Page 58 of Hell's Secret Omega

Or out of the stone itself.

He should return to the grotto and wait for Mezor to come back. He should stay hidden and safe.

Instead, he heads toward the forge. If he can only talk to Claudius, it will put his mind at ease.

His heart jumps each time he passes another demon, but they pay him no attention. His disguise is complete—he’s just a harried minor demon heading to his next task. Still, a sense of foreboding nips at his heels.

The forge is locked and silent.

A faint trickle of water echoes across the walls. Behind the gate, the fires are dark and the forge hammer is silent. Cyrus grips the bars. Did Leuther kill them all?

Suddenly, he’s eager to get back to the grotto. Whatever’s happening in the Court is nothing good.

A shout cuts across his thoughts. “Hey!” A demon soldier strides across the hall and grabs his arm before Cyrus can duck away. “You shouldn’t be down here. The new dig is that way!”

“Let me go!” He tries to pull free, but the other demon is stronger. “I was told to check on the armory?—”

“No need for swords now, is there? Quartermaster says all hands to the second dig until the work’s done. You lot will be lucky to see the barracks tonight.”

“Fine.” Cyrus ducks his head. “I’m going.”

The demon is a savvy one—he holds tight. “I’ll take ya there,” he says, frog-marching Cyrus up the corridor.

Cyrus holds back a hiss of frustration and shuts his mouth. He should pretend to be the type of demon who’d be cowed by a soldier—only an uppity lieutenant would talk back.

The demon takes him through the lower levels, heading to the tunnels—the ‘new dig’ is the second tunnel that leads deeper into the wilds, according to Leuther’s map. The main tunnel has transformed, no longer buzzing with industry. Instead, a wide, well-established track runs as far as he can see. Huge piles of materials sit at the entrance—stone pillaged from the Court itself, massive wooden beams, heaps of ceramic tiles. The demon steers Cyrus past it all and into the second tunnel where chaos reigns. Hammers and picks clang with the sweat of miserable labor, and shouts ring out from demon foremen whose lives rely on the speed of the work.

“Report to him.” The demon points to a tall, familiar figure.

Claudius.

Not all the Grey Company are dead, then.

Cyrus is released into the hive of activity. Claudius’s scowl transforms into surprise as he approaches.

“You,” he hisses.

Even if Claudius wants to talk instead of sticking a knife in him, there’s no way to talk in the open

“Where do you want me?” Cyrus says instead, playing into his role.

“Thought you were dead,” Claudius mutters. He points deeper into the tunnel. “Laying tracks. Damned carts keep falling apart on this ground.”

Cyrus hurries down the tunnel. There are eyes everywhere. How is he going to get out?

The crew accepts him without comment—smeared with dark ash all over, he looks much like the rest of them. If anyone recognizes him, they’re too exhausted to care. But his mind churns as he works. Claudius is alive, which means General Leuther doesn’t know aboutallthe traitors in his midst. There may still be hope—with their help, he could get Ekko out of thecage. After that, he might still find a future out from under the Quartermaster’s thumb.

Maybe the gleaming trail he saw was just the fruit of his over-taxed imagination. Maybe the strange invader doesn’t mean anything. If only he believed that.

Sweat quickly drenches his uniform and his hands go numb from the vibrations as he holds wooden rails in place for the demon above him to hammer at. It takes all his focus just to keep his hand from slipping so the hammer doesn’t miss and slam into his fingers. When each piece of rail is finished, Cyrus runs back to the cart and lifts a new beam onto his shoulder, careful not to get in the way of anyone else doing the same thing.

They’ve made it almost a dozen meters from the cart when Claudius appears out of nowhere. He waves abruptly at Cyrus, ignoring the rest of the crew.

“Hey, you—we need more hands in tunnel one!”

“He’s my worker,” the foreman protests.

“Shaddup. Quartermaster’s orders—you want to be the one to tell him he doesn’t know what he’s doing?”

---