"That painted ship of theirs was the finest thing about them. Their faces had lines like grandfathers. Their eyes were bloodshot and dead. They flinched from my animals. "Let me guess," I said. "You are lost? You are hungry and tired and sad?" ― Madeline Miller (Circe)

* * * *

The dim, sterile corridor stretched endlessly ahead, the green emergency lights casting a sickly, pallid glow across the metallic walls. Shadows warped across the surface, long and misshapen, flickering with every faint buzz of power still coursing through backup systems.

From the vents overhead, a subtle, rhythmic thrum pulsed like a heartbeat—mechanical, almost inhuman.

Letha Joyner led the group with calculated silence, her boots landing noiselessly on the steel flooring. Her eyes scanned every corner with sharp precision, the faintest movement catching her eye. Claudia trailed close behind, her wind Gift humming softly beneath her skin—controlled and ready. Lucie took the rear, clutching the hem of her shirt slightly tighter than usual, the faint embers of her Gift flickering on her fingertips, ready to ignite at the slightest threat.

Another tremor rocked the floor beneath them.

"Ness and Tatius are having some fun below," Lucie murmured, eyes going toward their feet. Dust drifted lazily from the seams, and a soft rumble echoed like distant thunder.

Claudia's sigh was the epitome of older sibling exasperation. "I'm going to have some words with them both when this is over."

There was a fondness in her tone, though—the kind built over years of trust and bickering and surviving hell together.

Letha gave a faint smile without looking back. "Don't be like that. They're doing their job. The more ruckus they cause, the less attention there'll be on Sera's team."

"Still…" Lucie bit her lip. "We haven't found any of the Gifted that were supposedly taken here yet."

Static crackled in their earpieces.

"Chances are they might either be on Level Two or Three," Raul's voice echoed, grounding but tense. "Do take a look around. I can only see the areas with security cameras. Not every single room or passage has one. Some parts of the facility are manned manually."

The implication was clear—there were blind spots. And whatever was hidden in those places wasn't meant to be seen.

The hallway narrowed as they turned a corner into the northern wing. The overhead lights here had failed entirely—only the emergency strips along the base of the walls glowed faintly, casting the entire corridor in a haunting green hue.

Lucie slowed. "…Does this place feel…off to anyone else?"

Claudia's arms were already crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes scanning the darkness with thinly veiled tension.

Letha stopped walking. "There's an aura of death in this place," she said quietly. Her voice was low and distant—like she wasn't entirely present anymore.

Claudia and Lucie exchanged uneasy looks. They knew Letha's Gift didn't just allow her to command the dead. It made her attuned to the very residue of mortality.

"But considering what this place is used for…" Letha trailed off, lifting her eyes toward the passage ahead. "I shouldn't be surprised."

Something in her expression had gone hard—emotionless, but cold. The look of someone who'd seen this kind of darkness before.

As they moved further, Lucie slowed near a heavy steel door tucked into the side of the wall. There was no plaque. No label. No viewing window. Just smooth, matte grey steel.

Her brows furrowed. "What's this room?"

All the others they'd passed had nameplates—'Containment Wing B', 'Testing Chamber', 'Cryo Storage.'

But not this one.

Letha stepped forward. Her hand brushed over the cold surface. "Help me."

Together, she and Claudia slid the door open with effort. It groaned loudly, resisting, scraping along the reinforced track.

And then, stillness.

The air inside was heavy. Cold. Stagnant.

Lucie was the first to react, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh… Dear Goddess…"

The room was lined with bodies. Ceiling to floor. Dozens, no, hundreds of them, stacked on suspended metal shelves, each one wrapped in stained sheets or left exposed, their skin pale with death.

They were Gifted. That much was obvious.

Some had remnants of strange brands or identification marks burned into their skin. Others were missing limbs. Eyes. Organs. Several had grotesque, cauterised surgical wounds that stretched open their torsos, as if they'd been dissected like lab specimens.

"I'm going to be sick," Claudia muttered, turning away. Her hands were shaking.

But Letha stepped in.

Her breath hitched, just once, but she remained composed, pale blue eyes surveying the horror. "I guess we now know what happened to the Gifted that were taken to this place."

Lucie's knees threatened to give way. "Why would they keep them like this? Why wouldn't they…?"

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"Because they don't see us as human," Letha replied quietly. "To them, we're just data points. Test subjects. Disposable."

A long silence fell between the three of them.

"…We need to move on," Lucie whispered.

"Agreed," Letha said.

They closed the door.

The corridor ahead felt darker now. Tighter. Every footstep echoed like a hammer in their ears. When they came across a side chamber—one marked 'Documentation & Sample Archive', Letha lifted her hand.

"Here."

She pushed the door open just a crack.

Inside, a dimly lit room opened into rows of metal counters and data terminals. Beakers and vials sat in neat rows along the tables, many filled with thick amber or crimson fluids. Scientific instruments hummed softly, the only sound apart from the faint drone of machinery.

And people.

Three figures in lab coats. Two male, one female. Pale-faced and middle-aged. They turned at the sound of the door, and froze.

None of them had time to scream.

Claudia struck first, the air pressure shifting violently as a blade of compressed wind snapped the woman's neck like a twig. Lucie's hands ignited—flames shooting from her palms with surgical control as she slammed into the taller man, a column of fire burning away his scream before he could cry for help. Letha was on the third before he could even draw a breath, snapping his spine with a brutal twist of her hands. She didn't blink.

It was over in seconds.

They stared at the bodies, breathing heavily. The room stank of chemicals and fear.

"…Efficient," Claudia muttered, rubbing her arm.

"They were about to call in reinforcements," Lucie murmured. "We didn't have a choice."

"I know," Claudia said. But the look in her eyes was haunted.

Letha was already moving. She stopped near the counters, her eyes catching something half-hidden beneath a stack of folders—a cage. Steel bars. Empty, save for the remnants of something charred and clawed. Animal?

Whatever it is, something was being kept here. And Letha had a bad feeling about it. Whatever it was, she don't want to meet it. Though it seems like the Gift-null areas are only on Level 3, since she and the others are able to use their Gifts without any issue so far.

Letha turned sharply as Claudia called her over. "What are they doing in here?"

Lucie had already opened one of the folders, eyes darting over the text. "Something about…drug trials?" she said, her brows furrowed.

"There's mention of 'perfecting' a compound," Claudia said, flipping through another file. "And… Creating one, even. Something about a prototype stage."

There were other terms, too—"genetic amplification", "recombinant mutations", and even "subject rejection thresholds."

One word appeared repeatedly, like a dark refrain: Pandora.

Letha stopped cold. "…Pandora…" she repeated, her voice suddenly hollow.

Lucie blinked. "Letha?"

Letha's fists clenched at her sides. "…Bring these documents with us," she said at last, her voice tight. "We don't have time to dig deeper now."

Claudia and Lucie shared a confused glance. "What even is Pandora?" Claudia asked.

Letha shook her head. "I'll explain when we're out of here. Let's just say I'm familiar with the term. So is Sera. And Raul. Laura. Zest. Anyone from the underground would be." She took one last look at the files before shoving them into her satchel. "I never thought I'd hear that word again," she whispered.

Outside the room, the hallway stretched onward into more darkness. But now… Now, it felt like the shadows were watching.

Lucie was still quiet, her eyes wide, not liking to see Letha so angry with the mentions of 'Pandora'. Whatever that is, Lucie had a feeling she isn't going to like it.

Lucie's hands, usually full of kinetic fire, were fidgeting nervously by her side. Claudia, to her right, had that grim expression she wore when she was deep in thought—tight lips, furrowed brows, her green eyes calculating a hundred outcomes ahead.

Then Lucie froze, as her ears picked up something almost silent. "Uh… Did anyone hear that?"

"Hear what?" Claudia asked, puzzled.

Letha stopped too, her heart lifting into her throat. The silence around them was thick, almost pressing down against their skin. Then they all heard it.

A low, drawn-out growl. Guttural. Primal.

The sound scraped across the air like claws across metal. It was deep and wrong, something that didn't belong in this world of hallways and artificial lights.

Slowly, the three turned.

At the far end of the room, just under the glow of the flickering light panels overhead, stood a creature. No… Something shaped like a creature, but far too large and too wrong.

It stepped forward, revealing a hulking black form with matted fur that clung to its powerful frame. Its shoulders were broad, its spine arched unnaturally, and its elongated snout dripped with thick strands of saliva. Its eyes gleamed, burning with malevolent intelligence, not instinct.

Around its neck was a collar. Not a simple one. This one was wrought in metal, embedded with spikes, wires, and tiny glimmering chips of some kind. Engraved into the collar's side were serial numbers.

A designation. A brand.

Letha's breath hitched as dread closed around her lungs like a vice. Her stomach twisted. "…The hunters' war hounds," she whispered.

Lucie's eyes widened. Claudia took a step closer, her fingers twitching toward her belt. Neither one of them had any idea what 'war hounds' are, but from the tone of Letha's voice, they got a feeling they aren't going to like it.

"They use these when hunting down Gifted," Letha continued, her gaze never moving from the war hound. "They're killer machines. Genetically altered. Mind-broken. Designed to smell out Gifted blood like a radar. Don't make any rash movements. Do NOT panic. Move SLOWLY towards the door."

None of them blinked.

The war hound didn't snarl again. It didn't need to. It was watching them. Assessing. Waiting.

"Letha, what's going on?!" Raul's voice cracked through the comms in a tense whisper.

Letha didn't turn on her mic. She kept her eyes locked on the hound, her breathing slow and ragged. "War hound," she said lowly into her comm.

There was a beat.

"WAR HOUND?!" Raul nearly shouted.

Claudia twitched. Lucie's hands flared with a bit of fire but immediately died down.

"Can you trap it somewhere?!" Raul demanded.

"No can do." Letha's voice wavered slightly. Just slightly, but it was enough.

Claudia turned to her with a flash of fear in her eyes. Lucie stiffened. Letha wasn't the type to scare easily. But her voice trembled. Her pulse was too fast. She knew what these things could do.

"Raul, find a route for us. We're getting out of here."

Then… Another growl. This one deeper. From the left.

Another form slunk out of the shadows. This one larger, with missing fur that revealed rippling musculature and cybernetic plates sewn into its sides. Its jaws parted, and a long, forked tongue flicked out before it released a snort of hot air.

Lucie nearly choked on her own breath. "Letha, I'm getting a bad feeling," she said, her voice tight and high.

"No shit," Claudia muttered under her breath, her eyes darting between both beasts. "They're advancing."

The hounds were moving now, slow and deliberate, each step calculated. Their claws clinked against the tiles—metal claws. Reinforced.

"Letha, can we run?" Claudia asked again.

"Yes," Letha said, reaching for her holster in one slow, fluid motion. "As fast as you can. RUN!"

All three turned on their heels and bolted.

The corridor exploded in snarls.

Behind them came the sound of claws tearing against metal and concrete—the hounds were fast, absurdly fast. Lucie dared a glance back and nearly screamed. One was only ten feet behind, barrelling forward with inhuman speed, saliva flying, its jaws snapping at the air.

"We'll never outrun them!" Lucie shouted.

Letha turned mid-run, aiming behind them and firing a volley of bullets. The shots struck the beast in the shoulder, but it didn't flinch. It roared, enraged, and surged even faster.

"RAUL!" Claudia bellowed, raising her palm and sending a burst of wind back to stagger the creature. It only slowed for a second. "Find an escape route! A ventilation shaft! Anything!"

"I'm working on it!" Raul's voice was a frantic flurry. "Go left at the next fork! Take the service hallway! NOW!"

The three darted left, the hallway narrowing. Ahead, broken overhead lights flickered, and at the far end…

"There!" Lucie shouted. "An open vent!"

It was high—at least eight feet above. Its grate was missing, the vent shaft yawning open. Claudia's eyes locked on it immediately and crouched low. "Lucie! Step on me! GO!"

Lucie didn't hesitate. She leapt onto Claudia's braced hands and sprang up, grasping the edge of the shaft. She pulled herself up with a grunt, barely fitting through the narrow space. Then she reached down. "Claudia! Your turn!"

Claudia gave a final burst of wind behind her to push the hounds back a few feet, then sprang up. Lucie caught her wrists and pulled hard.

"LETHA!" Lucie screamed.

Letha turned around, still on the ground, watching the two war hounds charge. Her mind burned.

She had seconds.

She ran forward, stepped on the wall, and launched herself up, twisting in the air. Her boots slammed into the first hound's face, using its skull as a stepping board. The beast snarled, blood spitting from its mouth, but she didn't stop—she kicked off again, flipping upward.

Claudia reached.

Lucie caught her arm.

Letha's foot slipped.

The hound below leapt.

Its jaws snapped closed, barely missing Letha's leg by inches as she was yanked up and into the shaft.

They fell into a heap inside the ventilation shaft, breathing in ragged gasps.

"…Letha…" Lucie gasped, her heart pounding against her ribs. "You okay?!"

"I'm fine," Letha panted, pressing her back against the wall. Sweat trickled down her neck. "That was close. Too close."

They sat there, unmoving, as the hounds below snarled and clawed at the walls beneath. But they couldn't reach them now.

"Letha, Claudia, Lucie, retreat!" Sera's voice came through, clear but firm in the comms. "Head back to the boat!"

"What about all of you?" Claudia asked between breaths.

"We'll be fine!" Laura chimed in, her voice full of assurance. "Go!"

Lucie looked ahead, the vent stretching into the darkness. "Think they'll be okay?"

"They'll be fine," Letha said, catching her breath. "If what we found is any indication, I don't even want to imagine what's really going on in here. I understand now why the Premier wanted this place destroyed."

Her hand brushed against the satchel by her side. Inside were the records—details of Pandora. Of systematic slaughter, manipulation, and experiments. Of Gifted used as test subjects, as biological blueprints. Of atrocities the world would never believe if they hadn't seen it themselves.

"Pandora… War hounds…" Letha whispered. "The hunters aren't playing by the rules anymore."

There was a silence between them.

Then Claudia said softly, "Well… Neither are we."

And in that silence, as they crawled forward into the darkness, each of them carried the weight of what they'd seen, and what still lay ahead.

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