The night was over, but Velith didn't wake.
The fires had burned too bright, too long, and what remained was only smoke — heavy, bitter, clinging to the ruins like guilt.
Guild sirens echoed faintly across the city's bones, though no one alive paid them much attention. What few civilians had survived were herded toward the outer shelters, their faces pale with the same question no one dared ask:
What had they just witnessed?
Above the rubble, massive Guild transports hovered like carrion birds. The symbol of the Nineveil Division glimmered on their hulls — a veil-shaped crest, pure white against the darkness. The cleanup had begun.
---
Inside the shattered plaza, an officer's boots crunched through ash. He stopped near a deep crater still pulsing faintly with Mirra residue, its edges glowing like fractured glass.
> "Residual distortion levels... thirty-one percent and fading," his assistant reported.
"We'll scrub the rest by dawn."
The officer knelt beside the crater, brushing his gloved fingers across the dust. It shimmered faintly, reacting to his touch.
> "Someone used something old here," he muttered. "Too precise for chaos… too deliberate for panic."
> "Sir?"
"Archive the readings. Then delete them."
Orders came fast, cold, and absolute. Within minutes, the Guild's drones began rewriting the city's logs — security feeds wiped clean, data replaced with scripted footage of a "containment accident." Every survivor was dosed with the same neuro-serum to blur memory and tighten silence.
By morning, no one would remember Velith's night of fire.
---
Far below, through the maze of abandoned service tunnels, Mael and the remnants of his crew were already on the move.
The air was thick with dust and the smell of iron. Broken pipes hissed faintly, echoing through the dark. Only the soft rhythm of boots against concrete marked their passage.
> "We should've taken the northern exit," someone whispered. "The Guild'll search the east lines first."
"They'll search everywhere," Mael said calmly. "But not for us. They'll be too busy cleaning up their own story."
He walked at the front, steps steady, shoulders relaxed — as if none of it had touched him. Behind him, the others exchanged glances. They'd seen him fight. They'd seen what he did to the shard's guardians. And they couldn't decide whether they'd followed a man or a weapon.
One of the younger thieves — the one with the Mirra-thread arm — limped beside him, clutching a bleeding shoulder.
> "We lost half the team… for what?" he asked bitterly.
Mael didn't look back.
"For a reminder."
"Of what?"
"That power never sleeps. And those who chase it never rest."
The silence that followed was heavier than the ash above them.
---
Hours later, they reached the old waterway — a forgotten artery beneath Velith, where moss-covered stone met ancient machinery. The tunnel opened into a faintly glowing reservoir, reflecting the lights of their fading Mirra.
Mael stopped at the edge of the water and stared at his reflection. The ripples distorted his face, splitting his features into a thousand broken fragments. For a moment, something like weariness flickered in his eyes — but it vanished as quickly as it came.
> "This city's done," he said. "By sunrise, it'll be like we never existed."
"Then… what now?"
"Now," he replied softly, "we start making sure the world doesn't forget what we did."
A faint smirk followed. "Not entirely, at least."
He turned, scanning each face one by one — battered, uncertain, but still breathing. "We head east. Keep to the lines. Avoid light. If anyone falls behind—"
> "We know," one of them said quietly. "Leave them."
Mael nodded once. That was enough.
---
Back above, the Guild's operation neared completion.
The lead officer watched as automated drones layered new pavement over the charred streets, burying the evidence beneath sterile concrete.
> "Velith will reopen in a week," the technician said.
"And the report?"
"Filed under 'industrial anomaly.' No mention of Mirra."
"Good. Make sure the news lines it up with the mining collapse from last year. People like patterns."
As the drones sealed the final crater, the officer noticed something — a faint trail of footsteps leading away from the site, vanishing toward the city's east line. Small. Barely visible. But fresh.
He stared for a long moment before shaking his head.
> "No survivors," he muttered, typing the words into his report. "None."
---
Far from the city's dying glow, Mael paused for a final look back.
The horizon behind him was a haze of smoke and light — the ghost of Velith burning quietly into memory.
> "They'll rewrite it," said the limping boy beside him. "Pretend none of this happened."
"Let them," Mael said. "Even lies leave traces."
Then, without another word, he turned east — where the tunnels bled into the wilderness beyond.
The others followed, shadows fading into deeper shadow.
And above them, the city exhaled one last plume of smoke…
as if relieved to forget.
---