The brick shelf of the drainage overflow split into a wider, arched junction where the modern infrastructure of the city gave way to a decaying, mid-century utility vault. The air here was thicker, tasting of damp limestone, ancient rust, and toxic exhaust fumes that had drifted down from an unmapped ventilation shaft somewhere above.
Elena’s knees buckled under the crushing, relentless weight of Dante’s six-foot-three frame. Her bare feet were numb, slick with dark slime and bleeding from a dozen tiny lacerations caused by the jagged masonry of the tunnels. Beside her, Lorenzo was little more than a ghost, his hand limply clutching the wet silk of her ruined emerald gown just to keep his dragging legs moving forward.
"Down... there," Lorenzo panted, his voice dropping into an erratic, b
