Page 2

Islae

The dank air of the underground chamber clung to Islae’s pale skin as she moved between her patients. Sweat trickled down her neck, and the humid space felt suffocating. The constant hum of the outdated medical equipment provided a grim soundtrack to her work.

“Easy now,” she murmured softly to the human female on the leftmost bed. “The contractions should ease up in a few minutes.” Her patient’s knuckles were white against the thin sheets.

“What if the Jorvlen authorities find us?” the woman’s voice quavered.

“They won’t.” Islae checked the IV line, adjusting the flow of fluids. “Focus on your breathing, just like we practiced.”

Islae’s legs trembled as she crossed to the next bed. Twenty hours without sleep was catching up with her, but she had no time for rest. Not with three high-risk pregnancies and rooms full of injured patients depending on her care.

The monitor beside the third bed chirped an irregular rhythm. Islae’s heart jumped momentarily, but she forced her movements to remain steady as she checked the readout. The numbers blurred slightly before her brown eyes. She blinked hard, trying to focus better.

“Your blood pressure is climbing again, Miranda,” she said calmly, reaching for a syringe. Her hands trembled a little as she measured the dose.

A distant crash echoed through the tunnels. Islae’s head snapped up, her pulse racing. Several patients gasped. She pressed a finger to her lips, and the room fell silent except for the mechanical whir of equipment.

“It’s probably just the market carts above us,” she said quietly, though her mouth had gone dry. She turned back to her task, but the syringe slipped from her trembling fingers and clattered against the metal tray.

The monitor’s alarm blared again. She lunged for the silence button, stumbling a bit as her exhaustion made her clumsy. Her vision swam ever so slightly, tiny black spots dancing at the edges.

“You’re going to make mistakes or burn out if you keep pushing yourself like this,” she muttered.

But I don’t have a choice , she thought. She straightened, forcing her eyes to focus more clearly. Who else will help them?

She moved over to the next room to help more patients. Before long, she threaded a curved needle through torn flesh, her movements precise despite the poor lighting. The human laborer on her makeshift operating table barely flinched. They were used to pain.

“Deep breaths,” she said soothingly, tying off another stitch. “Almost done.”

The wound gaped across his shoulder blade, testament to a Jorvlen overseer’s casual cruelty. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the musty underground air made her nose twitch.

“I shouldn’t have talked back like that,” the man muttered. “It was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Islae’s fingers never paused in their careful work, but her voice carried steel. “They don’t own your voice. Or your dignity.”

A muffled cry from the adjacent room made her head snap up quickly. Through the doorway, she could see one of her pregnant patients doubling over on her bed.

“Hold still for a minute,” she told her current patient, finishing the last stitch with quick efficiency. “I need to check on her.”

She stripped off her gloves, grabbed fresh ones, and crossed the threshold in three quick steps. The pregnant woman’s face had gone gray with pain.

“Breathe through it, Mai.” Islae pressed her fingers to the woman’s wrist, counting her heartbeats. Too fast , she thought. “When did the contractions change?”

“Just… just now.” Mai’s fingers dug into the thin mattress. “Something feels wrong.”

The monitor beside her bed beeped a warning. Islae glanced at the readout and then back at her patient’s face. The baby was in distress.

Another crash echoed from somewhere above, and Islae’s heart stuttered. She forced herself to remain focused on Mai’s pulse, even as her ears strained for any follow-up sounds. “One crisis at a time,” she whispered to herself.

“Your baby’s heart rate is dropping. We need to get it out now.” She reached for her surgical kit with steady hands that belied her exhaustion. “I know it’s not what we planned, but waiting isn’t safe anymore.”

From the other room, her newly stitched patient called out, “Someone’s coming down the tunnel!”

Islae’s stomach dropped, but she kept her voice calm. “How are those stitches feeling? Can you move?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. I might need your help over here.” She turned back to Mai. “We’re going to do this as fast as possible, okay? Trust me.”

The distant sound of boots on metal grating made her skin crawl. But her hands stayed steady as she prepared her instruments for the delivery. She’d learned long ago that fear was a luxury she couldn’t afford down here.

The footsteps echoed louder through the underground tunnel as Islae guided Mai through the final stages of labor. The newly stitched man, Marco, braced Mai’s shoulders while Islae positioned herself between the woman’s legs.

“Almost there. One more push,” Islae said, her hands surprisingly steady despite the approaching footsteps. Sweat dripped down her temple as she focused on the crowning head.

Mai’s scream suddenly pierced the stale air. The baby slipped into Islae’s waiting hands, and she quickly cleared its airways. A sharp cry filled the room.

“It’s a boy,” Islae announced, wrapping him in a clean cloth. Her heart raced at the sound of someone entering the room, but she kept her movements measured as she tied off the umbilical cord.

“Islae!” The familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife. Sarah, one of her regular patients, stood in the doorway, her chest heaving. Her dark hair stuck to her forehead, and her eyes were wide with urgency.

“Here,” Islae handed the baby to his exhausted mother and then stripped off her gloves. “What’s wrong, Sarah?”

Sarah glanced nervously over her shoulder before stepping closer. “The network sent me. You need to shut this place down. Now.”

Ice spread through Islae’s veins. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Some Jorvlen bounty hunters recently learned of your secret underground clinic. Someone must’ve accidentally leaked out information.” Sarah’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They plan to raid the place.”

Marco shifted his weight uncomfortably. “How long do we have?”

“Days. Maybe hours. I’m not too sure.” Sarah gripped Islae’s arm. “But they’re watching the area. If they catch you, I don’t know what they will do.”

Islae looked at Mai cradling her newborn, at Marco with his fresh stitches, and at the rooms full of patients who needed medical attention. The thought of abandoning them made her stomach turn.

“These people need my help,” she said firmly.

“You can’t help anyone if your clinic is destroyed, or worse, if they harm you.” Sarah’s fingers dug into her arm. “You need to lay low for a while.”

The baby’s soft cries filled the silence as Islae processed the warning. She’d known this day might come. But facing it now, with rooms full of vulnerable patients, made her chest tighten with sudden panic.

Islae’s mind raced as she outlined her evacuation plan. The underground clinic’s dim lighting cast shadows across her face as she spoke in hushed tones to Sarah and Marco.

“Sarah, take the mobile patients through the east tunnel. It connects to the old maintenance shaft behind the textile factory.” She pressed a rusty key into Sarah’s palm. “Marco, help anyone who can’t walk. The service elevator still works—use it in groups of three.”

“What about the newborns?” Marco adjusted his bandaged shoulder.

“Split them between you. Keep them as quiet as you can.” Islae gathered medical supplies, stuffing them into worn canvas bags. “The market crowds will provide enough cover.”

Sarah touched her arm lightly. “Are you coming with us?”

“I need to gather the records and equipment first. I can’t leave them behind.” Islae’s fingers brushed against the worn leather of her father’s medical journal. “I’ll meet you at the usual spot once it’s safe.”

They worked quickly and methodically, moving patients through the shadows of the underground tunnels. The pregnant women went first, followed by those with fresh wounds. Islae’s heart pounded with each creak of the ancient elevator, but the noise from the market above masked their movements.

“That’s the last of them,” Marco finally whispered, supporting an elderly man with a broken leg.

Sarah squeezed Islae’s hand. “Please don’t take too long. If the bounty hunters—”

“I know,” Islae cut her off, managing a tight smile. “Go now. Keep them safe.”

The silence pressed in as their footsteps faded down the tunnel. Islae moved through the empty rooms of her clinic, methodically gathering patient files and wiping down surfaces. The chemical smell of disinfectant burned her nose as she worked as fast as she could.

Suddenly, a soft rustle broke the quiet.

Islae froze, her pulse quickening. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as an unmistakable sensation of being watched crawled across her skin. She turned slowly, expecting to find Jorvlen bounty hunters with their cruel smiles and gleaming weapons.

Instead, a towering figure stood in the shadows. Orange scales caught what little light filtered through the tunnel, shimmering with golden undertones. The Niri male’s presence filled the narrow space, his golden eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

Islae’s fingers tightened around the bottle of disinfectant—a poor weapon, but better than nothing. “If you’re here to spy on me for the Jorvlen bounty hunters, I suggest you leave now.” Her voice came out steady despite the fear coursing through her veins.

He remained motionless, those golden eyes studying her with an unreadable expression. His silence felt heavy, expectant, like the air before a storm.