Promise

Ryn

Night lay over the city, but even the stars couldn’t convince it to sleep. Not fully.

I glanced overhead, finding Orion without thinking. The three steady stars of his belt cut clean across the dark.

There had been a time when I believed the world was held together with that same steadiness. That beneath the chaos, there was some sort of order. That people were good. That justice was real and truth mattered. That suffering led somewhere worth going.

Yes. There had been a time.

Low laughter spilled from taverns, and my gaze lowered to friends and sweethearts murmuring beneath the dim glow of lampposts, where flames swayed in their iron cages.

I pressed forward, not slowing until the tall stone walls of the hospital came into view. A red cross marked above the entrance. My hand found the familiar handle, cool despite the warmth of the night. The moment I stepped through its doors, the world felt smaller. The smell of antiseptic comforting in its familiarity.

Head lowered, I crossed the dim corridor to a smaller room tucked behind the main hall. Within was an old, spiraled staircase that took me down into the basement library.

I struck a kerosene lamp to life. Its glow spilled across warm carpets and worn books. Journals stacked in the far corner. The efforts of my latest research. Important work I would finish. But not tonight.

There were more pressing matters.

I moved toward the storage room forgotten in the corner. Nothing more than an unremarkable door that sagged on crooked hinges. Inside, it was stuffed carelessly with cleaning supplies. Beneath the middle shelf was a knot in the wood. Invisible because of how ordinary it appeared.

I pressed against it, hard enough to hurt, and twisted through the cross-thread design until the release clicked and the secret door edged open. My clothes caught the corners, as they always did, when I slipped through.

The air on the other side was different. Damp and metallic with the natural sediment in the stone. With each step forward, the passage widened until it broke into a cavern. High ceilings vaulted overhead, crowded with stalactites. A slow stream cut through the floor, its quiet murmur soft against the vastness.

This place was as old as the earth itself. And aside from me, there was only one other person staffed at the hospital who knew it existed.

Gretta.

My colleague and research partner.

She was curled on a cot with a book pulled to her face. Crow’s feet etched deep into the corners of her eyes. Silver hair, a crown of wisdom, tucked behind her ears. Old age had done nothing to dim her beauty or her mind; she was more clever than most.

The light stretched across the cavern as I approached, catching her attention. Her book dipped, eyes lifting to mine, and her hard expression melted into warmth.

“Ryn, darling,” she greeted me, her happiness floating like a cloud as she snapped her book shut and patted the canvas.

I smiled and sank down as she glanced at her watch.

Midnight.

She wiggled her wrist, adjusting the thin band so it sat more comfortably. It was beautiful and expensive, but only precious to her because it had once belonged to her mother.

She set the book aside and pushed her glasses up her nose until they perched on her head. “I swear, these boys will be the death of me.” Her tone held more motherly scolding than true complaint.

“Boys?” I lifted a brow, amused by her choice of word for the world’s most elite group of warriors.

The Phantoms.

They were notoriously tribal and violent men, but their swords cast a shadow of safety. They were only dangerous to those doing wrong.

My gaze drifted to the large disc of phantom stone embedded in the cavern wall at the base of the stream.

A portal.

Smooth and white and otherworldly. Something only they could travel through. It was part of what made them so feared and formidable. So different from the rest of us.

Gretta slid her glasses back on. “Yes. Just boys, my dear girl.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes at the absurdity. “How was your evening?” I diverted with a nod toward the portal.

“Uneventful, but the night is still young,” she said, stifling a yawn.

I nodded, well aware of how quickly an uneventful night could unravel into chaos. It had happened a number of times over the years.

“If only I were still so young,” she sighed in theatrical playfulness, the inner child in her heart as unruly as ever.

“And what would you do with youth that you’re not already doing?” I asked, lifting a brow.

Gretta, widowed and wholly unrestrained, was infamous for her first dates, office pranks, and her unapologetic habit of spiking the punch at every professional event.

Her head tipped back in laughter. “Well, with your youth and beauty, I could entice more men to bend me over,” she beamed. Her brows wiggled suggestively.

“Gretta,” I scolded, blush blooming across my cheeks.

“Oh, come on.” She nudged me with her elbow. “You should try it sometime. Harness your womanly power!”

I gave her a sharp look of disapproval and smoothed my tightly braided hair, tucking the one rebellious strand that had escaped.

Her amusement softened. “I’m serious, Ryn. My neighbor has a son about your age. He’s single an—”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Well, what about that neurologist always finding reasons to talk to you? Liam?” she asked, her tone far too innocent.

I shook my head. “I’m not interested in him, and he’s not interested in me.”

She snorted. “You’re delusional.”

“No, you’re delusional,” I said half-heartedly as I abandoned the battle with my hair.

Her eyes rolled dramatically. “He bought your favorite pens just so he could hand you one the moment yours went missing.”

“He did not.”

“He did,” she insisted. “Tomorrow, give him thirty seconds of your attention. Look into his eyes instead of at your paperwork. I’d bet my next paycheck he’ll ask you out on a date.”

“Not interested,” I reiterated.

Her face faltered. “Why?”

Silence slipped between us, growing heavy. “Ryn, you are so young. But you live inside the walls of this hospital. Go on a date. Have an adventure.” The words were hopeful, wrapped in a tone of maternal care.

I studied her face, cherished and oblivious to everything that existed outside the corners of our shared world. Oblivious to my past and all its demons.

“Gretta, I’m fine," I assured, taking her hand in mine. "I am satisfied with my life.”

Her fingers tightened around mine, sadness in her smile. “I want more for you than this, my dear girl.”

“More? Like being bent over?” I teased.

She let out a short huff of laughter, but the sound tilted toward disapproval, not amusement. “Forget these boys. It’s you who will be the death of me,” she grumbled. Nonetheless, she let the topic go, and I was grateful for that.

Comfortable silence settled over us. She stifled another yawn.

“You should go home and sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

She groaned. “If I do one more tonsillectomy, I swear I’ll retire.”

“We were also consulting on that rotationplasty,” I reminded her.

Her eyes brightened with enthusiasm. She took my hand, and I eased her to her feet.

“You’ll be okay to walk home?”

“Of course. It’s only a few blocks.” She pulled me into a hug, and I held her tight. “See you in the morning,” she murmured.

“See you in the morning.”

She disappeared into the tunnel. Her footsteps faded, then vanished, but her concern clung to me.

A date and an adventure?

It felt laughable. Unfit for the corners I built around my life. Edges of practicality and predictably and usefulness. Things that mattered in a way I could never properly explain.

I drew a breath and forced my attention to systematic checks of the medical supplies. Scalpels, clamps, tubes, syringes. The purpose of my life, at my fingertips in the form of metal and glass.

With everything in order, I picked up Gretta’s book and settled onto the cot. Black text leapt from white pages, challenging the foundations of biomedical ethics.

Time blurred as reality was lost between the pages. But it crashed back around me as that low thrumming feeling began.

Unease coiled low in my stomach as my eyes darted to the portal.

Knowingly, I put the book down and stood. Thin ribbons of white light bled along the carved seams. The coil of unease within me grew, and I steeled myself, ready for anything as the air thickened with heat and static. In anticipation, I shut my eyes, protecting them from the burst of blinding light that vanished as quickly as it came.

The darkness of the cavern returned, and in its embrace was one of the Phantoms, covered in ash and blood.