Distraction

The weight of Aria’s breath pressed against her ribs, shallow and uneven. The words still echoed in her mind, over and over, each word filled with horror.

We proceed at dawn. The Militian monarchy will fall in three days' time.

Her mother. They were going to kill her mother. Just as they had—no, just as they had supposedly killed her father. It wasn’t just the nation they were after. It was the bloodline. A clean sweep. No heirs. No rebellion. Just a pile of ashes where the Militian royal family once stood.

Her fingers dug into Neon’s sleeve, knuckles turning white. She wanted to scream. To run out from their hiding place, demand answers, claw at the walls until she found a way to stop this madness. But she couldn’t. They had to be smart. They had to be alive if they had any hope of saving her mother.

Neon gently pulled her closer, a quiet but firm reassurance. “Breathe,” he murmured. “We’ll fix this.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything but the weight of the truth. Her father had been dead. They had seen his body, watched as the flames consumed him, his ashes scattering like dust across the ruins. But he was here. Standing before the queen like a soldier awaiting orders.

Neon shifted beside her, his expression unreadable. But Aria could feel the tension rolling off him, the sharp edge of his thoughts cutting through the silence.

“He’s not the only one,” he said, voice hushed. “Vey said something before. About the dead not really dying.”

Aria swallowed, mind racing. She had dismissed it at the time, thought it was the delirium speaking. But now—

“What if…” She struggled to find the words. “What if the Architect doesn’t just control the living? What if it controls the dead too?”

Neon’s eyes darkened. “You think they brought your father back.”

Aria’s throat felt tight. “I don’t know. But if they have that kind of power…”

“Then it’s not just a ruler.” His voice was grim. “It’s a god.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of it settling over them like a shroud. The Architect. The entity that had shaped this war, twisted their enemies into something unnatural. If it had the power to bring back the dead, to create life… then what chance did they have against something like that?

Neon exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “We need help.”

Aria glanced at him, blinking. He was staring at the ground, his jaw tight. “When this is over,” he said, “when your mother is safe, I’m going to Max and Anne. I don’t care what it takes. We’re going to need every ounce of strength we can get.”

Max and Anne. He hadn’t met them properly in years, not since everything had spiraled into chaos. They had always been… on the edges. Outlaws. Unpredictable. But they were fighters. Survivors. And right now, that was exactly what they needed.

“We’ll need more than just them,” she whispered. “We’ll need an army.”

Neon nodded. “One thing at a time.”

A distant clatter jolted them from their thoughts. The guards were moving. The queen’s orders had been given, and now the countdown had begun.

Neon grabbed Aria’s hand, pulling her deeper into the shadows. “We have to get to the palace before they do.”

She nodded, heart pounding. “Then let’s go.”

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The city was a labyrinth of sharp corners and dimly lit alleys, each one a silent threat. They moved like shadows, slipping through the streets unnoticed. The tension was suffocating—every footstep felt like it could shatter the fragile silence around them.

As they neared the palace walls, Aria’s pulse quickened. She knew these corridors. She had walked them a hundred times as a child, back when the world had been different. Safer. But now, they were a fortress against her, standing between her and the only family she had left.

Neon gestured for her to stop, pressing a hand against her shoulder. She followed his gaze. Two guards stood at the entrance, their armor glinting under the pale streetlights.

“We’ll have to go around,” he whispered.

Aria clenched her fists. No. We have to do this now.

She turned to Neon, meeting his gaze with steely determination. “I’ll distract them.”

His eyes widened. “Are you insane? We can’t risk—”

“There’s no other way,” she said firmly. “I know these halls better than anyone. I’ll draw them away, and you slip inside.”

Neon hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming after you.”

She smirked, trying to mask the fear clawing at her chest. “Give me five.”

Before he could argue, she slipped into the light.

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The guards barely had time to react before Aria was upon them. She stumbled forward, gasping, her voice laced with panic. “Please, help me! They’re coming—”

The taller guard narrowed his eyes. “Who’s coming?”

She glanced over her shoulder, feigning terror. “The rebels! They—they found me! They know I’m the princess—”

That was all it took.

The guards exchanged glances, then one of them barked, “Get inside. Now.”

She nodded frantically, taking a step toward the entrance—only to twist at the last second and bolt the other way.

“Stop!”

She didn’t.

Footsteps thundered behind her. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she rounded the corner, heart hammering. She had to keep them distracted long enough for Neon to get inside. That was all that mattered.

A sharp pain shot through her shoulder as she slammed into a crate, nearly knocking the wind out of her. She stumbled, catching herself just in time. The guards were closing in. She could hear them, feel their presence looming behind her.

Just a little farther.

Then, she spotted a narrow alley just ahead. A hiding spot. An escape.

She pushed forward, legs burning, lungs screaming. She dove into the darkness, pressing herself against the cold stone, willing her breath to still.

Seconds passed.

The guards rushed past her, their curses fading into the distance.

She closed her eyes, exhaling shakily. 

I did it. 

Except, she froze. Two figures suddenly loomed over her.