The Hidden Path

The Hidden Path
Chapter 121:

The storm had quieted to a light drizzle, by the time they had buried both the rogues and the guards. The scent of wet earth hung heavy in the air, mingling with smoke from the torches burning low around the ravine. The flames hissed each time a raindrop struck them, dimming and flaring again as if reluctant to die.

Aria stood at the edge of the clearing, mud clinging to her boots, the distant roll of thunder echoing through the cliffs. Around her, the rogues moved in silence, their faces grim. Death, it seemed, was no stranger here either.

Lucien kept his distance. He stood a few paces away, speaking quietly to two of the guards who’d survived the ambush, his expression still dark like stormclouds. The faint sheen of sweat across his temples gave away how much his shoulder still hurt, but he gave no other sign of weakness. Refused to.

Kael, pale but awake, sat on a nearby rock with a damp cloth pressed to his temple. He watched the burial quietly, with sharp eyes, cataloguing every detail.

When the last body was covered, the healer approached Aria. “You said they came through the ridge,” she began. “We checked it after you left. The ropes they used were still hanging from the cliffside. Though they were braided differently, with silver fiber in the strands.”

Aria frowned. “Silver? To climb?”

“It repels wolves,” Lucien said, his voice cutting across the space as he joined them. “Clever. Makes sure no one shifts mid-fight.”

Kael whistled low. “That’s an expensive trick. Whoever’s funding them isn’t playing small.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked toward him. “We already know who’s funding them.”

“Mara,” Aria said softly.

Lucien’s silence was confirmation enough.

The healer’s eyes narrowed. “This Mara, she’s not a rogue?”

Lucien’s tone was flat. “No. She’s worse. A council member.”

Aria looked up at the ridge, the line of trees cutting dark line against the sky. “And she won’t stop.”

“No,” Lucien said, voice low. “She won’t. Not until she gets what she wants.”

Kael rose slowly, brushing the dirt from his palms. “Which means we find out what she wants before she finds us again.”

The healer folded her arms. “You think she’s after you all.”

Lucien turned to.face her, his gaze settling steadily on her. “She’s not after me,” he said. “She’s after her.” He nodded toward Aria. “The rest of us are just extras.”

The words seemed to echo in the damp air. Aria didn’t move, but she felt the shift, the way the rogues’ eyes turned to her again, the way whispers seemed to ripple through the gathered crowd.

“She brings danger,” someone murmured from the shadows.

“Or she brings the storm itself,” another replied.

Aria clenched her fists. “I didn’t bring them here,” she said, her voice staying steady despite the weight pressing down her chest. “They were coming whether I was here or not.”

Lucien stepped closer, his presence serving as a steady anchor beside her. “Enough,” he said to the murmuring rogues. “If anyone here thinks they can survive what’s coming without her, they’re free to leave now.”

Silence followed. No one moved.

The healer was the first to speak. “There’s something else,” she said, her voice quieter now. “One of my scouts found a path behind the ridge, hidden under the roots. We think that’s how they entered without being seen. It leads toward the old tunnels beneath the cliffs.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Tunnels?”

“They were used long before this place became ours,” the healer explained. “Smugglers, traders, deserters, who knows. But if the assassins knew about them…”

“Then someone told them,” Lucien finished grimly.

Aria met his gaze. “You think there’s a traitor.”

“I think,” he said, “that there’s someone here who knows more than they’re saying.”

Kael gave a low laugh. “Then let’s ask.”

Lucien didn’t reply. His eyes had already fixed on the healer, who met his stare without flinching. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I built this place with my own hands. I’d sooner burn it than betray it.”

“Then prove it,” Lucien said, stepping forward. “Take us to the tunnels.”

The healer hesitated, then gave a single sharp nod. “Fine. But when you see what’s below, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The path wound steeply down through the cliffs, narrow and slick from the rain. Aria walked in the middle, Lucien leading the way with a torch, Kael limping slightly behind them. The walls closed in tighter,  the deeper they went, the air growing staler, thicker with damp earth and the faint tang of metal.

After several minutes, the tunnel opened into a hollow chamber carved into the rock. Old wooden beams lined the walls, half-rotted but still standing. Crates lay scattered across the floor, and old iron chains hung from hooks in the stone.

Aria frowned. “This doesn’t look like a smuggler’s path.”

Lucien crouched near one of the crates, brushing off the layer of dust. Inside were shackles. Silver ones.

“No,” he said quietly. “This was a holding pit.”

Kael’s voice was hoarse. “For rogues?”

Lucien didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence said enough.

The healer looked away, shame flickering briefly across her face. “We didn’t know this place’s history when we came. It was abandoned for decades. We thought the past had died with the old war.”

Lucien straightened, his eyes glinting in the torchlight. “The past never dies. It just waits for someone foolish enough to dig it up.”

Before anyone could answer, a sound broke the quiet. A faint click, like metal grinding against stone.

Lucien turned instantly, hand going to his blade. “Who’s there?”

No answer. Only the echo of water dripping somewhere deep in the dark.

Kael took a careful step back. “Please tell me that noise was made by a rat.”

The healer shook her head. “No rats could live this deep.”

A figure moved in the shadows near the tunnel mouth, barely a flicker of motion. Then another.

Lucien lifted the torch higher, and froze.