⟟ Vault Seeker VII ⟟
The distant sound of footsteps grew louder, echoing through the narrow alley behind them. Rowan's heart thudded in his chest. The space between them and their pursuers was shrinking. The man, barely keeping pace, was visibly exhausted, each breath coming shorter than the last.
"Come on, we need to pick up the pace," Rowan urged, glancing back over his shoulder. "They're getting closer."
Alina, always ahead of them, didn't falter. "We're close. Just follow me and stay close."
Rowan nodded, though his eyes lingered on the man. His steps were unsteady, his face pale, and there was no mistaking the exhaustion in his every movement. "Hang in there," Rowan muttered, offering the man a quick but steadying hand.
As they continued, Alina veered left down a side street—narrow, but less conspicuous than the wider alleys. She glanced over her shoulder as they reached the corner. "They're coming fast," she said, her tone clipped. "But I know a place they won't think to look."
Rowan felt a momentary sense of hope. "Where?"
"Above us," she replied quickly. "There's a network of walkways and rooftops. We can lose them there."
Rowan frowned. "Rooftops?"
"Trust me," she said, without breaking stride. "We can't go underground—it's too obvious. We need to stay above them, out of sight."
The man, breathing heavily, could barely keep up, but he nodded in silent agreement.
They reached a seemingly nondescript building with a rusted metal staircase on the side. Alina didn't hesitate. She ascended quickly, with Rowan and the man following closely behind. At the top, she led them toward a narrow ledge, barely wide enough to stand on. Rowan's eyes scanned the streets below—they were moving fast now, the sounds of pursuit only a street away.
"Stay low," Alina whispered, motioning for them to crouch. "We're going to use the rooftops to move across the district. It's their last place to look for us."
Rowan peered over the edge. They were far enough above ground that they could see the five pursuers approaching. They'd have to move quickly if they were going to get out of sight.
Rowan's mind raced as he quickly analyzed the situation. He could hear the group of pursuers' footsteps growing louder—if they stayed in one spot for too long, they'd be spotted. But Alina's plan had one crucial advantage: the rooftops.
"Alina, where next?" Rowan asked.
She pointed to a building across the street, its roof easily reachable from here. "We'll cross there, then head east. We'll lose them by the time we get to the bridge."
Rowan nodded, calculating their best route. He wasn't as familiar with the area as Alina, but he trusted her instincts. He could feel the pressure mounting—the sound of footsteps was dangerously close now.
"Ready?" Alina asked, already crouching low on the ledge.
Rowan gave a quick nod, his pulse racing. "Let's go."
The three of them moved swiftly, crossing from one rooftop to the next, staying low and hidden. Rowan could hear the faint voices of their pursuers, but the higher ground gave them an advantage—they were barely visible from below. The man was still struggling to keep up, but Rowan kept him steady, helping him across each gap between the buildings.
They reached a narrow alleyway where the rooftops sloped steeply downward. Alina motioned for them to stop and crouch behind a large vent system. Rowan held his breath, watching as the five pursuers passed by, moving quickly in the direction they had just come from.
The gap between them and the pursuers was closing in, but just as the last of the five rounded a corner, they were momentarily out of sight. Alina let out a quiet breath of relief.
"We've lost them for now," she whispered. "Let's keep moving."
They descended onto the final rooftop, which led to a small building at the edge of the district. Alina pushed open a door hidden between two others, revealing a small, sparse room.
Rowan stepped inside first, making sure the man followed. They were safe—temporarily—but the chase had left him exhausted, and the man was still breathing heavily.
Alina shut the door quietly behind them, her eyes scanning the room quickly before turning to Rowan. "This should give us a few minutes. They won't expect us to come here."
Rowan didn't relax, but the sense of urgency in his chest dulled slightly. He motioned for the man to sit on an old crate, his brow furrowed. "Are you alright?"
The man gave a strained smile, though his breath was still shallow. "I'm… fine. Just need a moment."
Alina stepped to the window, peering out cautiously. "We need to keep our heads down for now. They'll be looking for us, but we've got time to plan the next move."
Rowan nodded but didn't take his eyes off the man. He was still in pain, clearly worn from the chase, but for now, at least, they had a moment of respite.
"We need to get him somewhere safe," Rowan muttered, though his voice was quieter now, the frantic energy of the chase finally ebbing away.
Alina looked back at them both, her face set in determination. "We will. But first, we rest. Just a bit. Then we get moving."
They all sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the chase still heavy on them, but for now, they were safe. The five pursuers had lost their trail, and it would be a while before they could pick it up again.
The room was silent, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily on them. Rowan leaned against the wall, watching Alina with a quiet intensity. The man, who had been exhausted from the chase, now sat slumped in a corner, his head hanging low as if trying to escape the reality around him.
After a long pause, Rowan broke the silence. "So, what's your name?" he asked, his tone casual, trying to ease the tension.
The man didn't respond immediately. His eyes were distant, staring off into space as if lost in his own thoughts. After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice low and shaky. "I… I don't know," he muttered, his eyes flickering briefly to Rowan before falling back to the ground. His voice held a quiet sadness, as if he had forgotten even the simplest things.
Rowan exchanged a look with Alina, unsure of how to react. The silence stretched on, awkward and heavy, until Alina finally spoke.
"I want to find my sister," she said quietly, her voice thick with longing.
Rowan glanced at her. "We don't even know where she is."
Alina didn't respond. She simply turned away, looking out the window, her thoughts far away. The man, too, remained silent, lost in his own world. The air in the room was thick with the weight of unanswered questions.
After another long pause, the man spoke again. "A woman… She looks… similar to you." His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. "She went to the commercial district."
Alina's eyes sharpened, her attention fully on the man now. "We're going there," she said, her voice full of resolve.
Rowan felt a sense of unease creeping up his spine. "It's too dangerous."
Alina's gaze met his, unwavering. "I know. But I have to find her."
Before Rowan could respond, the realization hit them both at the same time. The man, who had been sitting in the corner, was now gone.
"What the—?" Rowan's voice trailed off as he jumped to his feet. His eyes scanned the room, but there was no sign of him.
"Where did he go?" Alina asked, her voice laced with panic.
They rushed to the window, looking out into the street. The man was nowhere to be seen.
The man continued down the street, his every step heavy, his mind adrift in a sea of uncertainty. The buildings towered over him like silent witnesses, casting long shadows as the sun sank lower. He didn't notice the Ruinborns that brushed past him; they didn't seem to notice him either. He was a ghost in his own life, walking through a city that seemed both foreign and familiar, each step carrying the weight of unanswered questions.
"Who am I?" he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "A man, or a thing made of regrets? Someone who once lived… or someone who has been lost for so long he no longer remembers the way back?"
The words hung in the air, dissolving into the evening wind. The question wasn't just about him; it was about the very essence of who he was—someone caught between light and darkness, between good and bad, between choices he could not take back and those he never had the chance to make.
His steps slowed, almost as if he were waiting for an answer, but none came.
Just then, a woman appeared, running toward him, her face filled with fear. She grabbed his shirt, desperate, her hands trembling. "Help me! Help!" she cried, her voice ragged with panic.
The man froze. Her desperation, her need—it reached into the depths of him. For a moment, he was torn. He should help her. He should do something. But his body didn't move.
He looked at her, his eyes clouded with confusion. The question echoed in his mind again, louder now, and yet somehow softer, as if the very act of asking was suffocating him. "What am I?" he whispered aloud, his voice broken, unsure whether it was a question to her or to himself. "Can a man who's lost his way… still be the one to save anyone? Or am I simply the echo of what I used to be?"
His eyes met hers, and in that fleeting moment, the world seemed to blur around them. The woman's gaze flickered from his eyes to his face, a flicker of recognition, then horror.
Her grip loosened as realization washed over her. The man's face—hollow, distant, as if time itself had stolen more than just his memories—had something inhuman about it. She recoiled, her breath catching in her throat.
A sudden screech from the shadows—a Ruinborn lunged from the dark, its claws sharp and quick. The woman screamed, but her cries were drowned out as the creature snatched her from the street, dragging her away into the darkness.
The man stood there, motionless. His eyes watched as the woman was taken from him, her screams fading into the night, but still, he did nothing. His hands trembled at his sides, as if something deep within him was stirring, something long buried.
"Who am I?" he whispered again, his voice quieter now, as though he were asking the world itself. "Am I the one who could have saved her… or the one who stands idly by while everything slips away?"
The world moved on around him, but he remained still, his heart heavy with the burden of an identity he could never grasp, never fully understand.