The cool stone beneath their boots gave a soft clop as the three Blade brothers moved in tight formation, shoulders brushing the overgrown tunnel walls. Their breath hung in the thick air like whispered ghosts, curling through the underground gloom as they crept forward. Raten, ever the alchemist of chaos, was muttering under his breath to Vorden.
"I'm not saying it'll work," he whispered, fingers brushing the small pouch slung at his side. The pungent aroma of crushed petals clung to him like an herbal fog. "But if Morvidk's mental attack functions like the flora around here—biochemical, or anything like that—then this rebel flower paste might dampen her influence. Maybe even block it entirely. At the very least, we'll be less likely to get poisoned by the spores in here."
He glanced over his shoulder. Both brothers wore smudges of dark brown paste under their eyes and around their temples, and even a thin layer through the hair, all around the neck and just about every possible part of their visible skin. "Worst case scenario," he added with a shrug, "we'll just smell like overgrown moss."
Vorden muttered, voice dry, "And have a very serious need for a shower… when we get out of here."
Raten ignored him, as usual.
"Quiet," Sil hissed from the front, his voice clipped. "I see something ahead."
All three halted mid-step. A flicker—there, around the bend. A vibrant glow. Not bioluminescence. No, this light was far too bright and artificial. Too constant. Too stark white.
They advanced in low, silent steps, holding out hands to block the direct shine from their eyesight. Having been adjusted to being in the dark for some hours, the blinding white of the artificial illumination caused them each to squint and recoil slightly.
Sil pressed his back to the wall and inched toward the bend. The others followed, every boot fall measured, every breath drawn in preparation. Sil leaned forward just enough to peer around the curve.
He pulled back immediately.
"The tunnel ahead is reinforced," he whispered. "There is a step up into some kind of… man-made structure."
"Alien-made," Raten corrected with a smirk.
Vorden and Sil just stared at him. Blinking a few times each.
"Okay…" Sil drawled slowly. "Alien-made."
Raten nodded, satisfied.
Rolling his eyes, Sil continued, "It's different. Sterile. Metallic. There are pipes running along the top, and steel-like floor panels. There's a set of double doors at the far end. Looks like there's no guards. I see no cameras either."
Vorden frowned. "Could be other types of security measures, motion sensors, pressure plates, psychic tripwires of some kind. We're basically blind to all of that."
Sil shook his head in agreement. "No way to tell, so we are just going to have to hope for the best."
Raten's tone hardened. "We didn't trek through fungal hell just to sniff flowers. We do this now. Are you ready?"
Vorden and Sil looked at each other. Then both nodded.
Together, they readied their weapons.
Vorden's shirt sword whispered free with a faint metallic rasp. Sil's hands ignited with low-burning flame, and Raten spun his twin daggers with deft precision, the flower paste smudged on their hilts.
They advanced, slow and silent, emerging into the alien corridor. The metal beneath their boots was cold and hummed with latent energy. Overhead, curved pipes hissed gently, like something breathing. As they neared the door, it shuddered—then slid open with a pneumatic sigh.
Standing on the other side was Morvidk.
For a moment, time fractured.
She was just there—her pale green eyes wide, lips parted in shock, fingers frozen above a communicator on her belt. Ebony hair streaked with delicate strands of silver contrasted starkly with her porcelain skin.
She had not expected them.
Neither had they expected her.
Wasting no time, and quick in his reaction to the unexpected turn of events, Sil lunged.
He was across the threshold in an instant, catching her wrist and throat in a brutal grip. The communicator was knocked away, clattering to the floor. Her legs kicked, boots scraping uselessly against the wall as Sil pinned her there, one-handed.
She choked, clawing at his forearm, rage and panic sparking in her eyes.
Vorden's sharp gaze caught it first—a shimmer in her free hand, a blade. It shot up, straight toward Sil's heart. However she was too late, too obvious. Vorden was simply too observant, too fast, grabbing her wrist and wrenching the dagger free with a violent twist.
Her face changed. The panic that had shrouded her face in fear, and almost something close to pleading, suddenly drained. It was instantly replaced with a venomous, smug grin. Her dangerous looking green eyes blazed emerald.
Nothing happened.
She blinked, her delicate brows creasing in confusion, followed immediately by shock. Then, upon seeing the boys exchanging curious glances and surprised smiles, everything ignited into a raging fury.
Her voice, though strangled, oozed contempt. "What is that on your face? That flower—on your head! Where did you find that disgusting weed?! I burned them all. There's nothing left on the surface. I made sure of it!"
Sil allowed his mouth to curl up slightly at the corner, "Guess you missed a few."
Vorden folded his arms, amused he added, "Don't you know that where there's a will, there's a way, and nature always finds a way."
Raten laughed. "Where there's a will, there's a weed."
Vorden stepped in, his voice held a controlled burn. "I thought you Celestials were all about balance. Why wipe out a species that neutralizes your abilities? Or is balance only sacred when it's not you being balanced?"
Morvidk's sneer was slow. Measured. A smirk curling like a venomous petal. A white light ignited beneath her feet—her escape plan.
Sil didn't give her the chance.
Releasing her hand for a fraction of a second, he moved to the side only to reveal that Vorden had drawn back his short sword in a single arc. She moved to get out of the way—but Raten was faster. His dagger struck true, burying itself in the soft tissue just above her collarbone, nicking the artery. Blood gushed black-green.
She gasped, staggering, mouth quickly filling with thick alien blood.
Then Vorden's blade came down with thunderous finality—slicing cleanly through her throat. The impact embedded the sword into the wall behind her.
Her head toppled, hitting the floor with a grotesque thud. It rolled once before coming to a stop. Her expression remained just as it was when he struck, wide-eyed, and disbelieving.
The body slumped, impaled, before the brothers yanked their weapons free.
Sil conjured flames and ignited the corpse without ceremony. The fire danced in blue and green hues as the toxins released. Thin, shimmering fumes wafted toward them.
"Time to go," Sil muttered.
He gripped their shoulders, and in a flicker of the air around them—they vanished. They reappeared on the moon, directly in front of the ship that they had left hidden.
They moved quickly, boots kicking up dust. Once aboard, they sealed the hatch and raced to the cockpit.
Vorden dropped into the pilot's chair, fingers flying across the console.
"Let's get out of here before anyone decides to pay her a visit."
"Agreed," Raten said, strapping in.
Sil didn't speak. He stared out the viewport, jaw tight.
The engines roared to life. As the ship lifted, the lunar dust whirled beneath them, and the planet loomed in the viewport, as they quickly maneuvered their craft away.
Their task was done. But the mission, they knew, was far from over.