The unconscious girl’s fingers twitched, and for half a second, an eerie, chaotic sound echoed through the mine, like countless creatures gnashing their teeth. In the next moment, her figure abruptly vanished.

But the ice bridge remained intact.

Jason froze in place for a second. While the entire mine had been encased in ice, that didn’t guarantee safety. No one could predict when the freezing would end, and the injured needed to be evacuated immediately.

Bracing himself against the wall, Jason forced himself upright. From above, Tal descended like a shadow—he must have been scaling the walls earlier. With a cold, detached glance at Jason, he said simply, “Widen the exit.”

Jason barked, “Do you have backup?”

“Yes,” Tal replied. “But not people—we’ll have to eliminate the guards at the entrance to let the backup through and get everyone out.”

At that moment, the sound of hoofbeats echoed down the mine. Jason turned toward the abandoned tunnel they’d come through—a narrow path fit only for two people walking side by side. On the path, slumped over the back of a reluctant-looking horse, was Nora, accompanied by the begrudging Victor Freeze.

Victor froze at the sight below, visibly shocked. Then he shouted, “Catch this!”

He hurled his freeze gun toward Jason and Tal. The two men exchanged a glance, their unspoken agreement clear as Tal motioned with a hand gesture—they would split up.

This mine had clearly been repurposed to transport contraband, and the three-meter-tall stone door at the entrance was only one of its many access points. Beyond the door lay a sloping track for mine carts, now converted for transporting illicit goods—and potentially people.

Jason had already donned a gas mask, but the toxic dust he’d inhaled earlier was taking its toll. Meanwhile, Tal moved through the fumes unaffected, like some kind of inhuman predator. Was this guy even human? Jason seethed inwardly.

He loathed everything about drugs—drugs had destroyed his family and the woman he once called “Mother.”

In the icy aftermath of extinguished flames, the mine grew darker, illuminated only by faint reflections from the ice bridge. Jason could hear low, muffled sobs around him. Using the freeze gun, he shattered the fragile remains of walls and chains, exposing severed electrical wires connecting to surveillance cameras.

He raised a brow at the clean cuts.

Of course, Tal had severed them, likely during his earlier reconnaissance. Now Jason understood: the so-called backup wasn’t human—it was the army of gargoyles.

According to what Jason had gleaned from Vivi, dozens of these stone creatures native to South Hinckley had already been mobilized, and more were flying in from Gotham. The mine was unstable, and human reinforcements were still en route. Until they arrived, the gargoyles would serve as aerial medics, ferrying the injured to safety.

When Tal had first entered the mine, he memorized the positions of every surveillance camera and acted decisively. Once the fires were extinguished, he destroyed the power hub, buying precious time.

The stone door crumbled under pressure, and in the pitch blackness, Tal rolled forward like a panther. He crawled up the incline of the mine shaft, his movements swift and silent. At the top, two militia guards shone flashlights into the darkness below.

A glint of silver flickered. The first guard, hearing something, clutched at his throat and collapsed without a sound.

The second guard had slightly better luck—Tal used the freeze gun, immobilizing him before he could draw his weapon.

As Tal passed the frozen guard, he glanced at the man’s holstered gun and his frozen, shocked expression. Inwardly, Tal thought, East Gotham’s loose gun control laws make enforcement much easier.

These guards, though? Even with guns, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.

The table near them held half-eaten burgers and a deck of cards. Tal couldn’t fathom how anyone could casually eat and play games while overseeing the massacre of thousands. But he didn’t linger on the thought. He didn’t care to understand the minds of scum.

The comm device on the table buzzed incessantly. Evidently, the silence from the mine was raising questions.

Tal picked up the comm and activated a recorder from his toolkit.

“Chris, what’s going on down there? Check the situation—the surveillance is down.”

Tal coughed and lowered his voice. “Explosions knocked out the surveillance, of course. Aren’t you the one who ordered us to blow the place up? I was in the middle of a card game!”

“Are you brain-dead, you pig?” the voice on the other end snapped. “The order came from Mayor Smith. Damn it, why am I even explaining this to you? Stop playing cards and report—did the mine get blown up or not?”

“No issues,” Tal replied smoothly. “But what do we do with the bodies?”

“That’s not your problem. Damn it, something’s happening outside. I’m ending this call—get your act together and change clothes. Tonight, nothing happened, understand? Idiot.”

The line went dead. Tal didn’t even glance at the two corpses as he pulled out his phone. A single message from “Bella Bettywen” awaited:

“Vivi is fine but needs rest. Clear the passage. The gargoyles are descending to evacuate the injured.”

In the darkness, countless pairs of red eyes began to glow. Tal stepped aside just as rows of gargoyles swooped into the mine, smashing the frozen remains of the guards in their path.

Jason, having dealt with two other militia members, heard the sound of wings above. He looked up, his brow furrowing.

The sky was pitch black, devoid of stars or moonlight. As Jason’s eyes adjusted, he realized why: winged monsters blanketed the sky, casting it into even deeper darkness.

But Jason was no stranger to Gotham’s shadows. His keen eyesight revealed the creatures: stone gargoyles—familiar to Gotham’s vigilantes as decorations—and now, something far more terrifying.

Connecting recent Gotham City headlines about gargoyle sightings—those tabloid stories about the magician and the mysterious stone beasts—Jason stepped aside with a conflicted expression.

One by one, the terrifying creatures descended into the mine. Jason even noticed some of their stony wings painted with colorful patterns, likely the handiwork of children.

From within the mine came faint screams. Jason’s face darkened, and he tightened his grip on his gun as he rushed forward.

---

Jane held her son close, trembling.

It was unbearably cold, but she didn’t dare move.

She was one of the “flesh workers”—women forced to not only labor but also serve as channels for the men’s desires and abuse. Four years ago, she had fled from Philadelphia, escaping her stepfather’s torment. She had spent everything she had to forge a new identity, hoping to start anew in Gotham City, relying on hard work and determination to carve out a decent life.

She just wanted to live like a human being.

But instead, she found herself in another hell.

Jane understood English and knew exactly what she was doing here. She also understood the guards’ conversations. At first, she clung to hope—if she escaped, she’d be free from this nightmare. For the first year, this belief kept her going.

But then, she got pregnant.

By the second year, she had a mentally impaired son, and their shared addiction to the drugs they were forced to consume made any escape impossible. Her body was wrecked, her spirit shattered. Jane knew even if they managed to leave, their lives were already ruined. But still, she wasn’t ready to give up. Her son had never seen the sun—had never lived anywhere but this filthy, dimly lit mine filled with the moans of suffering.

Her son was already lost to the world, but why couldn’t he at least see the sun?

But her last escape attempt, like all the others, failed. Withdrawal hit, and she collapsed before dawn. Dragged back into the pit, her life became even worse. Her three-year-old son still couldn’t talk, only cry and crawl. And she had no idea what future, if any, awaited them.

God, if you’re punishing me, then kill me quickly. I’ll gladly go to hell if it means I don’t have to face your heaven.

Then, amidst the roaring flames, she saw an ice bridge descend from the heavens. Reflected in the polished surface of the ice, for the first time in years, Jane saw her own filthy face.

Her cracked, rough hands. Her deadened eyes.

On the bridge above, an invisible force of terror radiated, making the flames recede. But Jane didn’t care about the fear—it didn’t stop her. She was the first to run toward the bridge, thinking a god has come.

But why so late?

Why now, after everything?

She thought she’d demand answers, thought she’d rage against the injustice. But when she saw the girl collapsed on the bridge, she fell to her knees instead. Her forehead rested against the cold, icy pillar as she gazed at her own reflection and silently wept.

There was no god. The fire wasn’t extinguished by divine intervention. And the one who had come to save them wasn’t some celestial being.

Who was there to blame?

Shaking, Jane hid beneath the bridge’s pillar, clutching her son tightly. She hated men—she hated them all. Her son was the only thing in the mine that belonged to her. Whether she lived or died no longer mattered. Yet, in the chill of the ice, she felt an unusual sense of peace.

Then, she saw hooves.

A small white horse, entirely out of place in the wretched mine, lowered its head to nuzzle her matted hair.

Her son reached out a trembling hand, trying to touch the “strange thing.” The horse carried a woman who stumbled off its back, speaking hurriedly: “Do you know what gargoyles are? Never mind, did you see those things? Those creatures? Just hold onto their necks—don’t struggle. Or let them grab you… They’re here to get you out. This place isn’t safe. Be good…”

“Be good.”

Jane raised her head as the woman rushed past, and she saw the terrifying black creatures descending. Their icy breath filled the cavern. Screams rang out as the gargoyles shattered chains frozen to the ankles of the captives. One by one, they lifted the emaciated prisoners and flew toward the exit.

Most people could do nothing but cry, too weak to resist. But Jane, staring at the direction the gargoyles flew, suddenly stood and stumbled toward the next descending monster.

Monsters? Heaven? Hell?

She didn’t care anymore. As long as she could leave this place, she didn’t care if her savior was an angel or a beast.

She clung to the creature’s wing, bracing herself for rejection. But instead of being flung away, she found the stone wing to be cold and smooth—nothing like the sulfur and fire of hell.

The gargoyle hesitated, as if perplexed, before gently wrapping its claws around Jane and her son.

Then, she felt the ground disappear beneath her.

They were flying.

Jane and her son soared past the rubble of the collapsed mine entrance, through the narrow tunnels, over the corpses strewn across the ground. Farther still, she saw buildings lined up like jagged teeth on the horizon.

For the first time in four years, clean air brushed against her face.