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Tunnel Vision

Penulis: Temi
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-05-15 06:58:48

The forest was at its stillest in the hour before dawn.

The rogue crouched beneath a twisted pine, eyes trained on the moss-covered stones that disguised the hidden tunnel entrance. The pouch of bluish-green herb felt warm in his palm. Behind him, the other three figures—spy, tall rogue, and short rogue—stood perfectly still, their breathing synchronized with the rhythm of the wild. No one spoke. There was no need.

The spy gave a sharp nod, then stepped forward. With careful fingers, he pushed back a section of vines and loose stones, revealing the narrow mouth of the tunnel. It yawned open like a throat ready to swallow them whole.

The rogue took the pouch and struck a match, holding it to the herb. It ignited with a quiet hiss, releasing a sharp, earthy scent that stung their noses. Wisps of silver smoke drifted over the stones, curling and dancing before fading.

"Go," the rogue said.

They slipped inside, one after the other, the darkness swallowing them instantly. The tunnel was tight, barely allowing them to move side by side. Damp earth clung to the air, and old roots scraped their shoulders. The path twisted and sloped downward, then curved sharply to the right. At the end, a crumbling brick wall loomed before them.

The spy stepped forward again. He pressed his palm against a loose stone, gave it a firm push, and the wall creaked. With a low groan, a narrow gap opened, revealing the forgotten wine cellar beyond.

They stepped through.

The scent of mold and aged wood greeted them. Dust hung thick in the air. Wine racks, now empty and rotting, lined the walls. The spy motioned toward a narrow corridor on the left.

"Servants used this route. No guards posted there."

They crept forward, silent as shadows. The corridor twisted again before descending down a steep stone staircase. Faint light flickered from sconces along the wall—old, enchanted flames that never died. The scent of blood and iron grew stronger.

The tall rogue lifted his head and sniffed. "He's close."

At the base of the stairs, a hallway opened, lined with heavy cell doors. The rogue took point, moving swiftly toward one near the end.

"Here," the tall one whispered. "The scent is fresh."

The rogue gestured to the short one. He stepped forward, drew a small vial and poured it over the lock. It hissed and melted within seconds, a soft crackle echoing in the silence. The door swung open.

Kieran looked up from where he sat, bloodied and cuffed to the wall.

"Took you long enough," he rasped.

The rogue smirked. "We had to make sure the welcome mat was laid out."

Kieran’s eyes flicked to the tall rogue. "You have the key?"

The tracker stepped in and produced a small silver pin. With a practiced twist, he undid the cuffs. Kieran slumped forward but quickly caught himself. He rubbed his wrists, eyes already burning with intent.

"Diva?"

"We’re getting her now," the rogue said. "You follow us. No mistakes."

Kieran nodded.

The rogue turned to the others. "Go."

They retraced their steps up the servant corridor. At the second bend, they veered off onto a narrow stairwell, just as the spy had described. Dust lay thick here, disturbed only by the faint outlines of recent footsteps.

They ascended swiftly and came to the second floor. The rogue paused, raising a hand.

"Short rogue, spy—you take her room. We’ll stay by the corridor exit. Get her out and meet us here in three."

The spy and short rogue nodded. They moved in perfect sync, silent and unseen, navigating the west wing’s hallway with deadly precision.

Outside Diva’s door, the spy withdrew the vial of perfume. The short rogue pressed his ear to the door.

"She’s asleep. Alone."

The spy cracked the door, stepped in slowly, and sprayed a gentle mist into the air. The faint scent of roses and something deeper—something enchanted—spread quickly.

Diva stirred once, then slumped back into her pillows, unconscious.

The short rogue moved fast. He wrapped her in the spare cloak they’d brought, lifted her into his arms, and cradled her head carefully.

"Move," the spy hissed.

They reached the corridor exit where the rogue and Kieran waited.

"She’s out," the short rogue whispered.

"Good. Now we run."

Back down the servant stairwell, through the wine cellar, into the tunnel. Their feet pounded the earth now, speed overtaking silence. They no longer needed to hide.

The tunnel spit them out into the forest just as the first hint of dawn touched the sky.

Behind them, the herb’s magic had faded. In moments, the wards would spark to life again.

But by then, they were gone.

Racing into the trees, cloaks flapping behind them, a half-blood spy, two rogues, a bleeding werewolf, and a girl wrapped in silence.

They didn’t stop until the forest swallowed them whole.

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