“This has been a hell of a day,” I said, slouching back into the couch with another gss in hand. We’d decided to push our luck and pour one more. After everything that happened, it felt like we’d earned it. And when were we ever going to get our hands on Miller’s Thirty Year again? “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be back in the tunnel so badly,” Morgana replied, letting out a tired sigh. “Tell me about it,” Dillon said, swirling his drink. “At least we got to try the good stuff.” I pointed at him with a zy grin. “A treat for sure. We get home, get paid by Marky, then find a way to… source more of this.” That got a ugh out of both of them. They knew exactly what I meant. Drinks always tasted better when someone else paid. “We’ll have to come back to this side of town for that,” Dillon said, his smile fading a little. “And we’ve got way too much heat on us right now.” He wasn’t wrong. Going back to this district anytime soon would be asking for trouble. That Alicia girl’s face popped into my head. I had a feeling she’d be hunting me until the end of time. I might have to change my whole damn face if I wanted to sneak past her again. “We could always try… earning it?” Morgana said tentatively. She rushed ahead before I could scoff. “We’ve done Marky’s job, we’ve got loot to st us years. Maybe we don’t need to pull any jobs for a while.” She looked at Dillon for backup, and he added, “We might even have enough to invest. Get into a hauling business, like we talked about…” There was a strange hesitation in his voice, uncertainty mixed with hope, and that was what tipped me off. I looked between them. Something about the way they were speaking… it wasn’t just about the money. They were testing the waters. With me. I frowned slightly, trying to figure out what they were so cautious about. Morgana’s shoulders dropped the moment she saw it. Before I could say anything, a carriage rumbled up outside, its wheels crunching on gravel. A second ter, Erick entered the room. “Your chariot awaits!” he said with a chuckle. “Not quite the royal procession you deserve, but we work with what we have.” “A ride home is more than enough,” Dillon said, offering a hollow smile. Erick tilted his head, clearly catching the change in tone. His eyes flicked to Morgana, then to me, lingering like he was waiting for an expnation but he didn’t press it. Not that I had one to give anyway. “The guards are still out and sniffing, so we’ll need to smuggle you out in one of my storage crates,” he said. “It’ll be a tight fit, I’m afraid. But needs must.” “Don’t worry about it,” I said, forcing a ugh. “We’ve travelled in worse.” Erick beckoned us to follow and led us into what looked like a personal workshop. Jade blocks were stacked high along the walls, glittering softly under warm overhead lights. Unfinished sculptures sat on tables and shelves, some half-formed, others nearly complete. There were two rge workbenches covered in carving tools, diagrams, and the kind of precise chaos that only came with true craftsmanship. Near the far wall was a massive wooden crate beside a set of wide loading doors. “I’ve added some cushions and bnkets,” Erick said as he untched the crate’s side panel. “And some snacks, just in case you get hungry on the road.” “Thank you,” Morgana said, fshing him a warm smile as she climbed in, with Dillon following close behind. “It’s the least I could do,” Erick replied. “I just wish I could do more.” “As long as we make it back safe, you’ve done plenty,” I told him. I extended my hand, and he took it in a firm, calloused shake. We shared a quiet look before I climbed in after the others. “We’ll have to nail you in,” he added, reaching for the lid. “Just for show. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it sounds. There are air holes at the bottom. If anyone inspects the crate, make sure to cover them.” “Got it,” I said, settling in beside Morgana and Dillon as the wooden side creaked shut. He gave us one st smile, then closed the crate’s side and began hammering the nails into pce. There was a bit of light from the air holes, but not much. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. The inside was rger than I expected. It was easily big enough for all three of us to sit upright, legs stretched out along the walls. The cushions he’d included were surprisingly soft too. Honestly, I was half-considering taking one with me. Morgana and Dillon were sitting in the opposite corner, slightly behind the bags we’d brought. The quiet tension between us was still there, like static hanging in the air. I wanted to talk about it, clear whatever was brewing, but it felt too risky. Erick had mentioned rebels, conspiracies, and state level secrets. No way was I chancing a conversation while we could be under surveilnce. Who knew who would be listening? A low mechanical cnk echoed outside, followed by a steady lift and jostle. Some kind of contraption was moving us, likely loading us into the carriage that would take us home. Except… what if it wasn’t? The thought hit like a drop of cold water down my spine. What if this wasn’t an escape? What if Erick was handing us straight to the guards? Lulling us with good drink, a warm smile, and a story we couldn’t verify? I wanted to shake the feeling and to trust the man but I’d lived long enough in Danese to know trust was a luxury. But no. That was my paranoia was talking. We would be okay. Betraying us would mean betraying Marky too. The crate lurched again. Wheels groaned. Hooves clopped steadily on stone. Horse-drawn cart. At least that much checked out. The sound of the road helped distract me from my spiralling thoughts. Not that we had many options. If this was a trick, we were already trapped in a nailed-shut box. Escape wasn’t exactly on the cards. No one spoke for the first stretch of the journey. I think we were all on edge, worried that someone might hear us from outside. A talking crate would definitely raise eyebrows. Possibly arms. I counted the seconds, trying to gauge how long we’d been in motion. Maybe twenty minutes? Long enough that I thought we were safe, but… We slowed down. Too soon. I leaned forward slightly, brow furrowed. That was definitely earlier than I’d expected to be anywhere near home. Slowing now wasn’t a good sign. From behind the bags, Morgana peeked around and met my eyes, her worry mirroring my own. Before we could say anything, there was a knock. Three short raps against the side of the crate. “No noise,” came a low voice, rough and direct. “Guard checkpoint.” I shot Morgana a look and gestured toward the air holes. She nudged Dillon, and together they pulled the bnkets across their side. I followed suit with the cushions. Not perfect coverage, but it might pass at a gnce. Hopefully. We came to a full stop. My heart sped up. Raised voices drifted from outside, too muffled to make out properly through the padding. But something felt off. From what little tone I could catch, it wasn’t the guards pressing questions… It sounded like our driver was berating them. I raised a brow and pointed to my ear, silently asking if Morgana or Dillon could make anything out. Dillon shook his head. Then he leaned in closer, pressing his ear near the holes to try and catch something more. Of course, that’s when the cart started moving again. Relief hit me like a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. I saw it ripple across their faces too. We’d made it past the first hurdle. No inspections, no shouts, no sound of swords being drawn. Still, none of us spoke. Just in case. We uncovered a couple of the holes to get some air moving again. Unfortunately, whatever kind of cart we were in had sts or a frame that blocked our view of the outside. When I leaned down, I couldn’t see the street—just more wood. Morgana and Dillon started whispering, keeping their voices low. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were smiling. Sharing looks. It made me feel weirdly… left out. Especially after the tension earlier. Something was going on and I didn’t like it. There wasn’t enough space for me to shift over without moving the bags and making things uncomfortable, so I stayed where I was. Legs stretched out. Shoulders pressed against the wall. I should’ve sat next to Morgana. Instead, Dillon had taken that spot, and now it felt like something was happening without me. A thud shook the side of the crate, breaking the silence. “Out of the heat,” our driver called. No more expnation, but it was enough to tell us the danger had passed. Finally, we could talk. “Do you think it’s safe to speak now?” I asked, keeping my voice low. Morgana shrugged, matching my tone. “Seems like we’re far enough from Erick’s for it to not matter much.” “We should still keep our voices down,” Dillon said. “Just in case.” “What do you think about that story he gave us? About the Unknowns?” Dillon asked after a beat. I had been turning it over in my head the whole ride, and my stance hadn’t really changed. “He sounded genuine and it’s all quite pusible to be honest. It’s bad to say but I just don’t really think it’s our problem.” “We were saying the same,” he replied. “It felt like a recruitment pitch for a cause we don’t really have a stake in.” He wasn’t wrong. If we did get involved, it’d be purely out of goodwill. No real personal benefit. “It pulled too much on the heartstrings for me,” Morgana murmured. “Felt like a con.” “I know what you mean. But I believe the battery farms could be real,” I said. “The reason for attacking Rondo is sketchy, sure. But the rest? It lines up. Especially with Brutan’s sudden rise.” “That can also be expined by the Wallowhackers,” Dillon pointed out, giving me a knowing look. Ah, the Wallowhackers. That crew was demolishing their way through every Challenge like they were born to it. I’d seen their sigil graffitied on walls, a bck hammer on a red shield. People were calling them the next champions of Radan. “They are leading the charge,” I admitted. “But how do you expin how far above expectations they’re performing? They were already good but now they’re dominant.” “We all know they’re led by mages,” Dillon said. “Maybe they’re just really powerful?” I shook my head. “I’m not sure. Their rise is just a little bit more than it should be. Plus if what Erick said is true, it’s not hard to believe they’ve got extra mana access. Maybe even batteries filled by those Unknowns.” He didn’t have a counter for that because honestly, it made a disturbing amount of sense. If they weren’t burning out by fuelling tech like the rest of the mages, or had a constant supply from drained workers… “The one thing I’m stuck on is how they’ve kept it secret for so long. Surely something would have slipped by now” I said. Morgana gave me a level look. “Think about it. If you had powers, wouldn’t you announce it?” I nodded slowly. “Exactly. You’d go to the king. The nobility. You’d show off. And they’d sweep you away, tell you you’re special.” She gestured like pulling something from thin air. “Then you disappear. And they pnt a story saying you made it all up.” “Which we’d believe,” Dillon added, “because everyone knows Danese kids don’t have magic. We’re already trained not to believe anyone who says they do.” Their logic was sound. The conspiracy was starting to seem less far-fetched. A thought struck me. “Do you remember Crazy Carol?” Morgana raised an eyebrow. “The weed dy? Cimed she could grow pnts with her mind?” “She had that booth in the square,” I said, grinning. “Made weeds sprout while people watched.” “You think she was an Unknown?” Dillon asked, incredulously. I pointed at him. “When’s the st time you saw her?” Morgana snorted. “She was a scammer.” “A bad scammer,” Dillon added. “She tried to sell me ‘magic boots’ once. They just had a silver stripe painted down the side.” We all ughed. Cssic Carol. Still, no one could deny she’d vanished without a trace. “I know, I know,” I said, smiling. “But I never figured out how she did the flower trick. I watched her entire show one day trying to figure out what she was doing. And then she disappeared.” “It was probably a stick under the vines,” Dillon said, rubbing his chin. “Can’t be,” I countered. “She did it with flowers too. Remember? Those blue ones that bloomed instantly.” Morgana frowned, arms crossed. “It was better than any of her other scams, I’ll give her that.” “Exactly,” I said as I hammered my point home. “And no one’s seen her since.” “I just assumed she tried to fly over the gorge and fell in,” Dillon said darkly. I chuckled. “Perfect example. Someone with potential magic, written off as crazy. Disappears? No one cares. You’re right Morgana, I see it now. I see how they’d be able to keep all of this a secret.” We fell into silence, the idea settling uncomfortably over us. A hidden system, ensving people like us, right under our noses. It made too much sense. “It doesn’t change anything for us, though. Does it?” Morgana asked, looking me straight in the eye. “Not really,” I admitted. “It’s upsetting, but I don’t know what we could do. Or if I even want to. But…” I hesitated.”The pay is really good. If they offer more jobs like this, and we need money for something, then won’t we be hitting two birds with one stone? A good cause and a good purse.” Dillon’s face twisted in that familiar way that said nope before he even spoke. “Too risky. Just knowing this already paints a target on our backs. And let’s not forget that we assaulted and robbed the heirs of the realm. Getting involved in anything else like this? We’d be public enemy number one.” He wasn’t wrong. Still, something in me resisted the idea of doing nothing. I wasn’t a knight. I didn’t go looking for noble causes. But svery? That crossed a line. I just hoped Marky wouldn’t try to rope us into anything else. The journey dragged on until the cart finally came to a halt. A few seconds ter, the driver cracked the crate open. I climbed out first, stretching my arms and legs as I looked around. We were in a warehouse. Wooden crates lined the walls, and tall torches burned in iron stands near the centre. Judging by the dark sky outside the sts, it was already night. Morgana and Dillon followed me down from the cart. Our driver was older than I’d pictured, with a solid, no-nonsense frame. He watched us with cool detachment, his dusty suit and steely eyes gave off the vibe of someone who’d seen and handled a lot of bad things. Which might have been a projection from me given all that happened but I still decided to be polite. “Thanks for the ride,” I said. He gave a curt nod. “You’re on the edge of Danese. Rowe Street. Mr Stanson uses this warehouse regurly, so no one will question the delivery.” He pointed toward the far right corner of the room, where a side door was tucked behind a stack of boxes. “Use that exit. Stick to the alleys. Head east. You’ll be on familiar streets soon.” Then his eyes met each of ours in turn, cold and clear. “Do not get caught. And if you do, do not mention Mr Stanson. Or me.” I mimed zipping my lips. I knew the risks. If I talked about anything that happened then I’d never be heard from again. Either the crown would kill me or the rebels would. After a beat of silence, the driver gave a grunt and motioned us toward the door.