Page 2

CHAPTER 2

SUNHO

The Under World

Outside the Ninth Ward Mithril Factory

SUNHO STEPPED BACK from the gates as the factory horn blared a warning, smoke unfolding from the great stacks like wings in the night. He raised his scarf, the red threads faded and fraying, higher over his nose. His movement jostled the sword sheathed at his back. For fifteen seconds the horn clamored, the stacks spewing enough smoke to fill the sky above the factory. When it was over, he turned away, only for his eyes to catch on sparks of blue in the fumes—mithril particles.

A pigeon warbled nearby. He followed the sound around a corner to where a boy and a girl lingered in the shadow of the factory wall. The boy was slight of build, with silver-white hair. Tag. Sunho remembered his name from when they first met. He was seventeen, same as Sunho. The whistling trill cut off as Tag lowered his hands. The girl, Yurhee, was a few years older; her hair—brown with streaks of red—was pulled back from her face with a butterfly clip. She’d been leaning against the wall with her knee bent but rocked to a stand at Sunho’s approach.

“We weren’t sure if you’d make it,” she said. “The patrols are out in droves.”

“I saw a few on my way over,” Sunho said, recalling the pounding of feet and the bobbing of the lanterns in the dark streets. He’d kept to the shadows to avoid their light.

He’d come directly from a job in the eighth ward, as hired muscle for a raid. If he’d been caught without the proper papers explaining his presence in Mid City, he’d have been thrown in prison. Two big jobs in one night was risky, but Yurhee’s missive that morning had promised a large payout.

“Sunho, you’re hurt.” Yurhee reached out a hand to his neck, and he took a step back on instinct. He must have been nicked in the raid.

Yurhee lifted a brow, then drew her hand away. “Sorry. Habit. I have a soft spot for closed-off, emotionally inaccessible boys.”

Behind her, Tag lifted his brow, frowning slightly.

Sunho had met the two of them a month ago, when they’d hired him for a job pilfering cargo from a petty gangster. They only stole from greedy bastards who deserve it, the bastards , as Yurhee put it. Neither of them was skilled in hand-to-hand combat, which was why they’d posted a job seeking a sword-for-hire.

“I’ll check on the explosives,” Tag mumbled. Crouching by the wall, he shifted aside strands of ivy to reveal two canister bombs rigged to detonate on a timer.

Unease settled in Sunho’s stomach. His jobs up until now had been low risk—stealing from a Sareniyan mithril factory was on an entirely different scale. If they were caught, they’d face far worse than prison.

Yurhee reached into her jacket and pulled out a scroll, unfurling it with a flick of her wrist. Sketches of buildings in a wide area were scrawled with notes on guard rotations and estimated travel time between marked locations. “We need to get from here”—she pointed to their position outside the wall at the northeast corner—“to here.” Her finger jabbed a point in the largest building at the back of the factory grounds, marked with an X .

“What’s there?” Sunho asked.

She winked, rolling up the map and tucking it into her jacket. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

There was still time to back out, but then he wouldn’t get the payment Yurhee had promised. Sunho adjusted his strap so that his sword, sheathed inside a bag slung over his shoulder, fell more securely across his back. He lifted his gaze upward to where the top of the factory wall was barely visible through the thick haze of smoke.

“Heads up,” Yurhee called. He turned in time to catch the grappling gun she tossed him. “You do know how to use that, right?” Without waiting for a response, she jumped onto Tag’s back. He aimed and fired—the hook pierced the wall near the top. Then he triggered the line, and they zoomed up and over.

Sunho aimed the barrel to the left of Tag’s hook and pressed the trigger. It split the concrete, and he braced his grip as he was yanked upward, landing atop the wall in a crouch just as the factory horn let out another booming sound, smoke billowing out of the flues.

He rappelled down the opposite side, joining Tag and Yurhee behind a stack of tall crates. Yurhee placed a finger to her lips. Through a crack between the crates, they saw two security guards making their rounds, their lanterns casting grotesque shapes on the walls of the buildings they passed.

They wore smoke-filtration masks, standard-issue shortswords at their waists. Their voices carried, and Sunho picked up pieces of their conversation—a noodle shop had opened in the eighth ward and they planned to grab a late-night meal after their shift.

The guards passed by the opening of an alley, the light from their lanterns illuminating the narrow gap, before disappearing from view around the corner.

“See that?” Yurhee said. “We’ll cut directly across. It’s the fastest route.”

They moved silently from behind the crates, sprinting across the open space and into the alley. Here the smoke was thicker, funneled as it was between buildings. In front of him, Yurhee unhooked a mask from her utility belt, strapping it over her face. On either side of them were the refineries, where the mithril ore was purified into bars, the leftover material discarded as scrap. The alley was littered with piles of the metal, and he was careful not to kick one loose where it might skitter and alert the guards.

Even though he’d only glimpsed the map, Sunho had memorized the layout of the factory, with the refineries—six total, built side by side in blocks of three—at the front of the compound and the warehouse at the back, nearest the gate that led into Mid City.

At the end of the alley, they waited for the guards to pass, their bright lanterns giving away their positions. No one spoke, conscious now of the danger on all sides—paired guards circling all three refinery blocks made for a lot of passing lanterns. They were at the end of the last alley, almost in the clear, when a door opened in a recessed part of the wall. A guard wearing a filtration mask stepped out.

Sighting Sunho, he lashed out at him with a concealed dagger. Sunho dodged the attack. Lunging forward, he gripped the guard by the mask and slammed his head against the wall. The guard slumped unconscious to the floor.

Tag slipped through the open door, returning a short few minutes later. He shook his head. No one else was in the building.

“If we’re lucky, he won’t be missed for a while yet,” Yurhee said, removing her mask. “Shit.”

Sunho followed her gaze to the emblem affixed to the shoulder of the man’s uniform—feathered wings, outspread, like that of a dove.

“What’s a Sareniyan soldier doing here?”

As Sunho stared at the symbol, a burning sensation raced across his collarbone, crawling up his neck. He quickly raised his hand to his scarf, relief sinking in when he found it securely in place.

“Should we abort the mission?” Tag asked softly. “There might be more.”

“No,” Yurhee said, after a short beat. A trickle of sweat slipped down her cheek. “It’s too late now.”

Sunho stood watch while Yurhee and Tag dragged the man back inside the building. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms to ease some of the tension gathered there. An inkling of suspicion had rooted in his mind, after hearing the word Tag used to describe what they were doing.

Not a job, but a mission .

The thieves stepped back into the alley, closing the door behind them. According to Yurhee’s map, it was now a straight path through the turbine field. She hadn’t marked any guard rotations in the area, so they slowed to a jog, guided by the lights of the warehouse in the distance. The space was wide and open, broken up only by the great turbines. Their rotor blades whirred ceaselessly, generating energy to power the factory. Their use was twofold—the rotors also pushed back the smoke that drifted from the stacks, away from Mid City and toward the Outer Ring. Sunho thought of clouds. Blue clouds, laced with poison.

He thought grimly, Whoever claimed there were no clouds in the Under World was mistaken .

“I thought the military was banned from having direct dealings with the mithril factories,” Tag said, keeping pace beside them. The smaller boy’s breaths were labored beneath his mask, but he didn’t let up in speed.

“My informant told me that the minister who owns this factory is corrupt, though that’s not unusual,” Yurhee said with a harsh laugh. “He might be pocketing money from the Sareniyan military in exchange for access to their mithril stores.”

Ten years ago, after the deaths of Sareniya’s queen and heir, the Floating Council, the governing body of both the Floating World and the Under World, had been thrown into chaos. It was during that time that General Iljin of the Sareniyan army rose to power, greater than when he’d served beneath queen and council. For seven years, he strengthened Sareniya’s military, primarily through the use of mithril to power the fleet, and expanded the empire’s border though a series of brutal campaigns; first, among the smaller neighboring kingdoms, and then against the great empire of Volmar, to the north.

The nobles who sat on the council, however, grew wary of the general’s amassed wealth and influence and, three years ago, issued a law banning the military’s unchecked access to mithril. Except for a fixed amount to power military aircraft, the distribution of mithril would belong to the private sector, for the use of pleasure cruises and private aircraft, which pleased the nobles, their sole interest being to line their own pockets.

If the ninth ward minister, a noble with a seat on the council, was conducting trade with the military, then he was in breach of the law and guilty of treason. Sunho didn’t know what would happen if the minister was discovered, whether he—or the general, as head of the military—would be punished. Even with the council, the general’s authority had never been tested; to do so would risk inciting a coup.

“None of that matters,” Yurhee said, with a hard shake of her head. “Whatever the Sareniyans are up to, it doesn’t change what we’ve come here for.”

Sunho’s gaze tracked back to Yurhee, noting the way her voice had risen. What had the thieves come here for? If it were for coins, the mansions in the inner circle would be easier marks than a mithril factory. It wasn’t mithril itself, either. They weren’t equipped to transport the metal, which was poisonous to the touch.

Before he could ask, they entered the vicinity of the warehouse. It was gigantic, two stories tall, as long as an inner-circle block. Unlike with the refineries, guards were stationed in pairs at its four corners. Sunho crouched with Yurhee and Tag outside the lantern light of the nearest pair.

“We need to get past the guards without alerting the others,” Yurhee said.

Sunho’s scabbard dug into the ground, and he pulled the strap to tighten it.

“How long has it been since the factory horn went off last?” Yurhee asked.

“It should go off soon,” Tag said. “What are you thinking?”

“See how far apart they’re spaced?” Thirty steps separated the guards at each corner. “They can’t see one another in the darkness. Only the lanterns indicate their positions. If we’re quiet about it, we should be able to take out a pair without alerting the others.”

“The horn only lasts for fifteen seconds.” Tag shifted closer, his mask hanging around his neck. “It won’t be as loud from this distance.”

Yurhee spoke fast. “So we act quickly. We only get the one shot. Sunho, do you—”

The horn went off.

They sprinted from the darkness, keeping low to the ground. The guard standing closest spotted them and started to pull his sword from its scabbard. Reaching him the fastest, Sunho grabbed his hand, then jabbed the guard in the throat just as he started to shout. Moving behind him, Sunho hooked his forearm around the man’s neck, twisting his wrist until he dropped his sword.

Beside him, Yurhee and Tag tussled with their guard, Tag’s hand around her mouth. Sunho watched from the corner of his eye as the lantern the guard held swayed, then dropped.

Sunho grabbed it from the air.

Holding the lantern steady with one hand, he tightened his arm around his guard’s neck until the man stopped struggling altogether.

Yurhee held a soporific cloth to the mouth of the second guard until her eyes rolled back in her head. Both guards slumped to the floor. The horn ceased blaring.

In the ensuing silence, they waited for the sound of an alarm. When it didn’t come, Yurhee nodded at Sunho. He was still holding the lantern aloft. “Nice catch.”

She moved to the door, inserting a thick pin into the padlock that released with a click . “One of us will have to stay out here to hold the lantern. Make it look like nothing’s amiss.”

“There might be more guards,” Tag said, taking the lantern from Sunho. “You two go ahead. I’ll stay.” He pressed his back to the door, holding it open for them. “Be careful.”

Yurhee stepped over the threshold.

“Wait,” Sunho said, and she turned back to look at him, the firelight dancing in her eyes.

“What are we stealing, Yurhee?”

“Does it matter?” Tag asked. His tone was even, without judgment. If anything, he sounded curious. “You’ll get paid either way.”

Tag was right; it didn’t matter. He’d do the job regardless, for the money.

“I want to know,” Sunho said.

Yurhee stepped back over the threshold. She tilted her head to the side; her butterfly clip sparkled as it caught the light. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name, you know that?”

Sunho blinked. Was it? He was naturally reserved, and it was difficult for him to connect with others. He rarely took jobs with the same crew twice. Yurhee and Tag were one of the few.

“When we parted ways after that first job, I’d said to Tag, he’s just like us. A kid from the Outer Ring, trying to survive.”

Like them. Sunho felt an odd sensation at the back of his throat; it felt uncomfortable, almost painful.

“Screw survival. I want to live .” She grinned a reckless grin, one that Tag matched, though his was softer. “In a free world. Beneath a sky that isn’t filled with poison clouds but real ones.”

She sounded like she had before, when her voice had risen, passionate, a yearning that felt both foreign and familiar .

Because there was something Sunho wanted, too. Something that he yearned for desperately.

“We’re stealing a map of the mithril mines,” Yurhee said. “That’s what we’re after. And with it, we’re going to blow up their world.”