The ruins swallowed sound.
Broken towers leaned against each other like tired giants. Rusted tracks cut through cracked concrete. Windows gaped empty, their glass long shattered.
Nothing moved.
The air was still. Cold. It carried the smell of old metal and something else—sharp, artificial, almost metallic.
Hana walked ahead with her eyes half-closed, one hand outstretched, like she was following a thread only she could feel.
"This way."
Arin stayed close.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
Too controlled.
Ren stopped.
He knelt, fingers brushing the dust.
"Tracks."
Arin stepped beside him. The marks were deep. Wide. Fresh.
A vehicle had landed here.
Recently.
"They brought her down here?" Maya asked, her voice low.
Hana shook her head slightly. "Not her. Something else." She frowned. "The trail splits."
Arin looked at the ground. Then ahead.
Too many traces.
Too organized.
This wasn't a mistake.
"We follow the one that leads to her."
They moved deeper.
The tracks continued for several meters—
Then vanished.
Not faded.
Gone.
As if the ground had erased them.
Ren's eyes narrowed. "They're cleaning their traces."
"Not enough," Hana murmured.
She moved toward a collapsed wall, her fingers brushing across broken concrete.
Then she stopped.
"Here."
Arin stepped closer.
A stain.
Dark. Dried. Not blood.
It shimmered faintly under the weak light.
Maya crouched beside it. Her expression tightened.
"Chemical," she said quietly. "Strong. Not industrial."
Arin watched the faint glow.
"What does it do?"
Maya shook her head slowly. "I don't know."
A pause.
"But it's not meant to heal."
They found more.
A broken injector lay crushed under rubble.
The needle was bent.
Like something had struggled after it went in.
Beside it, an empty vial rolled slightly as Dmitri nudged it with his boot. A thin layer of residue clung to the glass—pale, almost glowing.
Hana picked it up carefully, using her sleeve. Her hand trembled.
"What is this?"
No one answered.
Arin's gaze hardened.
This wasn't random.
It was procedure.
Dmitri pointed ahead.
A doorway, half-buried behind fallen beams.
The metal frame was bent inward, like something had been forced through.
Beyond it—darkness.
Hana stared into it, her expression tightening.
"She went through here."
A pause.
"Not alone."
Inside, the air changed.
Thick. Stale.
It clung to the skin.
The floor was clear of debris.
Too clear.
Too clean.
Like it had been used. Recently.
Ren crouched again, fingers brushing the ground.
"No struggle marks," he said. "They didn't resist."
Maya's voice was tight. "Why wouldn't they resist?"
Silence answered her.
Arin moved forward.
Each step echoed more than it should.
The corridor opened into a wider space.
And in the center—
Something left behind.
A bundle of clothes.
A shoe.
A torn bag, its contents scattered across the floor.
Maya stepped forward and picked up the shoe. Her face went pale.
"This is… recent."
Arin looked at the clothes.
Then at the drag marks leading out the far side.
Clean.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
They hadn't been dropped.
They had been removed.
Hana's breathing grew uneven.
Her eyes were shut tight now, fingers pressed hard against her temples.
"I can feel them," she whispered. "Faint. Like… echoes."
"How many?" Ren asked.
Her voice cracked.
"Too many."
A pause.
"They're moving them. Not just here. Different paths. Different places."
Arin looked around the empty corridor.
At the marks.
At the absence of resistance.
At the precision.
Whatever this place was…
It wasn't the destination.
It was only the beginning.
"They're not just taking people," he said quietly.
He turned to the others.
"They're preparing them."
Silence settled over the words.
Heavy.
Cold.
Hana opened her eyes.
Something had changed in them.
"Lina is still ahead," she said.
A pause.
"I can feel her."
Another pause.
"…but something is interfering with her."
The corridor stretched forward into darkness.
Waiting.
Arin's hand moved to his blade.
"Then we go faster."