The heavy vibrations travelling along the iron rails quickly intensified into a sharp, grinding cadence that shattered the remaining stillness of the subterranean station. Thick clouds of ancient dust shook free from the structural support beams overhead, drifting lazily through the dim light as the first wave of the council guard advanced onto the opposite platform. They moved with a chilling, calculated precision, their matching black tactical suits absorbing what little illumination filtered down from the surface grates. Zeven kept his body tightly pressed against the cold steel of the derailed cargo carriage, his fingers digging into the rusted metal as his augmented senses mapped their positions through the rising haze. Lyra stayed perfectly still beside him, her breathing reduced to
