Souls Below - Rebellion

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Calian looked up at once, and my heart did a ridiculous, swooping flutter at the way his face lit up. That smile—that easy, melting curve—reached all the way to his eyes, the ice blue brightening as they locked on me. I smiled back before I could stop myself.

He still didn’t fit here. Not really. His features were too sharp, too clean. A strange beauty that seemed carved for a better place. And yet…

Krane’s face flashed through my mind—messy hair, crooked smirk, eyes that could cut or cradle depending on the second. Rough around the edges, shaped by survival. Where Calian looked untouched by the city, Krane was written in its bones.

‘Did I just call Krane attractive?’ The thought struck me, hard.

Before I could untangle that thought, my boot caught on something—one of Calian’s scattered stacks of books—I lurched forward like a drunk falling into a crowd.

Calian was up in an instant, catching me before I could crash into the desk. One arm circled tightly around my waist, the other bracing against the wood as our bodies collided. My hands landed on his chest, my breath catching. We were so close I could count the shadows in his lashes.

He didn’t let go. His smile curved as he looked down at me, brushing a strand of hair from my face with maddening gentleness.

“I’ve honestly started wondering how you don’t have more bruises with how often you trip over everything,” he teased, voice low and amused. I gave a half-hearted smile, trying to keep my heart from launching out of my chest.

“It’s a skill. One I’ve learned to live with,” I murmured. His fingers trailed lightly along my cheek, eyes flicking to my lips—his smile fading just a fraction. My breath hitched. The room spun. I swear I could feel heat radiating off him, could feel his hesitation like a string pulled taut between us.

Makers. Say something. Say anything. I swallowed, licked my lips—and the tension shattered like glass.

“We need to talk.”

~*~

Calian leaned against the shelving opposite me, arms folded tight across his chest, face unreadable. That expression of his—stone-cold, distant—snapped into place far too fast, like he was bracing for a blow. And still, somehow, he looked impossibly good. It was frustrating, how effortlessly he wore that guarded beauty. Like a mask he’d had practice holding.

“We don’t have long,” I began, avoiding his eyes. “Jerard’s out, but we don’t know for how long.”

“What did you want to talk about?” His voice cut through the quiet, flat and neutral. A shield.

“We’re going back into the restricted sector.” He jerked upright like I’d shocked him.

“What?” he snapped. “Are you crazy?” The reaction hit me like a slap. I flinched as he stepped forward, eyes blazing. “Whose brilliant idea was that? The Lowers, wasn’t it?” he growled, slamming his elbow against the cabinet behind him. “He’s going to get you killed, Mira.”

“I agree with Krane,” I responded, maybe too quickly.

Calian gave me a look—equal parts betrayed and exasperated. “Why would you want to go back in there?” His fingers dragged down his face. “Those things we saw… we still don’t even know what they were. We didn’t see them clearly, and we barely got out.”

I didn’t answer right away. I was watching him—his clenched jaw, the way his dark curls were slightly mussed from running his hand through them, the tensed line of his shoulders. He was beautiful in a way that was hard to look at directly.

But he wasn’t one of us. No matter how badly I wanted to pretend otherwise.

“What do you know about the Sealed District?” I asked, arms crossing over my chest. That surprised him. He blinked, anger thinning to confusion.

“What are you talking about?” I sighed and leaned back against the wall. Time to stop deflecting and be a big girl.

“I know you’re here for more than just your missing friend.” Calian’s brows pulled together in a frown.

“If Krane disappeared during an attack, and you had the chance—any chance—to find out what happened… wouldn’t you take it?” I waited, watching the shift in his face.

“I spent three years looking for my parents after the attack,” I confessed quietly. “Three years chasing memories I didn’t even have.” His head tilted slightly. He was listening now.

And despite every warning Krane had given me about trusting an Upper, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The truth poured out, each word lifting a weight I didn’t realize I’d been carrying. There was something about Calian that just felt… Safe. Right.

“Jerard found me broken, bleeding, with no ID, no papers—no name. I don’t remember anything before four years ago.” Understanding flickered in Calian’s eyes. I saw something c***k in him, something deeper than sympathy.

“I didn’t realize,” he murmured.

“I never talk about it. Not even to myself. The danger of what would happened if that was discovered…. well, lets just say it was hard to adjust to. But I’m done pretending I’m not desperate for answers. The Sealed District… it might have something. Anything.”

Tears threatened, but I held them back, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“I feel like a ghost, Calian. I’ve been walking through my life, barely existing just to stay alive. Jerard wants to shield me from the truth, but I need to know what happened. I need to know who I am.”

Calian rubbed his face, clearly struggling with something. “In my city, there were rumors… about a cure.” That caught me off guard. I frowned, and he let out a breath like he was already regretting opening up.

“This is going to take too long,” he muttered to himself. “Okay. I’ll give you the short version—for now. No questions, please?” I nodded, heart pounding.

“We didn’t always live like this. Generations ago, humans lived on the outside—no domes, no divisions. But they ruined the world. Made it toxic. The greenery now? It’s deadly. The air, the soil. Our ancestors built the cities to survive.”

I opened my mouth to ask something, but stopped when he held up a finger.

“The rumour was… someone was working on a cure. Something that could make us immune, allow us to live outside again. But—” His voice dipped low. “—the other half of the rumour said the experiments for that cure were done on Lowers. Without consent.”

My stomach turned. I could hear Old Merla’s words again—about what people did in the name of progress.

“I came here to find out the truth. To gather proof. To stop it.”

I stared at him, reeling. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes dropped.

“I was scared that if you had what you needed… you’d leave. That you wouldn’t need me anymore.” His voice was almost a whisper. “And the thought of that… terrified me more than I expected.” I pushed away from the wall slowly, surprised by the honesty. Calian didn’t seem like the type to let his guard down.

“I don’t discard people, Calian,” I assured him gently. But he waved that off, stepping forward, eyes restless.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant—what I was trying to say…” He tripped over the words, then exhaled. “I like you, Mira.” The words landed like a physical force. I stared at him, stunned. “I don’t have many friends back home,” he continued, softer now. “And I didn’t want to lose you. So I kept things to myself… selfishly.” I opened my mouth, then shut it again.

‘This wasn’t where I thought the conversation was going. Not even close.’

“Oh. I… I don’t know how I feel,” I admitted, voice small. “About you, I mean.” His gaze lifted to meet mine. “What I mean is… I want to trust you. I want you to be my friend. But that means you need to be honest. You need to help us figure out what’s happening. What the Uppers are hiding.”

Calian nodded, quietly. “What do you need to know?”

“Do you have a P.I.P. card?” He tensed. I watched the hesitation ripple through him. “I saw you swipe something. But it wasn’t mine. And the door wouldn’t have closed on its own.”

He hesitated. “You observe more than I gave you credit for.”

“You don’t survive down here by being blind.” After a pause, he went to his jacket, rummaging through the pocket until he pulled out a sleek black-and-gold card. Far prettier than the stolen one Krane had used. He walked back toward me, card in hand, expression unreadable.

“If this is all true… if I find proof… things are going to change.” I nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of it. “There will be resistance,”

“There always is,” I replied. “But more people want change than you think. And they trust Jerard. He trusts me.” He hesitated—then stepped closer, gaze searching mine.

“Then, when it’s over… when we get you want you want, and I get my proof… will you let me show you my world?”

I blinked. “… What?”

‘Makers, save me. Mira, stop with the dumb what!’ I yelled in my head.

“When we help your people… will you come with me? Let me show you my City?” I stared at the card in his hand, then into his face. His world. The one I’d only dreamed about in half-formed images. I’d imagined bringing my people up, not going there myself.

This changed everything.