Damon left the castle an hour before noon.

He moved alone through the southern district, taking the longer route that kept him off the main streets. The city was quieter in this direction, fewer undead humans, the particular emptiness of ground nobody had claimed because nobody had wanted it.

South Court Station appeared ahead, its entrance half-buried under debris accumulated since the early days. The signage was still visible if you knew what you were looking at.

He descended without hesitation.

The underground was dark and still.

The tunnels smelled of old concrete and standing water, the kind of smell that had been there so long it had stopped being noticeable to anyone who spent time down here. Emergency lighting still functioned in patches, weak amber strips along the ceiling that created more shadows than illumination.

Damon moved through those shadows as if he belonged there.

The tunnel connecting South Court to Central Station ran straight for most of its length before curving northeast. He’d walked it enough times during the central station period to know every junction without needing light.

Just as he anticipated, there were no guards.

They hadn’t thought to watch the underground. Why would they? Most people wouldn’t think about it, especially those from the outskirts of the city. Most people hadn’t spent months using it as a secondary route when the streets above were too dangerous.

He reached the Central Station platform access and paused.

Voices echoed faintly from above. There were a half dozen at least, the particular murmur of people stationed all around and communicating through whispers.

He ascended slowly.

The first guard was on the platform level, watching the tunnel entrance from a position that would have caught anyone coming up at normal speed.

Which of course didn’t include Damon.

He didn’t walk and instead stepped between the shadows, reappearing behind the man and cutting him down before he could even react.

The second and third were on the main concourse, stationed at opposite ends with sightlines that covered the primary entrances. Neither had thought to watch the interior column, which Damon noticed instantly.

He moved between the columns and the shadows they cast, taking each one before they registered anything beyond a flicker of cold air.

He counted as he went.

Four on the lower level. Three on the mezzanine and two watching the eastern exit. One, slightly more alert than the others, stood on the stairs, rotating his position every twenty seconds with the discipline of someone trained rather than just assigned.

Damon waited for the rotation before moving.

He counted eleven disposed enemies before the sound of footsteps on the northern approach told him the exchange group was arriving.

He stepped back into the shadows and waited.

A man carrying a certain presence, most definitely an enemy lieutenant, came first.

He was tall and broad with a short blade held loosely at his side with the ease of someone who’d used it enough that it had become an extension rather than a tool.

Three fighters flanked him in a loose formation, each of them walking with the confidence of more than just a fighter.

’Four lieutenants,’ Damon recognised their ranks almost instantly.

Between them, Victor walked with his hands bound and his composure largely intact despite the blade another fighter held pressed tightly against the side of his neck. A thin line of blood had already traced its way down from the point of contact, dried slightly at the collar.

Victor’s eyes moved across the station with the quiet assessment of someone cataloguing his options even in restraint, a habit he developed from experience rather than something he was born with.

The lieutenants positioned at the centre of the concourse and waited.

The southern entrance opened precisely at noon.

Ivy came through first, her crimson hair catching the station’s amber light, her expression carrying the particular composure she used when composure was necessary.

Ning Xiaoyu walked a step behind her left shoulder, sword visible, eyes already moving across the space with the tactical read of someone who had assessed faster than most people noticed.

Nyla came through on the right, hammer across her shoulder, golden brown skin and metal plate arms catching the light.

Theodore followed, grinning in the particular way he grinned when he expected something to go wrong and found that prospect genuinely enjoyable. He had one hand on Jax’s collar, guiding him forward with the casual grip of someone managing luggage rather than a human being.

Jax looked pale and remained completely silent, watching his people with a wary expression.

And behind them all, moving with the quick, deliberate steps of someone who had decided to be here before they’d fully convinced themselves it was a good idea, was Hana.

Damon noted her from the shadows with mild surprise.

She had no combat ability worth speaking of in a direct confrontation. Her value was entirely telepathic. Which meant Ivy had brought her for exactly that reason. If the negotiation ran into something words couldn’t navigate, Hana would know what was coming before it arrived.

He filed the observation and returned his attention to the lieutenants.

The three melee fighters didn’t look particularly interesting. Though they looked strong, there wasn’t really anything about them to truly grasp Damon’s attention.

The same, however, couldn’t be said about the fourth one, who seemed to be leading the exchange. He had no weapon beside him, yet stood as if he were the most heavily armed person there.

The man’s dark green eyes swept across Ivy’s group, counting and assessing, before his gaze landed on Jax with an expression that was difficult to read from a distance.

"You came well attended," the man said, turning his gaze toward Ivy.

"So did you," Ivy replied.

"I have..." the man began, then his head and gaze turned toward one of the columns behind which a slain body of one of his men was. "Though it seems like there has been a bit of... inconvenience."

Ivy raised a brow, trying to remain as composed as possible while her mind spiralled at what he meant.

Luckily, she wouldn’t have to dwell long as the man spoke again.

"Well, I should be glad," he paused for a moment, a faint dark green smoke forming around his arms. "At least I’ll get to meet your leader."