SHADOWBORNE | THUNDERBOLTS | THE VOID

chapter 15

“Oh my God, we suck,” Yelena groaned dramatically. She dropped to a crouch, both hands covering her face. Her voice was muffled but unmistakably exasperated.

“No shit,” Rani added, quieter, her voice cutting through the hopeless air like a worn blade. She leaned her back against the curved steel, head tilted up. “Death would be much more bearable than this.”

Silence followed again, heavier this time. And then, from the edge of the group, came a quiet voice.

“I… I have an idea.”

It was Bob. His voice was so tentative, so out of place in the thick tension, that they almost didn’t register it at first. He stood a few steps away, his hand slightly raised like a schoolboy unsure if he had the right answer. His eyes darted from face to face, searching for permission.

Yelena lifted her head. Ava straightened slightly. Even John stopped muttering under his breath.

Rani turned to him, surprised. The look on Bob’s face—it wasn’t the usual wide-eyed confusion or self-deprecating humor. It was something quieter. Firmer. As if a curtain inside him had shifted and something older, deeper, had stirred awake.

“I think…” Bob hesitated, then exhaled, “I think we can try something."

~

Their breaths were tight in their chests, tension held like a fragile thread between them as they began to shift into formation. One by one, they moved to give their backs to each other, shoulders brushing, arms reaching out across the circle. Fingers found wrists, palms wrapped around forearms, and slowly, they linked—five broken people forming something whole.

Rani stood between Ava and Bob. Her hand gripped Ava’s arm, Ava’s fingers curled around John’s arm. Yelena connected to Bob, and Bob to Rani again, the loop closing like a promise. It was awkward, uneven, almost childish—but there was power in it too, a quiet defiance in the way they stood together.

They were shaped like an asterisk. A strange, tense star suspended in a hollow pipe of steel and stone.

“Left. Right. Left. Right,” John’s voice called out in a low, rhythmic command.

Their legs began to press outward, boots bracing against the curved wall. They were scaling it with nothing but coordination, timing, and sheer will—synchronized through sweat and effort, guided by John’s stubborn belief that this would work. The pipe echoed their breath, their grunts, the squeak of armor and rubber against metal.

Rani's chest was tight with nerves. She hated this closeness. She hated the fear that surged when she touched Bob again—the memory of that explosion, the moment their hands had met and something inside her had nearly torn open. Her skin buzzed where their arms were tied together, but she kept silent. We have to trust each other. We have to do this together.

Every second felt like a lifetime. They ascended slowly, their bodies trembling with the effort, sweat gathering on their brows, on the backs of their necks. After a few minutes, they paused. Hanging in stillness, legs pushing into the walls, arms aching but unrelenting in their grip.

Rani glanced down. The floor was gone—only darkness now. She swallowed.

“Which one of you is wet?” Yelena’s voice broke the silence, breathy but amused.

Bob glanced back toward her. “Sorry,” he muttered, cheeks flushed. “I run really hot.”

Rani noticed—his hair was damp, sweat trailing along his temple, his neck. But he wasn’t shaky. He was… focused. Steady.

John grunted. “Someone’s got a weird hard—butt against me.”

“It’s not my butt. It’s my suit,” Ava snapped, breath hitching. “You’ll have to get used to it.”