounding, followed.

Now he understood why no one patrolled these tunnels.

Over time, fear stopped being the dominant feeling—it became just one of many quiet companions, lurking at the edges of the mind. The worst part was the uncertainty. They didn't know if they were heading the right way, though Lyra seemed to trust her instincts.

Through the maze of cramped, reeking tunnels, Alex tried not to fall behind, though every step sent pain through his tired limbs. It felt like Lyra could sense the path in chaos. She moved with surprising confidence, pausing occasionally, as if detecting hidden obstacles just ahead.

At one point, as they wandered through a series of stone intersections and identical corridors, Lyra stopped, turned sharply, and headed in the opposite direction without a word.

Alex didn't even ask why. He just followed, panting, forcing his aching body to keep going. A strained whisper escaped his lips:

— "Do you know how much farther?"

Lyra glanced over her shoulder, gauging the distance in her mind.

— "Not much. We should be near the outer wall soon."

They kept moving. Each step echoed against the stone, blending with the dripping and the faint scurrying of rat feet. Before long, they began to notice small ventilation holes in the walls, leading to the surface. Sounds from above told them they were still near the city center.

As they turned a sharp corner, footsteps echoed from above.

They froze, pressed into a shadowy alcove, bodies pressed against the damp stone. For several seconds, nothing moved—just their breaths, the dripping water, and Alex's heart pounding in his chest.

Then they saw the light.

A torch.

A guard descended, close enough for Alex to see the fine scars on his face—thin lines illuminated by the flame. His footsteps rang out in the darkness. The guard paused. He listened.

Before he could react, Lyra leapt from the shadows.

With the weapon taken from the last guard, one smooth motion — the blade slid into his throat. It cut clean through his trachea. She yanked it free.

Shock froze on the man's face. He tried to scream, to call for help, but only a gurgle escaped his throat. He clutched his neck, trying to stop the blood spurting out in thick streams. Moments later, he collapsed into the filth with a splash.

His torch hit the wall and rolled.

Alex lunged instinctively and caught it before it touched the water. Lyra yanked the body deeper into the alcove.

Alex knelt beside the corpse, stunned by the efficiency of her attack. The torchlight illuminated the guard's blood-soaked hands, still trying to press against the wound—as if he could undo what had just happened.

— "Now," Lyra hissed, impatient.

They began searching the body.

They found flint, an unused rope—which Lyra handed to Alex—and a folded map of the nearby area. Less than a minute later, they heard the familiar rustle — rats. They were drawn to the fresh blood now streaming down the tunnel.

— "Quiet now," Lyra muttered, moving again, even more cautiously.

— "Got it," Alex whispered back.

A new energy surged through them. Their movements became lighter, surer. Every sound carried potential danger, but the map gave them strength.

Lyra studied it with calm precision, marking each turn without hesitation. Alex followed with growing certainty. Though fatigue gnawed at them, they didn't stop. They were close.

Alex looked at her with awe. Her determination was endless.

He was surprised how quickly his strength returned—as if what they'd just endured had transformed him.

Though cautious, their steps carried silent euphoria. The sense of fleeting safety revived not just their bodies, but something between them.

— "You're incredible," Alex whispered.

Lyra glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze was no longer cold.

— "Not now. Not here," she replied softly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Their bond felt stronger than ever.

Moments later, the tunnel widened, almost pushing them into the open.

They emerged into moonlight.

A stone arch marked the end of the sewers.

They stood just outside the city wall.

Evening light shimmered on the stones, and a cold breeze brushed their sweat-soaked faces. Alex and Lyra stopped, overwhelmed by the sudden change—after so long in the choking dark, the light felt unnatural. Their wet footprints stretched behind them like a silent record of their escape.

They breathed heavily, as if the act itself was all that kept them going.

Silence fell around them — thick, unreal.

After all they had survived, it hit like a blow — too quiet to be trusted.

Lyra raised her chin, nodding toward the vast desert beyond, sliced by the dark ribbon of the river.

— "We'll wait for dawn. In daylight, we'll be safer. We'll check the map—maybe there's a road." Her voice was quiet but firm. "Unless you want to leave. Go on alone. This is your moment to choose."

Alex stared at her for a long moment.

Her eyes held no coldness — just exhaustion and honesty.

She wasn't demanding. She was giving him a choice.

He opened his mouth... but hesitated.

Fear had lived inside him so long it had become part of him. He wasn't even sure if it was fear anymore—or just survival.

He said nothing for a moment.

Lyra waited. Her face calm, but the tension in her eyes betrayed her uncertainty.

The world stood still — caught between what they had left behind and what lay ahead.

The darkness of the tunnels still clung to them, but the desert offered no gentler promise.

Far off, along the wall, under the moonlight—shadows moved.

Demons.

Their shapes glided silently, cautiously.

Lyra turned to him, waiting.

Alex nodded slightly, though his pounding temples made it hard to focus.

— "No, I'm staying with you," he said at last, softly but firmly. "We'll wait."

Lyra exhaled slowly, a quiet breath of relief.

Her lips curved into a visible smile.

Before them lay freedom—uncertain, like everything they had ever known.

The first light of dawn touched the horizon with pale fire.

Hope mingled with fear.

And the desert, though open, promised only more danger.

Wind howled suddenly, carrying the sounds of the night—howls, wild cries tearing through the silence.

Echoes rolled across the city walls and faded over the river.

Alex felt Lyra's hand rest gently on his shoulder.

— "Let's rest. While we can."