Alicia Zalana has never feared the dark. She grew up surrounded by it, often found comfort in its embrace where lecherous eyes couldn't find her. 

The darkness she finds herself in now whispers to her all the stories her brothers tried to frighten her with as a child. Not even the flame in her lantern can chase away such a concoction of darkness. Like spilt ink, it slithers into every crack and crevice, suffocating her in the tunnel with its density.

She squints, lowering the lantern to peer at the map crumpled in her trembling grip.

Elena said it wouldn't be much further than the hidden opening in the wall, that her grandfather had been very specific about where not to tread in these tunnels, but Alicia has found no evidence of what she's searching for.

She huffs out a breath, blowing a dark strand of her hair from her eyes and continues trudging forward, ignoring the way her stomach churns.

Carefully traversing loose stone and cracked flooring, she notes the tunnel is beyond ancient if the sour smell lingering in the air is anything to go by. Alicia grits her teeth, sweat trickling down her temples, cooled by the icy air in the tunnel.

She doesn't bother counting the amount of times she nearly turns back, nearly abandons this fool's errand. She has no reason to be here. No reason beyond her loyalty to Elena.

Elena, whose bright brown eyes were filled with hopes and aspirations for the future. Before meeting that vibrant girl, Alicia's world was narrowed to when she would get her next meal and where she could hide to avoid the boys on the street. Her brothers weren't always there to save her.

She sighs and glares down at her map again, trying to make sense of the twisting maze that surrounds her. It's an endless jumble of stone, something Elena warned her of. Such walls founded Muovea, built in a time more myth than fact, held together by black magic, blood, and bone. Or so the stories go. Those few, foolish children who've wandered into the foreboding walls of Muovea have never come back. Some claim they were snatched by red-eyed witches with sharpened teeth, but Alicia's never put much faith in that tale. It's simply a story to keep children away from the walls, a story to explain the unexplainable.

And Elena has asked her to explain it.

Alicia tilts her head to the side, her neck aching from being so tense. As she does, something catches her hearing. A scuffle, a scattering of rocks. If she were anywhere else—if she were back home in the slums—then she'd blame it on the rats. But after walking through these tunnels for the past hour, she knows nothing living braves this cursed place. Not even rats.

Alicia twists around a corner and presses her back to it as she lowers the flame in her lantern. With her breath stuck in her throat, she waits, stuffing her map into her pocket to free her hand.

She's not a fighter, her brothers were the ones who had to bloody their fists for her as kids. It begs the question of why she even accepted this task in the first place. She's clearly not built for it.

The footsteps are soft, calculated, like the person knows they're not alone. She can only hope that they're not a fighter either. Or that it's not a red-eyed witch. That thought makes her want to sob.

Alicia crouches and picks up a rock, the rough edge scratching her callused palm. She curses herself for not swiping her pa's gun before coming here, but if she's being honest with herself, she didn't expect to find anything in these tunnels that proves what Elena's grandfather saw fifteen years ago is real.

The footsteps come closer, echoing now on the stone around her. The glow of a lamp bathes the old stone in a golden hue, scattering shadows. The light lowers and there's a clunk as the person places the lantern on the ground.

She grits her teeth, forces her nerves down, and steps out of hiding. She swings her rock at the figure before her, aiming at their head. A hand catches her wrist and Alicia gasps as she's spun around and is slammed into the stone wall, the air whooshing from her lungs. Her lantern tumbles from her grip and she doesn't hear it shatter over her gulping breaths as she stares at the Reaper.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" comes a rough drawl, the voice dripping with hidden threats.

Alicia blinks and peers into sterling eyes, chips of ice within them. "I'm looking for red-eyed witches," she manages to force from her trembling lips. The hand around her wrist tightens, pressing her harder against the wall. She grabs the lapel of his coat, the material fine and soft under her touch, too expensive to be a scavenger searching for lost treasures within these walls.

It's then she feels the press of something hard against her stomach and she has a brief hope that he's just happy to see her. She glances down and spies a revolver against her belly, the hammer pulled back and his finger on the trigger.

"Who are you?" he asks, his face a breath away from hers. His skin is pale, in contrast to Alicia's bronze colour. The shadow of stubble coats his distinct jaw, his lips a defined pout, slightly down-turned as he watches her with narrowed eyes.

"No one of importance." It isn't a lie, but he still glares at her like it is. She isn't important. Sometimes she crawls out of the slums to do odd jobs for the travellers, then crawls back before her ma can discover where she is. This job just happens to include skulking around in dark places that she has no right to wander.

After a moment of pondering, the man steps back, his gun still trained on her. Alicia drops the stone and brushes the dirt from her hands. She doesn't take her hazel eyes off the stranger.

"And who might you be?" she asks as he steps into the light of his lantern on the ground, causing his sharp jaw to send shadows sinking into his cheeks. Alicia notes that he's not, in fact, the Reaper and that perhaps the stories her brothers try to scare her with are finally getting to her.

"No one of importance."

She runs her tongue over her teeth and chooses to ignore that remark to instead stare at her shattered lantern leaking oil. "You broke my lantern." She has to clench her jaw to stop herself from cursing. Her gaze darts to his lantern on the ground and he follows her movement.

"No, you don't," he reprimands and swipes up the light. The only light in this tunnel.

"Do you even know where you're going?" she asks, a bitterness in her tone as she plants her hands on her hips, loathe to go wandering through these tunnels without light. She'd be wandering until her bones are no more than dust.

"That way." He waves his gun in the direction that leads deeper into the tunnel, though even in the dim light, Alicia can see there are three different tunnels to take.

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "You don't have a map?"

"And you do?"

Alicia purses her lips, instantly regretting bringing it up.

The man lifts his chin. "You have a map." He takes a step forward, raising his gun to aim at her head.

Alicia swallows, her throat painfully dry. She takes a step back, eyeing the gun that broaches the distance between them. "I'm not giving it to you."

He tilts his head, a single curl of chestnut hair falling over his forehead. "Then I'll just take it off your body. A body that no one will find, especially if you're of no importance."

Alicia's jaw aches with how hard she clenches her teeth together. Her shoulder-blades scrape against the stone as she takes another step back. "I was sent here by someone. They'll come looking."

"Who?"

Alicia presses her lips together again, refusing to let her secrets spill. She's becoming accustomed to keeping secrets, that doesn't mean she's good at it.

"Sweetheart," he says with a roll of his eyes, his voice a gravelly hush in the quiet of the tunnel. "You might want to start giving me reasons not to kill you and take that map. I've done worse for less."

She lowers her chin to glare at the deep pocket in her trousers where the map is safely tucked. She weighs her options—not that she has many—before lifting her gaze again to meet his silvery stare. "You're a mercenary."

"Of a sort."

The confirmation doesn't ease her struggle. This man is capable of violence, it's a miracle he hasn't pulled the trigger already. Maybe he has some morals, but she'd be stupid to test them. She's already stupid for coming into these tunnels. "We might be looking for the same thing. We could work together."

"I doubt it." His flinty stare makes her shift from foot to foot and shove her hand into her pocket, like she can protect her precious map.

"Okay, fine," she grumbles with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the gun pointed at her face.

She's seen death, she's stared it in the face every day in the slums, she's witnessed her brother on the brink of it. She's no stranger to death, that's the only thing keeping her from tossing him the map and making a run for it into the gloom of the tunnel.

"I was sent by the travellers to validate findings from fifteen years ago. And if I die down here, they will come looking." At least, Elena will. It's not as though the rest of her people actually wanted either of them to do this. But the stranger doesn't need to know that.

The man runs his tongue along his full lower lip before he nods. He clicks the hammer of his revolver and tucks it under his coat into a leather holster. "I need your map and you need my light. It looks like we're stuck together."

"Great," she grumbles, eyeing him up and down from his tailored trousers and waistcoat to the soft waves of his brown hair. He's too young to be an experienced mercenary. But then again, Muovea rarely considers people's ages before making them suffer. It's simply the way of the land.

Alicia spins around and takes her map out of her pocket, protecting it from his prying eyes with her body. Then she walks forward, his light following close behind.

"You said you were looking for red-eyed witches. I hope you're joking."

"You don't believe the stories?" she questions, trailing her fingers over the map. Her focus elsewhere, she doesn't notice the rock until it catches on her boot and sends her stumbling. Alicia gasps as she falls but a hand yanks her back to her feet. She staggers against his chest and tilts her head to glare up at him, amusement in the curl of his lip.

"No, I don't believe the stories. Just like I don't believe you're cut out for this type of work."

She shakes his hand off her shoulder, the heat of his touch lingering. She trudges ahead. "You're the one that brought a gun to abandoned tunnels like there really are monsters down here."

"I bring a gun everywhere."

Alicia snorts and shakes her head. "I don't know what that says about you, but it certainly says something." She makes certain to step over the next crumbled stone they come across, not daring to give him a glance though she feels his stare on the back of her head like a weight. "How'd you get in here anyway? I thought the travellers had the entrance hidden."

"There's another entrance. One not so hidden."

She huffs out a breath at that, trying not to let herself become annoyed that Elena forced her to stay in the tunnels longer than necessary. But secrecy was paramount in this, so she understands. That doesn't mean she isn't frustrated.

They come to a section of the wall that makes Alicia lift her head and frown.

"What is it?" the man asks, coming up behind her to lift his light closer to the wall.

"Well, according to my map, there shouldn't be a wall here." She looks down at the paper again, gnawing on her lower lip, wondering if they took a wrong turn.

She's not cut out for this. She shouldn't be in this place. She's the daughter of a drunk, Light help her.

"Maybe there isn't," the man murmurs in her ear, his voice a gentle brush against her senses that sends a shiver down her spine.

It has nothing to do with the cold.

He reaches past her, his chest brushing against her shoulder as he settles his hand over the wall.

"What are you looking for?" she asks, peering up at him and the sharp angle of his jaw.

"Feel that?" he questions, but all she feels is the heat radiating off his body.

She shakes her head.

"There's a breeze. It's hollow behind this wall."

Alicia snaps her gaze back to the wall, her breath hitching in her throat.

"Here." He passes her the lantern and steps around her, feeling along the wall as Alicia watches with wide eyes.

"What's your name?" she blurts out as he pushes against the wall, a piece of it crumbling away.

He glances over his shoulder at her, his silvery gaze clashing with hers. "Why?"

"Because..." She pauses, sinking her teeth into her lower lip again. "Because I have this feeling that whatever we find down here is going to change our lives forever. And I'd like to know who I'm probably going to die with."

A small smile curves his lips and he turns back to the wall. He pushes harder against it and a large chunk of it caves in, clattering on the other side to cause a resounding echo. "You have a feeling," he murmurs.

"I'm Alicia," she offers, rising to her toes to look over his shoulder and into the darkness he reveals. "And you were right before. I'm not cut out for this."

"Oliver," he replies and shoves against the wall until a large split is formed, large enough for them to slip through. "And I don't think either of us are cut out for this."

Alicia stares at the hole that seems to leak shadows. Her heart begins to gallop, begging to be released from her chest to run back to the Light. She feels wrong. Every morsel of her being tells her to forget about the stories, to forget about Elena's request and run back to her dreary life in the slums.

Whatever is in these tunnels isn't meant for her eyes.

Instead of running, Alicia reaches out, past Oliver. Her fingers brush against the stone. It seems to inhale at her touch, the crack sucking in the warmth around them. Bumps scatter along her skin as she peers into the darkness, bringing herself closer. The air exhales a rancid stench, heavy with the musk of rot and dust.

"Whoever put this wall here was trying to cover their tracks."

"The same person who made this map," Alicia replies and locks eyes with him. A silent moment passes between them, one of hesitation and uncertainty, before Alicia steps around him and squeezes through the gap and into the tunnel beyond.

The stone groans with their presence, awakening from years of slumber to witness the disturbance. Alicia can barely see the map anymore, the tunnel nearly too narrow to allow for Oliver's light to reach her. She's beginning to feel like a rat scurrying around in the alleys of the slums.

She reaches out a hand to touch the rough surface of the wall, her fingers trailing over ridges and bumps as old as the city it wraps around.

It takes her a moment to realise they're travelling on a decline, traversing deeper into the earth.

"You know that feeling I was talking about?" Alicia whispers, terrified of disturbing the ghosts that might call these tunnels home.

"Yeah."

She swallows as she stares at her map where they've reached the end of it, though the tunnel keeps going. "Well, it's getting worse."

"I bet you're glad now I carry a gun everywhere."

Alicia lets out a shaky laugh and glances back at him, finding him closer than she expects, something she's quietly thankful for. She can't imagine how she thought she could travel into the depths of the Reaper's den alone.

She keeps going forward as she stuffs the map back into her pocket since it's of no use anymore. If she gets stuck down here for eternity then at least she has someone to talk to. Or to enact a murder-suicide with.

She cringes with that thought.

"What is that smell?" Oliver asks with a strained voice at her back.

Alicia nearly gags as the smell hits her in the face and she buries her nose in her sleeve to try and smother the foul stench.

The further down they go, the worse the smell gets. It sticks to the back of her throat and makes her eyes water. Alicia has lived her entire life in the slums, near the filthy canal where discarded meat and waste is tossed. She's lived her life surrounded by the foul reek of decay. But nothing like this.

The tunnel widens before opening up into what appears to be a natural cave. Her eyes widen as the cavernous chamber sprawls before her, the ceiling rising so high that not even the light of the lantern can reach it.

"Light," she breathes, lowering her arm, forgetting about the odour for only a moment.

"I suppose we're beneath the capital now," Oliver muses, a crease between his brows as he steps forward and lifts his lantern.

"What is this place?" Alicia asks as she spins around, taking in the monstrosity of the chamber around her. She can't see where the rock ends. There are no walls in this place, a gaping maw of black bracketing them on all sides.

"A tomb."

Alicia glances at Oliver to find him standing over a stone slab. She approaches him and her stomach plummets to the very bowels of the Reaper's den, though she's wondering if they haven't just entered it.

The stone lid has been pushed aside a little, enough to reveal what resides within. A corpse lays in the stone coffin, a blade in its skull with armour falling to pieces around it. Alicia tears her gaze away from the body to take in the hundreds—perhaps thousands—of stone coffins that surround them, disappearing into that darkness.

"So," Alicia says, her fingers tingling. "I'm hoping there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for why there's a secret tomb beneath the Capital of Muovea."

"That's probably wishful thinking," Oliver murmurs. "Is this what you were looking for?"

"Is this what you were looking for?" she shoots back, her nerves beginning to make her legs feel shaky.

"The Ronavics thought travellers were using these tunnels to hide stolen weapons. They sent me to look for them."

Ice water seems to be tossed over her head and she whirls on Oliver. "The Ronavics?" Her voice is too loud in the still chamber, but panic has gripped her throat and refuses to let go. "You're a mercenary for a gang?"

"Not by choice," he mutters, but Alicia barely hears him over the blood rushing through her ears.

A gang. A gang. And the Ronavics, no less. Her pa owes a lot of money to the Ronavics.

Alicia doesn't think about it, not for a moment as terror sinks its talons into her. She reaches into the coffin and yanks the blade out of the corpse's head. She swings the rusted weapon around and points it at Oliver's pale throat.

"You didn't come here for any weapons. You followed me."

"What are you doing, Alicia?" he questions, raising his hands instead of going for the gun tucked under his arm.

"You plan to use me to get to him."

"To get to who?" His voice is even, placating, and Alicia hates how calm he is.

"My pa owes you monsters money," she elaborates, jabbing the blade in his direction, forcing him back a step.

"A lot of people owe the Ronavics money. You're going to have to be more specific, sweetheart."

"Don't sweetheart me," she spits, narrowing her eyes. "You knew who I was from the start. You forced me to rely on you."

"Alicia—" he begins, but something in his sharp features changes. His gaze flicks beside her and panic seems to shine in his eyes, igniting the silver flecks. "Alicia, you need to put that blade back where you got it."

"Fuck you."

"Alicia, please."

She shakes her head at him. The Ronavics are the ones keeping her family in the slums, fueling her pa's addiction to Parouge, slowly ruining his mind and body. And they'd do anything to get the money he owes them.

Her grip tightens on the blade.

Oliver's eyes widen and then she sees it. The movement from the corner of her eye makes her jolt. The creature lurches from the coffin and before Alicia can even manage a scream, something grabs her and pulls her away from it.

She drops the dagger as Oliver hauls her away from the monster, putting himself between her and it. The creature snarls at them, blue eyes so bright within the flames from Oliver's lantern that they rival the lightest gem in Muovea. The creature bares its blackened teeth, greying flesh taut over protruding bones.

Oliver pulls out his gun and squeezes the trigger, the bang of the gun making her jump. The bullet sinks into the creature's chest and it jolts.

It doesn't die.

Oliver steps back and Alicia moves with him.

"The head," she says and Oliver aims and fires another shot. The creature's head whips back, blood splattering against the coffin it crawled from. Then it crumbles to the ground, nothing more than a pile of bones and greying flesh once again.

Oliver doesn't lower the gun. "What the fuck?"

"We need to get out of here." She grabs the back of his black coat as he's done repeatedly to her and yanks him towards her, towards the exit. They run, but not before hearing the scuffling and snarls behind them as more of those corpses reveal themselves to not actually be dead. They run back the way they had come, and Alicia doesn't dare look behind her.

A figure emerges in their path, seeming to peel from the shadows. Oliver grabs her hand and pulls her against him, saving her from crashing into the creature, but in the process he drops the lantern. It shatters on the ground, spilling oil that ignites and illuminates the monster before them.

Alicia looks up into eyes of ice shards and feels her world condense to mere breaths and heartbeats, things that can be snatched away from her so easily. Things that will be snatched away as the creature's lips pull back from its teeth and it lunges.

Closing her eyes, Alicia lets out a final breath.

{Background texture credit goes to RavenOrlov on DeviantArt}