The Ruins that Remain

{2} The Burial

Ileane Sloane Aldine POV:

In the dimly lit passage of rough-hewn stone, I find myself on hands and knees, navigating through the confining tunnel that winds its way beneath the earth. The cool touch of the stone beneath my fingertips provides a stark contrast to the warmth of the outside world I left behind.

The space is narrow, and the air is thick with the scent of ancient earth. My progress is slow and deliberate, every movement measured to avoid scraping against the uneven walls. The only sounds are the hushed echoes of my breath and the faint, distant murmur of life above.

The play of shadows dances along the tunnel walls, creating an illusion of shifting dimensions. My senses are heightened in this subterranean realm, attuned to the subtlest changes in texture and temperature. The passage seems to stretch endlessly, a labyrinthine journey into the heart of the earth.

As I inch forward, the tunnel occasionally widens or narrows, demanding adjustments to my contorted posture. There's a primal intimacy to this act of crawling through the ancient stone, a connection to a hidden world unknown to those above ground.

Despite the physical strain, a quiet determination propels me forward. The promise of emerging into the open air, away from the confines of the tunnel, keeps me moving. Each stone, rough against my palms, becomes a step toward the unknown destination that awaits on the other side. And so, with determination and a sense of quiet adventure, I continue my slow progression through the subterranean passage.

My brain racks my memory for any sign of forced entry into the palace where I was with the royal family before the screams rang off the walls and unknown soldiers ran into the throne room where I was stationed. The bells that echoed through the city and the palace were a sign and a wake-up call to the invasion.

An invasion would have been altered way before they entered the palace if they attacked the walls, but the bells never rang, leaving only two other options open for how they entered the Palace. Through the tunnel that I crawl in now, but that would mean there would be enemy soldiers and guards protecting the entrance and exit of the tunnels so this could not be how they entered. If there are tunnels underneath the Palace that we do not know of, that can be how they entered the Palace.

How to know of those tunnels though would be an inside job, which means the high warriors or the royal family were stabbed in the back. The thought of the royal family has me worried for them, are they dead or were they taken?

I push further into the tunnel; I need to hurry and find out some more information from traders or merchants in a nearby village. They can surely tell me if the royal family is well and what the condition of the city is.

As I emerge from the narrow tunnel into the open space beyond, a rush of relief floods through me. The cool night air is a welcome contrast to the confined stone passage. However, my elation is short-lived as I find myself face to-face with an unexpected challenge.

Before me stand two enemy soldiers, their silhouettes outlined by the faint glow of moonlight. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I quickly assess the situation. There's no time to retreat; my only option is to confront them head-on.

Without hesitation, I draw upon every ounce of training and energy. I launch into a swift, calculated assault, my movements a dance of evasion and precision. The clash of metal and the murmur of the night bear witness to our silent struggle.

I manage to disarm one of the soldiers, a well-timed strike sending their weapon clattering to the ground. With a swift follow-up, I deliver a precise blow that renders them unconscious, sprawled on the ground. A fleeting sense of triumph fills me, but the urgency to escape propels me forward.