WHERE THE SHADOWS BECKON

THE BLOOD OF EITH, BOOK ONE

GILLIAN GRANT

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WHERE THE SHADOWS BECKON

© 2021 by Gillian Grant

Cover Design © 2021 by Stefanie Saw at Seventh Star Art

Eith Map Design © 2021 by Daniël Hasenbos

Formatting © 2021 by Charity Hendry

ISBN: 978-1-7372245-0-1

Available in ebook and print editions.

All rights reserved.

Excerpt from:

WHERE THE NIGHT CONSUMES

© 2021 by Gillian Grant

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

www.GillianGrant.com

CONTENTS

Dedication

Pronunciation Guide

Map of Eith

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Excerpt of Where the Night Consumes

Acknowledgments

About the Author

DEDICATION

For the Outlanders and the Monster Mash,

who started it all.

PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

People:

• Evren: Eh-v-r-eh-n

• Gyda: Gee-da

• Sorin: Sor-en

• Abraxas: Uh-brak-suhs

• Arke: ar-kuh

• Solri: Soul-ree

• Viggo: Vee-go

Terms:

• krevas: kruh-vas - a dwarven term for dishonored one, coward or traitor

• levenya:  lev-en-ya - elven word for family, clan, or group

• foya: foy-ah - Ikedree term for father

The Banished Faith:

Once a nearly universally worshipped religion, the Banished Faith is now solely clung to by those in Etherak and few others. Once, the Divines were able to give their closest worshippers great power, and their absence has left the once powerful kingdom of Etherak crippled.

• The Banished Divines:

·       Haphion, God of Light and Flame

·       Nutvian, Goddess of Ice and Order

·       Vuhione, Goddess of Honor and Justice

·       Holtia, Goddess of Love and Healing

·       Emion, God of Music and Dance

·       Mandros, God of Knowledge

·       Elos, God of Change and Freedom

·       Eitrix, Goddess of Industry and Money

·       Roania, Goddess of Nature

·       Zelmis, Goddess of Darkness and Chaos

·       Nomien, God of Wrath and Fire

·       Mituna, Goddess of Tempests and Seas

·       Vyone, God of Death

·       Nuris, Goddess of Illness and Envy

1

The slack-jawed head of the beast was at least half the size of the woman who carried it and dripped a crimson trail of blood down the streets. The frost crunched under the hunter’s footsteps and sizzled, hissing at contact with the still-warm blood. The progress was a slow, almost limping march. And not a single soul bothered to do more than stare and whisper.

“Fucking dwarves,” Evren murmured under her breath, tightening her grip on her prize. The worg’s head was bulky and uncomfortable to carry, and her leather-clad leg was already slick with its blood—but at least that part of her was warm.

Her cold-numbed fingers wound tightly around the worg’s matted, coarse fur. All around her, the upper levels of Dirn-Darahl stood rigid, rimmed in the mountain’s frost, the elegantly carved homes resolute and proud next to the barely standing wooden shacks. Small fires dotted the stone streets, their warmth and smoke not nearly enough to drive back the chill of the wind. Below her feet, Evren felt the stone thrumming like a beating heart. The true city was below, those who lived aboveground were just gatekeepers, merchants, or the poor. It was cheaper to live outside Dirn-Darahl, but that seemed to ring true with any city, not just the dwarves’.

Evren stumbled closer to the massive gates, stepping into the shadow of the mountain they had been carved into and trying not to shiver. The gates were at least fifty feet tall and made of pure granite. They were beautiful, and she struggled not to crane her neck to look at them. She was being watched, after all.

She veered off to the side, shuffling to a halt before a dwarf and his sturdy tent. The four armed guards surrounding him drew back, their hands on their weapons. Evren groaned in effort and brought the worg’s massive head up and over, slamming it on the wooden desk between them. The wood visibly cracked under the sudden impact but held up well enough. The golden-haired dwarf sniffed at the worg, its black tongue lolling out of its maw, hitting some official-looking papers.

“What’s this?” Beregal finally looked up at her. It was still unnerving, although impressive, that despite how tall Evren was comparatively, she never felt as if she were looking down on him.

“That’s a worg.” She crossed her arms, trying to keep her breathing slow and even. Can’t be seen as weak here, she reminded herself.

“Yeah, one worg.” Beregal looked her up and down. “Are you hiding the rest of the pack up your ass?”

She gritted her teeth. It was fine. She had known this would happen. She’d rehearsed this in her head over and over on her long hike up the mountain.

“One worg is what you get,” she said flatly. “Keep out of the western hills, and your men shouldn’t have a problem with the pack.”

“I hired you to take out the whole pack, half-breed,” Beregal spat. “You said you were up to the job,”

“And I was. Until I figured out the reason your men are being attacked. It’s past mating season for this pack. They’re raising their young.” She gestured to the head on the table. “They’re more protective of their territory than normal and will be for the next seven months until the pups are old enough to take care of themselves. Stay out of their territory, and you won’t have a problem. They won’t expand or change their hunting habits during this time.”

“So, you expect us to work around these beasts just because of a few pups?” He laughed, and the guards around joined in. But their gazes—their eyes the only things not hidden beneath their helmets—never left the worg’s head. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“By all means, keep going into their territory.” Evren shrugged. “I can’t stop you. But I also can’t stop the worgs from defending their young—which they will do without hesitation. I met this one on the outskirts. He was one of the hunters. Sweet boy even gave me a warning before trying to rip off my face. I doubt you’ll find such hospitality if you continue encroaching on their home.”

“One big worg doesn’t equal a whole pack,” he said firmly. “I shouldn’t even pay you for this.”

“The deal was twenty gold pieces a head,” she argued. “The head is here. The body is just outside the city limits, clearly marked for your men to find. The pelt is in good condition, and the worgs obviously had a good hunting season, so the meat is in fine form. Fifty pieces for the whole body, which will feed a good many of your soldiers for a while.”

“Fifty?” He laughed again. “My, they obviously didn’t teach you any bartering where you were raised. I’d do thirty, at the very most.”

“Fifty is more than reasonable given the size.”

“Let’s just say I’m not so pleased with your production so far. Thirty is all you’ll get from me.”

Evren pursed her lips, the rough and chapped edges scraping against each other. “Thirty pieces and free room and board for the night.”

The dwarf started to open his mouth, and she quickly held up a hand.

“Lower levels, Beregal.” She nodded to the doors. “I’d like to get out of the wind for a bit.”

He seemed to think about the offer, stroking his chin, the only bare area of his jaw. The rest contained a finely combed and braided beard of coarse, blond hair. Why he would expose such a weak chin was beyond her, but she kept her mouth shut. Beregal didn’t need to be likable or smart, he was just supposed to pay her.

“Fine.” He sighed. “You’ve got a deal.” He went to pull out a piece of paper but scowled at the head leaking all over his desk. “Just tell the guards at the lift that I sent you. The Bed Rock will put up with you tonight. Second level right off the lift. Can’t miss it.”

He waved at one of the guards, and they pulled out a sack of gold, handing it over to her. Evren took it, weighing it in her hands, mostly for show. Beregal wouldn’t short her on gold, or his entire reputation would be at risk. So, she tied it to her belt and gave him a nod.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I wish I could say the same. I’ll hire an actual hunter next time.”

Evren bit her tongue and gave the worg head one last look. It was strange that she didn’t want to leave it with Beregal. The beast had tried to kill her. But if she’d learned one thing in her years, it was respect. The worg had only been protecting its family. If Evren had to die, going out that way didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

Without the head slowing her down, she took off to the streets again at a much quicker pace. She still ignored the dwarves around her as she headed straight to the mountain’s grand gates. It was no surprise that a small army of dwarves watched the gate, their spears shining in the weak sunlight.

“Beregal Athem has vouched for my presence in the city for one night,” she explained as she walked up.

The dwarf in charge frowned behind her helmet, her thin lips disappearing almost entirely. “You’re the hunter?”

“Yes.”

“Right.” The dwarf looked Evren up and down, taking in her worn leathers and tattered cloak—both now splattered with blood—as well as the sturdy bow on her back. “Keep that to yourself if you know what’s good for you.”

Evren smiled thinly. “I don’t hunt dwarves.”

The captain chuckled at that. “We’re a tough game anyway. Velx!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Open the gates. I’ll escort the half-elf in.”

Velx nodded, his shining helmet bouncing as he ran off, spear tucked under his arm. About five minutes passed before the gates started to move inward. The loud scraping sound of stone against stone echoed harshly in Evren’s ears. The massive slabs moved inch by tiny inch, though she couldn’t see or hear any chains. It didn’t take long for the doors to open just enough for Evren and the captain to walk through, side by side, the grand vestibule beyond as tall as the doors themselves, and with no sliver of sky visible at all.

The air was warm but not still as Evren stepped inside. This time, she couldn’t stop herself from admiring the beauty of the architecture. There was no rough stone to be seen. It was all smooth and almost glassy. Thick yet somehow elegant pillars of stone ringed the large hall, supporting the ceiling, carved with some mosaic she couldn’t quite make out in the low light. A raised platform stood in the center of the room, four chains as thick as she was on each corner. A couple of benches were scattered around the area. To her surprise, they weren’t empty.

“We’ve been getting a lot of visitors.” The captain seemed to read her mind. “You’re only the most recent. Those two came late last night.” She pointed to two figures huddled on one of the benches, one significantly shorter than the other.

“Why haven’t they been allowed in?”

“It takes a lot to operate the lift.” The captain shrugged. “Can’t do it for just a couple of outsiders. But with you and a couple of the hunting party returning, we’ll have the lift ready in a few minutes.”

“Right.” Evren breathed out. “Thanks for the escort.”

“I’m in charge of the city guard, so I’ll have eyes on you in case you cause any trouble.”

Evren snorted. “It’s only for one night, Captain. I’ll stay out of trouble and be out of your hair come sunrise.”

“I’ll hold you to that, hunter.” She issued a stiff, half-bow before walking back out of the gates. Only a minute later, the rumbling picked up again, and the gates slowly inched closed before sealing shut, blocking out the outside world with a soft hiss.

Evren looked around. The hall was grand and almost quiet once the doors were closed. Fatigued-looking dwarves in icy armor kept to themselves in the corners of the room, not giving her even a passing glance. But as she got closer to the lift, the two figures the captain had pointed out became more and more curious.

Their whispers were louder now and bounced off the walls incoherently. The smaller figure was completely covered in a tattered and stained grey cloak and seemed to burrow farther into it. The other figure was tall, and . . . human now that she got a good look at him. Deep brown skin paired with long, black dreads that tumbled past his shoulders and seemed to glitter with gold in the low light. He noticed her, his honey-colored eyes brightening instantly as a wide smile grew over his face.

“Ah! Finally. A taller friend appears!” he proclaimed loudly, his voice bouncing off the walls. The cloaked figure seemed to shrink even more. “Come, sit with us, stranger. No, no, it’s fine, she looks fun,” he whispered quickly to his small friend.

Evren took the bench adjacent to them, resting her elbows on her knees. Now that she was in front of the cloaked figure, she expected to see a face. But the hood was so big, she still saw nothing but shadows.

The human shifted to face her, still grinning brightly. “Fancy meeting a new face in these parts. I was starting to see shapes in the stone. Although . . . that might just be my boredom.”

The cloaked figure scoffed and shifted away from him.

“Anyway.” The human brightened again, focusing on Evren. “My name’s Sorin Trinity, most recently of the Boreal Sea.” He extended a hand, an intricate tattoo of three overlapping circles marking the dark skin. Evren slowly took it and gave it a firm shake, finding the palm and fingers rough and warm.

If his introduction hadn’t been a dead giveaway, the tattoo was. Evren didn’t know much about the Vasa, other than they were a strange culture of people who lived solely on the Boreal Sea. There were more humans among them, but she’d heard of them accepting all races, no matter what they were.

“Evren Hanali.” She smiled and took back her hand. “You’re a long way from the sea for a Vasa. What brings you this far north?”

“Ah, well. My friend here, Arke, convinced me to swing by.” He shrugged. “I was on my way to Tal-Mashad, so I figured . . . why not?”

Evren blinked. “Tal-Mashad is on the other side of the kingdom,” she told him, bringing up her mental map of Etherak. “You’re quite a ways off course.”

“Well, yes. But that’s half the fun.” Sorin waved her off. “Besides, there are no dwarven cities on the sea. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Evren hummed in agreement. “And your friend?”

“Oh, Arke?” Sorin looked at the cloak. “He’s just shy. He’ll warm up in no time. Isn’t that right, Arke?”

Arke the cloak didn’t reply.

Almost as if an unspoken order had gone out, all the dwarves started to get up and shuffle onto the lift. Evren took that as her cue and stood, also, adjusting her bow and quiver as she did.

Sorin and Arke sprang up, as well, following her lead as she got onto the lift. Arke’s cloak was much too big for whatever he was and trailed out a good foot behind him. When the cloaked figure stood next to a dwarf, she saw he was easily a foot shorter. Evren tapped her finger on the strap of her quiver, staring intently at the mysterious figure.

“I’ve never been on a lift before,” Sorin said cheerfully. “You?”

Evren’s gaze moved back to Sorin, and she shook her head. “First time.”

“I wonder how far—?”

The sound of rattling chains and heaving stone cut off the Vasa’s words. Bright blue runes shimmered to life at the edges of the lift’s stonework, and Evren could feel the power radiating from them. Her stomach dropped as the lift descended, and the raised platform they were standing on moved down. Sorin laughed a bit beside her, wobbling to keep his balance. The dwarves weren’t fazed at all. Evren curled her toes in her boots and tried not to shift her weight. There were no rails on this platform, and the last thing she needed was to fall.

As the lift descended, the floor of the hall rose until it was over and above their heads entirely. For a few breathless minutes, all she could see were stone walls. They were so close, she could almost touch them. Reaching out a shaking hand, she tried to, but just as her fingertips were about to meet stone, it all fell away into open air, and she staggered back a couple of steps.

Below them, Dirn-Darahl sprawled like a glowing, breathing thing. The city was massive, extending for miles in all directions. Massive pillars kept the cavern roof above them steady, and homes had been built along the walls and even in some of the columns. A rim of fire curled around the perimeter and between the streets, giving the whole city a warm glow. The grand houses and enormous statues seemed to shimmer and shine in the flickering light, the flecks of precious metals and gems visible even from so far up.

Beside them, one of the dwarves chuckled. “And this is only the first level. Impressed?”

Sorin sputtered behind her. “First level? How many are there?”

“Five. This is mostly for the richer folks. Lords and their families and such. It’s also where our King lives.”

“Shiny,” Evren muttered. Now that they inched closer to the buildings, she saw the gold and silver etched into their walls and even along the streets. Large mansions had clusters of like-colored gems at their gates. One with a blood-red ruby glittering next to the fire. Another with a sapphire framed in silver. In the distance, towering over all the other glittering houses, stood a palace of incredible beauty, its rooftops seeming to glow with a bright white light.

“Second level is for merchants, the middle-class, and visitors, like you,” the dwarf went on. “Third is agriculture and food. Fourth has the forges and military encampments. And the fifth is the prison.”

“That’s . . . efficient,” Sorin said as they finally got to the street level and sank below once more. Another grand sight soon broke the darkness, although this one was less impressive than the first level. No shining gold or gems glittered back at them, but the second level was even bigger than the first. The smell of food and spices hit them, and Evren’s stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.

She found herself eagerly anticipating the lift coming to a stop. Foot by foot, it descended. The dwarves milling about the streets paid them no mind, instead chatting easily amongst themselves and trading back and forth. The idea of a warm meal and a decent bed to sleep in was all that filled Evren’s mind. She tuned Sorin out as he continued chatting with the dwarves, staring hungrily at the city below. They were only twenty feet from the ground when the lift suddenly stopped.

Evren frowned, turning back to the dwarves. “Are we supposed to jump?”

The dwarf looked equally confused, his large, curly brows knitting together. “No, we shouldn’t have stopped yet. Jalaa’s great arse, what are they doing up there?”

Everybody followed the dwarf’s gaze upwards, staring accusingly at the unseen workers supposed to be working the lift. As they did, a thunderous boom echoed around the cavern. The ceiling shook; pieces of stone falling away into clouds of dust. The lift started swaying slightly from side to side, the glowing runes flickering.

“What in the hells was that?” Evren asked.

Before she got her answer, the cavern shook again. This time, she heard the screams of the people below. The chains started rattling furiously.

“Hold on!” The dwarf’s panic was thick in his voice.

“To what?” Sorin cried out.

The whole lift shook beneath their feet. Evren wrapped her arm around the thick chain closest to her, just as the runes flickered out, and the lift started to plummet.

Evren’s heart was stuck in her throat as they fell past the second level and moved below ground again. It was all she could do to keep from screaming. Air rushed past her, hot and fast as they descended in a frenzy. It seemed to scream for her. She forced her eyes open. No, Sorin was the only one screaming.

Sorin hadn’t found anything to hold onto and fell just a few feet above them. Evren gritted her teeth as the cavern suddenly opened around them again. Ignoring the fast-approaching floor, she focused on the human.

She forced her muscles to relax their death grip on the chain and started climbing up, little by little. The air seemed eager to help, lifting her as she struggled to keep her feet on the chain.

“Hey!” The wind nearly snatched away her voice. “Sorin, look at me!”

The human twisted in the air, his hair flying up all around him.

She extended her arm, hand outstretched to him, but she still wasn’t close enough. “Grab on!” she urged. “I’ll pull you in!”

“But Arke—”

“Is fine!” she snapped. She barely spared a glance for the cloaked figure wrapped tightly around the adjacent chain. “Now, grab on!”

Sorin’s honey eyes were thick with fear, but they suddenly hardened with understanding. He nodded and, with a grunt of effort, reached his hand out to hers. Not quite meeting, their fingertips brushed just as they fell into another level of darkness. She heard him curse in the shadows, and then another grunt of effort sounded. She felt a worn, callused hand grip hers like steel just as the fourth level lit up all around them. She used all her might to pull Sorin towards her.

He grabbed onto the chain, breathless and visibly shaking. “Thanks for that.”

Evren just nodded, turning to the dwarves across the lift. There were about half as many as she remembered. Only three now.

“How do we stop the lift?” she yelled over the screaming air.

They looked terrified, the whites of their eyes showing like cornered animals. Evren couldn’t help but think of the worgs.

One shook his head. “This doesn’t happen! We don’t know!”

“What happens when we reach the bottom?” Sorin asked from beside her. The grim look on the dwarves’ faces was the only answer they needed.

“Great.” Sorin laughed a little to himself.

Evren forced her eyes away from the fast-approaching forges below. It would be seconds before they hit the darkness again. “How are you laughing?”

“I’m coping.” His bright eyes suddenly lit up, and he turned to Arke, still wound tightly against the chain with his cloak flapping in the wind. “Arke! Do your thing!”

The darkness swallowed them again. From it, a raspy voice spoke, almost sounding annoyed. “What thing? Be more specific.”

“Stop the lift from falling.”

“I can’t do that. It’s massive.”

“You stopped a boulder once.”

“A big rock! There’s a difference.”

Light broke once more. This cavern was huge but low-lit and covered with a thick layer of smoke. Evren couldn’t see the bottom, but she didn’t need to, to know that this was their final stop.

“Fuck the lift!” she yelled over Sorin. “What about us?”

Arke said nothing for a bit, but she saw him moving beneath his cloak. Beside her, Sorin nodded.

“Yes, yes. Do us!”

“I can’t do everyone.”

“How many?” Evren asked, not sure exactly what she was asking. She focused on Arke. The dwarves’ panic told her all she needed to know about how close they were.

“I don’t know . . .”

“How. Many?” she repeated.

“I really don’t know[CO5] . I’ve never done it on more than one object before.”

Suddenly, smoke enveloped them. Panic seized Evren’s heart. This was not how she was supposed to die. Not like this.

“Just do it. Quickly!”

She couldn’t see anything through the haze of smoke. It clawed at her throat and burned her panicked lungs. She felt Sorin’s grip on her arm tighten more and more by the second. Over the wind, she heard a dwarven prayer, the words choked with tears.

“Arke, please!” Sorin’s scream was tight with panic, just as Arke answered.

“Everyone let go. NOW!”

Evren didn’t hesitate to loosen her grip on the chain. Sorin pushed off completely. For a brief moment, Evren was weightless. The rushing air cradled her like a warm embrace, but she was still falling.

The smoke suddenly cleared, and Evren saw the ground approaching fast. Too fast. She had seconds to live. The lift was only a few feet below her, still falling at a high speed. It would hit first. She couldn’t tear her eyes off the ground, the instrument of her death. [CO6] It swarmed her vision and was all she could see.

Sharp pain shot up her arm as their descent suddenly jerked to a halt. Evren cried out, gripping her arm in an attempt to keep her body weight off it. Sorin held it tightly, teeth gritted. He seemed to be floating effortlessly, slowly drifting to the ground as she dangled. She barely had time to acknowledge the fact that the spell had missed her, and Sorin was the only reason she was still breathing.

He let out a shaky laugh. “Hey, I guess that makes us even, right?”

Evren couldn’t keep her breathing steady long enough to get out a word, so she just nodded at him, fear still riding her. Just beyond him, Evren saw Arke’s cloaked figure floating down, a large tome in his small, clawed hands. His face was still hidden. The three remaining dwarves were still screaming but nobody was falling.

Seconds later, a loud boom and crash filled the cavern as the lift hit the ground. Evren looked up, watching in horror as the steady stream of chains suddenly started snaking down in a wide arc.

“Watch out for the chains!” she cried.

Everyone’s heads immediately turned, and panic filled everybody’s expression once again. The dwarves desperately tried to swim through the air, but whatever magic Arke had cast on them didn’t seem to allow it. The four massive metal chains reached their end and then came whizzing towards them. Arke curled into a ball, one chain clipping his cloak but missing him. Another chain took out two dwarves, and they fell screaming. The last dwarf barely evaded the other.

Evren saw their chain coming. She thanked the banished gods that Sorin had pushed off, but she didn’t think it would be enough. She swung her legs violently backwards and then forwards. Arke’s spell had missed her. She could use that.

“What are you—?

“Lean with me, damn it!” she yelled at Sorin.

The human didn’t have to be told twice. Evren swung her legs back again, and with one last extended push, she swung forward with Sorin’s help. Just in time. She felt the chain whiz past her ear, the metal clinking almost musically as it plummeted and finally crashed to the ground.

At that, Sorin started laughing again. “That was brilliant.”

All Evren could do was nod and pray that her shaking didn’t cause Sorin to lose his grip on her. They’d made it, if only by the skin of their teeth. Her entire body practically buzzed with adrenaline.

“Right, hold on, we’re about to reach the bottom.” Sorin looked at her. “Ready?”

She nodded, preparing her legs for contact with solid ground. However, the moment her boots touched the rock, she completely crumpled, her knees weak and shaking. Sorin let go of her, settling on the ground beside her. The dwarf landed a few feet from them and immediately started crying. The only one who landed with any grace was Arke.

With his cloak billowing out around him dramatically, Arke let his toes reach the floor before delicately resting on the rest of his feet. Which, now that she could see them, Evren noticed were bare. Pale and clawed, as well. She followed the short, skinny legs clad in rags up to an almost potbellied torso, and then finally up to the face. What stared back at her was almost feral. Large, yellow eyes with feline-slitted pupils stared at her like two giant moons. The nose was small and crooked as if it had been broken. The mouth was wide with rows of jagged, sharp teeth peeking out from between his lips. Long, almost cartoonish ears stuck out from his head, drooping slightly at the pointed ends.

“You’re . . . you’re a goblin,” she breathed.

Arke, the goblin, bared his teeth at her in what could’ve been a grin—or perhaps a show of dominance.

“Sharp eyes, half-elf.” A grating voice like sharp nails against stone came from his mouth.

“Hey, now.” Sorin got up quickly to stand between them. “Arke is good. He just saved our lives, right? I vouch for him.”

Evren didn’t have the strength to argue. The dwarf stood a few feet from her. Dirt and tears stained his face, and his eyes were hard as he stared at Arke past Sorin’s legs.

“Goblins are raiders and thieves,” he spat. “Not wizards. No goblin is a good goblin. Not even a dead one.”

“This one is.” Sorin’s voice had a hard edge. “He saved your life. You’d do well to remember that. As well as the fact that goblins only raid in severe cases now. Many, especially those farther south in Terevas, are traders and hunters like the rest of us. All of our people have more violent pasts than we’d like to admit,” he reminded him. “Let’s keep in mind that this goblin chose to save your life when it would’ve been far easier to let you fall. Our blood doesn’t define us.”

The dwarf grunted and seemed to back off a little. “Maybe down here. For now, anyway.”

“Speaking of which . . . ” Evren cleared her throat to bring them back to the problem at hand. “How do we get back up? There’s got to be a second way out.” Then she turned to the dwarf, a little unsure. “Right?”

“On most levels, there is.” He seemed to age ten years in front of them. “But this is our prison level. There’s only one way in and out.”

“Fine dwarven engineering,” Arke sneered.

Sorin raised a hand at him to keep him from going any further, his gaze moving to the ceiling where they had come from. “So, what? We wait for rescue?”

“That’s all we can do,” the dwarf muttered darkly, sitting amidst the rubble. “But it’s unlikely they’ll come looking for us. We shouldn’t have survived that fall.”

“You’re welcome,” the goblin muttered, stalking over to another rock farther away.

“Well, we’re in no danger of losing air.” Evren started her survival checklist. “And I have enough rations on me to last a few days.”

“Only for you, though,” Sorin said. “Arke and I were low when we got here, and I don’t think our stout buddy had any on him.”

“I can split the rations,” she admitted hesitantly. “But they won’t last long between the four of us. A day or two at most. Water will be an issue.”

“Prisoners need water,” Arke muttered from his rock.

“Right.” Sorin pointed a finger in his direction. “Worst-case scenario, we break into the prison. Which . . . is a first, I’m sure.”

“A few days should be all we need.” Evren looked at the dwarf. “Right?”

He sighed, running his hands through his now-knotted mass of ginger hair. “Assuming the damage we heard wasn’t too severe, they should get down to us before then. Hopefully, anyway. I don’t like the idea of going into the prison for food and water.”

“So, it’s just a waiting game, right?” Evren turned to Sorin. “We just have to sit tight and wait for them to find us. Besides, we’re still within the city limits. We shouldn’t have to worry about anything else.”

Almost as soon as the words had left her lips, a high-pitched, unearthly screech pierced the air and broke the smoke-choked silence. The clouds of dust even seemed to shift as if whatever had made that noise had physical form. A shiver ran down Evren’s spine, and her hand instinctively went to her bow. Whatever it was wasn’t close, but she didn’t like the noise it made.

Beside her, Arke snapped his book shut and sighed. “You just had to say something, didn’t you?”

2

The quiet that followed the deafening cry was far from silent. Stones settled back into place like disgruntled cats woken from their naps. A light wind whispered through the air, carrying the smell of smoke and something vaguely metallic. Far above their heads, voices could be heard shouting orders. Much too far, though. It was almost as if they were a world away.

Now at the bottom of Dirn-Darahl, Evren counted her arrows. Once. Twice. It was all she could do to keep her thoughts from the steady throb in her arm. She was working on a third time when Arke hopped back to his feet. It was strange to see a goblin so close. And stranger still for him to have wisps of arcane energy flitting around the bright white tufts of hair on his head. Sorin had left with the dwarf to scout the area, and that left her alone with Arke. Evren couldn’t help but watch him as he tucked his spellbook under his arm and worked on picking up his trailing cloak.

Slitted, golden eyes snapped back to her, his hands freezing in the air. Those eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a very goblin-like sneer.

“What?” he snapped.

Evren blinked, shaking her head. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

“People don’t stare at nothin’,” he grumbled, going back to fixing his cloak.

Evren willed her fingers to get back to work, sorting her arrows, but his words hit deep within the shadowed depths of her chest. Her fingers curled around the stiff fletching as she let the coarse feathers rub the calluses she’d built up along her fingertips. It kept her mind from wandering. It kept those same fingers from reaching up to the softly pointed tips of her ears just managing to peek through her hair.

She gave up on the arrows and instead slung the quiver to its place on her back. She let her elbows rest on her knees again, fingers already searching for something to fiddle with but only finding the same picked and scabbed skin around her nails as usual. She cleared her throat.

“Uh, Arke?”

One of the goblin’s ears twitched in her direction, but he made no move to look at her. She felt one of her nails digging into the soft skin around her thumb, enough to cause a little pain.

“Look, I wanted to . . .” Evren sighed. “Thank you for saving our lives back there. The lift . . . if you hadn’t . . .” The words stuck stubbornly in her throat and refused to come loose. She scowled as she stared at the rocky ground, willing herself to find the right thing to say.

“Don’t hurt yourself, kid.” Arke’s raspy voice made her head snap up in surprise. He still wasn’t looking at her, but he wasn’t pointedly ignoring her, either. “You’re . . . fine.” He waved her off. “Besides, you saved Sorin’s useless ass. Consider us even.”

“Huh. That’s two life debts repaid in a very short time.” She laughed a little, despite herself. Something akin to a snort came from Arke’s twisted nose, and he went back to his book. Evren raised an eyebrow at the leather-bound tome, noting the ripped pages and beat-up corners. The book had seen better days.

“Is that how you do your magic?” she asked.

One of Arke’s clawed fingers delicately flipped a page, the next one creamy and blank. He smoothed his hand over it, the barest nod causing his ears to flop up and down.

“Yeah, it’s still a process, though.” He shuffled his feet. “I can only do so much, and only what I’m able to copy in here. Each spell uses a page.” He lifted the book a little so she could see the empty half of the book, the pages completely torn out and missing.

“Oh . . .” Evren frowned. “That seems a little wasteful. Are the spells themselves magic, or is it the book?”

“I can’t do them on a rock if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No. I suppose that would be too easy.” She sighed, sitting back a bit.

“Why?” He took out a piece of charcoal. “Never seen magic before?”

Evren laughed. This time, it echoed across the whole cavern and even parted some smoke. She winced a little. “No, I’ve seen magic. I grew up around it. But I suppose natural magic is different from the learned kind.”

“Not all of us are Gifted.” Arke grunted, gesturing to himself.

“Not at all.” A rueful smile lit up her face as she pointed to herself, and Arke let out another snort of laughter. She knew there were different types of magic—some more powerful or useful than others. But she’d never been gifted with any. The silence that followed was still not quite silent, but not nearly as tense, either. Arke went back to his book, charcoal already smudging the creamy pages. And Evren, still magicless, did what she did best.

She took her bow, the well-worn grip smooth and comfortable in her palm. Her body protested only slightly when she forced herself to her feet. The cavern was huge; she knew that much. But she needed far more space than that. Scanning the floor, she found the destroyed lift lying in the dust. Seeing the thick stone shattered effortlessly like a cracked eggshell sent a shiver down her spine. Still, she ignored the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach and clambered onto the lift once more. One jagged piece led to another, a makeshift stairway to the unknown. Dust and rock scattered around her boots as she climbed, going from carved stone to the natural rock the lift had smashed against. The rest was easy. With a little grunt of effort, Evren pulled herself to the top of the rock, her eyes soaking in her surroundings.

How disappointing to see so much yet nothing at all. The cavern spread for what seemed like miles in each direction, almost entirely uninterrupted. Whereas the upper levels had grand columns to hold their weights, the prison only had what nature provided—which was even grander in its own way. Darkness clung to every stone, and smoke hung low, imitating a stormy sky. Above them, dwarves who looked worlds away scrambled to put out fires and save lives. Deep beneath the earth, at the edge of what seemed like another world, Evren stood watch.

And the shadows beckoned.

Normally, she heard footsteps before she heard voices. In the case of Sorin Trinity, however, it was the opposite. Even people with ears less keen could’ve picked up on the boisterous tone that echoed through the cavern. Below her, she heard Arke sigh and mutter something that could’ve been a curse as both Sorin and their dwarven companion came back through the shadows and smoke.

“Enjoy your walk?” Evren asked, leaning over her perch to look down at the two.

“Eh, look at you.” Sorin laughed and gave her a wave. “Not so afraid of falling anymore.”

The dwarf scowled. It seemed whatever energy Sorin used to bolster his optimistic attitude had been sucked from the dwarf.

“Your human made things . . . difficult,” he growled.

“Too loud?” she asked.

“Precisely.”

“Oh, don’t be such a downer, my good friend.” Sorin went to lay a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder and nearly fell over when the male stepped out of the way.

“I’m not your friend,” he told him, his burly arms crossed, smudging the thick layer of dust caked on him. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Ah, but what is your name?” the Vasa asked with a flashy grin.

“Poig.”

“Well, now we are friends because I know your name. Sorin and Poig.”

Poig’s ginger hair seemed to be growing greyer by the second, and it took everything Evren had not to join in with Sorin’s laughter—however childish it might’ve been.

“Sorin.” Arke’s voice never rose above his normal, low, gravelly tone, but it shut Sorin up quickly. He turned to the goblin, knees locked, and hands tucked into his pockets.

“Yes, my friend?” He gave Arke a winning smile. One the goblin didn’t return.

“Did you find anythin’ on your walk?” he asked flatly.

“Ah, well . . .” Sorin winced. “Yes, and no.”

“Is he always this difficult?” Evren asked. “It’s like pulling teeth getting a straight answer from you.”

“It’s a special Vasa skill to run around the question as much as possible.” He waved her off.

Sighing and rubbing his forehead, Poig spoke. “The smoke. He means we found what was causing it.”

“A fire would be the obvious guess,” she offered.

“True, but that shouldn’t be common down here.”

“Shouldn’t?” Arke tilted his head to the side. “As in you don’t know?”

“Kinda hard to know when I’ve never been down here,” Poig shot back. “I never went any farther than the third level. Never had a need to. Until now, I guess.”

“Back to the fire.” She pushed them back on track.

“Right.” Sorin stepped up. “We’re mostly positive that the prison is on fire.”

“What?” Both Arke and Evren said in unison.

Sorin’s casual grin started wavering, and a nervous laugh ripped through the air as he stuffed his expressive hands back into his coat. He gave Poig a pleading look, but the dwarf paid him no mind and merely kept his eyes on Evren.

“You spent all this time dodging the question while the prison was burning?” Evren accused.

“What’s the big deal? They’re prisoners, right? Bad people. That’s nothing compared to what we do with our criminals out at sea.”

“We’re not at sea, Sorin.” Arke sighed. “And the prison might be the only way we can survive this without starving.”

“Not to mention, no one deserves to be burned alive. No matter their crimes,” Evren said firmly. Then she looked down hesitantly at Poig. “Right?”

He shrugged. “I’m inclined to believe you. Mostly. There’re a lot of petty thieves in there, even some who tried to avoid paying their taxes.”

“Gods forbid.” Arke snickered under his breath, and Poig made a point to ignore him, turning to face Evren fully.

“Not to say there isn’t a good number of murderers and such in there, too. I suppose it just depends on your twisted form of justice.”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. Arke is right. We need the food, just in case. And even if some deserve such a trial by fire, it’s not our right to decide that. Besides, there could be guards in need of help in there.”

“They wouldn’t have let the fire get that bad,” Poig argued.

“So . . . what? They’re dead?” Sorin frowned. “That’s rather grim of you, Poig.”

“A real shock at this point, I know.”

“The scream we heard,”—Arke stepped forward, long nails tapping on the spine of his book thoughtfully—“that wasn’t dwarven.”

It wasn’t a question, but Poig shook his head anyway. “No. I . . . I don’t know what that was.”

Arke turned to Evren, the next question he wanted to ask as stark on his face as charcoal on parchment. Even as she racked her brain for an answer, she knew she’d disappoint him. So, she shook her head and ignored the sour taste in her mouth.

“No, I don’t know what that creature was.”

“But you’re a hunter, right?” Sorin asked. “I mean, that’s what the big bow and bloody armor screams, anyway.”

“I am,” she said. “But I’ve never hunted underground. I know more about the creatures above, not below.”

“The same way you know more about the sea than rocks, Vasa,” Poig muttered before turning back to Evren. “Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be here. And it shouldn’t be starting fires.”

“Fire finds a way.” She shrugged. “Chaos is easy for it to feed off of. Accidents, too. It could be that whatever we heard attacked the prison, and it caught fire in the commotion.” Slipping her bow over her shoulder, she turned and let herself slide down the way she’d come. Her boots hit the fractured lift with a satisfying thud, and she pushed herself back to her feet. She walked past all three, heading to where Sorin and Poig had come from.

“Wait!” Poig cried. “Where are you going?”

“To put out a fire,” she tossed over her shoulder, still walking forward. She could barely feel the pain in her shoulder anymore. “And to maybe kill a monster.”

The sound of Arke’s laughter could’ve passed as wet rocks scraping against each other. It almost drowned out Sorin’s still-flustered yammering. Evren felt a small smile tug at the corner of her lips.

“You-you’ve lost your mind.” Sorin finally formed a sentence over Arke’s wheezing. “Go towards the scary monster and the fire? Are you mad?”

“Why don’t you come with me and see for yourself?”

The offer itself was light and playful in the smoky air, but it stood true. And, somehow, it hit home amidst the shock and laughter. As she walked ever closer to the thickening smoke, one hand on her bow, the sound of hurried footsteps caught her ears. Sorin jogged up beside her, shaking his head. Behind him, Poig looked uncertain, walking beside Arke, who had taken off his cloak entirely.

“Did I mention you’re mad?” Sorin asked.

This time, Evren allowed herself to smile. “It’s only madness to those who can’t see the path forward.”

“And you do?”

She shrugged. “It’s about survival. Always has been. And if we can do some good along the way? Save a few lives? It’s better than starving, in my opinion. You don’t have to come,” she added, looking back at the other two.

“Better to die on my feet,” Poig grumbled.

“Ah, there’s that infamous dwarven warrior spirit.” Sorin grinned. “And, you know, I actually prefer to go into dangerous situations with a positive attitude. And some able-bodied friends.”

Without his cloak, Arke looked much smaller. He gave Evren a nod. “Eh, strength in numbers, right?”

She nodded back. “Right.” Turning back to the path before her, an odd bounce entered her step, but she ignored it. Darkness loomed beyond the smoke and stone. And farther, the amber of fire.

The shadows beckoned, and she answered their call.

THE LIGHT of the fire was enough to illuminate most of the cavern that the prison had been built into. Unlike other architecture Evren had seen, the sprawling building was squat and fat, its walls thick and ugly. There were no second stories. It looked as if they built new buildings a hair’s breadth away from the previous ones and merely expanded the surrounding walls when they needed additional space. Nothing about this place was meant to be seen. Stuffed into a corner of the lowest portion of the city, surrounded by tall walls and imposing metal doors, Evren imagined that this was the kind of place meant when people threatened to throw someone away and lose the key.

She was suddenly and keenly aware of the fact that there was no sunlight down here.

“Well, only a fourth of the prison is on fire.” Arke squinted at the fire beside her. “Maybe it’s contained.”

Just as the words left his mouth, the roof caved in with a sickening crack that echoed throughout the cavern. Sparks of fire flew into the air, and the space brightened as the fire consumed more and grew.

“Couldn’t make the whole prison stone, huh?” Sorin asked Poig.

“Too expensive.”

“Ah, that’ll do it.”

“Come on.” Evren took her bow out but left the arrow for later. “Let’s find a way in.”

There were no arguments from anyone as they followed her. The closer they got, the thicker the smoke became. Poig didn’t seem all that bothered, but Sorin struggled to stifle his coughing, muttering an apology after every strangled fit to keep the smoke out of his lungs. Evren took small, even breaths and did her best to ignore the smoke clawing at her throat and stinging her eyes. As they got to the prison’s massive iron gates, she suddenly veered to the left, ignoring them entirely.

“What are you doing?” Poig asked.

“Hunting,” she said simply.

She was good at that. It was the only thing she felt truly confident doing. She crouched low to the ground, hand skimming the earth, which was surprisingly soft and loose. She knew there wouldn’t be much in the way of tracks. But creeping forward, eyes to the ground and fingers brushing the gravel, she looked for disturbances. Water left ripples, and mud left tracks. Stone was tougher, but every living thing left something behind—she just needed to find it.

Moving along the wall, she felt the heat getting more intense the closer she got to where the fire blazed. Behind her, her companions coughed and grumbled under their breaths, but they didn’t interrupt her. One shuffling step forward at a time, she drew closer and closer to the inferno. Until her fingers found what her eyes couldn’t, and she stopped.

“What?” Sorin asked. “Did you find something?”

Evren ignored him, leaning down to get a better look. Now that she could pinpoint it, she knew exactly what she was looking for. The disturbance in the gravel was unmistakable. She clearly saw where something had scraped away the rocks to reveal the harder stone beneath. Her fingers brushed over the scratches in the bare surface, a disapproving hum coming from her.

“What?” Sorin repeated.

Evren’s eyes followed the tracks, noting with some satisfaction how they led to the prison and straight towards the fire. “I think I have our culprits.”

“Culprits?” Sorin exclaimed. “As in more than one?”

She nodded and stood, pointing to the tracks. “Multiple sets of tracks. It looks like a pack. They don’t look big or particularly heavy, but the marks on the stone suggest some large claws. I’m guessing something bipedal. Two legs, three claws on each foot. Unless they’re all amputees.”

Poig’s brow furrowed. “We don’t have any beasts like that in the city.”

“How’d they get in?” Arke asked, waving smoke away from his face.

“No clue,” she admitted. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

This time, Evren nocked an arrow as she moved forward. Her thumb nervously traced the tight bowstring, but she kept the bow undrawn and simply at the ready. Her eyes never left the ground as she crept forward, following the tracks that were now clear as day. Following them took her farther towards the back and closer to the fire, which steadily consumed the far back corner of the prison.

“Maybe going towards the fire is a bad idea,” Sorin whispered.

Poig started tearing some cloth and handing pieces out to everyone. Evren waved his offer away and pulled up the scarf around her neck to cover her nose. The dwarf shrugged and tied the material around his nose and mouth, the other two following his example.

“If the guards are busy, they won’t open the gates,” he said, his voice low and muffled now. “We wouldn’t be able to get in. Your tracker has the right idea. Unfortunately.”

Either the smoke or the sullen mood kept everyone from talking. The silence that descended on the group was only broken by the crackling of the flames. In the back of her mind, Evren knew there should be more sound. Shouting and screaming. And if there were animals, she should have heard them, too. But the fire eclipsed everything.

Her uneasy feeling turned her gut to lead as they rounded the corner and found a part of the wall crumbled and open. Poig muttered something in Dwarvish that was most likely a curse, and the sound of Arke opening his book became audible as he hurriedly shuffled around. The gap in the wall wasn’t very large, but the bright orange light spilling from it within the smoke did little to ease her concern.

“Tracks lead here,” she said. “Let’s be careful.”

“And avoid the fire,” Sorin added. “I can handle monsters, just not the fire.”

A silent agreement rippled over them all. Evren adjusted her scarf and took as deep of a breath as she dared. She didn’t let herself think. She simply took the remaining steps forward and crossed into the prison.

The heat was sudden and intense. She felt her eyes water immediately as she stepped to the side and allowed the others to pile in. Blinking away her tears, she saw that flames had consumed the building directly in front of them. It was more a skeleton than a building now. Taking short, shallow breaths, she scanned for an opening. The small walkways between the buildings began to look like a maze. Most of the buildings were on fire, and the pathways weren’t any better.

“Got any magic for this?” She looked down at Arke, who was pressed against the wall next to her. He firmly shook his head, fire flickering in his large, bright eyes as he stared at it.

Sorin coughed and waved the smoke away from his face again. “Let’s move, yeah?”

“Can’t. The fire is too bad.” The heat was intense. Evren could feel sweat pooling and running down her back beneath her leathers. “Maybe we should go back?”

Sorin shook his head and grabbed her arm firmly. “Look.” He pointed to the right. She followed his finger to a mostly intact building, just starting to catch fire. “Go through there. There’s always a second way out.”

“You keep saying that,” she shouted over the roaring fire.

“Got any better ideas?”

She didn’t. With a low growl of frustration, she waved at Arke and Poig to get their attention. “Follow us and stay close.”

The two didn’t object; they just nodded. Sorin grabbed onto Arke’s shoulder and kept him between himself and Evren. Poig stayed close to the human, shrinking and flinching every time the fire licked too close. Evren didn’t wait for them. Her eyes were glued to the building Sorin had pointed out as she ran forward. The fire crept ever closer to the door, which was hot to the touch as she shoved it open with her shoulder and burst inside. The others followed her quickly.

Inside, it was hot and smoky but not immediately dangerous. Evren scanned the room, bow half-drawn. There wasn’t much to the space and everything looked hazy beyond the screen of smoke. Simple cots lined opposite walls, and a couple of desks sat in one corner. A shelf on the other wall held vials of different liquids and some plants. Evren could see a pile of gauze in the corner.

“Infirmary,” she muttered, mostly to herself. Her eyes finally found what she was looking for on the other side of the room. Another door. “Let’s move.”

Again, no one argued, just followed. She pushed the door open, relieved to find the other side fire-free. She held it open. Poig wasted no time running out, and Sorin followed closely behind him. After a few moments, Arke came through as well, and Evren shut the door behind them.

“Good call.” She nodded to Sorin. He just nodded back, looking around at the maze of buildings.

“What now?”

“Away from the fire,” she said. “Where would the guards be located, Poig?”

He shook slightly. “I-I don’t know. Maybe closer to the front of the prison? I don’t understand why no one is fighting the fire.”

“There’s got to be safety measures in place.” Sorin shook his head. “What could be more important than putting out a fire?”

“Maybe dealing with what set it,” Evren said. “Come on, let’s find the guards and go from there. They’ll know where everything is, and we can put out the fire with their help.”

“Agreed,” Arke rasped. “Lead the way, hunter.”

Evren took that as her cue and regained her bearings. With the fire to her back and right, she chose her path forward. The walkways between the buildings were barely shoulder-width apart, and each turn and new path introduced a new worry. Her grip on her bow tightened as she made one turn left, finding the next path deserted but equally claustrophobic. The fire still crackled menacingly behind her, and the oppressive heat never left. Doubt nagged at the back of her mind as she led her companions forward. The unknown was more unnerving than the dark, yet she was leading them blindly into it.

The next turn led to a short walkway that opened to a wider courtyard. Evren paused and held up her hand to stop the others. Sorin leaned forward, the smell of salt and sea still present despite the smoke hanging in the air around him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Courtyard ahead.” She nodded and tipped her chin. “We must be near the middle of the prison.”

“Right. So be ready for trouble,” he murmured and then turned back to let the others know.

Evren slowly crept forward, keeping her shoulder close to the wall as she peered around the corner. The courtyard was large enough to put her at ease and a nice change of scenery from the tight spaces between the buildings. The four structures surrounding it all looked the same: squat, ugly, and formidable, despite the creeping orange glow of the fire. Benches and some stone tables littered the ground.

But movement caught Evren’s eye. Sharp, quick, erratic scuffling under one of the tables. She detected the clicking sounds of claws against stone, and an eerie, high-pitched hiss that sounded much too familiar. As she drew her bow, breathing deeply, she heard the unmistakable sound of teeth snapping bone.

“Where are you?” she murmured.

Her eyes found the pool of blood before she saw the creature. Unfortunately, it saw her first.

The screech that echoed in the courtyard pierced her ears and left her head swimming. She stumbled, moving away from her companions with her bow drawn. Something launched at her from under one of the tables, its claws outstretched.

She barely dodged the blow. Blindly letting loose an arrow, she heard it clatter uselessly to the ground. She fumbled for another.

The creature in front of her was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Smooth, reptilian skin the color of stone covered a body that only came to her knees. It stood on two muscular hind legs, holding two smaller ones close to its chest. The claws that tipped each toe were remarkably large for its size and scraped against the stone menacingly. Its small, pointed head was mostly sharp teeth and large, bulging eyes that were now fixed on her. Its stomach was swollen and ridiculously large for its body. It almost waddled as it walked to make up for the bulk. But it had shown Evren that it was quick. She knew better than to count on the awkward belly getting in the way.

She quickly hopped up onto one of the stone tables, letting loose her next arrow just as the creature launched itself at her again. It jumped to almost eye level, claws extended, and mouth open wide and waiting. The arrow sank into its chest and pinned it to the opposite wall, the body deflating with the sound of rushing air.

“Look out!”

Sorin’s warning barely registered before Evren instinctively ducked. Another creature’s hot body slammed into her shoulder, its claws digging into her armor but not quite piercing. She jerked her arm out and threw the creature off. It fell with a small, chittering screech and prepared to jump again before a thin blade sliced its head clean off.

“Thanks.” She breathed a sigh of relief as Sorin flicked the blood off his sword. She hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying it.

Neither of them had time to do more. The cold snap of magic filled the air, and Evren watched as Arke sent a shard of ice to impale another creature. It pinned its leg to the ground, and it screamed furiously at the goblin, who screamed back and somehow even matched the creature’s pitch. Evren quickly nocked another arrow and let it loose, cutting off Arke’s monster as more poured in.

Sorin rushed to his friend’s side, putting himself between him and the creatures and slicing at any who got too close. Black blood sprayed the walls as, with every swipe, Sorin took up Arke’s idea of yelling back at each creature who came upon them. One went down, then two in one swipe, then another.

Evren found Poig backing up against a building as one of the creatures advanced on him. She let loose another arrow, satisfied with the strange hiss that came from the dead creatures.

“Get up here!” she called, and he didn’t hesitate. He scrambled up onto the table as another leapt at his ankles. Another arrow took it out.

“No fire!” Poig yelled behind her.

Evren took down two more running into the courtyard. “What?”

“Don’t use fire!” he repeated. “They’ll explode.”

“The fuck?” She shook her head. “Arke!”

“Busy!” the goblin growled and crumpled another piece of paper, ice forming on his hand as he hurled it at another monster.

“Don’t use fire!”

“Why?”

As if the creatures themselves wanted to answer, they came pouring out of the same alleyway Evren had led them down before. The creeping fire followed them, chasing them much faster than fire should.

“Fuck that!” Sorin grabbed Arke by the collar and ran towards Evren and Poig. As he clambered up onto the table, Evren watched in horror as she realized the truth of what she saw. The fire wasn’t chasing the creatures, another creature was on fire. It ran after the others, crying in pain as the flames crept up its legs and tail. As it got into the courtyard, the fire reached its belly. With a final, agonized screech, the thing exploded.

An inferno consumed half the courtyard as each beast caught fire and started exploding, one by one. Poig took Evren’s arm and tugged as he slipped beneath the table. She followed him, pulling Sorin and a still-yelling Arke with them. They hunkered down as the screaming and fire got louder and hotter. Evren squeezed her eyes shut and clasped her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to save her eardrums. The explosions seemed to go on forever before they suddenly stopped, and the air became still and silent again.

Evren hesitantly opened her eyes, watching her companions do the same. Huddled underneath the table together, they were a mess of tangled limbs and frightened eyes. She caught Poig’s gaze and saw he was still shaking.

“What the hells was that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Guzzlers.” He swallowed hard. “They normally feed on the natural gas the city uses, although they’ll eat anything. Fire normally causes something like that since they hunt in packs.”

“I’m sorry. They eat what?” Sorin’s voice was higher-pitched than usual.

“I’ve never seen them this close to the surface, though.” Poig ignored him. “They’re mostly scavengers. They don’t like large groups and generally stay beneath the city as much as possible. Only our scouting parties and the ones working on the gas ever have to deal with them. That’s why I didn’t think of them.”

“That could explain the fire,” Arke said. “But it doesn’t explain why they’re in the prison.”

“We have to get farther in.” Evren took a shaky breath. “The answers will be there.”

“Or more danger balloons with dagger claws,” Sorin hissed.

“Got any better ideas?”

He paused and seemed to actually comb through his thoughts to see if he did. Then he sighed and went to throw his hands into the air, hissing in pain when his knuckles hit the table. “No. I don’t.”

“All right then, let’s go.”

It took a little bit for the four of them to get untangled and climb from beneath the table, one by one. As they did, a blackened courtyard met them, smoke still curling in the air from the scattered pieces of the Guzzlers. The smell of burnt flesh churned Evren’s previously growling stomach, and all thoughts of food left her mind. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw what the Guzzler that had attacked her had been eating. There wasn’t much of it left, but it was unmistakably dwarven, and its simple clothes looked like a prisoner’s outfit. She turned away from the body and decided it didn’t matter. She just needed to get to the bottom of the fire and get out.

Survival first. And that was what she was good at.

She turned in a circle, trying to regain her bearings and find what should be north again before picking a door across the courtyard.

“Ever forward.” She nocked another arrow and led the way into the prison.

3

The buildings closer to the prison’s interior were blissfully cooler than what they’d left outside, and incredibly dim. The dark hallway was wide, thankfully, but the lamps along the walls burned low and shed little light. It was merely a bare hallway outside of the lamps and the metal door at the end.

Evren walked forward and hesitantly touched the back of her hand to the door. Met with nothing but cold iron, she grasped the lever and pulled it firmly up, putting all her body weight against the door to shove it open. With a creaking groan, it swung into a rather large room lined with metal-barred doors. About twenty on each side, the walkway between them was large. All the cells were completely still and empty.

Sorin whistled as he walked in, the tune echoing off the walls. “Not bad at all.”

“Except that it’s empty.” Evren looked inside the first cell to find an unmade cot but no inhabitants.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” Poig muttered. “This is not good at all.”

Arke stepped toward the next cell and nudged the door. It swung open with ease. “Unlocked.”

“How is it that we’ve only seen one prisoner in this entire prison?” Evren asked. “And he was dead. Where is everybody?”

“There’re more cell blocks. Maybe they evacuated because of the fire,” Poig offered.

“You don’t sound entirely sold on that, friend.” Sorin kicked open another door and even ducked his head to check under a cot, his dreads brushing the floor. Poig didn’t waste his breath trying to correct the human.

“More cells ahead, right?” Evren asked, and Poig nodded nervously. “All right, stay in the back. The rest of us have ways to defend ourselves. You don’t.”

Sorin walked back to the group, patting his now-sheathed blade. “I’ll protect you, Poig. Don’t worry.”

Poig looked between him and Evren and then stole a glance at Arke, who gave him a nearly feral grin. He shivered but didn’t argue. There didn’t seem to be much fight left in him after everything they’d already seen. Evren had seen that look more than once. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the hollow look in his eyes told her that she’d fallen short, so she gave up and turned back to the task at hand.

The door at the other end of the hallway was the same as the first and was just as loud when she opened it. The room ahead was an exact copy of the one they’d just left, save for a few key features.

The room reeked of blood. A group of dwarven prisoners huddled in the center, each in the same grey garb, bristling with makeshift weapons. Dead guards lay on the floor, and one stood between them and the next door, his large shield raised.

“Get back to your cells!” he ordered, his voice steady but much too high. “That’s an order!”

One dwarf laughed and let the body of another guard fall out of his grip, dropping dead to the floor. His head had been roughly shaved, and he sported no beard at all. In fact, none of the prisoners had anything more than ear-length hair. A nasty burn scar that gleamed silver in the lamplight covered this one, however.

“Whatcha gonna do ‘bout it, guardsman?” the dwarf sneered. “Can’t take us all down.”

The shield shook, and the voice behind the helmet quivered, as well. “I-I said . . . get back to your cell, prisoner 2366.”

2366 sighed like a disappointed parent. “Aye, we should, shouldn’t we, lads?” He turned back to face his crowd of fellow prisoners, his eyes landing on Evren and the open door. Eyes of the palest blue stared at her, the look in them shockingly cold and devoid of emotion.

“Well, well.” He laughed. “Ain’t that a sight?”

Before either group could make a move, the earth rumbled. Dust from the ceiling fell and scattered across the ground. Prisoner 2366 looked up and laughed, even catching some of the dust in his meaty hands. He turned to his group of men. “That’s our cue!”

Evren locked eyes with the guard across the room as another rumble shook the space. “Go!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. As Evren let loose an arrow that skimmed one of the prisoner’s cheeks, he took his distraction and bolted through the door and out of sight. The panel shut with a final slam just as the room shook again.

The prisoner Evren had shot at touched the cut on his cheek and laughed when he saw the blood on his fingertips. He showed it to prisoner 2366, who looked at her as she stepped inside and readied another arrow.

“Oh, you really don’t wanna do that, sweetheart,” he drawled, picking up a long piece of iron that looked as if it had been snapped off one of the doors.

Behind her, Sorin drew his sword and stood next to her, holding the blade level to the ground, pointed at the dwarf. Despite being hilariously outnumbered, he puffed out his chest with confidence.

“No, it’s you who don’t want to do this,” Sorin said. “Lay down your weapons, please, and no harm will come to you.”

Evren raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored her, his eyes focused intensely on the lead prisoner.

Prisoner 2366 laughed, and the rest of them joined in. The sound nearly drowned out the shaking in the room. Evren could’ve sworn she saw the wall start to crack.

“Lay down our weapons?” He tapped his iron against the floor. “Yeah, I don’t see the lads doin’ that anytime soon.”

Sorin licked his lips nervously before refocusing on the leader. “I said . . . lay down your weapons. Please.” There was a strange intensity in his voice that rippled throughout the room. Like a wave washing over all the prisoners, drowning them one by one. They started blinking. Some even shook their heads. The leader’s gaze softened, and he started swaying on his feet.

“Well . . .” he murmured, sounding half-asleep. “You did say . . . please.”

The iron fell from his hand, clattering on the floor just as the wall on the opposite side crumbled with a final shake. Chunks of the ceiling collapsed, and Evren pulled Sorin back just before a large stone nearly crushed him. Whether it was that or the crumbling wall, the prisoners suddenly snapped out of whatever magic Sorin had cast on them and picked their weapons back up.

“AGH!” Prisoner 2366 shook his head. “Half of you, with me! The rest, deal with them.”

He and half the group ran through the hole in the wall that had previously been a door. The room continued shaking as if the earth itself were trying to rid itself of the prison. The rest of the dwarves turned toward them, bristling. Most of them looked straight at Sorin.

“That never works,” he said miserably.

Evren didn’t bother to ask anything more. She let loose an arrow, satisfied when it sank into a dwarf’s knee, making him fall to the ground, howling in pain.

She nocked another arrow quickly and aimed at the closest prisoner’s head. “I won’t ask nicely.”

A moment thick with hesitation and fear rose between the two groups. Sorin readied his sword again, his expression grim. Behind them, Arke tore out another page, and the air smelled of sharpness and the arcane. Glowing spirals of magic lit the air. The prisoners side-eyed one another. There were fifteen of them in all, including the one on the floor. The odds weren’t good, but Evren kept her expression neutral.

One dwarf, his bald head cut as if he’d recently been sheared, sneered at her. “Neither will we.”

They rushed forward, weapons raised, their voices laced with war.

Evren immediately let loose an arrow, and the first dwarf fell instantly. As she nocked another, Sorin leapt to action. His blade was a dancing line of bright silver as he dodged and weaved his way through the prisoners. He cut one’s leg, taking a cue from Evren’s first shot. He quickly parried a blow meant for his leg, laughing as he did.

The prisoner he’d parried suddenly found his leg encased in ice and stuck to the ground. He tried to get out, but another quick arrow from Evren’s bow ended him.

“I’m running out of arrows!” she told no one in particular. One dwarf swung at her, and she barely ducked out of the way. She took steps away from Arke to keep them focused on her. The same dwarf swung again, and she dodged, taking an arrow from her quiver and jamming it into his eye. The dwarf screamed, and she kicked him away before nocking the bloodied arrow and shooting at another dwarf to take him down.

“Eleven still up.” Arke was helpful as he sent another spear of ice into a dwarf. “Ten.”

Evren nearly laughed, but the sound was cut short when sharp pain bloomed in her thigh, making her hiss. She cried out, whipping her bow around to connect with a prisoner’s head. They stumbled away from each other, his temple bleeding slightly, and the knife in his hands coated with her blood.

Evren hissed again as she clasped the wound on her thigh, blood seeping through the leather. The pain wasn’t all that bad. If anything, her senses felt sharper because of it.

“Got you.” The prisoner chuckled, holding out the bloody knife.

She tossed her bow back to Arke and pulled out her own pair of daggers. They were heavy and uncomfortable in her hands, but their blades were sharp and glinted in the low light. As she lowered herself into a long-unused battle stance, she gave the prisoner what she hoped was a confident smile.

“Come finish me, then.”

He snarled and leapt, his blade slashing the air. She dodged, moving to the side as she swiped at his legs—her blade just barely missing. As she started to retreat, his meaty fist suddenly came out of nowhere and connected with her jaw. A spark of pain resounded in her bones, and she saw nothing but stars for a moment. The world around her felt far away. Her body numb.

She shook her head, desperately trying to clear her vision. As she did, she saw the dagger arching towards her again. Panic seized her chest. She barely got her blade up in time to block the blow, metal clashing, one point even biting into her wrist a bit. With a grunt of pain, she flicked out her hand, sending both weapons soaring through the air to clatter on the floor.

Breathing hard, Evren shook her bleeding hand and kept her other dagger at the ready in front of her. The dwarf swore and turned his furious gaze back to her.

“We’ll do this the slow way, then,” he growled, throwing another fist at her.

She dodged again, her remaining dagger slashing out of pure instinct. He howled as it cut his forearm, the gash starting to stain the grey material of his sleeve. She felt a twinge of pride, but it didn’t last long. With a cry of rage, he suddenly rushed her. She tried to step back but stumbled over a dead dwarf’s body.

He barreled into her and knocked her down. Breath whooshed out of her, her lungs aching for oxygen she couldn’t give them. He brought up his fist, and Evren slashed with her dagger clumsily. He grabbed her wrist, stopping the blade inches from his chest. Slowly, his grimace turned into a grin.

Ice-cold dread pooled in her stomach as he started turning the blade on her, his meaty hand nearly crushing her fingers to the point of breaking the bones. Huffing with exertion, she tried to stop him but found her strength was nowhere equal to his. The blade turned slowly towards her chest, and she grasped her own hand to keep it from going any farther. With a growl, the prisoner took his other hand and put all his force behind the blade. Her arms trembled and sweat dampened her brow. She tried with all her might to keep the blade away, but she was losing. Inch by sacrificed inch, the dagger got closer to her chest. The blood dripping from her hand marked a clear path for it. Her eyesight swam with visions of the prisoner’s rotting teeth as he grinned down at her.

For the second time in one day, Evren uttered words in her mind.

Not like this.

Just as the blade started to tear into her armor, the prisoner’s eyes went wide with pain and fear. His grip loosened, and Evren was quick to take her dagger away, her breathing erratic, and her eyes wide. Blood suddenly started pouring from the dwarf’s open mouth, and both he and Evren looked down to see a large, bloody blade through his gut. Someone suddenly tore it out, and the prisoner gave one last strangled cry. Disgusted, Evren tossed him off her and surged to her knees, her dagger at the ready.

She froze as she felt more than saw the warm blade at her neck. It was still slick from the dwarf’s blood, and a drop fell on her skin. She shivered, her eyes following the blade up to its wielder.

Looming above her was an incredibly tall woman. Imposing and dangerous with her equally large sword clasped in one hand, she kept Evren on her knees. Rough-hide armor covered most of her body except for her arms, which were built like a warrior’s, ready to wield a weapon of such size. Runic tattoos covered the skin. Her flesh was ashen—almost grey in the low light. And her hair was completely tied back with a scarf, only one strand of dark auburn coming free to dangle in front of her vivid, nearly silver eyes.

“Stay down.” That was all she said to Evren, her voice thick with an accent Evren didn’t recognize. She nodded numbly, but she didn’t let her dagger go. Which was almost laughably small compared to the weapon at her throat.

As her breathing stilled, Evren began noticing that the battle around her was ending. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arke take down another prisoner with Sorin’s help. Behind the warrior in front of her, she saw a man clad in tarnished armor, finishing off the rest.

The elf let his shield fall to the floor as he grabbed the last dwarf by the throat, his gauntlet digging into soft skin as the prisoner whimpered.

“Where are the rest?” the elf demanded. When he received nothing but whimpering in return, he bowed his head and seemed to mutter something under his breath. When he opened his eyes again, Evren saw an intense ferocity behind them. “Very well, then.”

Evren half-expected him to take his sword and kill the dwarf. Instead, he walked forward and tossed the dwarf into a cell, slamming the door closed and locking it with a key, which he quickly tucked back into his belt. His eyes turned to the battlefield that was left, including the dead dwarves and those left standing.

“What a waste,” he murmured, brushing a stray piece of long, black hair out of his face.

“Hello, strangers,” Sorin sounded off behind her, his voice friendly. Still, she could tell there was a sharp edge to it. “Mind letting my friend go?”

Evren looked up at her captor and tried to smile. “No trouble,” she offered. The woman merely raised an eyebrow at her.

The elf sighed and sheathed his sword. He picked up his shield as he walked forward, armor clanking in the empty room. “Gyda, let her go. She’s no threat to us.”

The woman, Gyda, looked Evren up and down before nodding and taking the blade away. Evren tried not to let her sigh of relief be too obvious, but she shook as the woman stepped back. She sheathed her blade and pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain. She found Sorin at her side, his arm out to offer assistance, but she shook her head. Instead, she turned to the two strangers, a million questions on the tip of her tongue.

Standing beside the elf, Gyda was easily seven feet tall—maybe more. There was definitely something inhuman about her, but Evren kept that thought to herself. The elf was pureblooded, of that Evren was sure. But he didn’t look like the elves of Orenlion, where she had grown up. Etherak-blooded, then. Her eyes fell on the tarnished seal on his armor, the etching of a dragon holding the sun only confirming her theory.

“Thank you for the assistance.” She nodded in his direction. “I owe your friend my life.” She also nodded at Gyda, a gesture the tall woman hesitantly returned after a quick look at the elf.

“It seems introductions are in order.” The elf gave them all a tight smile, his eyes lingering on Arke as the goblin came up beside Evren, her bow still clasped in his hands. She uttered her thanks and took it from him, feeling much better now that she had it in her grip again.

“Evren Hanali, of Orenlion,” she said. “These are my companions.”

“Sorin Trinity.” The human gave a little wave, flicking the blood off his blade.

“Arke,” the goblin said simply.

“And we have another dwarf with us,” she added. “Not a prisoner.”

“My name is Abraxas Kain,” the elf introduced himself. “And you’ve met Gyda.”

“Yes, she made quite the impression.” Evren cleared her throat nervously.

“Now that all the pleasantries are out of the way,”—Sorin sheathed his sword—“let’s get down to business,”

“Yeah, the fuck is going on?” Arke finished.

“Eloquently put, my friend.”

Gyda said nothing. She just crossed her arms and leaned against the last prisoner’s cell. Abraxas laughed, but it was devoid of humor.

“We were trying to figure that out for ourselves.” He gestured between himself and Gyda. “We were both hired to look into a matter for some nobility above. On our way to that prisoner, we heard an explosion.”

“Next thing we knew, the prison was on fire,” Gyda grumbled. “Guards scattered. Prisoners escaped. Captain gave him a key to get them back in their cells.”

“I’ll admit, it didn’t go well.” Abraxas sighed. “And you three?” He leaned to the side, catching a glimpse of Poig pale in the corner. “Four?”

“We were on the lift.” Sorin crossed his arms. “Something caused it to drop us all the way down here. We saw that the prison was on fire and went to investigate.”

“Mostly for the food,” Evren admitted.

Abraxas’s brows furrowed with concern. “If the lift is down, there’s no way out of this level.”

Gyda shrugged, unfazed. “Prisoners don’t know that.”

“Yes, but this happened all rather suddenly, didn’t it?” he mused. “Did the lift cause the explosion?”

“No,” Evren remembered. “Something happened above us that caused that. Maybe another one?”

Poig groaned. “Oh, don’t make me think about that again.”

“Regardless, we’re sitting ducks here until we’re rescued.”

“And the mess hall caught fire with the kitchen first,” Gyda said with a grimace.

“Ah. Well, shit.” Evren sighed. “Now what?”

Abraxas shrugged, the metal plates of his armor creaking slightly. “Gyda and I still plan on finding that prisoner—assuming she hasn’t escaped. We’ll go from there.” He paused, looking the four of them up and down. “You’re welcome to join us. There’s strength in numbers.”

Evren looked over at Sorin, who just shrugged. She raised an eyebrow at Arke, who sighed, tucking his book under his arm.

“Ah, hells. Why not?” he asked.

She nodded. “Maybe we can find some more answers for this.”

“What’s wrong with a good mystery?” Sorin teased.

“It’s not solved,” she answered firmly.

There was no argument there from anyone in the party. Abraxas busied himself with gathering the various bodies as Sorin helped Evren find the few remaining arrows she could scavenge. The lonely six shafts rattled in the quiver, which looked pathetically empty. She ignored that in favor of securing a quick bandage around her thigh.

“Not a deep cut, thankfully,” Sorin stated.

She just nodded, her eyes on Abraxas again. He sat with each body in turn, saying a few words that only he and the dead could hear. With his gauntlet-clad hand over his chest and his head bowed, Evren didn’t need to hear the words to know what he was saying.

“Is he all right?” Sorin asked after he noticed her gaze.

“He’s praying,” she said softly.

“Ah.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. “So, he’s not okay. Got it.”

“The gods are not present, but they are not absent of this world, Vasa.” Abraxas’s voice was chilly when he spoke. “My prayers do not fall on deaf ears.”

“That’s . . . kind of contradictory, right?” Sorin winced. “They’re not present but they’re not absent, either? Which is it?”

Abraxas rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on something far away, his jaw set in a hard line. Evren didn’t like the dark look in his eyes. She put a hesitant hand on Sorin’s shoulder and shook her head at him before turning to Abraxas.

“No disrespect meant,” she told him. “Not many nowadays hold to the Banished Faith such as you.”

He turned to her, his expression unreadable. “I do not expect those younger than me to remember, nor do I wish them to. Do my prayers bother you, Vasa?”

“It’s Sorin, actually.” He crossed his arms. “And, no, they don’t. They’re just a little confusing.”

“Well, be confused in silence.” Abraxas shouldered his shield, everything in his jagged body language stating that the conversation was done. “Shall we move?”

“Lead the way.” It was all Evren could say as a measly peace offering.

The tarnished knight didn’t hesitate. He turned back to the hole in the wall and walked out, Gyda close behind him. As the room shook once more, dust falling and settling over all of them, Evren shook it out of her hair and marched after them. Sorin, Arke, and Poig brought up the rear, close on Evren’s heels. They walked out of the building entirely, and she noted with a shiver that the fire still grew.

“It’s not stopped,” Gyda said curtly, taking note, as well.

Abraxas waved her off. “Captain Tavish said he had it in hand. We’ll help when we’re able.”

Once again, the floor beneath their feet rocked and trembled. Evren swallowed the pain, stumbling onto her good leg as agony spiked through her. The quake stopped after a bit, but that didn’t ease her worry.

“Assuming the whole cavern doesn’t come crashing down on us,” Sorin said cheerfully.

“More likely, we’ll fall and be crushed.” Gyda turned to tell him. “There are caverns below.”

“Ah.” Sorin looked paler. “Wonderful.”

Evren’s whole body jolted with adrenaline at the idea of falling again. She swallowed back the sudden fear, eyes scanning the prison around them. She ignored the fire with its crackling heat and the scorched courtyard behind them. If only all the buildings didn’t look the same.

“Have you searched the female cellblocks?” she asked. “They’re separated by gender, right?”

Poig nodded numbly as Abraxas answered. “Yes. Most were empty or had caved in. We’re exploring all options now.”

“Not at this pace.” She shook her head. Her forehead creased with concentration before she sighed and slung her bow over her shoulder again. “Someone get me on a rooftop.”

Abraxas stopped and turned to her. “What?”

“We don’t have time to waste looking through every building,” she explained. “The odds are, no one is in their cells now. Get me a better vantage point, and I’ll be able to see where everyone is.”

He seemed to mull it over, his eyes distant as Sorin whispered harshly in her ear. “Are you sure you can do that? You’re still hurt.”

She looked him dead in the eye, her crooked grin not quite meeting her eyes. “I’ve had worse.” It was true, and the pain wasn’t as bothersome as it should be.

He shrugged and backed off but didn’t look entirely convinced. Ahead, Abraxas nodded grimly. “It seems like our best option at the moment. Gyda, do you mind giving her a hand?”

The woman looked her up and down and then nodded. “I could toss her. She’s very small.”

Evren laughed nervously, her hand absentmindedly going to her throat and rubbing the spot where the sword had nearly cut into her. “Throwing isn’t necessary. Just a good boost.”

“And I can catch you when you fall off.” Arke grunted.

“If Arke, not when.”

“Sure.”

A semi-silent agreement rippled out as everyone shuffled out of the way. Evren picked the building across from them, noting how far it was from the fire and the lack of cracks in the walls. She heard Gyda come up behind her and shook out her hands. Her cut throbbed in response, but she ignored that and started to turn around.

“All right, I can—oh!” She barely bit back a cry of surprise as Gyda suddenly grasped her by her waist and lifted her over her head. Evren’s stomach churned at being so high in the air again, but the shock was wearing off, and the roof was clear as day in front of her.

She quickly scrambled over the side and onto solid stone. Gyda’s warm hands left her, and she peered over the side to look down at her. There was only about a two-foot difference between them.

“I really don’t weigh anything to you, do I?”

Something that might’ve been a laugh rumbled in her chest. “It was like holding a cat.”

“At least I kept my claws to myself.” Evren stood, pulling her bow out and nocking an arrow as she did. Being higher up didn’t help with the smoke, and she pulled her scarf back up from where it had fallen. The maze in front of her was easier to see now, but a little dizzying from this height. She had to keep pushing the intrusive thought of not being on the ground out of her head.

“What do you see?” Abraxas’s voice echoed dimly in her ears as she squinted against the smoke.

“Three buildings ahead. It looks like a group of guards,” she shouted down, her eyes never leaving the view. “And . . . Yes. To the east. There looks to be a fight. Could be our prisoners.”

“Sounds like it,” he confirmed.

“I’ll guide you there,” she called. “Just follow me.”

“At your lead.” Some grumbled agreements followed. She could practically see Arke readying his spellbook.

Evren took a breath and marched across the flat roof. The cavern showered some more dust and smoke, and she blinked it out of her eyes. Keeping close to the edge so the others could see her, she reached the other side and looked at the next building. It looked sturdy enough, and the gap to jump wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before.

“Don’t embarrass yourself,” she muttered under her breath and then leapt.

Her boots hit solid ground, and as expected, her leg screamed in pain. She tottered to the side, her bad leg shaking under the sudden impact as she waited for the throbbing to return to normal. Once it did, she marched to the adjacent edge and peeked over the side at her waiting party.

“Still with me?” she asked.

They gave her various thumbs-up and waves of acknowledgment, and she took off confidently to the next edge. The jump was easier with her spirits higher. Her leg still throbbed, but she could use the pain. As she marched to the subsequent edge, the sounds of fighting reached her ears where they closed in on the opposing wall. There were only five more buildings between her and the giant slab of rock.

“Straight ahead and then the first left,” Evren told them below. “Be ready.”

They all readied their weapons. With Abraxas in the lead, his shield in front of him, they looked rather imposing. All she had to do was ignore Poig in the back. They leapt into action, following Abraxas and her instructions. Evren’s march on the roof turned into a teeth-clenching jog to keep up. All she needed was to jump one more gap, and she’d be golden.

Her boots kicked off the building’s edge just as another quake shook the cavern. Her heart stuck in her throat as the building in front of her violently shook. She hit the shaking roof. Unsteady, her legs crumpled beneath her, and she tucked into a sloppy roll to save herself. As the world righted itself, the quake got worse. Her eyes went wide in shock as a jagged crack split the roof in half, and she felt it start to buckle.

Ignoring the pain and the uneven ground, she forced herself onto her feet and ran. The stone beneath her crumbled with each step. Her good leg nearly fell into the room below, and she jerked it back with a pained hiss. The edge of the building seemed too far away, but she could see the rubble of the next one beyond that. Her heart sinking, she knew that jumping wasn’t an option this time.

Sharp eyes ever searching, she spotted a large chunk of rock at the far corner, teetering but still standing. Evren didn’t give herself time to doubt. She veered off course and ran in that direction. The roof started to cave, and she jumped over one hole, barely dodging the next as the building fell away under her feet. With a shout of desperation, she jumped again, putting all her strength into her legs and driving them forward as she hit the corner piece.

Immediately, the chunk of rock started falling away from the building. The slow arc turned into a swift fall, and Evren steadied her shaking legs against the stone for as long as she could. Seconds before it hit the ground, she jumped again. She tucked herself into a tight ball, rolling through the harsh impact and stumbling to a halt on the quaking ground.

Evren didn’t have time to catch her breath. She immediately shot to her feet with her bow ready. A dumbfounded prisoner stood in front of her, staring, his makeshift weapon still held in the air above another prisoner in his grip. He squinted.

“Eh, you’re that bitch—”

The prisoner he held suddenly grabbed the weapon out of his hand and slammed it against his temple, silencing him. He crumpled to the ground like a sack of rocks, and the prisoner turned to Evren with a shocked grin.

“Quite the entrance.” Her warm, blue eyes betrayed her fear, but her demeanor was easy. She twirled the weapon in her fingers. “Let’s finish these arses off, yeah?”

“You’re with the guard?” Evren asked, looking beyond the dwarf at the fighting guards, who outnumbered the prisoners.

“Jalaa’s arse, am I ever!” She laughed and stood steady as another rumble shook the ground. “And you?”

As if on cue, Evren saw her party enter the fray. Abraxas held his shield high, his sword slashing in deadly arcs behind it. Gyda tossed herself into the thick of the battle, a vicious war cry issuing from her lungs and echoing in the air as Sorin and Arke joined in, keeping behind the two warriors.

“I’m with them.” She jerked her thumb to the side, indicating her group.

The dwarf whistled appreciatively. “Then I’m definitely with you.”

An adrenaline-fueled laugh escaped Evren, and she couldn’t help but feel alive despite it all. She quickly distinguished friend from foe and loosed an arrow. It soared between fighting guards, hitting its mark across the ruined battlefield. The dwarf fell lifelessly to the ground, and the guard spared her a thankful look before taking his mace and turning to the next one.

The few prisoners that Gyda and Abraxas didn’t occupy immediately recognized the arrow fire. Hasty orders were shouted, and Evren watched as a group of prisoners broke off to deal with her. She felt a small twinge of satisfaction in that.

She took one down easily, nocking another arrow as the prisoner next to her sprang into action. The dwarf’s movements were quick and fluid. She feinted and dodged, weaving effortlessly between the different enemies. Any chance she could, she slammed the blunt iron into weak spots and pressure points. One went down cradling his knee, and Evren finished him off. Another fell right after that, his head bleeding profusely. The copper stench of blood was heavy in the air, even through Evren’s mask, and it filled her lungs like a toxic potion. She was both repulsed and fueled. And she was running low on arrows.

Panic was a bitter taste on her tongue, and she despised it. She shot down a prisoner who had launched himself at Arke and grasped her second-to-last arrow.

“There are too many of them!” she shouted over the chaos.

Before anyone could respond, an earth-shattering boom sounded. The fighting came to a sudden halt as the earth itself heaved as if it were fighting to breathe. Evren watched in horror as the wall, not fifty feet from them, cracked and crumbled like glass.

The prisoners laughed and shouted with joy. And then . . . they fled.

“Cut them off!” Abraxas’s order was clear, even through the haze of smoke and blood.

Evren fired another arrow, and it sank deep into a fleeing prisoner’s back. The guards leapt into action, trying desperately to form a shield wall. But those who did start locking their shields together were too few, and were quickly overrun by a wave of prisoners. Gyda took down two at a time with every swing of her broadsword, but she wasn’t fast enough. Even Arke’s wave of frost magic wasn’t enough as it coated the ground with a sheet of ice.

“Karas!” the dwarf beside her suddenly said. “Aim for Karas!”

“Who?”

“The one with the burn scar.” That was all she offered before she darted off to intercept some prisoners of her own.

Evren knew exactly who Karas was now. She nocked her last arrow, keen eyes picking out every shaved dwarven head and grey uniform splattered with blood. The arrow tip hovered above every head on the battlefield for barely a breath before she found him.

“Prisoner 2366.” She pulled the bowstring taut, her aching muscles responding fluidly despite the exertion. “Got you.”

The arrow cut through the smoke cleanly. Aimed true, it soared towards Karas, whose back was turned as he ran at the opening in the wall. But, almost as if he’d heard her, Karas suddenly moved to the side. The arrow sank into his shoulder, and he howled in pain. He whipped around, his furious eyes finding Evren across the battlefield. There was an unspoken promise held there, one laced in pain and vengeance, before he took off through the broken wall.

“Sorin!” Evren shouted at the Vasa.

He tore his attention away from the dwarf under his boot and followed her pointed finger. He nodded quickly. “On it!”

He took off across the battlefield, leaping over fallen corpses and shields. All the while, shouting, “Come on, people, they’re getting away. On the double. Now!”

Dazed guards followed him. Abraxas took off without hesitation and was surprisingly quick even in his full metal armor. Evren took a deep breath and jogged after them. Every other step sent a spike of pain through her, and she faltered a bit but kept going.

As she passed by Arke, she tapped his shoulder. “Time to go!”

Another goblin curse filled the air, but soon, he was right behind her.

They tore through the gap in the wall and out into the open cavern. Having been in the confined area for so long, Evren nearly staggered to a halt, but a jab in her lower ribs from Arke kept her moving.

“Don’t you fuckin’ stop, or I will!” he wheezed behind her. Evren would’ve laughed had her lungs not burned for what little oxygen she could give them.

Ahead of them, Sorin and Abraxas led the remaining guards in a harried charge across the rocky cavern floor. Gyda towered above everyone, her long legs allowing her to pull ahead. Even the prisoner who had helped Evren ran, her blunt iron replaced by a wicked-looking dagger.

Karas and the prisoners were still far ahead of them. But they were gaining on them. Evren’s chest felt a little lighter.

“Where . . .?” Arke coughed behind her. “Where are they goin’?”

“What?”

“There’s nothin’ there!”

Evren looked past the dwarves and noticed that he was right. The cavern wall was vast and looming but completely solid. But the prisoners ran straight ahead as if there were a shining door to freedom waiting beyond.

The dread returned. Something was very wrong.

“Sorin!” Evren cried out, her lungs screaming as she did. “Abraxas, wait! Something’s wrong—”

The ground suddenly heaved violently and split in two in front of them. Sorin, Abraxas, and the leading guards were tossed back as a mountain of earthen rock flew at them. Evren skidded to a halt as the ground beneath her tilted dangerously. She and everyone else lost their footing and fell as the dirt and stone bucked like the ocean.

Something monstrous emerged from the earth. Something alive. The body was so enormous, Evren couldn’t see the other side of it. Quivering spines bigger than her, each webbed with a veiny membrane, covered the mottled purple and grey skin. All Evren could see was the mouth, as wide as the beast was, and filled with rows upon rows of jagged teeth. There were no eyes. An unearthly screech filled the air as the monster reared its head, the top of its spines meeting the ceiling of the cavern and dislodging the jagged chandeliers of stalactites. It shook its head violently and, for a brief, horrifying moment, Evren was sure it would come right at them. It would take nothing for a creature that size to swallow them.

Instead, it turned sharply and dove into the cavern wall. The rock collapsed inward, and the creature burrowed down. Its body seemed to go on forever before a tail finally emerged from the first hole and disappeared into the new one, terrifyingly quick.

As the dust and rock started to settle, Evren pushed herself up just in time to see Karas and his group of prisoners reaching the new hole in the wall. One by one, they dove into it without fear. Karas paused and turned as if he could feel the weight of her gaze on his back. With one last rotting grin, he winked and disappeared into the depths below.

All was suddenly silent and still. The injured dwarves’ groans were all that broke the silence. Evren collapsed to the ground, her chest heaving. Adrenaline finally fled, leaving her weak and acutely aware of how much she hurt.

In front of her, she heard Sorin’s voice, much too high and shaky as he shouted, “Was that a giant fucking worm?”

4

It took them far too long to gather their wits, and even longer to scrape together their courage. The ground beneath their feet was suddenly much more dangerous than it had been previously. Evren couldn’t help but will herself to walk as softly as possible so as not to wake the monster living under her soles. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one. The few remaining guards shook with every step—if they could walk at all. Even Gyda’s large steps seemed uncertain. Only Abraxas seemed unconcerned.

He walked like a man who’d met death and wasn’t afraid to dance with it again.

Dead man walking or no, Abraxas kept everyone together. It worked well for a group of ragged, wounded, and terrified survivors. It was he who got everyone to their feet and dusted off their armor. It was he who got everyone back into the prison to save what little they could.

The fire took hours to put out. And by the end of it, there was nothing left of it except crumbled shells and the burnt skeletons of buildings—and a lot of dead Guzzlers.

Evren wrinkled her nose and nudged a bloated body away from her seat in the rubble. It let out a squeaking puff of air as it deflated, its milky eyes staring at nothing. She shivered despite the heat and took a tiny sip of her water. They were lucky enough to still have access to that. According to the guard, Captain Tavish, there was an underground source. At least they wouldn’t die of thirst. Evren checked that off her list.

Ground? New to the list and tentatively checked, no quakes or worms in hours. Thankfully.

Food? Barely enough for her, let alone the many that currently surrounded her.

Medicine? No check. It was something her now aching body continued to remind her of.

Air? It shouldn’t get a check for smelling so foul. Surely, the fumes from the fire wouldn’t kill her. With her fingers nervously digging into her bloody nail beds, she decided to play it safe and not check it off. Her next sip of water was bigger.

Evren knew she’d be better off banging her head against a wall rather than continuing to check off her never-ending and ever-negative survival list. If only there were some intact walls to beat her head against.

She caught a glimpse of Arke and Sorin off to the side. Sorin’s arm was bent awkwardly, but Arke gave him something that flashed red in the dull light. The health potion from the infirmary. It had to be. She couldn’t help but smile a little as Sorin inconspicuously drank it all and then tossed the glass bottle to the side, snickering when it shattered loudly. It drew some eyes, but they paid him no mind otherwise. They had stayed away from everyone. Despite how much help Arke had been, the goblin still wasn’t popular with the guards. Too many times, she caught them giving the goblin dirty, distrustful looks. It made her glad that she didn’t have any arrows, or she might do something rash as her old nanny used to say.

Evren left the pair to themselves and let her eyes drift over to the rest of the survivors. Ragged guards in dented armor shuffled around, many of them burned or bleeding. Their armor was black and scorched in a way that reminded Evren of Abraxas’s. But they would likely polish it in the event they made it out alive. Shiny armor was at the bottom of the list of priorities, but it was still a negative.

Abraxas and Gyda stood off to the side, towering over Captain Tavish. Half of the older dwarf’s beard had been sheared off, lending him a lopsided appearance made worse by his extremely crooked nose. At least, the beard wasn’t permanent.

They stood around the female dwarf who’d help Evren in the final fight. She sat on a rock, scowling as they talked over and around her. Her choppy hair was shaggy as if she’d been growing out a buzz cut, and it would’ve been the color of bright gold had dirt not darkened it. Soot smudged her face, and Evren saw the beginning of a bruise on her jaw. Aside from that, she’d luckily come out of the fight okay. Most of all, she didn’t look or act like a prisoner. And that, more than anything, got Evren off her rock and walking into a conversation she’d most definitely not been invited to.

Abraxas caught sight of her first and looked at her questioningly, his eyes more curious than angry. “Did your rock grow uncomfortable?”

She shrugged. “Can’t say I’m a fan of the seating here.”

“Ah, well, in that case, we can offer you more rock and dirt. I’m afraid we’re a bit low on cushions at the moment.”

“Pity, my ass could use it.”

Captain Tavish glanced at her with weary eyes. “No offense, hunter, but this conversation has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m aware.”

A low chuckle came from Abraxas, but he quickly stifled it with a little cough. Tavish just narrowed his eyes, looking as if he wanted to press the matter further.

“Oh, knock it off, Tavish.” The prisoner tossed a piece of rock at his feet. “I doubt she cares much for politics.”

At the questioning looks, Evren shrugged her shoulders. “Never been my strong suit.”

“She was also a key figure in helping you and your men survive.” Gyda’s low voice made everyone jump, but the warrior didn’t seem to care. “She can stay.”

Again, Tavish looked like he wanted to argue. His mouth was set in a thin line, his singed eyebrows furrowed closer together until they almost formed a unibrow. But one look at Gyda’s stony expression, the woman easily several feet taller, and he backed off and swallowed his words.

Abraxas took that as his cue and turned to the prisoner. “So, you’re still standing by the sentiment that you’re innocent?”

“Have been for months.” Her sky-blue eyes looked dark now. “I’m not supposed to be down here. I’ve said it over and over again. I’m a model prisoner. I do what I’m told. I saved most of these arseholes’ lives today, but it still won’t mean shit. In the eyes of the people that matter, I’m still krevas.”

Evren shot Abraxas a questioning look, and he shrugged. “The Dwarven word for traitor.”

“Or coward.” The prisoner flicked another pebble. “That’s worse here.”

“You seem far from cowardly to me,” Evren said. The dwarf just shrugged. She turned to Tavish. “What was her crime?”

He shuffled his armored feet. “Amet here was a high-ranking noble in the King’s Court. She—”

“I,”—she shot a look at Tavish—“was the lead architect and designer for the city. I helped fortify it, built new tunnels, and found ways to improve our lives down here. I kept up with the runes that power the city. Occasionally, I helped our army with traps and weapons, but that wasn’t my preferred job.”

“So, how did you end up down here?” Evren asked.

“Someone told the King I was conspiring against him—like I’d want any more power,” she said with a bitter laugh. “But that’s all it takes down here, yeah? Just a whisper and a rumor. Next thing you know, you’re stripped of rank, shaved bald, and stuffed in the darkest corner at the bottom of the city.”

“It’s not like there wasn’t evidence,” Tavish retorted. “There were letters, plans—”

“All circumstantial!”

Abraxas held up a hand to silence them both. “Amet—”

“It’s Solri, actually.” She straightened her back. “Amet is my family name.”

“Right.” He took a breath. “Solri. We were sent down here to talk to you about this.”

Her eyes scanned their group. “All of you?”

“Just Gyda and I. Nobleman Malrus Ekan sent us.”

The name rang no bells to Evren, but she could see a bright flash of hope fill Solri’s eyes. Her voice betrayed the same feeling. “Mal sent you?”

Gyda nodded. “He seems to support your claim of innocence. Quietly, though.”

“That’s not surprising.” She sighed. “The Court is cutthroat. If he tried to prove my innocence and found out I was framed, he’d have to keep quiet.”

“He said he has some backing in the Court, as well,” Abraxas said. “You’re not alone in this fight.”

Solri looked down at the ground, doing her best to cover whatever hopeful tears had sprung up. Only her slight sniffling gave her away, but Evren had the decency to act as if she didn’t notice at all. She turned back to Tavish, Abraxas, and Gyda.

“Our original job was to come down here and question her further,” Abraxas explained. “What passes for a trial in this city gave little information or a chance for her to prove her innocence.”

“Why are you looking at me like that’s my fault?” Tavish spat. “All I do is keep the prisoners in line.”

“I’m sure on any other day, you do a marvelous job.” Abraxas’s smile was thin. “But today, you only have a handful left. And in light of recent events, perhaps it is best if we take Solri Amet to the higher levels with us.”

Tavish’s mouth flapped open and closed like a dying fish, but he couldn’t seem to get any words out. His face was beet-red under the soot and grime that covered it.

“You can’t!” he finally got out. “You have no authority!”

“I think you’ll find I do.” Abraxas pulled a large, octagonal medallion from his pocket, the gold shimmering in the low light of the cavern. Evren could just make out the crest emblazoned on the metal: three crossed weapons. A sword, a hammer, and a spear.

At the sight of the medallion, Tavish took a step back, and all anger seemed to fade from his face immediately. Even Solri looked shocked.

“General Heliodar’s crest,” Tavish murmured. “What could she possibly want with the prisoner?”

“That’s entirely up to her.” Abraxas put the medallion away. “She didn’t say, and I don’t make a point of arguing with women in positions of power. Regardless, you’ve had a rough time recently. I think the general will side with me when I say you’re unfit to watch over such a high-value prisoner.” Tavish started to argue, but Abraxas cut him off with a single gesture. “Take care of your men, Captain. And those few prisoners in your care. When our rescue comes, we’ll take Amet with us, and she’ll no longer be your problem.”

“Assuming we don’t starve while waiting for rescue,” Evren muttered.

Gyda turned to her with what could’ve passed as a smile. Evren hadn’t known her long, but it seemed the only time the warrior truly smiled was in the thick of battle. “Rescue is coming sooner than you think. Neither Heliodar nor Ekan will let us rot down here.”

“I give them another twelve hours.” Abraxas grinned.

Gyda snorted. “Eight, at most.”

“I’ll take that bet.”

“Six,” Solri suddenly said from her spot on a rock, her eyes gleaming. “I know both of them. They won’t keep us waiting long.”

IN THE END, it took five and a half hours for the rescue to come, and Evren couldn’t have been happier. A whole battalion of soldiers descended on the prison, their armor glistening, and their spear points bristling like the spines of a predator as they surrounded the prison. A group of workers came with them, but they were nearly unseen compared to the armored soldiers. Evren had heard tales of the vast and ruthless dwarven armies. Everyone had. And while no wars had been waged in centuries, it was still a staggering sight to see. It wasn’t even an army, but their sharp coordination and silent intensity made her shiver. War hadn’t come to the dwarves in a long time, but they were more than prepared for it. She silently thanked her ancestors that she’d never had to face a dwarven horde like they had.

In the fast-paced chaos of evacuation, Evren found herself swept up with her party and surrounded by a group of soldiers. One of them handed Solri a ring as she walked out of the prison gates with them. When she slipped it on, her appearance shimmered and changed completely until she looked like a ragged prison guard. She waggled her new eyebrows at Evren, and her ecstatic grin couldn’t be contained.

Evren spared a glance behind her at Poig, who muttered half-heartedly to a worker who had been questioning him. A part of Evren wished he would look up and see her, but he never did. With a jolt, she realized that she hadn’t even checked on him after the chaos with the worm and the fire. Guilt settled in her stomach, but she was urged away before she could do anything to amend it.

Somewhere, Sorin had managed to find another cloak for Arke. He grumbled and cursed the whole way, but put it on anyway. The rough fabric seemed to swallow him, and before long, he was just as she’d met him: a silent, cloaked figure with a bad attitude.

The new lift was wooden and had obviously been made in a rush. It was sturdy, but that didn’t stop Evren from hesitating to get on while everyone else filed on quickly.

“Come on, what are the chances it falls again?” Sorin whispered to her as he nudged her up onto the platform.

She scowled and stepped aboard, ignoring how it shifted and creaked under her feet. “Given our luck of late, I wouldn’t be surprised if that worm came back to eat us and the damned thing whole.”

Sorin laughed, but he didn’t disagree with her as they took their places in the middle of the lift. The soldiers filled in the edges, standing still and silent as statues. Packed in with everyone, Evren should’ve felt safe. But being in the middle just made her stomach churn and made her long for something to hold on to.

She settled on her bow grip and once again curled her toes as the lift suddenly jolted up. It was better than going down, but she found herself squeezing her eyes shut anyway. Beside her, she felt the waves of excitement pouring off Solri, and Gyda’s strong presence behind her. It was somewhat comforting, but Evren didn’t let herself calm until they’d reached the second level of the city and the lift stopped.

She hopped off quickly and barely noticed her still-throbbing leg as it protested the jump. The soldiers surrounded them as they moved through the streets, and Evren thought she heard Abraxas chuckle under his breath. She ignored that, too.

The second level of Dirn-Darahl was almost the same as when they’d left it. The air wasn’t thick with smoke and dust, and nothing seemed to be on fire. But the paved streets were quiet and hushed. Stalls were shut down, the shops now closed for the day. The few people walking along the streets hurried by, looking pale and frightened. It took Evren a moment to remember that disaster had struck both the prison and the levels above. But craning her neck to look around the spears and armor, she couldn’t see any damage on this level. A soft haze hung in the air, but that was all she saw that indicated anything was amiss.

They marched through the streets, the passageways empty and dusty, before finally stopping at a three-story building on a street corner. Evren almost laughed when she saw the sign swaying gently back and forth. In three different languages, it read: The Bed Rock. Dwarvish first, Core second, and Elvish last. Evren squinted at the Elvish. She read Core better, and spoke it easier—as most everyone did. But her Elvish was rusty.

She was sure they’d used the wrong word for bed, though. She was also sure that Beregal’s words for her not being able to miss it were extremely off. The tavern was farther away from the lift than he’d let on.

But she didn’t complain as they filed inside. Only one of the guards led them in, and the rest stayed outside. Inside the Bed Rock, Evren felt herself start to relax. It looked like any other tavern she’d been to. A low bar took up one whole side, the stone counters looking as if they glowed under the amber stone, giving a warm light to the area. Simple but sturdy wooden tables and benches dotted the floor under stone chandeliers made of the same material and glow as the countertop. The air smelled of fresh bread and meaty stew, and Evren was once again reminded that she hadn’t eaten all day. Everything would’ve been extremely welcoming had the whole tavern not been empty and dead-silent. Except for two figures in a large corner booth.

They managed to look both completely at ease and entirely out of place. The male dwarf was surprisingly handsome. He had pale skin, and his long, black hair was neatly groomed and braided away from his face, little charms of gold and bronze glittering where he’d woven them in. His beard was similarly groomed and styled, although it had no adornments. Multiple ear piercings showed his high rank, and his robes were made of a finer silk than Evren had ever seen. He paled in comparison to the woman beside him, however.

She wore a combination of simple robes and beautiful armor. If Evren stared at the gauntlets or the breastplate, she could’ve sworn she saw different battles and stories carved into the gleaming metal. The female’s skin was a rich brown but not unmarred. She had plenty of scars and calluses. One scar curled her lip into a crooked smile, but she wore it well. Her hair was pitch-black and tumbled down over her shoulder in one large braid that nearly reached the floor. She also sported many piercings, decorating her ears, eyebrows, and even her nose. She was beautiful and terrifying. And Evren didn’t hesitate to follow Solri’s example of bowing deeply.

“General Heliodar,” Solri said, her nose nearly to the ground. “It’s me, Sol. It is an honor.”

The general stood from her seat, shaking her head. The beads in her hair clacked as she did. “No need for bowing, Sol. I am no noble.”

As Solri hastily straightened, the rest of the party followed, and Heliodar turned to the soldier who’d brought them in. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

He gave her a sharp salute, his gauntlet-covered fist covering his heart. With two solid thumps against his armor, he turned and walked out completely. Then, it was just their rugged crew in the tavern.

Heliodar turned her sharp gaze on the rest of them, her eyes a rich, copper-brown. Her lip twitched into what could’ve been an actual smile. “I don’t seem to remember sending so many people to fetch you, Sol.”

Abraxas cleared his throat and stepped forward. Despite being taller, and undoubtedly older, every ounce of him oozed respect. “Forgive us, General. These three helped in the chaos below. They were on the lift when it fell.”

Now it was Evren’s turn to endure the general’s gaze as she looked them up and down. “I was told no one had survived that accident.”

“We had some magic on our side.” Evren’s voice was raspy, and she cleared her throat in an attempt to sound better. “And a lot of luck.”

“The city thanks you for your service.” The general nodded. “It’s not often outsiders show concern for the wellbeing of our people.”

Evren wanted to comment that everything they’d done had been about their survival or curiosity. She suddenly remembered Poig’s stricken face and swallowed the words.

“Now, on to business. Shall we?” She gestured to the table.

Sorin laughed nervously. “Business? Like what?”

“Like, I have a job for you and would like you to listen,” the general said crisply. “You and your goblin friend are welcome to leave, however. If you wish.” Sorin blanched, and beneath the cloak, Evren heard Arke mumble a curse. Heliodar simply smiled gently. “No one enters the city without my knowledge. You are safe and welcome.”

A hesitant pause followed, along with quite a lot of grumbling. Eventually, everyone filed into their seats at the table. Solri took no time sliding into the seat next to the male dwarf, which Evren assumed was Nobleman Malrus. Arke yanked off his cloak angrily and stuffed it onto his lap. He kept his gaze on the table and didn’t look anyone in the eye. Gyda had to take her chair from the adjacent table and sat a little bit away from everyone else. Her legs were crossed and put up on another chair, but her eyes were far from relaxed. Evren couldn’t help but squirm in her seat. She wanted food and rest. Not a job.

Almost as if she’d read her thoughts, Heliodar snapped her fingers. From a door behind the bar, a round-bellied dwarf with greying hair and a beard quickly trotted out with an array of food and drink. Evren’s mouth watered as a steaming bowl of stew was placed in front of her and she took no time diving into it. She barely tasted it, but the warmth felt good on her sore throat. As soon as the food was passed out, the dwarf disappeared back into the kitchens, and Heliodar’s gaze fell on them once more.

“You can remove the disguise here, Sol,” she said gently.

The dwarf nodded and took off the ring. Her form shimmered and returned to what they were used to. But Malrus took a shuddering breath of surprise when he saw her. Sol’s eyes were sad as she nodded to him.

“I’ve looked worse, Mal. Don’t worry.”

He simply nodded and took a sip of ale. He didn’t seem to enjoy it, though.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you both, but why am I here?” Solri asked. “This goes against the King’s orders. This is treason, even for you. He’ll put you in irons.”

Heliodar snorted and suddenly looked more like a soldier than a noble. “I’d like to see him try.” Solri blinked at her in amazement, and the general just shrugged. “The situation has changed since you left, Sol. And in light of today’s events, I fear something larger is at play. Malrus?”

Mal nodded quickly and placed his folded hands on the table. Each finger had a ring, but his wedding ring seemed to glow brightly compared to the simple glint of gold. “Your trial was quick,” he began, his voice surprisingly rough. “Too quick. And the King still refuses to share who gave him the knowledge that you had been conspiring against him.”

“It had to be someone in Court. Someone who wanted to climb the ladder, right?” Sol looked between them. “Who took my position?”

“No one, as of yet,” Heliodar said grimly. “Much of the city has gone unrepaired since you were sent below. Another suspicious mark on the list, as far as I’m concerned. The spot should’ve been filled immediately. Instead, the King left it open. I love the man dearly, as if he were my own kin, but he is not thinking clearly.” She shook her head. “This has left us open to attacks from the Seekers of the New Age.”

“The who?” Evren managed to speak around the food in her mouth.

“They’re a group of extremists,” Solri explained. “Many in Dirn-Darahl and other cities believe our focus on war and combat is outdated.” She slid an apologetic glance to Heliodar, who simply shrugged it off. “These people take it a step further.”

“They’re terrorists,” Heliodar said. “They’re the ones who sabotaged the lift. A bold move, even for them. I can almost respect it.” Her lip scar tugged into an odd shape as she frowned. “But it endangered many lives, including yours. It’s true, our people are divided. But this is simply not the way to bring about an era of peace.”

“Do you think the Seekers had something to do with my arrest?” Solri asked.

“It seems like it.” Mal twisted one of his rings over his finger thoughtfully. “That’s what enabled them to do what they did to the lift. Those runes should’ve been changed months ago, but without the proper leadership, they weren’t. The Seekers were able to use the faulty runes to cause the explosion on the first level, which then caused a chain reaction of chaos throughout the city.”

“This is very . . . ” Gyda struggled for the word for a bit. “Enlightening, I suppose. But what does that have to do with us?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Heliodar smiled. “I’m aware that dwarven politics are beyond all of you.”

“Far beyond,” Arke grumbled into his cup.

“However, Dirn-Darahl is still a beacon of wealth and prosperity to the surrounding countries,” she continued. “As its protector, I’ve been looking for a group of able-bodied outsiders to help me. You all fit that description well.”

Evren’s food was tasteless now. Adventuring parties had taken up the rough tasks of keeping order in a world without the gods to do so. Some had become legends, others did it for gold, but mostly they just died. The life of an adventurer wasn’t what she’d had in mind for herself.

“Okay,” Sorin said slowly, waving the general on. He didn’t seem bothered.

“The trouble is, there is too much corruption to weed out in our ranks. Not without the knowledge of who’s all behind this. We need a Seeker to interrogate so we can make one clean strike to wipe them out.”

“I don’t hunt dwarves,” Evren repeated the words she’d said to the guard captain at the surface. It seemed like weeks ago now. “Besides, cities and terrorists aren’t something I’m practiced at.”

Heliodar smiled thinly. “Less of a hunt through the city. We already know of one confirmed Seeker. Until now, I was content to let him rot until we cleared Sol’s name. Now, in light of recent events, I’d like him retrieved and questioned.”

Even before Solri uttered the name, Evren knew who it was.

“Goriryn Karas.” The name was bitter on her tongue. “That bastard.”

Heliodar nodded solemnly. “The only Seeker we’ve managed to capture, and now he’s escaped. Rather extraordinarily.”

Abraxas picked at his food. “You could say that.”

Evren shoved her empty bowl away, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “You want us to go hunting for Karas?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insane. He went farther below the city.”

Solri nodded. “I doubt they’ll make it very far. You know as well as I do that the Yawning Deep isn’t the kind of place you vacation in.”

“Karas’s cousin was Temsen Cartack.” Mal shook his head. “If anyone can survive the Deep, Karas can with his knowledge.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Sorin asked.

“Temsen was a mapmaker,” Mal explained quickly. “He led an exploration team below the city two years ago in order to map out more of the Deep. Beyond the Chasm, that is.”

“Only one of Temsen’s crew came back,” Heliodar said. “With a map, although it’s not complete. However, Karas was interested in the Deep as much as his cousin. And many entrances in and out of it led to his escape.”

“He could have gone anywhere,” Solri said in hushed tones. “Etherak. Terevas. Hells, if he’s determined enough, he could make it across the sea to Gratey.”

Heliodar nodded. “Precisely. We need him and those he escaped with apprehended and brought back here. From there, we can work on eliminating the Seekers and their corruption in the Court.”

“And clear my name.” Solri let out a heavy breath. “This is a lot.”

“It is,” Abraxas said. “Why trust us with it?”

Heliodar narrowed her eyes at him. “I can’t trust my people. The soldiers that brought you here have earned my loyalty, and those in the army have no love for the Seekers. But sending them leaves us open to more attacks. If the corruption runs as rampant as we think, then the entire city is at risk. Our food, our power, all of it. Sending a group of capable outsiders to fetch some prisoners won’t raise too many eyebrows, but it will keep us in the city safe to do our own investigating and get Karas in chains.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Sorin tapped his fingers against the table. “Your culture is built on war, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And more than some of the people want that to end,” he continued. “These Seekers are just extremists. But a lot of your people would see your army and way of life dissolved.”

“Sorin,” Evren whispered warningly. But Heliodar just shook her head.

“No, no. He’s right to ask.” She took a breath. “You’re right to question my motives, child of the sea. My warriors are my family, and my job is sacred—to me and many others in the city. I sit at the right hand of the King, as my family has for generations. War is in our blood, but I see and understand the need for peace. After all, that’s what wars are fought for.” Her gaze fell on Abraxas when she said that, and he squirmed in his seat as she moved on.

“However, this change cannot come down on us like a hammer blow. Our culture and entire way of life has always been structured by war. Our children are taught young to defend themselves. Our warriors are some of the most respected and noblest people in the city, regardless of their bloodline. To see that all stripped away would leave us crumbling. Change will come, but not like this. I refuse to sit back and watch my people fall to their ambitions. And if the King can’t see the danger, then I must.”

She paused, her callused finger tracing the rim of her mug. “I am not asking for complete trust. I know from my time leading that trust is earned, not given. However, you have earned mine. All I ask is you find Karas and return him to me so that I can keep this city and its people safe.”

It seemed reasonable enough, if Evren ignored the vast dangers of the Yawning Deep.

“They have no supplies,” Heliodar continued. “At best, they have a map. And from what I’ve heard, many of them are wounded. This’ll slow them down. With your map and fresh supplies, you should be able to catch up with him easily. Such a large group will leave a trail. And I’ve heard that you have a tracker amongst you.” Her gaze fell on Evren.

It hit Evren without notice, as panic always did. Suddenly, the food in her stomach turned sour and nauseated her. She was a hunter of beasts. A tracker of the world with a sky above it, not miles of stone. She couldn’t delve into the depths of the Yawning Deep with a bunch of strangers and little knowledge of what was actually down there.

She needed out. She needed the sky and the breeze. She suddenly wanted to throw herself into the snow and ice she had cursed barely a day ago. She knew, with sudden and complete clarity, that she wasn’t built for this. She couldn’t do it.

Evren rose from her seat quickly, trying to calm her breathing. “Look, I appreciate the hospitality and the truth, but . . .” She swallowed and forced down the lump in her throat. “I can’t help you. I don’t hunt people, and I can’t track in an area I’ve never been to. I’m sorry.”

Heliodar regarded her cooly for a while before simply saying, “You’re afraid.”

What little pride Evren had gathered over the years smarted at the comment, and she gritted her teeth. “I’m being reasonable. You throw me down there, I could lead them to their deaths.”

“Who said you were leading?” Heliodar raised an eyebrow.

“The only thing I’m good at is hunting,” Evren shot back. “And I hunt aboveground. I certainly don’t get roped into grand schemes with terrorists and Kings. Saving your prison is my good deed for the year. But I’ll be no help to you down in the Deep.”

Silence descended over the table. Everyone looked at her. Sorin and Arke appeared as if they agreed with her, but for some reason, she knew they wouldn’t leave with her. Solri looked disappointed. Abraxas was unreadable.

The general sighed. “You would be well rewarded if you did,” she said slowly. “Six thousand gold pieces to split between the lot of you. And the Crown’s gratitude. That goes a long way.”

“Not if we’re dead.”

Heliodar pursed her lips. “So, gold and glory aren’t concerns of yours? Tell me, why did you come to the city, then?”

Evren hesitated. Why had she come?

“I . . .” She picked at her thumb again. “I needed a place to sleep. Dirn-Darahl was on my way north. I did a job for the people on the surface, got paid, and went to rest. I’m not here for any reason.”

“Everyone has a reason to be here,” the general said confidently. “Perhaps you don’t realize what it is yet.”

Evren shrugged. “I know it’s not trying to be a hero. I survive by going with my gut, which tells me to stay as far away from the Yawning Deep as possible. You can call it fear or cowardice. I don’t care. But I’ve lived this long by trusting myself.”

Slowly, Heliodar nodded. “I can’t force you. I can only ask you to keep quiet about what you’ve heard today.”

“I have no need to spill secrets,” she murmured.

“Very well.” The general tossed a bag of gold onto the table, twice the size of the one Beregal had given Evren. “For your troubles in the prison and a safe journey ahead.”

Evren took the gold and suddenly felt self-conscious as she stepped away from the table. Solri, Mal, and Heliodar went back to talking about a plan, but the others watched her. Gyda nodded as she passed, and Arke just sighed as she left.

“Good luck, kid.”

“You, too,” she muttered half-heartedly.

Sorin gave a wave, full of his usual cheer. Abraxas’s eyes never left her as she walked out of the tavern and into the streets of Dirn-Darahl.

She passed the soldiers guarding the street, and they paid her no mind. As she retraced her steps to the lift, her mind was already checking off things on her list and seeing what she needed for the journey. She could camp or pay for a tavern on the surface. She had more than enough gold for that. From there, she could buy more supplies and keep heading north into the Reino Terminan. The mountains wouldn’t be forgiving this time of year, but the game was good, and it was somewhere she’d never been yet. She wanted to see the fabled edge of the world.

Or you could go south, her mind whispered. Her steps faltered. South would be easier. Warmer. The road to Orenlion cut through most of eastern Etherak, and she could even stop by the capital if she wanted. Those giant statues of the banished gods always seemed so fantastical. Seeing them up close would be nice.

Of course, that would lead her back to Orenlion. Back home, if she could find it in the Deep Wood. A little laugh crept up her throat. She could almost compare the forest to the Yawning Deep in more than name. Orenlion was called the Moving City because it never stayed in the same place. Ancient magic kept it hidden from all those unworthy. And a part of her ached to return.

She pressed a hand to her chest at the now-familiar ache. She almost felt the jagged scar there, even through her clothing and armor. She bit her lip and continued towards the lift more hesitantly. No, she wouldn’t go back. There was too much to be forgotten there.

Evren pressed on, the lift coming into view. She put aside the thoughts of Orenlion. She shoved down the strange guilt that nestled in her bones because she had felt worse. And she walked with this guilt, unlike when she’d run earlier. She would make it. She would survive as she had countless times before. And, undoubtedly, the people she’d met would do the same.

Just as she reached the lift, something darted out of the alleyway. She didn’t have time to yell or reach for her dagger before whoever it was pulled her roughly into the shadows and threw her to the ground. She tried to surge to her feet but felt a boot plant itself on her neck and shove her back down.

She gasped, one hand clawing at the mud-caked boot digging into her throat, and the other hand going for her knife. A rough hand seized her wrist and pinned it to the ground before she could reach the dagger, however. Above her, a face appeared in the shadows, leering at her.

Another dwarf. One with a crooked nose and half a singed beard. Evren couldn’t tell if she wanted to curse or laugh. If only she could do either.

“What did they say?” Tavish whispered harshly, his breath reeking of stale bread and onions. “What is the general planning?”

“You . . .” Evren barely choked out. She decided to keep it simple. “Bastard.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I am. But I’m a bastard who’s going to do some good. And you’re a mutt who’s going to tell me what they’re planning in there.”

He let up on the boot pressure a little, but Evren saw her dagger gleaming in his hands. She gasped for breath, but the threat was clear. Any screaming, and she wouldn’t have a throat anymore.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t want any part in it. So, I left.”

“Got some gold for your troubles, eh?” He took the coin purse. “And just left.”

“What can I say? I don’t really care for politics.”

Her knife was suddenly against her throat. Evren had the odd thought that she was done having her weapons turned against her.

“You’re a Seeker, right?” Evren asked. “You let the Guzzlers in. You started the fire and the riot to let Karas go free. Why?”

Tavish paused, his muddy eyes unreadable as they searched her. “Tired of fighting,” he said. “Tired of shadows. Should’ve known Heliodar would get involved. Should’ve—”

He suddenly stopped. Evren raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t one for monologues, but maybe it would buy her enough time for someone to find her.

“Should’ve . . . ?” Evren asked. But he didn’t answer. He suddenly slumped to the ground and slid off her, his body turning to dust.

With a startled yelp, Evren shot to her feet and put her back against the wall away from Tavish. She couldn’t take her eyes off the pile of dust that remained where he’d been. Her dagger lay in the pile, still waiting for her. But she made no move towards it.

Her eyes detected movement at the back of the alleyway. She watched, rigid in fear as a tall, cloaked figure approached her. Whoever it was wasn’t dwarven for sure. The dark cloak was ragged at the edges and frayed as if it had seen too much travel. But other than that, it was crisp and clean and plain. Evren couldn’t see the face under the hood. Just one glowing spot that gleamed like the stone back at the tavern. With a jolt, she realized that it was an eye. A glowing eye. Where was the other?

The figure stopped at the ash pile and picked up the dagger. Evren wasn’t sure what she expected. Claws? Fur? Instead, it seemed like a normal hand. Intensely scarred and ragged, but a hand, nonetheless. It held the dagger out to her, hilt first. Evren made no move to take it.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice hoarser than she would’ve liked.

The figure paused. She saw it almost hesitate. The voice that came from the hood was raspy like broken glass. As if they’d spent too much time screaming and never recovered.

“An invested third party.” It was all the figure said.

Evren licked her lips. “Did you do that?” She nodded to the pile of ash.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He would’ve killed you,” the figure said. Even with the hand and the voice, Evren couldn’t make out much else about them. Their age, race, or even gender. Nothing.

“But he was a Seeker. He could’ve told the general what she needed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” the figure said not-so-helpfully.

Evren sighed, exasperated. But her fear and shock were melting away like snow. Slowly but surely.

“Well, shit.” She ran her hand through her hair.

“Go back to the tavern.”

“What?” She stared at the figure.

“Accept the job.”

“I can’t help.”

“You can.”

“You know—”

“More than you.” The voice suddenly had a hard edge to it. “This is only the beginning. Go back to the tavern. Back to them.”

“So . . .” Evren paused. “You know what’s in the Yawning Deep?”

The figure nodded.

A surge of frustration overtook Evren. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“There are rules,” the figure said. “You wouldn’t go if you knew.”

“I’m not going now.”

“You are.” The certainty in their voice made Evren shiver. “It is your path. And mine to guide you. You will see me again.”

“Oh, I do love cryptic messages,” she said dryly. “If you want to help so bad, why don’t you go and do so?”

“I’m already helping.”

Evren paused. She eyed the figure for a while. Despite how infuriatingly vague they were, the figure wouldn’t harm her. She knew that deep in her bones. She also knew, somehow, that they told the truth. Whatever it was, she wanted to trust it. The sudden urge took her breath away.

Almost as if it could sense her hesitation, the figure spoke again. “The path ahead does not lead north or south for you. Not yet. You are not meant to walk alone, Evren Hanali of Orenlion. You are meant to lead, to fight, to sacrifice. And you will.”

Again, they thrust the dagger at her. Evren stared at it, hesitation still burning inside her. But, ever present were those words. They circled in her head like a bright beacon, drawing her farther into the unknown.

You are meant to lead, to fight, to sacrifice.

“Do we all make it out?” she asked, looking into the single golden eye. There was a heart-wrenching loneliness in the depth that pulled at her soul.

“That is for you to decide.”

With a shaking, bloody hand, Evren took the dagger from the figure. For a moment, she thought their fingers would touch, but the figure took their hand back quickly.

“The Yawning Deep awaits,” they said, then paused before continuing. It almost seemed to laugh at itself, its shoulders bouncing under the cloak. “You’ll shake this world to its very foundations down there.”

Before Evren could say anything else, the figure melted into the shadows and disappeared. She blinked at the blank and solid alley wall behind where it had gone. She touched it, running her fingers over the stone. She looked for runes, a switch, a hidden brick, or a trick that could’ve explained what she saw. But after an embarrassing amount of time fondling a wall, she gave up and pushed away, aggravated.

It didn’t make sense. None of it. Maybe she’d hit her head during the battle, and she was just now paying the consequences. Maybe the food had been drugged, and General Heliodar was just waiting for her to mosey on back. Whatever it was, she could see the lift. She could still go back to the surface and into the free sunlight and wind.

Instead, Evren retrieved her bag of gold and shook the ashes out. She tied the pouch to her belt and grumbled under her breath as her feet took her back to the tavern. She didn’t look at the soldiers as she pushed back inside.

Those around the table went silent.

Heliodar stood over a map, pointing to different points. Everyone else had been watching her but now, all their eyes were on Evren.

She wrinkled her nose at the map. “That’d better not be the map you’re giving us.”

5

They spent the rest of the night poring over the incomplete map and making plans. No one commented on Evren’s change of heart, and she was glad. She was less enthusiastic about Temsen’s so-called map.

It was well drawn, at least. She could easily see where he scrawled the city and the Chasm just below it—a canyon pooled with the gas the city used for power, and the Guzzlers’ home. Past that, the map was full of winding and twisting paths. Two looked promising to her. It was all natural caverns, and she wanted to stay as far away from the pockets of gas as possible. The two paths she picked looked as if they ran in the same direction for a while. But the map ended after that. She just hoped that they could finish it and possibly do some good besides wrangling prisoners back to the city.

After all the planning and talking and circling back, Heliodar sent them all to bed. Not that anyone needed to be told twice. The tavern’s second story was theirs, and it didn’t take long for everyone to pick out their separate rooms. Except for Sol.

Sol stayed below with Mal. She made an excuse about having to go over the plan some more to work out some kinks, but Evren didn’t believe her. Long after Heliodar left, Mal stayed. And he never left Sol’s side.

Evren wasn’t one to judge. So, she left them to it and took advantage of the dwarven hospitality. Hot water wasn’t something she was used to, so it was a luxury she couldn’t get enough of. And with the abundant gas, there was more hot water than she could ever hope to use. The glimmering runes took some time to learn, but before long, she was able to draw a bath. She cleaned off the blood, soot, and grime from the day. She even cleaned her armor and took some time to repair it, despite her eyes starting to close.

Finally warm, with a full belly and a soft bed, Evren crashed and slept soundly. She dreamed of dancing Guzzlers and flashing coins. And figures with one glowing eye. But she slept through the night, and in the end, that was another thing she could check off her list.

The problem wasn’t sleeping, however. It was waking up.

There was no sunlight to drive away the shadows. No chirping birds or chilling wind. Everything was infuriatingly stagnant. Evren groaned and wanted nothing more than to drag her body even deeper under the scratchy covers. The only thing that kept her from that was the nagging anxiety that she would be late.

“They can’t leave without me,” she murmured and went to bury her face in her pillow.

But try as she might, she couldn’t fall back to sleep. The ache still clung to her, and the bed was warm and welcoming, but her mind simply wouldn’t allow it. So, with a frustrated sigh, she forced herself out of bed.

She cleaned the sleep off her face with her hot water and let that run over her hands for far longer than she should’ve. Now that she was more awake, she realized she could hear the bustling of the streets below her window. The city was waking up and moving on. Because what else was there to do after a day like before?

Thanks to the healing potions and salves Heliodar had given her, Evren’s wounds had recovered nicely. She was still sore, but her leg didn’t hurt like it had, and the cuts had left only faint scars. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the one on her chest.

In the mirror, Evren studied the raised flesh, tracing it with her finger—as she had every night since she’d gotten it. It was still pink and tender and a little shiny in some places. It started just below her collarbone and ran nearly all the way between her breasts. Despite the sudden surety that she could still feel the claws that’d made it, she couldn’t make out what creature had clambered so viciously for her heart.

Or why she’d survived.

“Another one for the dreams.” She sighed and tied the collar of her blouse.

She let herself drink in her mirror image. Who knew when she’d see it again? And maybe she’d come back different. So, she stared at her face, memorizing her curved jawline, the small curve of her eyes which betrayed her Orenlion heritage nearly as much as her ears. The dark circles under those eyes hadn’t gone away with one fitful night of sleep—and she doubted they ever would. She gathered her hair in a leather tie, scowling when pieces fell out but securing it anyway. She’d cut her hair herself—and badly. There was no way she’d get all the black pieces to stay put. If anything, it made her ears stand out more. She flicked one of the pointed tips gently. They weren’t nearly as long as Abraxas’s, but she still felt they were obnoxious. However, she was past the point of hating them as she had as a kid. She couldn’t change the shape of them any more than she could change the dull black of her eyes.

She finally turned away from the mirror. Slipping back into her now cleaned and repaired armor, she felt better. She always felt better with her leathers and her weapons. Her daggers fit snugly into their sheathes, and her quiver was packed with new arrows. She wasn’t sure how well the dwarven-crafted arrows would work compared to hers, but she wouldn’t complain about free ammunition.

She found her pack just as Heliodar had promised, full of necessities for the trip. Two weeks’ worth of rations, several waterskins, and her dented mess kit were all there—things she was used to. But digging deeper, she found that someone had replaced her bedroll with one of dwarven weave, which was scratchier but much warmer—and fire-retardant. At least, according to Mal. Fresh torches had been placed in there, as well as a new flint and tinder box and a coil of rope. And, much to her surprise, three vials of health potion, safely wrapped in bandages.

At least she was well prepared for this hunt.

Stepping out into the hallway, Evren found Sorin and Arke bickering as they put their packs on. They’d both cleaned up well, and Arke even sported a new cloak that fit him. One he currently fussed over.

“I don’t understand why you’re griping,” Sorin muttered.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Arke growled and yanked at the metal clasp. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“It’s a sign of goodwill,” Sorin argued. “Besides, you kept tripping over the old one.”

“Now I have to pay them back.”

“You don’t, though. That’s the thing. It’s a gift, you daft little gremlin.”

“Bah!” Arke threw the cloak up and over his shoulders. “You don’t understand. You’re not Goblinkin. You’re just a human with a sea-rotted brain who smiles too much.”

Sorin blinked down at him, unfazed. “Is that all? You said worse to me on the way up here.”

Arke narrowed his large eyes and stared at Sorin for a long time before whispering slowly, “And your singing voice is average. At best.”

Sorin clutched his chest as a loud gasp left him. “You take that back!”

Arke’s laugh was bitter and positively bone-chilling as he swept past Evren and hopped down the stairs. Sorin raced after him, his pack swinging wildly from his shoulder strap as he yelled at Arke.

“Arke. Arke, get back here. Tell me you didn’t mean it!”

Evren couldn’t help but laugh at the whole display. She had no doubt the two would be back to normal halfway through breakfast.

“They’re going to do that the whole trip, aren’t they?”

Evren tried not to jump out of her skin as Abraxas walked up to her. How he managed to be so silent with all that armor was beyond her.

“Most likely,” she said with an easy grin. “I’d recommend gagging Sorin if I didn’t think he would talk his way out of that, too.”

“We all have our talents,” the elf said, amused.

Now that he’d gotten rest and had cleaned up like the rest of them, Abraxas didn’t look nearly as worn and tired as he had before. Although Evren was sure that went for her, as well. He’d tied his hair back neatly so not a single strand got into his face. His armor was still the same scorched black, but he’d cleaned yesterday’s blood off it, along with his sword and shield. This close, she could make out a long scar that traced the length of his left jawline. And below that, she saw inky black swirls tattooed against his pale skin. Barely visible above the armor, but they were there, wrapping around the base of his neck.

Evren looked away as he headed towards the stairs and then trailed behind.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked over his shoulder.

Evren frowned, gripping the banister as she took the surprisingly steep stairs a little slower than him. “I’ll be fine.”

“You didn’t think so last night.”

“I just needed to clear my head.” Somehow, she had the feeling that telling him about the cloaked figure wouldn’t help matters. At best, he’d take it as some holy sign. At worst, she’d just be a loon who’d hit her head one too many times. Evren favored the latter.

They made it downstairs to find the others eating breakfast. The tavern was still empty—no doubt Heliodar’s doing. She must’ve paid the owner a fortune, but Evren wasn’t complaining. Sorin and Arke had stopped arguing, but Evren had a sneaking suspicion that Gyda sitting between them had something to do with that. The large woman acted as a bit of a wall, and any grumbling from either side of her earned one of the males an icy glare.

As Evren sat and ate, Abraxas went over the plan again. They’d decided to take the same route the prisoners had, and although Evren wasn’t thrilled about following the worm’s path, she knew it was their best bet. They’d circle back through the paths Temsen had drawn on their way back. Across from her, Gyda said nothing and ate quietly. Unlike Abraxas, cleaning up hadn’t changed her all that much. She still had a rough edge to her. The only difference was the lack of grime and the fact that her hair wrap was more secure, every hair locked firmly behind the deep purple fabric. But Evren was glad that the roughness hadn’t washed away. It suited her.

They ate breakfast quickly, and for the most part silently, after everyone told Abraxas that they’d gotten the plan the fifth time last night and didn’t need another refresher. Evren wanted to savor her food, knowing that it very well could be the last warm meal she had for a while. But her nerves and the strict schedule they’d set wouldn’t let her.

They’d just finished up by the time Solri came down the stairs. Out of all of them, the dwarf had changed the most. Free of the drab prison clothes and dirt, she had quite a noble polish to her. Her hair had been trimmed and neatened, although it was still achingly short compared to the nobles Evren had seen. Her leathers were shiny and well made, and she had two wicked daggers strapped to her sides. The only other difference she sported was a small copper nose ring. Nothing flashy, but it suited her.

“All right.” She grabbed a buttered roll from the basket. “Are we ready to go?”

“You’re awfully chipper this morning,” Abraxas noted as Solri bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Eager to get out.” She stuffed some bread into her mouth. “Clearing my name and all.”

“I still say we just kill Karas,” Gyda murmured into her cup.

“We need him alive, Gyda.”

She snorted. “Maybe.”

“Heliodar didn’t say anything about the other prisoners,” Evren offered. “I’m sure you can do with them as you wish.”

A ghost of a smile fell on her lips. “Perhaps I’ll show him what happens when he doesn’t cooperate.”

“Oh, you’re fucking terrifying.” Sorin shuddered and scooted his chair away from her. “Has anyone told you that before?”

“No one who lived very long.”

Sorin looked as if he might be sick, while Arke let out a loud bark of laughter. “I like this one.” The goblin jerked a thumb to her. “She’s got goblin thoughts.”

There was little talk after that as everyone packed the rest of their stuff. Arke decided to shove the remaining breakfast rolls into his bag, and the smell of baked bread followed them outside long after they left the tavern. Solri quickly put on her ring and transformed into another dwarf. Despite her friends in high places, she wasn’t free just yet.

The walk to the lift didn’t take long, but it was as if the city passed in slow motion. The idea that nothing would be the same if she came back hit Evren like a ton of rocks. She forced her eyes wide and made herself drink in every detail.

As with the night before, the second level was unchanged. The air had cleared, and the murky haze that drifted between the lights had vanished. With it, so had the fear. The markets were open again. The streets were thick with dwarves, hurrying to and fro. All of them took the massive, chiseled stone staircase that led to the other levels rather than the lift. If it weren’t so backed up, Evren would’ve gone there, too.

They passed armor and weapon stands, blades glinting in the warm light, and the armor shined to a coin-like polish. Maroon flags with golden threads hung everywhere, showing the general’s sigil of three joined weapons. Now that Evren knew it, it was all she could see. It hung from blacksmith shops and leatherworks stores. Small ones fluttered in bakeries as a sign of support. Maroon and gold were everywhere.

“People favor Heliodar,” Abraxas noted before Evren could.

Between them, Sol hummed in reply before actually speaking. “She’s well respected, even among the nobles. Although he’s much older than she is and took the Crown before she was ever considered a soldier, she and the King grew up together. They’re very close.”

“But this is Heliodar’s symbol, right? Not his?”

“We’re all extensions of him. Especially Heliodar,” Sol said. “But I see what you’re saying. The King is . . . absent from ruling lately. He doesn’t make appearances or make any effort to let the public see him. If I hadn’t been in Court, I might’ve thought he was simply absent. The general compensates so her ruler doesn’t falter. The King has no heirs, either, so she and anyone else in the Court has to be wherever he isn’t.”

It didn’t seem like a good system to Evren. Not that she knew many Kings, but she would’ve at least thought a King would rule. Sol made it sound as if he were merely there. Like he’d given up on everything but wearing a crown. But Evren wasn’t a dwarf. She didn’t know if that was normal or not. So, she kept her mouth shut and walked on.

Evren still wasn’t happy to get on the lift and planted herself squarely in the middle. There was still some laughing about it since Sorin and Arke didn’t seem to be as troubled as she was. She gripped Sorin’s shoulder fiercely as the lift started to descend and ignored the replay of events of what’d happened last time in her head.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Sorin hissed. “Lighten up, please.”

“No.”

He snickered. “I bet this is why you didn’t leave. Couldn’t get on the lift by yourself.”

“Shut up, or I’m throwing you off the side. You can get there before anyone else.”

Sorin threw his head back and laughed, but she had to admit, talking helped to distract her. She forced herself to keep her eyes open as they descended slowly to the next level.

She couldn’t help but be surprised when she saw fields of vegetation and greenery. Large orbs of glowing stone hung from the ceiling like miniature suns, lighting the whole area. Orchards hung ripe with fruit, and barley and wheat fields shifted like large, golden blankets. Some livestock even milled about, their farmers hurrying to finish their chores. If she closed her eyes, Evren could almost pretend that she was on the surface.

But soon, it was gone, and she let out a little huff of disappointment.

“It’s just fields,” Arke grumbled. “If you like that, you should see Terevas. It’s a lot of that.”

“Except for the Fey,” Sorin said cheerfully.

“Except for the Fey,” he agreed.

“You’re from Terevas?” Evren asked, and the goblin nodded.

“Not any of the fancy cities, just the rural area to the east. No one lettin’ goblins in the city.”

Evren let the subject drop just as they descended to the next level. The heat hit them first, and she wondered how she hadn’t noticed the first two times. Half the level seemed to be on fire and glowed brightly. She could smell the soot and hear the clang of metal even from the air. On the other side, a large encampment sprawled. She could just make out the training courses and the dwarves who ran them. The buildings were similar in structure to the prison, in that they were simple and one-story. But each had been built with care and detail. The smell of good food overtook the stench of fire and iron, and Evren saw the soldiers laughing over breakfast and sweating from their morning runs. It was large and obviously well-funded. She was sure they could fit most of the city in there if they needed.

In a way, she almost agreed with the Seekers. Why so much focus on war when there hadn’t been one in ages? But soon, they passed the level again, and she pushed that from her mind. Dwarven politics were complicated and twisted. Evren had no right to judge. Orenlion wasn’t much better off.

Soon, they found their way to the bottom of the final level. Already, the smoke had started to clear, but it still clung stubbornly to the rocks, and she wrinkled her nose at the now-familiar smell. Stepping off the lift, she noticed Solri’s suddenly stiff posture.

“Hey.” She nudged her. “It’s all right, you know. There’s no prison to go back to.”

Solri laughed a little. “Thank Jalaa for that,” she said with a little more of her usual warmth. “I just don’t like being down here.”

“Fuck. Me, either,” Evren muttered. “And I didn’t go through what you did.”

“I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Even the person who framed you?”

A shadow passed over Solri’s eyes as she stared at the path that led to the scorched, crumbled prison remains. They’d have to pass it on their way out. Evren watched as Solri took off the ring and stuffed it into her pocket, her usual blond self just as grim and determined as her disguise.

“No,” she said finally. “I want justice. I want to look them in the eye when they realize they’ve lost. And then I want to toss them down the darkest hole and never think of them again.”

Evren couldn’t blame her. “Too bad. I’m sure Gyda would be up for something a little more brutal.”

“When I’m up for vengeance and not justice, I’ll go to her. Don’t worry.” She gave Evren a wink and followed the others.

Evren brought up the rear for what would probably be the last time. She kept her eyes away from the ruined lift when they passed it. Sorin kept up useless chatter as they walked, his voice bouncing off the stone. Eventually, they saw the prison, and beyond it, the gaping hole the worm had left.

Evren suppressed a shudder when she realized that the hole was at least half as large as the prison itself.

They found they weren’t alone once they got to the entrance. The same battalion of soldiers stood guard at the tunnel. Some of them talked quietly amongst themselves, while others could’ve been statues, given how little they moved. General Heliodar was nowhere to be seen, but Mal was waiting for them.

Solri picked up the pace into almost a jog until they reached him, her grin wide and genuine. Mal’s mirrored hers in every way.

“It’s good to see you all well rested again.” He nodded to each of them. “As much as I’m ready for all this dreadful business to end, I don’t look forward to watching you walk away.”

“The view is good, I promise,” Sorin said.

But Mal paid him no mind. His eyes were for Sol. Evren shifted uncomfortably. Even with all the soldiers, she still felt as if they were intruding on something private.

Mal reached into his satchel and pulled out a leather cylinder with a strap, handing it to Sol. “The map. I know your tracker isn’t happy with it, but it might do you some good. Maybe you can finish it?”

“I’m a terrible artist,” Sol said with a smile. It faltered after a second, and she reached up towards his face. “Mal, you’re bleeding.”

He looked confused for a second, and then his eyes widened with understanding. He quickly dug out a handkerchief just as blood started to drip out of his nose. He dabbed it away, chuckling. “Ah, it never leaves me, does it?”

“Are those common?” Sorin whispered to Evren. She shrugged. She had no idea what passed for normal down here.

Sol looked as if she wanted to help him wipe away the blood. The longing she felt was stark on her face. But she never let her fingers touch him, and soon, her hand fell to her side.

“Be careful while we’re gone, Mal,” she said. “I know Heliodar is second only to the King, and her help is powerful, but the Seekers don’t care who they hurt. I don’t want to come back and have this all have been for nothing.”

He smiled behind the handkerchief, his eyes crinkling. “I’ll be fine. If push comes to shove, I’ll talk my way out of trouble.”

“That would work, but you’re a terrible liar.” Sol smiled ruefully. “Just . . . wait for me, okay?”

“Always.”

Solri turned back to them, her cheeks flushed, but that was the only thing that betrayed her embarrassment. She held out the map to Evren.

“Ready?”

Evren took the case and slung it over her shoulder. “I doubt it.”

Sorin whistled. “I’m loving the optimism here, friends.”

“One more thing.” Mal dabbed away the rest of the blood and then put the handkerchief away. He pulled out six glowing yellow stones the size of a fist and handed them out. “Fire is dangerous down there—for obvious reasons. Use these until you know you’re clear of the gas.”

The stone was warm as if it had been sitting out in the sunshine all day. Evren smiled as the warm light touched her face. Her own little sun.

“Now, we’re ready,” she said.

She took the front as she led the others closer to the entrance. They all pretended to ignore the touching goodbye between Sol and Mal. As Sol rushed to catch up, they all lined up at the edge of the entrance.

Before them, darkness beckoned once again—this time, thick and seemingly endless. That same sudden flash of panic tore through Evren’s body once again, but she shoved it down. It was just another unknown. Monsters were animals, no matter the habitat. The Yawning Deep was a challenge, sure, and a daunting one at that, but there was something silently thrilling behind the fear. Something new.

You’ll shake the world to its very foundations down there.

Evren took a breath. Holding the light in front of her, she took her first steps into the Yawning Deep. One by one, her party followed until the darkness enveloped them all.

The shadows beckoned, and they answered.

6

The biggest problem with tracking underground was the lack of light. And, hilariously, it was the one thing that hadn’t crossed Evren’s mind when she planned for the trip. It took little time for the light of Dirn-Darahl to fade behind them. Sooner than she would’ve liked, there was nothing but shadows and rock.

Evren knew the cavern was vast—she couldn’t forget the size of the creature that’d made it or how small she’d felt at the entrance. It was at least forty feet wide and tall. And while the walls and floor showed the telltale signs of burrowing, the rock was incredibly smooth—almost slippery in some areas. That didn’t make tracking any easier. But there wasn’t much to track as of yet anyway. The tunnel twisted and wound farther down into the Deep, but it never branched out. There was only one way to go: forward. And Evren, despite the ease of travel, found herself getting antsy.

The second biggest problem with her current situation was time.

Evren wasn’t sure how much had passed since they’d left the city. It felt like hours. It might as well have been, and a tiny part of her hoped it was. But she knew better. It was hard to tell how much ground they were covering.

“Sol, I have a question.” Sorin’s voice was infuriatingly loud when he finally broke the silence. It was amazing that he’d stayed quiet for so long, but Evren wasn’t the only one who jumped at the sudden noise. She heard a dull thwack behind her, and Sorin’s voice went up an octave. “Ow! Okay, okay, I’ll give some warning next time.”

Arke sounded as if he didn’t want to talk. “You better.”

“Now, back to my first statement,” he continued. “Sol?”

“Sorin?”

“What are those glowy things? I do love having my own personal spotlight, but I’m desperate to know.”

“Oh, the rocks?” She heard Sol shuffling behind her, trading places with Abraxas so she could walk closer to Sorin. “We call them Luminstones. They mostly grow around Dirn-Darahl. There’s a big mine a little east of the city.”

“They’re beautiful. It’s no wonder you use them everywhere.”

“They’re also extremely common so long as you keep the colonies of Luminmanders breeding.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Sol sighed, and Evren pictured her putting her stone away and starting to talk with her hands as Evren had noticed she did last night. “Luminmanders are little lizards that live in the caves around here. They produce a glow to attract their mates.”

“And what does that have to do with the stones?”

“They’re found around the Luminmander colonies because they get their natural glow from them. When they, uh, relieve themselves.”

Sorin dropped his stone as if it had burned him, staring at her in horror. The Luminstone rolled down the slope until Abraxas stopped it with his boot and picked it up, but Sorin was past caring.

“You harvest shit stones and decorate with them?” he exclaimed. “And then hand them out like candy? People rub their faces on those. I rubbed my face on it!”

Sol held her hands up defensively. “We wash them. We’re not animals.”

“It doesn’t matter. A glowing, horny lizard claimed that first, and now it’s all over my hands.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Sol.”

“Oh, so now he gets it,” Arke grumbled, rubbing his temples.

Evren wanted to laugh, but her frayed nerves wouldn’t allow it. Her mind was on the hunt, and survival was right behind that in the list of priorities. So, she turned around to face them and quietly said, “Sorin?”

“What?” He turned to her fully, his hands splayed out in front of him. “Am I glowing yet?”

“No.” She pressed a finger to her lips.

“Oh.” His voice went down to an instant whisper. “Is there something out there?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

She blinked at him, content to just let the silence grate for a second before explaining. “We’re following the path of a monster worm. The only advantage that gives us is that said worm would likely stay away from pockets of gas. However, do you see anywhere else to go but forward?”

“Back up?”

She scowled, and he had the decency to look sheepish. “This is a one-way tunnel. If the worm comes back because it senses prey, or it’s burrowing a new tunnel, we have nowhere to go.”

“Ah.” He waved a finger in the air. “So, be quiet, then?”

She nodded, and Abraxas silently handed Sorin back his Luminstone. He grimaced a bit but took it in his fingertips. Sol shook her head, muttering, “Big baby.” He looked as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it, then followed them quietly down the worm’s tunnel instead.

Silence descended once more. For about another two hours, very little was said. Hushed whispers of apology as someone slipped and righted themselves against another. The crackle of loose pebbles against the smooth floor. Everyone’s steady breathing.

After a while, they heard a soft humming sound. The melody was simple, and the voice wavered slightly in the hum as if it were out of practice. But it was comforting, nonetheless. Evren spared a glance behind her and was surprised to find Abraxas as the source. He faltered under her gaze, but she shook her head. A little humming wouldn’t hurt them.

Only five minutes of steady silence remained until the humming picked up again. She didn’t know the tune, but it had a steady rhythm that her feet found perfect to march to.

The tunnel stopped sloping not long after. She barely noticed until she started stubbing her toes on the ground, tripping. She winced. This was either a good thing or a bad one—and not just for her toes. She hoped they weren’t walking straight into the worm’s mouth or nest. She could stand there cursing Karas’s intelligence all day, but she’d be thankful if the fool had led them away from the monster and not straight towards it. It would make for a very short trip.

Her fears only lessened slightly when her strained eyes picked out light coming from the end of the tunnel. The orange glow was faint, and a ways off, but she stopped the group and let them know about what she’d seen in hushed tones.

“No luck this could be a camp full of wounded prisoners, huh?” Sorin whispered.

She really wished, but she knew better than to hope.

Sol frowned. “No, I think I know where we are. But we’ll have to get closer to be sure.”

Gyda stood in the back with her arms crossed and nodded to Evren. “At your lead.”

Lead.

Evren suppressed another shudder that trailed down her spine as she renewed her pace towards the light. Somehow, the more the word was repeated, the less appealing it sounded to her.

The closer they got, the brighter the light became. And the air quickly got hot and stuffy, as well. Under her leathers, sweat pooled and ran down her back. She wiggled around a bit to curb the trickle but only succeeded in smearing it. She grimaced. She hated that feeling.

Soon enough, the cause for the heat became visible. The tunnel opened into an enormous natural cavern. The ceiling soared above her, covered in giant stalactites that glistened like sharp teeth. The cavern itself was nearly as large as the prison level, but its floor was riddled with formations and stalagmites stabbing into the air, grasping for their twins at the ceiling. A massive open chasm spewing endless fire bisected the space, lighting the entire cavern in a space of orange light. The heat was almost unbearable, and Evren moved the group away from it quickly.

“Just as I thought.” Sol wiped the beading sweat from her forehead. “We made it to the Chasm.”

Evren remembered it being mentioned last night and the dark mark on the map that represented it. Would it have killed Temsen to add some flames?

“I’d ask how you know, but I think there are very few natural chasms churning out flames,” Abraxas said dryly.

“It was discovered about a century ago, back when my people were first starting to use gas.” She squinted at the fire. “They made a mistake while drilling and couldn’t contain the gas. So, they set it aflame.”

“And it’s still burning,” Gyda murmured. “Lovely.”

“The miners call it Vazgun’s Gate. The entrance into the Hells, should you get past the demon that guards it.”

“I won’t be calling Vazgun up for tea anytime soon.” Sorin waved away some of the heat.

“Look, you can still see the original entrance on the other side.” Sol pointed across the Chasm. Evren bent her knees and followed Sol’s finger through the flames. Barely visible on the other side was an elaborate but aged door carved into the wall. “If we’d taken Jalaa’s Road, we would’ve seen the other side. The tunnel on the map you wanted to take would’ve branched off from that.”

“Good, we’ve got some semblance of direction then.”

“Except there’s another way out.” Arke’s normally wild hair was getting weighed down by sweat.

“For the worm and Karas.” Evren nodded. “All right, everyone take a breather. Get back in the first tunnel if you have to. I need to look for tracks.”

There were no objections. The rest of the group filed into the worm’s tunnel. Only Sol stayed put for a bit. She had the map out and muttered to herself as she tried to connect the roads and tunnels in her mind to the ones on the map. She even managed to point out an abandoned watchtower up on the wall high above them.

“Not much of it left,” she mused. “But back then, the King we had was paranoid.”

“Of what?”

Sol turned to Evren, her light eyes darker than usual and seemingly deep in thought as she rolled up the map and gave it back. “As far as we know, there’s no end to the Yawning Deep. Who’s to say there isn’t more down here than giant worms and hell gates?”

Evren decided to put that dark thought from her mind as Sol walked away. It nagged back there, of course. As all shadowy fears did. But she’d learned long ago to keep them safely tucked in a corner. They wouldn’t do much besides scare her now.

She returned to the task at hand. It was difficult at first to tell where the worm had gone. She scoured the ground for signs. She found the remnants of a Guzzler nest, and the sound of hissing in the distance clued her in that there were likely more. But a broken natural column was her first clue to the worm. After that, it was only a matter of remembering how big the creature was. The imprint its body had left on the ground was wide, and Evren’s eyes could easily miss it if she weren’t looking for it. She found the next entrance into its tunnel on the other side of the cavern, far away from the fire.

But signs of Karas’s company didn’t follow the worm. Evren didn’t hide the cool rush of relief she felt when she noticed that. Their tracks were easy to follow. As Heliodar had said, they were injured and had no supplies. The dirt was scuffed where someone had dragged their leg. She saw spots of dried blood. No one was dead yet, unless they decided to toss the bodies into the Chasm. But Evren had a gut feeling that they would keep their numbers as much as they could. Pack tactics worked well when survival was top priority.

The tracks led Evren to the very end of the cavern. At that point, the formations had given way to empty and partially flat rock. The only thing that stood out was a massive chunk in the wall that jutted out like a bulwark. Beyond it, the beginning of another tunnel started. This one was completely natural, not made by dwarf nor worm. And it appeared that Karas had dragged his men down there, farther from the light.

Evren quickly retrieved her party members. She could tell that they were relieved the worm had gone one way while their trail led another. Even Gyda managed to curb her disappointment enough to tear herself away from the worm’s tunnel. At the sight of the trail ahead, everyone sighed and prepared themselves while Sol sloppily added to her map.

“That rock would make an excellent outpost.” She pointed to the bulwark. “I can see a fort just waiting to be revealed in the stone.”

Arke wrinkled his flat nose. “I see rock. Lots of it. It’s all I’ve seen for days.”

“Now, now, Arke.” Sorin put his hand on the goblin’s shoulder as they followed Evren into the tunnel. “We’ve seen more than that. Why, we’ve seen pointy rocks. Black rocks. Rocks on fire. Glowing shit rocks . . .”

Sorin continued listing the types of rocks well into the tunnel. He had the good sense to keep his voice down, but he filled the stretching minutes as they clambered over natural formations and squeezed around tight corners. Sol even helped out at one point and started listing all the different types of stone used in the building of the city and the types of those around them.

Evren tuned them out, her eyes focused on the ground and the light from her Luminstone. The ground was slick and uneven now. More than once, she had to slide on her butt to safely get down from a formation. Sometimes, the cave helped with what seemed like natural steps. They were dangerously slick, but easier than hauling herself over and up the wet rocks.

The two that had the worst time were Abraxas and Gyda. Abraxas’s armor was bulky and had no give in the narrow passages they sometimes had to fit in. Gyda got stuck more than once. It took some pulling and pushing from both sides, and a lot of cursing from her, to free her. She dislodged rocks wherever she went. At one point, she broke a forming stalactite on purpose because it hung too close to her head. She was in a foul mood, and Evren couldn’t blame her.

Despite his grumbling, Arke had it the easiest. He fussed and muttered and angrily flipped through his spellbook constantly. But he was nimble and small, and the caves held little challenge for him—or Sol for that matter. But no one was surprised at how easy a time the dwarf had underground.

Evren led for hours, stopping every now and then to let Sorin catch up if he’d fallen behind, or to help get one of the warriors unstuck. She settled into an easy rhythm of calling out when the floor suddenly dipped or if there was a rock they had to climb over. It wasn’t easy or quick. But it was progress, and it was the type of work her brain could get used to.

After what seemed like ages, they settled to rest at a fork in the path. There was a clear pool of water near where they sat so they washed off the sweat and dust. Beyond that, the caves split in two. While they rested, Evren weighed both options.

With the water, it was difficult to tell which way Karas had gone. She didn’t want to admit that she’d lost his trail, but the little watering hole seemed to be a stopping point for many creatures, and the rock was smooth around it, leaving little room for a trail. She could still see the muddy boot prints in the water and the fact that they led out. But apart from that, she was lost.

“It’s a fifty-fifty shot,” Sol said as she chewed on one of the breakfast rolls.

“The caves could go anywhere.” Evren sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. “If I pick the wrong one, we could end up horribly lost, and Karas will get away.”

“So, choose the right one.”

Evren let out a choked laugh. “It’s not that easy.”

“Sure, it is.” Sol picked some lint off her roll. “We all leave behind something. You’re looking for tracks. Scuff marks. Blood, even. But there could be other things. Karas had a plan. He’s not going in blindly. So, is he using the trails that start heading up? Or is he heading farther down? Maybe he’s focusing on finding another source of fresh water. Or perhaps he’s looking for food. Long game or short, there’s a reason behind everything we do. He’s left a trace to follow, even if it’s not his. That makes sense, right?”

Evren stared at her for a moment. And during that moment, she wasn’t deep underground, shaking water off her socks. She was basking in the sunshine and the spring breeze. Where the trees were so wide, she needed five friends to wrap their connected arms around their trunks, and the air smelled like sweet sap and fresh leaves. Somewhere behind her, a warm voice laughed and reminded her to keep looking for what they were tracking, not for pretty rocks.

She blinked away the memory and smiled at Sol. “That makes perfect sense, actually.”

“Really? Phew!” She laughed nervously. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m just spitting nonsense and don’t know when to stop.”

“You’re fine, I promise,” Evren reassured her and put her boots back on. When she got up, everyone noticed. Sorin groaned about sore feet already, but it was mild compared to what they knew he could say. As much as Evren wanted to make camp, she knew this wasn’t the place for it. They needed to press on.

While the rest refilled their waterskins, Evren hopped over a couple of rocks to get to the other side. At the fork, she stared at the two tunnels. Neither seemed very different. Their walls were both slick with moisture. Soft, silty sand began to gather in pockets down the way. The only consolation was that neither looked as if they remained narrow for very long, which would hopefully improve Gyda’s mood more than Arke’s linty bread rolls.

Evren closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The same air hit her nose as it had for hours now. Stale, still, and with a sharp mineral scent to it that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Her fingers found the wet surface of the wall that divided the two. As her fingertips danced over the rock, moving left and right and up and down, she pulled back the old memory.

Sometimes, it’s not about what you see, little Ren. Close your eyes for me. What do you feel?

She took a deep breath, letting her hand wander, inch by inch. The rock under her skin was cold and slippery.

The earth leaves clues to all who are willing to seek them. We all leave echoes—footprints in the sand. And they’re not always visible. Let the earth guide you. Let it teach you.

Evren’s body was trapped below ground, but her mind was a world away. She could see the sunlight against her eyelids. She felt his presence behind her like a comforting blanket that she could throw on whenever she was ready. She wasn’t. She could do this on her own. Like she had before.

What do you feel?

Evren’s fingers suddenly met something sharp. Her eyes flashed open and, without moving that one hand, she brought out her Luminstone. Under the warm light, she found what her finger had felt. The barest scratch in the otherwise smooth wall. A short line with a little flick at the tail. Too sharp to be passed off as natural, but it was small enough to be missed by most eyes. The left tunnel was the way to go.

“We’re going left.” Evren traced the symbol as she smiled.

“Ah, so all the wall fondling did have a purpose!” Sorin laughed as they picked their way over. “Good to know.”

“It appears Karas marked his path,” she explained. “Could be he was willing to backtrack, if necessary.”

“I can deal with him being lost,” Sol said with a grin.

“Me, too. That’ll give us an edge.”

“You know, just because we have half a map doesn’t mean we aren’t lost, too,” Sorin said.

“Have some faith.” Sol nudged him.

“I’ll leave that to the big guy in armor, thanks.”

Evren started to join in with the banter. Despite the long day, she felt good. Even if the tug back home was even stronger now, she could endure it for a little while longer. But just as she pushed away from the wall, she felt something else beneath her fingers and stilled.

Everyone noticed. Sorin walked forward. “Uh, Evren? What’s wrong?”

She shushed him harshly.

“What—?”

“Shut up!” she hissed. And he did. Although whether it was because of the bite in her words or the fear in her eyes, she wasn’t sure.

She pressed her hand flat against the rock, silently willing herself to be wrong. But, once again, the stone shuddered under her fingers. A small shake that she might not have noticed if she hadn’t put her hand down.

We all leave echoes.

“It’s coming,” she whispered. “The worm felt us.”

Arke cursed and went for his spellbook. Sol’s eyes were wide. “Of course. It can feel our vibrations when we walk.”

“And talk,” Abraxas said in a hushed tone. “What do we do?”

Evren’s hand was glued to the wall. She chewed her lip, feeling the tremor come and go.

“Stay still,” she whispered. “Maybe it’ll lose us.”

She willed every muscle to freeze. Her planted feet dug into the ground; her hand melted into the wall. She felt that if she ceased to breathe, she would become one with the stone, and the cavern would embrace her forever.

Minutes passed. Maybe even an hour. Time stretched on forever. Breaths came out in tiny gasps as if the very nature of breathing would be enough to draw the worm to them. And maybe it would. She didn’t know this beast and all it could do. She’d underestimated it.

After a small eternity of still silence, Evren took her hand away from the wall and let out a shaky breath. “I haven’t felt it in a while. We should move. Carefully. And quietly.”

They all cast a worried look at Gyda in the back, whose rough-hide armor was still dusted with the gravel of her earlier rock defeats. She frowned and lifted a broad shoulder. “What?”

“The rocks are our friends now,” Sorin said with a cautious grin.

Gyda scowled. “Easy for you to say. You’re tiny.”

Sorin kept his guffawing to a minimum as they slowly stepped closer to Evren, one at a time. She beckoned Gyda up to the front, and the warrior regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

“If the passage gets too narrow, we’ll need to turn around,” she explained. “I’ll lead with you, don’t worry.”

“I won’t.”

Despite the tense atmosphere, Evren let herself smile. She rose on tiptoes to brush some gravel from Gyda’s shoulder. She flicked the pebbles to the ground, and with a tiny shower of clicks, they settled a few feet from the rest of the group, settling near the water’s edge.

Evren froze, her hand still on Gyda’s shoulder. The pebbles suddenly started to shake, the crystalline water rippling beside them. Fear gripped her heart like an icy fist.

“Get into the tunnel.” She didn’t bother to keep her voice down. “Now!”

No sooner had the words left her lips than the earth erupted.

The still air suddenly turned into a gale as the worm’s massive body tore through the cavern. Evren felt everyone press against her and away from the monster. Gyda nearly fell on top of her or was shielding her. Evren was too terrified to determine the difference. The pool was destroyed. The stone cracked and buckled under their feet. Dark, mottled purple skin was all Evren could see.

It took minutes, but with a sick sound of air being sucked into a hole, the worm’s tail flicked past them and disappeared into the ceiling above. It had missed them by mere feet.

Evren shook, and her Luminstone nearly fell out of her hand. With a rough grip of her shoulder, Gyda forced her to focus.

“Evren.” The warrior’s face filled her vision—a much better sight than the worm. “What do we do?”

She shook her head, but the fear remained. So, she gripped her stone tightly and tried to force some iron into her voice. “Left. Quickly and quietly. It’ll come back.”

The order rippled through them, and they wasted no time turning their backs on the gaping holes behind them. Evren let them all pass, counting off in her head to make sure she hadn’t lost anyone. And then she took up the rear.

Survive first, she told herself. Then continue the hunt. She hadn’t counted on being hunted in return, though. She worried that every step they made on the rock sent out harsh ripples, and it made her cringe.

The tunnel sloped down, which she hoped was a good sign. The sand could help keep them silent. But a cold prickle of fear remained on the back of her neck. She paused and put her hand back on the wall.

“Everyone, back to me.” Her voice echoed through the tunnel, and everyone skidded to a halt. “Gyda, get them back to me, quickly!”

The large woman took no time pushing everyone back. Sol had been right in front of Evren, and her eyes were wide with fear and questions as Abraxas pushed past her.

“Get to the right tunnel and lay low,” she told Sol, not moving her hand. The trembling was getting closer. “Don’t move once you get there. I’ll be right there.”

Sol nodded sharply and took off behind their black knight.

As her fingers started to itch on the stone, Gyda strode by quickly, holding Sorin by his collar.

“I can walk on my own,” he protested.

“Get to the right and stay still,” she repeated. She didn’t watch them as they disappeared. Someone was missing.

“Arke?” she called. She took her hand away. She felt the vibrations through her feet now.

Evren heard the goblin’s panicked breathing before she saw him. He was struggling to climb his way up. His smaller legs couldn’t cover the same ground as the others, and his spellbook kept getting in the way. He hauled himself up the short ledge a few feet from Evren, panting, just as the leather tome slipped from under his arm to hit the ground behind him with a heavy thud.

“No!” Arke’s panicked voice shot through the dark, and he clambered back down.

“Arke, leave it!” She rushed after him.

“I can’t.”

She reached the ledge just as he secured the book again. Without hesitating, she grabbed the collar of his cloak and hauled him off his feet just as the ground gave way beneath them. He hissed and screamed as the worm ate through the rock he’d just been standing on. Evren threw them away from the worm, stumbling as the creature shrieked in frustration and rattled the Yawning Deep itself.

With Arke still in hand, Evren took off after the others. The goblin wiggled and fought, screaming, “Put me down!” But she paid him no mind. She rounded the corner and swung into the right tunnel, where all her friends stood waiting with shocked faces. The cavern still shook violently. They needed to get out.

She set Arke on his feet. “Get us out of here. Quickly!”

“How?” he growled over the sounds of the worm.

“Magic,” she shot back. “Figure it out.”

All they needed to do was survive. One breath at a time, that was all she was asking.

The goblin narrowed his eyes but flipped open the book that had nearly cost him his life. Everyone crowded around him as his fingers skimmed the pages, nearly black with charcoal. Evren couldn’t tell if it was gibberish or if her fear kept her from reading his writing.

Dust and rock rained down from the ceiling as arcane energy started to sizzle through the air. Evren felt the hairs on her arms stand up. The air smelled sharp and metallic. Bright energy suddenly wreathed Arke’s clawed hand as the scribbles leapt from the page and hovered in the air around him. Without warning or explanation, he slammed his hand down on the ground.

A wave of ice shot out from his fist and covered the whole floor. Evren’s feet started to slip out from under her, and she grabbed onto Sorin’s sleeve to keep herself up.

“Hold on!” Arke warned. Then he turned the ice to the rest of the floor, and its sharp decline downwards.

They slid at an alarming speed with the ice underneath them. It was bitterly cold and wet and did little to cushion the bumps and sharp rocks. But as they flew through the tunnel, Evren almost felt like laughing—and screaming.

She did neither. As the air whooshed past at an alarming speed, Evren grabbed onto Abraxas in front of her with her other hand to steady herself. The others all took the same cue and linked up. They circled Arke in a mess of wobbling, ice-slick legs as he focused. He built more and more ice in front of them, the never-ending stream of words flowing from his mouth and sending pulses of magical energy into the air around them. They flew over pools of water and narrowly avoided being speared by rocks. All the while, the ice under their feet held strong and true.

Time was once more a blur. They could’ve skated for days as far as Evren knew. Her fear and adrenaline kept her focused on one thing: staying on her feet. She was sure that Sorin’s arm suffered for it. But before she knew it, Arke stopped the ice.

Evren couldn’t curb her cry of surprise as they all flew out of the tunnel. One by one, they lost their footing. From slick ice curving sharply downward to flat rock. They stood no chance. Their formation shattered as they tumbled over one another. Evren barely avoided hitting Abraxas’s shield.

She rolled to a stop on the flat, dry earth, groaning. For a while, she was content to just stay there with her face pressed against the earth, a rock jabbing into her spleen. But she gave herself a little nudge and rolled onto her back. She closed her eyes and pressed her hand flat against the ground again. She waited and counted the seconds and breaths. When she felt nothing, she sighed in relief and drew her hand away from the ground.

And then she began to laugh.

It was just a small chuckle at first. The last bit of her adrenaline leaving her in tiny bubbles. But soon, it grew, and she couldn’t stop. She felt tears prickling her eyes, and her already sore ribs started to ache as she hugged them. But she didn’t care. She was alive. They all were. And they’d survived in the most ridiculous way imaginable.

It wasn’t long before she wasn’t the only one laughing. Sorin was the first to join in, wheezing out the occasional, “Hells, let’s do that again!” Abraxas’s laugh never left a low chuckle and was completely overwhelmed by Gyda’s rumble. Sol cackled like a witch and even snorted a few times, which sent them all into fits of blazing laughter once more.

Off to the side, once the laughter had died down, Arke sighed. “I hate you all.”

Sol snorted again, and the cycle began anew. Only this time, Arke’s raspy giggle could be heard, as well.

7

Evren had a sneaking suspicion that the entire party would’ve been happy to camp right where they landed. And a part of her couldn’t blame them. She didn’t mind pain. An aching muscle meant she had done work. The sting of a cut reminded her that she’d come out of a battle intact. But now, her body had reached its limit. Hiking underground all day and skating on magic ice was more than enough to wear her out. But she ignored the screaming muscles and already formed bruises as she pushed herself back to her feet. She panted to catch her breath and wiped the melting ice from her pants as she finally got a good look at where they had landed.

The ceiling was impossibly high, and the floors were strangely flat and level. There didn’t seem to be a straightforward way out. No new cavern other than the one they’d come through. The walls around them looked sturdy and solid, except to the right, where it looked as if there had been a cave-in. Water poured in small waterfalls along the walls, pooling in cracks in the corner and giving the whole room a musical, almost relaxing ambiance. She frowned as she scraped the toe of her boot against the ground, pushing back dust and gravel to reveal a pattern and seams. Edges of rock melded together and arranged in different but repeating patterns. With a jolt, she looked back at the walls. They were also incredibly straight and no doubt level. Age and water had worn them, but she could still make out the carved columns that surrounded a great door, easily thirty feet tall. Even from across the room, she saw the intricate carvings on its face.

“Divines,” Abraxas breathed from his spot on the floor. “This is . . .”

He lost the words, but Sol was already on her feet, her eyes wide with astonishment. “A home. A giant’s home.”

“Well.” Sorin batted off his coat. “They could do with some cleaning. A little bit of dusting. Maybe some polish?”

No one paid him any mind. Sol muttered something in Dwarvish under her breath over and over again, her voice echoing along the walls in tandem with the water. Evren just stared at it all. She craned her neck to look at the ceiling again, only now noticing the elegant arches hidden beneath the growing stalactites.

It was when Gyda finally moved that everyone took notice—except for Arke, who looked as if he’d passed out with his spellbook on his chest. She moved cautiously over to the door and raised a hand. Her fingertips quivered slightly as they traced the carvings. Built-up debris crumbled to the floor in little showers. With each passing stroke of her fingers, more was revealed. Evren thought they might be shapes or maybe even symbols. But as she watched them start to glow a very soft blue, she recognized them for what they were.

“Dwarven runes?” she asked.

Sol shook her head. “Giant. We use them to this day. In honor and remembrance. But the language was theirs first.”

Cautiously, as if afraid to spook her, the dwarf picked her way across the room to Gyda. She stood by her side and gently touched one of the runes. It flickered under her touch, but didn’t glow like the one’s Gyda had touched, and she withdrew her hand. She looked up at Gyda, who still stared at the door as if entranced.

“You’re part giant,” she breathed. “Aren’t you?”

Gyda’s eyes finally fell on her, and she shrugged. “Not a lot of their blood in me. But, yes.”

A huge grin broke out across Sol’s face. “That’s incredible. Is that why you knew these runes? I grew up studying them like all dwarves do, but I don’t recognize half of these.”

“No.” Gyda shook her head. “I just . . . I had a feeling I’ve had before. That’s all.”

“What feeling?” Evren’s voice drew them both away from the door. Gyda’s eyes were distant, and for a moment, she was sure the other woman wouldn’t answer her. But she sighed and drew her sword out from its scabbard on her back. Even in the dim light, the long blade shone along its sharp edge. But it was the handle that really drew Evren’s attention. She hadn’t noticed before, but now that Gyda showed her, she saw the long, curved hilt made of gleaming white bone. Carved into the bone were two softly glowing runes that matched a couple on the wall.

Gyda let the sword twist around her hand in a lazy arc, the large blade catching and cutting the air with a dull hiss. “I am of the Ikedree peoples. In the Reino Terminan, living with such an item is a gift. The mountains are harsh, we must be harsher. My foya, my father, had this in his possession. I found it . . .” A dark look crossed her face. “Later. The hilt only. The sword is incomplete.”

Sorin let out a strangled laugh. “Uh, the big-ass blade seems complete enough to me.”

“It’s just steel,” Gyda insisted.

“So?”

Sol shook her head. “No, she’s right. A giant’s weapon is powerful. With the right runes and metals, it’s legendary. But Eith has very few pieces. It’s rare to find one whole.”

“So, you’re searching for the rest of the sword?” Evren said slowly. “Like a puzzle? Why?”

Gyda hesitated, and the blade wavered in her grip. She sheathed it again and rolled her shoulders back, her expression grim. “My people did not worship giants the way Sol’s people do. They live where we do and are more threat than help most often. But when someone like me is born, it is a gift to the people. The sword was always meant for me, so I must put it together. That’s why I came to the city.”

“Have you seen any living giants?” Sol asked, excitement creeping into her voice. Gyda nodded tensely, and Evren thought the dwarf might roll around in glee. “Oh, Jalaa, that’s amazing. What were they like?”

“Tall.”

Sorin snorted. “I guess I don’t get it.”

“What? Giants or swords?”

“Oh, I get shiny artifacts, don’t worry.” He held up his hands. “But this worshipping stuff . . . I mean, at least Abraxas had gods. Had being the keyword there. But why giants?”

Evren was worried that Sol might take offense, much as Abraxas had. But she merely laughed. “A giant created the dwarves, Sorin. They are our gods. Jalaa, the Stone Mother, is the one who shaped us and breathed life into us. With the help of a few other giants, but that’s a long story.”

“I know this Jalaa,” Gyda mused. “Where I am from, she is a fierce warrior and a judge of the lost. Those who lose their way in the mountains are said to find their way to her, one way or another.”

“My people said she died,” Sol said sadly. “But that she lives on in all of us.”

“Could be my people have the wrong Jalaa, then.”

“Maybe. Or perhaps she’s still out there. I like that thought.” She sighed, looking up at the ruined ceiling. “So much of the old world was lost or driven away. I believe in the future, and the possibilities it holds but . . . it’s just sad, isn’t it? The world moves on and eventually forgets. And the old withers away in the shadows.”

For a moment, no one said anything. The weight of Sol’s words settled over them all like a heavy blanket. And Evren, for all her distance and practicality, couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss in her chest. How many ruins had been left to time in the Deep? Or elsewhere. Eith was an endless maze of new discoveries and dangerous landscapes. From the harsh, seemingly endless mountains of the Reino Terminan, to the wild and unforgiving Boreal Sea, to the hazy, hot sands of Vernes and all the way back to the jagged cliffs and the Deep Wood of Etherak. It was all so ancient and wild. In it, she felt small. And so deep underground, standing in the ruins of a giant’s home, she felt even smaller. Like an ant waiting for a boot to come stomping down on her.

“I don’t think so,” she said suddenly. She watched the soft blue light of the runes bathe her party’s exhausted faces. She watched their gazes turn to her, though never quite meeting hers. “I think that so long as there are people like us, the past never dies. We won’t forget this place, nor the events that led us here. There is more to be seen through that door. And when we see it, we’ll bring it back. So long as there are good people to remember the past, it’ll live on.”

Sorin chuckled softly. “Are we good people now?”

From his spot on the floor, Arke didn’t open his eyes. He barely even moved his lips. “I’m a fuckin’ delight. Dunno about the rest of you.”

A ripple of laughter radiated from all of them, although not nearly as feverishly as the fit that’d seized them before. It tasted bittersweet on her tongue, the laughter. But Evren was just glad that she was alive to laugh at all.

It was a silent and unanimous agreement that they would make camp where they’d landed. There was little to use for a fire, but with Sorin’s help in rousing Arke, they managed to get him to produce enough flames to warm their food. He grumbled and flicked the fire out with his wrist before returning to his half-sprawled bedroll. It was only a couple minutes later before they heard him snoring.

They ate in silence. The runes faded after some time, even though Evren was sure she caught a few still blinking as if just waiting for Gyda to wake them again. But she was the second to fall asleep, and not long after, Sorin and Sol followed. They’d made a half-moon with how they’d spread out their bedrolls, encircling a nonexistent fire. Soon, it was only Evren and Abraxas in the dark with the sound of the water trickling and Arke’s snoring.

Evren finished picking at her rations and wrapped up what she couldn’t eat for later to put back in her pack. She tucked her knees under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. Oh, how she longed for a warm fire to stare into until the blue outline of flames was all that she could see. Instead, all she had to look at were broken tiles and Abraxas’s feet. Neither was a great option. But considering her current mood, she didn’t have the heart to find something more interesting. And she couldn’t will herself to bed, even after a long day.

Now that the adrenaline had passed and the awe of the room was gone, Evren was left with her thoughts. And her head was always a dangerous place to be. The problem was that she had everything. Her list was nearly completely checked off, and everyone was safe. But no one had dared to utter that the left tunnel was the one Karas had gone down. And Evren had forced everyone right. As beautiful as the giant room was, she wasn’t meant to see it. And she had no plan for how to get back on track once morning came.

She was lost. Just as she’d told Heliodar, she’d led them to their deaths. They just weren’t dead yet.

“You seem troubled.” Abraxas’s deep voice was low so as not to disturb everyone else.

“Keen eyes.”

“Not as keen as yours.”

She huffed. “A lot of good that did us.”

He frowned. “Didn’t it?”

She shrugged at him as he continued.

“You led us through the Deep, well and safely. You warned us of the worm’s attack.”

“And caused it.” She cringed, the memory of brushing the pebble off Gyda’s shoulder and it rattling on the ground still fresh. “I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

“Perhaps.” He tucked a strand of hair behind his pointed ear, and Evren could see a few strands of silver peeking through. “But I still see this as a victory.”

“How? Abraxas, we went the wrong way. I went the wrong way. And we can’t go back without risking the worm again. For all we know, we are miles from Karas, and we have no way of knowing how to get back to him. If there even is a way. We’re lost.”

Abraxas’s lips twitched up into a half-smile. “I believe Sorin already pointed out that half a map didn’t make us any less lost.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’re more lost than before.”

“So, we find a new path.”

“But I can’t—”

“We.” He looked at her firmly. “We’re a team, Evren Hanali. No one expects you to carry us all without fail. And if Heliodar wanted merely a tracker, you’d be here alone. Not with a cranky goblin, a Vasa with no filter, a disgraced dwarf, a part giant, and a washed-up soldier.” He paused to let the words sink in for a moment before sighing. “Let us help you in whatever way we can. A ship cannot sail with one man alone. One man does not make an army. One scale on a dragon’s hide does little to protect his heart. Together, we’re better. Let us try to be.”

Evren licked her chapped lips, her chest strangely tight. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. It’s just . . .” She huffed and felt the tips of her ears burning with embarrassment. “I’ve been on my own for so long, I don’t know what to do with others when they stick around for longer than a few hours.”

“In truth, neither do I. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to work with others to such a degree. But this cause feel’s right.”

Evren looked him up and down quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“The cause, or myself?”

“Both, if you’re willing.”

Perhaps it was their second brush with death that made her eager to know more about her companions. Or maybe it was the little crack that Gyda had carved in her resolve. Now, she started to pry it open with her fingertips, desperate for a glimpse of someone else’s goals and motivations. Maybe to find some of her own.

Across from her, Abraxas shifted uncomfortably. “I was a Knight of Haphion, the god of light, before he was banished with his kin,” he said solemnly. “I dedicated my life to his light and received much in return. I know it is hard to understand, to grasp the breadth of divinity in a world that has seen none of it for so long. But to be sworn to a god meant many things back then. In the mortal world, I was a favored knight, a chosen of the Divine. I had many privileges and sat next to royalty. But my allegiances lay with my god. I was Haphion’s servant before I was the King’s. I felt him and his presence in everything. In the first golden rays of the sunrise, in the dim starlight of the night. Even inside me as he guided my heart.” He laid his hand on his chest, his eyes distant.

“But the King . . .” Evren said slowly. “King Eldridge claimed he spoke for the gods. That he was part Divine.”

“Indeed, he did.” Abraxas’s voice was tight. “Many other knights and I believed him. How couldn’t we? We’d seen miracles before. Even performed some on occasion. I used to be able to heal wounds as well as make them. If Eldridge, who had been raised as devoutly as we had, claimed that a divine hand guided him, how could we go wrong?”

“Was he, though?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “You’re surprised.”

“I thought he’d be a liar.”

“Not all gods are good, Evren,” he said. “Many are greedy, vindictive, and cruel. Just as mortals are. The one that Eldridge bound himself to was all those things and more. He was intelligent and patient. Even honorable, to an extent.”

“Who was he?”

“His name was Nomien. God of wrath and fire. And he was perhaps the cruelest of the gods. He turned on his wife, Zelmis, when she threatened a war with the gods that would’ve destroyed our world. His betrayal is what truly led to her demise. And the world is less dark for it. But that showed just how ruthless and ambitious he was.”

“So, he influenced Eldridge?”

“In a way. Even then, the gods couldn’t control mortals. We have free will. And Eldridge was already a vengeful and ambitious man. No doubt Nomien had to do very little pushing to get the King to launch his holy crusade on the whole of Eith. The Divines touch every place in the known world, but no one worships them as deeply as Etherak. Eldridge wanted to change that. Forcefully.

“He gathered his armies. And I’m sad to admit that we all believed it was a just cause. How could the gods steer us wrong? And so, one by one, the kingdoms fell. Barely formed Terevas to the south, Melkarth to the northwest—although that occupation didn’t last long for many reasons. Gratey fell next, and after that came Vernes.” Abraxas scrubbed a hand over his chin.

“They fought the hardest. And at times, it felt as if the desert itself fought us. The people never bowed. They never prayed, and they clung to what little of their culture remained. Vernes broke us. From the common soldier to Eldridge’s own brother, Loghain, to Nomien. By the time Loghain called our occupation to an end, the damage had been done. Vernes would never be the same, and neither would we. They made sure of it. Whatever magic they used to seal the gods away from us forever, I felt. I have never been so empty or alone as I was that day in the sand. For the past few decades, I have wandered in some fruitless attempt to find purpose—or perhaps catch a glimpse of that light again. With no luck, so far. Although this . . . adventure has been interesting, to say the least.”

Evren let out a heavy breath. She knew a good number of the wars Eldridge had waged across Eith, and the loyalties and trust he’d severed along the way. But she’d never met someone who was so close to all of it.

“You know,” she said carefully. “If you’re looking for light, this is a pretty terrible place to do it.”

He smiled ruefully. “I say otherwise. In the darkest nights and in the blackest shadows, light shines the brightest. If I’m to find it, it’ll be here.”

Evren turned his words over and over in her head. Together with Sol’s previous statement about the past, she couldn’t help but feel that twinge of regret again. She didn’t know the world Abraxas had lived in where the gods roamed Eith and favored mortals enough to give them magic—Gifted magic, the kind of miracles. It wasn’t like what Arke did or the giant runes. Written magic was learned, Gifted was earned by divine or damned means. Evren’s people had their own god, but even then, she’d left, as well. The giants kept themselves isolated from the dwarves, the Divines had been banished, and the beings Evren had seen her people worship were nowhere to be found. It was something she’d never understood. Why pray and worship something that either wasn’t there or had abandoned her? What could her words do to possibly sway the Divine?

“Sol was right,” she said finally. “Eith is a sad world.”

“Maybe for now,” Abraxas agreed. “But I have faith.”

“In?”

“People,” he said with a sparkle in his eyes. “With the absence of the Divines, much in Eith crumbled to chaos. And yet, people pick up tools and weapons and fix it for themselves. Ordinary folk who probably have no business doing it, but they try all the same.”

“Is it enough?”

“Is what we’re doing enough?” he questioned. “We’re stopping criminals and preventing the collapse of a culture. Maybe the Divines could’ve stopped this if they were here, but they’re not. So, I am. And you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I like doing a god’s work.”

Abraxas looked as if he might laugh but didn’t. “Think of it as fate’s work, then. Somehow, we all ended up here. Gyda and I got roped into a mission to find and smuggle Sol out. You, Sorin, and Arke came in just as the Seekers attacked. What else could it be besides fate that led us to this destination and to each other?”

“Poor life decisions?” she offered. But in the back of her mind, she remembered the cloaked figure with the one glowing eye. Had that been fate, too? Or simply her exhaustion? Or perhaps some powerful creature trying to trick her.

“Do you think we’ll make it out?” she asked suddenly.

“It’s too early to tell.” He squinted at a flickering rune as it slowly stopped and disappeared into the door for good. “But maybe, I hope. And that’s a fragile but unbreakable thing to have.”

“I can deal with hope,” she murmured. “I prefer it to faith.”

Abraxas turned back to her and studied her for a moment. Those dark eyes seemed to take in every detail as if he searched for something but couldn’t quite find it. Eventually, he shook his head. “You need your rest. Tomorrow will be long.”

She couldn’t argue with him there. She needed to be at her best tomorrow, even if she wasn’t leading alone. But even as she unfolded her bedroll, she felt the exhaustion quickly overcoming her. She collapsed on the strangely itchy fabric, her eyes drifting closed as the sound of trickling water filled her ears.

“Abraxas?” Her blanket muffled her voice.

“Yes?”

“Do you blame the Vernesians for banishing your Divines?”

There was a long, heavy pause. She couldn’t see his reaction, and she wasn’t even sure he’d answer at all. When he did, she had to shake herself back awake.

“It was an act of desperation and vengeance.” His voice was tight. “I’m sworn to never stoop to that level. In the event that I start chasing revenge over justice, I hope someone can talk me back to the light.”

“We can.” The promise left her lips before she even realized it, her sleep-hazed mind unable to catch them before they tumbled free. But she was too tired to be embarrassed. She thought she heard a soft chuckle and Abraxas whisper,

“Let us hope we never see that day.”

8

No one had wanted to get up the next morning. They all groaned and cursed and struggled to get their aching bodies out of their bedrolls. Evren winced as she felt her bones pop and crack as she stretched. Her limbs were sore enough for her to want to curl back up and never move again, but that wasn’t an option. She yawned and rubbed her eyes as she kicked Sorin’s foot, the only thing sticking out of his blankets.

“Come on,” she muttered groggily. “We have some prisoners to catch.”

“Until I see the sunlight, it’s not morning.” Sorin’s voice was extremely muffled, and he sounded half-asleep.

From across the camp, Sol rolled her eyes. She was the only one dealing with their lack of day and night cycles well, which was no surprise. Even so, she still looked exhausted and moved stiffly.

She tiptoed over to Sorin with her Luminstone in hand, quickly shoving it under his blankets. “Your shit stone says it’s time to get up!”

Sorin yelped and threw himself and his blanket backwards, nearly tumbling into Gyda. He ran his hands over his face over and over as if trying to scrub something away. “It touched me! It touched me!”

Sol snickered and pocketed her Luminstone again. “That’s better. Now, on to breakfast.”

Over breakfast, which Sorin spent draped in his blanket like some dreary saint, they discussed their next move. No one was keen on climbing back up to the crossroads and risking the worm. And Sol pointed out that Karas could’ve used the marking on the left tunnel to throw them off his trail. It was a long shot, but everyone was in begrudging agreement. If as many tunnels connected as the map said they did, it was possible they weren’t lost, just a little waylaid. And if not, then they’d backtrack. It wasn’t the best plan, but Evren didn’t have a better one. Looking at Abraxas, she remembered their conversation the night before.

It wasn’t her job alone to lead them out. Everyone had agreed to keep going, and she wasn’t going to argue with them.

It took them a while to pack up, and even longer to figure out how to open the giant door. Luckily, with Sol’s knowledge of giant runes, and Gyda’s brute strength, they cracked the doors open enough for everyone to squeeze through. Evren was the last one out and gave the room one last, lingering glance before following her companions.

The path ahead was smooth and easy to travel. While nature was slowly taking over, creating rock formations and little streams of water chipping away at the carved stone, it was easy to see where the cavern had been hewn away to make things more civilized. It echoed Dirn-Darahl, although on a surprisingly smaller and less extravagant level. Evren found herself looking to the ceiling to get a glimpse of the faded arches and the carvings etched into them. If she squinted, she could almost see what was left of some mosaics, although what they depicted had long since worn away.

The path led them forward for a while, and it was a nice reprieve from the constant climbing and slipping in the natural caverns. Evren felt her muscles warming up and loosening as they walked. Sorin slowly worked back up to his normal volume and started chatting about nothing again. Although, if she were honest, she was glad for the noise. It kept the monotony at bay. She’d always liked the silence aboveground. But even then, it was never truly silent. There was always the hush of wind, and the rustling of leaves and tall grass. So far below ground, where the air was still and stale, it was all too much.

Beneath their feet, the ground started sloping down gently. As they made their way along the path, the walls eventually widened and fell away entirely, opening to a massive cavern. The ceiling was low, only a few feet above them, but it stretched out forever in all directions. Their lights reflecting back at them from the black floor was the only thing that broke the inky blackness.

“Water,” Evren breathed, looking out at the mirror-like surface. “It’s an underground lake.”

Sorin whistled appreciatively. “Beautiful. You know, the few feet we can see, anyway.”

“I don’t like it,” Arke rasped.

“Why?”

“Gives me the winkies.”

“The willies, Arke. It gives you the willies.”

“Whatever.” The goblin waved him off. “I still don’t like it. It’s too quiet.”

Evren wanted to agree with him. The utter and complete stillness that came from the water didn’t sit well with her. The surface was calm and still and as dark as the shadows that clung to the rock above them. The Luminstones did little to illuminate more than a few feet around them, and the rocky shore they stood on wasn’t very big but seemed to stretch around the perimeter of the lake. Evren had no idea how large or deep the body of water was, or what could possibly be living in it.

“A giant wouldn’t build its home next to a dangerous lake, right?” she asked Sol.

The dwarf shook her head. “Not intentionally. But it’s been abandoned for a long time. There’s no telling what could be in the lake now.”

“Water?” Sorin offered.

“Then go take a bath,” Gyda said, looking down at him.

Sorin laughed nervously. “Uh, no thanks.”

“You say it’s safe, though. Don’t Vasas know all about water?”

“We know about saltwater,” he corrected. “Specifically, the Boreal Sea. I’m probably the first Vasa to ever be underground.”

“First to swim in an underground lake, too.”

“Again with the terrifying words.” Sorin pointed to Gyda, taking a few steps away from her. “What’s up with this one?”

“We could throw a rock in the water,” Evren offered, ignoring them both. “Any predators not used to the disturbance would make themselves known.”

“That doesn’t solve the problem of how to cross this,” Abraxas pointed out.

“There might be a boat,” Sol said doubtfully. “If it’s even in decent enough condition.”

“It’s a start.” Abraxas nodded. “Let’s split up and walk the shore. Evren, you and Sorin stay here. Gyda, take Sol to the right. I’ll take Arke to the left. Keep your Luminstones up and stay within sight of these two.” He pointed to Evrin and Sorin. “And, for now, stay out of the water.”

Arke looked as if he might argue, but eventually he closed his mouth and tottered after Abraxas. Gyda and Sol went in the opposite direction, their height difference made even more obvious with both of them holding their stones above them.

“Who put him in charge?” Sorin grumbled.

“Seniority?” Evren offered.

He snorted. “He can’t be that old.”

“Elves can comfortably live into their five hundreds before aging truly starts to show.” Evren shrugged. “Don’t you have Vasa elves?”

Sorin shrugged, his toe digging into the gravel. “Not many. And none on the ship I grew up on. Besides, it’s rude to go up and ask someone how old they are, right?”

“Depends on the context and the person, I suppose.”

She looked back out over the water and watched the two groups tracing the outline of the shore. Gyda’s and Sol’s lights flickered from time to time whenever they passed behind a rock, but they always emerged quickly and safely. Arke’s light bobbed with every staggered step he took, and compared to how still Abraxas was, it was almost humorous. But the farther they traveled, the more the sheer size of the lake became clear. There was a very slight curve to their path, and it looked more and more as if they were walking in opposite directions instead of circling to meet each other.

“It’s massive,” Evren breathed. What if there was no end to it?

“We might have to swim,” Sorin said cheerfully. “Finally, something I can do.”

She snorted a laugh. “We’d freeze before we made it halfway across.”

“Not only that, but Abraxas would likely have to leave all that clunky armor behind or risk walking along the bottom.”

Now that was an image. Evren couldn’t help the little smile that came to her, even as she knelt closer to the water. “Keep an eye on everyone, all right?” She picked up a smooth pebble.

“What are you doing?”

“Hunting.” It was better than saying that she was just paranoid.

Evren ran her thumb over the smooth surface of the stone absentmindedly as she stood. The water, just inches from her boots, was still and smooth as glass. She hated the idea of disturbing it. A part of her felt as if she might just crack the surface like it was glass instead of water. But she shook the notion from her head and gave the pebble a little test toss in the air. It landed firmly in her palm. With a gentle flick of her wrist, she sent it sailing above the lake.

It landed with a dull splash that echoed through the wide cavern. The mirror-like surface rippled and sparkled under the light of the Luminstones. Evren held her breath, waiting for another disturbance. Something moving in the water. Maybe an agitated fin or a splash. But as the minutes ticked by, the water merely stilled again. Until it was like the pebble throw had never happened.

“Looks clear.” She shrugged.

“Or there’s a smart fish that knows the difference between a pebble and a person.”

That was always a possibility. But Evren felt better for having performed the test.

Finished with the water, she looked back at the groups. Abraxas and Arke looked as if they were making their way back, either with good news or empty hands. To the right, Gyda and Sol were . . .

Evren squinted. “Are they in the water?”

It was nearly impossible to tell, but Evren was positive that the shore didn’t dip that far into the lake. Their Luminstones were still held high above them, one only a little higher than the other. As they got closer, she realized with a jolt that they were in the water. Gyda was walking in the lake, only her head visible as she tugged a large boat. Standing in the boat was Sol, who clung to the stempost at the front. She waved, her grin giddy, and her Luminstone held high above her head as she held Gyda’s on the top of the post, which was carved in the shape of a serpent’s head.

The water on the shore lapped at Evren’s boots as they got closer. The waves Gyda made rippled out through the whole lake.

“Sorin.” Evren barely said his name before he was pulling out the rope from his pack.

“On it.”

She tore her eyes from the boat for only a brief moment to watch as he quickly tied a series of knots. His fingers were quick and nimble, and before she knew it, he had a sturdy lasso ready. He whistled to Sol, who gave him a thumbs-up. He threw it out to her, and for a brief moment, Evren thought he might miss. But Sol’s hand shot out and snatched it from the air. With a triumphant laugh, she secured it around the stempost and said something to Gyda that Evren couldn’t quite make out.

The part-giant didn’t say anything. She just clambered over the side of the boat to get out of the water. Evren’s stomach lurched as the vessel tipped dangerously to the side, but as Gyda flopped inside, it righted itself and sent larger waves onto the shore.

“Help me with this, yeah?” Sorin panted as he started pulling the rope in.

“Right.” Evren tore her eyes from the boat and took up the slack behind Sorin.

It was no easy task. Evren had no experience with boats before and pulling one so large to shore wasn’t as easy as she’d thought. Her arms started to burn again, and the rope dug into her unprotected fingers. In front of her, Sorin did most of the work but kept cursing under his breath. It felt like forever, but eventually, she made out Sol’s excited yammering, and the sound of the boat’s hull scraping against the rocky shore.

“Look what we found!” Sol threw her arms out excitedly.

Evren let her rope fall to the ground and tried to hide how much that took out of her. “Impressive.”

“I know!” The dwarf beamed almost as brightly as her stone. Behind her, Gyda dumped the water from her boots back into the lake. “We saw it drifting not too far from shore. Gyda decided to swim out and bring it back. So now, we’ve got a way across.”

“That doesn’t look giant.” Abraxas’s voice surprised everyone as he and Arke walked up. Except for Gyda, who just grunted and shook more water off herself.

But he was right. The boat was sizable—big enough for all of them and a few more people even with Gyda aboard—but it wouldn’t hold a giant.

“Fascinatin’,” Arke murmured. “Is it safe to use?”

“Sol.” Gyda held up a large pole. “You told me there wasn’t an oar on board.”

“Oh.” She looked sheepish. “Did I?”

Gyda scowled but didn’t say anything more. Evren watched Sol melt in relief as she turned back to the group. “Absolutely safe. Shall we?”

One by one, everyone climbed onto the boat with Gyda’s help. Evren hissed as the ice-cold water leaked into her boots and instantly soaked her socks. As Gyda took her arm and effortlessly pulled her aboard, she shook her feet out like a wet cat.

“How are you not shivering?” she asked. “That water is freezing.”

Gyda shrugged. “I’ve been colder.”

Inside the boat, everything was relatively simple. The hull was shallow and wide, and a matching post mirrored the one Sol was perched on, on the opposite side. As Abraxas came aboard last, Gyda took up the setting pole, and Sol left that post in favor of the other one. She put her stone back atop it, nesting it between the serpent’s jaws to create a makeshift spotlight. Gyda did the same with hers in the back post.

“Quite the little ship,” Abraxas said as he settled in.

Sorin snorted. “This is quaint compared to some of the Vasa ships I’ve seen. When this is all over, we’re going sailing.”

If it were possible, Arke looked even greener. “Not a fan of the sea, Sorin.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.”

“Are we ready?” Gyda asked, interrupting them. Sol gave another thumbs-up, and the rest of the party nodded hesitantly. Evren had taken a spot near the edge, and as she peered into the water, all she saw was darkness. She knew it wasn’t too deep if Gyda could walk it, but she didn’t like not seeing the bottom.

“Ready,” she said, swallowing her nerves.

Gyda lowered the pole into the water and dug it into the gravel. With a strong shove, she sent them sailing into the mirrored shadows.

The sudden break from the shore didn’t sit well with Evren. With every push of that pole, Gyda sent them farther away from safety. But as the shore faded from sight, Evren forced herself to be okay with that. All that surrounded her was dark water and shadowed, rocky ceilings. Sometimes, she felt she could actually touch them with her fingers if she stood. Looking out at the water, she had the strange sensation of flying. Like there was nothing under the boat but darkness. Of course, with every pass of Gyda’s pole, the water rippled and splashed, and broke that fantasy.

Still, Evren gripped the railing tightly and tried not to think too hard about it.

From her spot at the stempost, Sol acted as a lookout. She let Gyda know when there were rocks in the water that could have torn their hull to shreds. When the lake gave way to little tunnels, she always guided her to the biggest one. Evren was always relieved to see those branching waterways circle back to the lake. She didn’t like the idea of more unknowns at the moment.

An hour—maybe two—passed. Nothing really broke the silence besides Sol’s warnings. At one point, Sorin started humming a jaunty little tune under his breath, but when no one joined in on his strange song, he trailed off. Evren started to wonder how it ended, but she was too anxious to ask him. Despite the fact that there was no obvious danger, she couldn’t force herself to relax.

Eventually, Sol held up her hand, her eyes focused in front of them. Gyda pulled the boat to a scraping stop. They all sat and waited patiently for Sol as the minutes stretched on.

“Uh, Sol?” Sorin prodded.

“Right.” She shook her head and turned back to them. “Sorry, I was measuring.”

“For?”

“The ceiling. It’s a lot lower ahead, but I think only for a short while. The boat will be okay, but Gyda and the rest of us will have to hunker down.”

“Without Gyda, who keeps the boat going?”

“Inertia,” she said as if it were obvious. “She can give us one big push before we hit the low area, and while we stay low, the boat should carry on just fine. It’ll be slow, but we’ll come out the other side okay.”

Abraxas turned back to Gyda questioningly, and she just shrugged. “I don’t see another option.”

He nodded and turned back to Sol. “All right, let’s do it. Everyone, be ready to make some room.”

The boat rocked gently as everyone shifted around and rearranged themselves. Sorin went ahead and lay on his back, his long legs taking up a lot of space as he wiggled his toes. Arke grumbled and curled up as small as he could against the hull, his arms protectively wrapped around his book as Sol showed Gyda how much space she had before the ceiling dipped and then joined them lying down.

“Oh, cozy,” she said cheerfully. Abraxas lay down awkwardly, his armor creaking and scraping as he did. Sol winced. “Less so, now.”

“Apologies,” he muttered, and Sorin giggled a bit but said nothing else.

From her spot on the floor, Evren watched Gyda take the pole back and gauge the distance again. Her chest heaved with a deep breath, and with a heavy push of effort, she forced the boat into motion again. Beneath her, Evren felt the vessel moving, and the water rushing past them. But she watched Gyda, her concern growing when she didn’t immediately get down. Instead, as the ceiling started to dip slowly down, she gave another massive push with the pole and forced them to go even faster.

She quickly brought the pole back into the boat, spraying icy water over everyone and then hunkered down with them as, at last, the channel enveloped them.

They sailed on, undisturbed. Above Evren, the ceiling drifted past quickly, but their progress steadily slowed, as well. All she could hear was the gentle rush of water and the party’s heavy breathing. Or maybe it was just hers. She had the strange urge to grab someone’s hand and hold it but settled for gripping the strap of her quiver and focusing on the ceiling.

They’d make it. This was nothing compared to the worm or the prison. They’d be all right.

She kept repeating that to herself over and over again, silently in her head. She felt Gyda at her feet, shifting as she tried to get comfortable. She heard Arke mumbling somewhere above her head. Sorin started humming. A different tune than Abraxas’s. Evren wanted to join him. She’d have to ask him about Vasa songs once they were off the boat.

The light from the Luminstones suddenly sparkled off the ceiling. Evren blinked against the light, and as she focused her eyes, she nearly gasped.

Above them, the ceiling was as black and smooth as the water had been. It was like looking into a mirror. She saw herself, dirty and pale but alive and whole, lying next to Sorin. Abraxas and Sol were on his other side, and she could just make out Arke above her head, and Gyda below her. It was such a surreal feeling. She felt herself reaching out to the ceiling, and her fingers brushed against the cool, smooth surface as her mirror image did the same. She smiled, her reflection making the same crooked grin she could never quite straighten no matter how hard she tried.

“Wow,” she breathed. “This is incredible.”

Murmurs of agreement went up around the boat. From her feet, she thought she heard Gyda mutter, “Beautiful.”

Evren let her hand fall back to her side. Her grip on her strap loosened, and she felt herself beginning to relax. What other wonders did the Yawning Deep hold? How many would she see? And when she got back to the surface, would anyone even believe her? Massive, still lakes underground. Glass-like ceilings. Giant ruins, flaming chasms. No one back home could ever fathom those things.

The boat was still slowing down, but it made progress. Evren simply watched the ceiling and their reflections. She could see the whole boat, and even the water reflecting the Luminstones’ light. The lake was still the deepest black like a night sky with no stars. She stared into the blackness and watched the ripples. She watched the golden-touched waves that came from the boat as they lapped against the stones. And she watched as something pale flickered beneath the surface.

Evren froze, and her eyes snapped to the black water.

Again, a ghostly, white blur of movement. And then another. Long and sleek. They moved quickly. She only ever caught the tail-end of them, and the flick of the scaleless forms as they darted back and forth around the boat. They were circling it.

They were hunting it.

“The water—!” Evren didn’t have time to say anything else.

The boat suddenly tilted violently as something rammed into it. She reactively reached out and grabbed the side to steady herself as Sorin gripped her other arm.

Ice-cold claws sank into her wrist as something cold and slimy latched onto her. She bit back a scream, feeling the claws rake across her skin like fire as she yanked her hand back. The cuts were deep and already welling with blood. Her hand started to go numb.

Evren started to sit up but the low ceiling forced her back down. The boat tipped violently again, its hull coming dangerously close to scraping the mirrored ceiling. Through the reflection, Evren saw a pack of pale creatures, their tails long and nearly translucent, their long arms tipped with thin fingers and jagged claws.

“I don’t like these mermaids!” Sorin cried.

“Hold on!” Sol’s voice was the last thing Evren heard as the boat gave a screeching groan and tipped them all into the water.

The icy-cold water hit Evren like a physical blow. She couldn’t move. Then she felt Sorin’s arm around her, tugging her upward. She forced her stiff legs to kick against the water. When she broke the surface, she gasped for air.

The capsized boat floated above them; a strange bubble that made her feel protected. In front of her, Sorin held her arm tightly, his eyes wide with fear. The others were nowhere to be seen.

“What do we do?” she asked. She hated how desperate her voice sounded.

She felt something smooth and cold slither by her foot, and she kicked out blindly. Her boot just clipped whatever it was, and she felt the water shift as it swam away.

“We’ve got to swim,” Sorin said. “If they’re anything like the mermaids I’ve dealt with before, they’re pack hunters. They’ll keep us separated and pick us off one by one. Don’t—”

Something abruptly yanked Sorin underwater, the Vasa’s cry of pain swallowed by the depths. Evren fought to keep hold of him and help him remain on the surface, even as his hand slipped from hers. Before she knew it, she was being dragged under with him, the cold instantly numbing her face.

It was too dark and blurry. She couldn’t even see Sorin anymore. But she still clung to his arm, fighting with all her strength to pull him back to the surface. But that was about as useful as wet parchment compared to these creatures. She was not made for the water. Sorin’s fingers started to slip through hers again, and she wanted to scream. Then she couldn’t feel him anymore and found herself reeling back from the lack of pull from below.

She was alone.

Lungs burning, she kicked back to the surface. Under the boat again, she hoped to see a familiar face but found none. Panic swelled within her. The water sloshed against the sides of the overturned boat and tossed her back and forth. Whether it was just the creatures or her party putting up a fight, she couldn’t be sure.

And then she wasn’t alone anymore.

Appearing from the surface, a horrifying pale face looked back at her. Limp, white hair trailed in the water, the creature’s skin so pale Evren could see the veins under the slick surface. Horrible, jagged gills marked its neck, and long fangs dripped with saliva and water. Its eyes were completely clouded over and white, but Evren felt the weight of its gaze.

Before she could do anything, the creature launched itself at her. It dug its claws into her armor. It forced her under the surface again, and she barely had enough time to catch a lungful of air before she was submerged. She kicked against it and raked her useless, short nails against its slimy skin. But it didn’t let her go. It just kept dragging her farther underwater, its powerful fin propelling them at an amazing speed.

Evren felt white-hot pain in her neck as the creature bit her. Without thinking, she screamed. Precious air left her in blossoming bubbles, and she quickly shut her mouth. Unfortunately, the damage was done. She felt the strain on her lungs again, and the panic slowly taking hold.

With numb fingers, she latched onto the hilt of her dagger and drove it into the creature’s side. She felt more than heard its cry of pain. It let go of her neck. Evren pulled the dagger out and jammed it into a gill.

White blood spilled into the inky waters, and the creature twitched and let go completely. Evren kicked it off and left the dagger in its neck. It screamed and clawed but sank ever lower into the shadowy depths.

Evren allowed herself to watch for a moment just to be sure before kicking back to the surface. But everything was black. She couldn’t tell what was up or down. Her lungs screamed for air, but she couldn’t see where to go. Panic fully grasped her now, seizing her already numb limbs and making them even heavier. She clawed at the water in the shadows. Her lungs begged for air, and she struggled not to inhale the water. But she couldn’t fight her instinct for long. Ice-cold water flooded into her mouth and lungs. A pale creature swam by, and she lashed out in desperation, but all it did was circle her.

She was dying, and it knew. Why make an effort when the prey was killing themselves? Evren could’ve respected it, had she not been drowning.

A sudden blooming light broke through the darkness. Just a small pinprick like a star in the water. But it grew rapidly. The water bubbled and hissed around it as it tore through. The creatures, now lit by the energy, suddenly screamed and fled. Dimly, Evren realized there had been nearly thirty of them.

Her group hadn’t stood a chance.

The wave of hot light stopped just shy of her and started the retreat. Through it, Evren saw the surface. But her vision was fading. Her energy was drained, and her limbs felt like bricks. She couldn’t move.

Numbly, she realized that she was going to die. Again.

As the shadows overtook her vision, and she started sinking, she felt the scar on her chest start to burn. And then a clawed hand grabbed her by the collar.

9

Evren woke, coughing up water and blood.

Her fingers dug into gravel as she heaved, warm water spilling out of her aching lungs like a sputtering waterfall. Her arms shook, and she felt the wounds the mermaids had left behind pulsing bright with red-hot pain. Her throat was ragged and raw. Had she screamed? She couldn’t remember.

She spat out the rest of the blood and water. The coppery liquid continued coating her mouth, and she winced. She’d bitten her tongue.

She collapsed onto her back as her chest heaved with every breath. She swallowed the blood, even as her stomach rioted against it, and shivered in the still air. Dimly, she knew she should be dragging herself farther up onto the shore and away from the water, but she couldn’t force her legs to move.

Evren lay there. Her body spasmed and shook, and she felt her wounds still leaking, but she couldn’t tell what was blood or water without getting up. And she was so tired. Falling back asleep was a bad idea. The logical part of her brain knew that, but she couldn’t keep her heavy eyelids from closing.

“Hey!” A hand slapped her across the face, and her numb cheek smarted under it.

Evren jolted awake, her eyes fixing on a welcome sight above her.

“Arke!” She sounded as if she were about to cry. And she might’ve. The soaked and pissed-off goblin was a beautiful sight after what she’d just endured.

“Get up,” he growled and shuffled off.

She ignored the pang of hurt and did what she was told. Forcing herself to sit, she looked out at the lake. The surface was just starting to calm again. But she couldn’t see the boat or the low ceiling they had left. She looked behind her, and her stomach fell when she saw only a lonely shore and Arke rummaging through his bag. His soaked spellbook was lying on the ground. That and her bag, which had miraculously stayed on her back, were all that remained. No one else was with him.

“Where are the others?” she rasped. “Did they make it?”

Arke didn’t answer, he just shrugged. He pulled out a health potion from her bag and tossed it to her. She barely caught it before it hit the ground. Pulling the cork out was difficult with her numb and fumbling fingers. Her eyesight was blurring now, too. She blinked and felt a warm tear slip down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly and was well aware that she’d likely smeared blood all over her face, but she didn’t care.

Once the cork finally popped off, she quickly drank the potion. The familiar metallic taste flooded her senses and washed away the blood. It warmed her to the very core, and she felt her wounds slowly knitting themselves back together. Her body stopped spasming, but she was still shivering in her soaked armor. And the weight of what had happened wasn’t leaving her.

“What happened?” she asked, still holding the glass bottle tightly. Arke wasn’t looking at her. “I saw some bright light drive those creatures away.”

“I broke my stone.”

“What?”

“The Luminstone.” He waved a hand. “I broke it. It did that. I was tryin’ to get ‘em off us. But I couldn’t see anyone other than you.”

“I had Sorin,” she whispered. “In the beginning. But one of the creatures got him.” Her voice broke at the end, and she shut her mouth.

“Last I saw was Gyda fightin’ off three of ‘em.” Arke’s shoulders sagged. “We didn’t stand a chance.”

Evren shivered. Despite her soaked clothes, she drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She couldn’t look at Arke. She couldn’t look back at the lake. The only thing that kept swarming her mind was the single thought:

I should’ve gone left. Should’ve gone left. Should’ve gone left.

Her torn-up throat was tight as she fought back tears. The worm would’ve been a kinder death. If she had only pushed forward and hadn’t been so scared, she could’ve gotten them out. Maybe the worm would’ve killed them, but that was better than being dragged into the depths of some bottomless lake, drowned, and torn apart by monsters. She couldn’t shake the look on Sorin’s terrified face as the creatures dragged him under. It was all she could see. Over and over, she heard Sol scream, “Hold on!” Her gut twisted as she realized that she’d never even spared a glance for Abraxas. He would’ve sunk straight to the bottom in his armor. There was no light at the bottom of that lake for him.

How had that song Sorin was humming gone? Why couldn’t she remember? It wasn’t hard. He would’ve laughed if she’d asked him. Gods, she wanted to hear him laugh at her. She wanted to see Gyda scowl at him for doing so, even though her eyes were soft. She might even hum along. Abraxas would, too, she realized. He’d hummed in the beginning.

Her throat protested as she tried to hum the melody Sorin had in the boat. Her heart wasn’t into it, though. And she couldn’t quite get it right. She felt tears of frustration welling up inside her.

“Come on.” She snapped her head up to see Arke with his pack on his shoulders and spellbook in hand, starting to walk off.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

“What does it look like?” he snapped, turning back around. His eyes were narrowed to slits. “We need to move.”

“But they might—”

“Might what?” He cut her off quickly. “You think they’re gonna come swimming back up to us after that? Injured and half-dead but laughing it all off? Grow up and get moving.”

It was a foolish, childish hope. She hadn’t even realized she’d been clinging to it until he said something. His words killed it before it even had a chance to take root. It could’ve been kindness, but she bristled all the same.

“How can you just brush this off?” she asked, wiping away her tears. “Sorin was your friend.”

“And he’s dead. But I’m not, and I intend to stay that way.” Arke’s eyes were hard and cold. “You can stay here until the dead come crawlin’ back to you, or you can follow me. Honestly, I don’t give a damn.”

And with that, the goblin stomped off from the shore and moved deeper into the shadows.

Evren just sat there. She brought her stone out from the pack and let it sit in her lap as its gentle glow warmed her face a bit. She wanted to be angry with Arke. She wanted to go marching up to him and force some sort of apology or admission of grief from him. But she knew she couldn’t. Because she’d seen the look of anger in his eyes when he finally looked at her.

He blamed her, and she couldn’t fault him for that. It had been her job to lead everyone safely through the Deep, and she’d failed. She could sit there and argue with herself until she fell asleep on the shore that it wasn’t her fault. That with the low ceiling and the boat, they couldn’t fight. And in the water, they had no advantage against those monsters. But as those fleeting words circled her mind, louder ones came.

Should’ve gone left. Should’ve gone left. Should’ve gone left.

Evren didn’t know how long she stayed there on the shore. Long enough for her clothes and armor to dry enough to the point where they were only damp. She slowly started moving, letting her body catch up and warm the muscles again. She rifled through her bag, draining all the water. She’d lost quite a bit. The torches and tinderbox were ruined. Many of her rations hadn’t survived, either. But the biggest blow was the map. The case was nowhere near her or on the shore, and she doubted it was waterproof. She ignored the flash of pain at how distraught Sol would be to learn that.

It took her even longer to stand up and gather her bag and bow. Such simple tasks, but her heart wasn’t in the fight, and her body was exhausted. Her socks squished in her boots with every shuffling step. She gripped her Luminstone tightly in one hand and her bag in the other. Her neck still ached from the bite. Numbly, she wondered if that would heal completely or if she’d be left with another scar. It seemed like no matter the magic or potion, death she barely escaped always marked her.

Evren half-heartedly walked up the path Arke had taken. The shoreline was mostly just pebbles, and her feet sank a little with every step. She could clearly see Arke’s shuffling steps. It was laughably easy to track him, even in her state. She kept her eyes focused on the ground in front of her, even as she swayed with every other step. As the gravelly shore gave way to soft, silty sand and rock, she walked a little easier.

Then she stopped.

Frowning, she knelt. She set her bag on the ground and ran her finger over the sand, never letting her fingers disturb it. Her body ached, but even then, it became easier to focus on. Everything was a little clearer.

“We all leave echoes,” she murmured.

She could easily see Arke’s tracks. But just under them was something else. Drag marks. Difficult to see, but she could just make out the imprints in the sand. It was hard to tell now that Arke had stepped over it, but a faint spark of hope lit inside her.

She left her bag near the sand and jogged back down to the shore. She scanned the pebbles for imprints and similar drag marks. She found hers and a little spot where she assumed Arke had curled up beside her before she woke. But now that she was looking for them, she traced the drag marks through the gravel and much farther down the shore. From this spot, she could barely make out where the low ceiling started to slope. It would’ve been a shorter swim than Arke had endured.

She ran back to the sandy cave entrance and shouldered her bag. The hope in her chest had fully taken root now, and a brilliant but terrifying theory had sparked in her head. She wouldn’t let this one go.

It took her no time to catch up to Arke, who was sniffling and grumbling to himself as he shuffled along. His pointed ears twitched as she ran up.

“Finally caught up, eh?” He didn’t sound happy to see her.

“They’re alive!” she gasped, skidding to a halt in front of him.

He scowled, looking for ways around her. “Fuck off, hunter.”

“Arke, listen to me—”

“Because that’s gone so well, right?” he spat. “I don’t think so.”

She recoiled at his words but swallowed the hurt. She’d deal with his attitude later. She stepped back and pointed to the ground, holding her stone up so he could easily see. “Look.”

“Sand,” he said flatly. “Good job.”

“Stop being an ass and just look,” she snapped, her patience wearing thin. They stood glaring at each other for a while before he grumbled a curse and begrudgingly looked where she pointed. “These are tracks.”

“I don’t see footprints.”

“They were dragged.” His head snapped up to look at her. “Something fished them out of the water. It’s hard to tell how many, though.”

“Or those monsters can walk on land,” Arke said bitterly.

“I doubt it,” she said, but deep down, she hoped that wasn’t the case. “Arke, the boat wasn’t giant-made. Someone else is down here. How long did it take you to swim to shore?”

He seemed to chew on that for a while before sighing. “I don’t know. It took me a while to get us just to the surface. I lost my way a few times. Draggin’ you ‘round didn’t help.”

“So, it’s possible you got turned around and didn’t see the others being taken out of the water?” she asked.

“I don’t know . . .”

“Arke.”

“Maybe.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Fuck, I was just tryin’ to survive. I wasn’t payin’ attention.”

Evren nodded solemnly. She knew that feeling better than anyone. Desperation and survival can narrow anyone’s focus to a pinpoint, no matter the situation. She crouched to his level, and he turned his face away from her. “Arke, look at me. Please.”

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t. But after a long, prolonged silence, he finally looked her in the eyes. There was still anger and resentment there, but it’d lost most of the sharp edge. He just looked defeated now.

“I’m going to find them,” she said. And then remembering Abraxas’s words the past night, she added, “We’re going to find them.”

“And if they’re just scavenged bodies?” he asked.

“Then we take them back home and leave this hell behind us.”

His claws drummed on the leather cover of his book, which was strangely still intact after the lake attack. One of his pointed teeth worried his lip and cut it a bit, blood welling. “I don’t think you can do it,” he said. “But I don’t see a point in fightin’ you.”

“Well, it’s a start.” She straightened. “Thank you for saving my life again.”

He huffed. “Funny, both times you livin’ was an accident.”

“What?”

“On the lift?” He flexed his fingers. “The spell could only save so many people. You were the most dangerous, so I didn’t cast it on you. But Sorin kept you alive. In the lake, I thought you were him.”

Evren felt herself recoil a bit. But deep down, she couldn’t blame him. And she had noticed that she hadn’t been caught in the spell. It hurt like hell, of course. But that was the way of the world. Shit was never as it seemed, and it always hurt.

“Seems you’re stuck with me,” she said and forced a smile.

“Don’t push your luck, hunter. Just track so we can get our people back.”

“I can agree with that,” she said.

It was easy. So simple to just turn on her heel and start walking away from Arke. She kept her eyes to the ground, her Luminstone always close by, and tried to keep Arke’s words out of her head as he shuffled behind her. But try as she might, she couldn’t force her head to focus.

She kept replaying their first real conversation. After the lift had fallen, and she’d tried to thank him, had she imagined the uneasy warmth that’d come from him? Had all his talk about his magic just been another excuse to keep her from fearing him? She’d thought, if only briefly, that he was a friend. But then, they hadn’t known each other for very long. The eternal darkness of the Yawning Deep made it feel like years since they’d fought in the prison, but it couldn’t have been more than four days. Maybe less. So, why did his words hurt so much?

Evren bent to examine a rock and pretended to wipe some dust off to cover some of her traitorous tears. If Arke noticed, he didn’t say anything. She trailed a finger along the scratch marks on the wall, half thinking it could have been caused by heavy armor, and half still working on keeping the tears at bay. Her throat burned, and she took small, shuddering breaths.

Eyes focused, one foot in front of the other, always composed.

She chanted that mentally as she got back up. With each step, her throat felt a little looser. Her eyes didn’t blur as much, and she didn’t have to fight the urge to sniffle anymore.

Realistically, she knew that Arke hurt as she did, and that’s why he lashed out. That didn’t diminish the truth he’d thrown out so carelessly, but it helped to ease her mind. And, even further, it solidified another truth.

Deep down, some naïve part of her liked this group. She wanted so desperately to work with them like Abraxas had promised. To be some ridiculous group of would-be heroes, like the many that littered Eith. It had been so easy to come together, that she hadn’t even realized it. Some people worked better in groups. In packs. Most people did, from what she’d seen. It was easier to do grander things with more than one set of shoulders to bear the weight. But other people worked better alone. Solitary roamers, scavengers just trying to survive.

Evren massaged the scar under her armor, unsure where the ache came from. Perhaps she’d always been better as a wanderer. She’d been content in the wilds, at least. And she’d left Orenlion for a similar reason. If she despised one thing, feared something to the point of blindly scurrying away at the mere sight of it, it was a lack of belonging. For such a brief moment, she felt as if she belonged with her companions. As if they wanted her. No, needed her. She forgot to be afraid of all that slipping away. And now, like water through her fingers, it had.

She stepped down into the tunnel, sending some rocks clattering ahead of her.

No, it wasn’t over yet. It would be if they survived. Everything afterwards would be a little more bitter, but there was comfort in knowing that she could be safely alone again. That she could back away from Dirn-Darahl and the strange assortment of people she’d grown to like, leaving them with barely a second thought.

But she shook the idea of fresh air and goodbyes out of her head. That was much too far in the future to contemplate. They needed her down in the darkness and oppressive silence. She could hope for such a quiet future, but she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on it. She didn’t want to grow fond of it, only to have it slip away, too.

The silence between her and Arke was nearly unbearable. But neither of them had the guts to break it. Evren could barely get her lips to move to point out dips and holes in the floor to the goblin. He never let on if the lack of warning hurt him. It was a long, slow process, and Evren spent it entirely in her head—a dangerous place to be, but it was a danger she was used to.

The natural caverns twisted and turned with jagged rocks and silky, slippery sand. With only one Luminstone between them, the darkness kept them blind except for a few feet. It should’ve worried Evren more, but she could only worry about so much.

After a couple of hours, or a couple of eternities because she honestly couldn’t tell the difference, Evren came to an abrupt halt. She felt Arke skitter to a stop right before he hit the backs of her knees.

“What?” he snapped.

She shushed him. A loud noise of protest came from him, but she silenced that, too. The waves of frustration and anger coming from him made her bristle and want to take it back, but she kept her face neutral and turned to him.

“Wait here,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“I’m checking on something.” She pocketed the stone so its shine was dimmed to barely a glow. “Keep down. The caverns open up ahead.”

“And?” He waved his hand impatiently.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And, whoever took our people could be camped down there. We don’t know if they’re friendly or hostile. So, play it safe and keep your voice down. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

She didn’t wait for Arke’s confirmation. She wanted it but forced herself to move away without it. She left him in the dark tunnel, scowling, as she carefully picked her way down.

She could barely see her feet in front of her with the low light, but she didn’t dare risk anything brighter. She searched with her hands and the toes of her boots, feeling for what she couldn’t see, and keeping her focus on one foot at a time. The air around her was still stale, but she felt a slight breeze to it. It cooled the sweat gathered on the nape of her neck and smelled vaguely of smoke. Civilization, hopefully. And not a pyre.

She wondered if people would still bother to burn their dead underground as they did on the surface.

The inky blackness turning into a deep indigo was Evren’s first clue. She couldn’t see the source, but her eyes greedily drank in the barest shreds of light. She fully covered her Luminstone and dropped to her hands and knees. She felt the sandy path continuing down, but it leveled out to her left. She shimmied her way in that direction, grateful to find the somewhat level stone free of sand and silt.

She crawled until she felt her fingertips brush open air. She latched onto the edge of the ridge and backed up a bit to lie flat on her stomach. From her spot, she should be able to see the cavern and the path that led into it. She just had to wait for her eyes to adjust.

Minutes passed. She calmed her breathing and counted her breaths. She blinked once and then twice. But still, the shadows clung stubbornly. The most she could make out were black forms of rocks against the deep blue of the rest of the cavern. Where was the light?

Evren scooted her body forward, inch by inch until her head hung over the edge, and she had to dig her toes into the ground to feel safe. As she looked down, she nearly choked in surprise.

At the bottom of her ledge, about twenty feet down, was a sprawling village. Haphazard tents made of animal hides shaped like domes almost blended into the rock seamlessly. She saw pits of strange blue fire dotting the perimeter, as well as between the tents. Odd, ox-like creatures with armored shells and long snouts trailing the ground gathered in a paddock off to the side, groaning and making other noises when one bumped into another. On the opposite side, closer to Evren’s wall, someone had fenced off an unusual garden of glowing herbs and mushrooms. And creatures milled around.

Perhaps creature was too harsh a word. From her spot above, Evren saw the humanoid beings walking and talking amongst themselves. Many wore strange, bug-like armor that shimmered in the blue light. She’d thought their skin was blue for a moment, but with a jolt, she realized it wasn’t. They were all various shades of black and grey. Some had skin so deep, they blended in seamlessly with the darkness outside their village, while others had skin so pale, it almost seemed to glow. Their hair followed a similar color range and did little to cover the elongated points of their ears.

“Elves?” she murmured to herself. They weren’t like any elves she’d come across, though. Compared to Orenlion, these elves were something entirely alien to her. They looked like their likenesses should be on the mural walls of the Splintered Temple back home or painted in children’s books. What was such beauty doing hiding in the depths of Eith?

Evren watched them as closely as she dared. The village was large and crawling with these elves. The warriors in the chitinous armor carried bristling weapons, and many kept to their strict patrols around the village. She watched as one group of five warriors lit a round lantern with the blue fire and walked out of the village entirely. Only a few moments later, another group entered. With them, they had a group of smaller, less-armored elves, carrying something large and heavy in a sack. It left a trail of blood through the village as they disappeared into a large tent.

The rest of the elves seemed like simple cooks, gardeners, and artisans. Lines of strange fish were being cooked by a fire, and a bunch of small children ran around laughing. If the livestock and setting weren’t so strange, it would almost seem like a normal village. But the warriors were an issue. There were more of them than there were normal villagers. As much as Evren would like to hope they were friendly, history had shown that the more spears and swords there were, the less inclined the people were to friendly chats over a fire.

But the tracks had led there.

Evren’s mouth was dry as she mulled over her few options. She started to shuffle back and kept her eyes on the camp for as long as she could. Tearing away at the last minute, she glanced beside her and two brightly glowing orbs met her gaze.

She barely contained her yelp of surprise and shuffled away. Rocks skittered under her, and she tilted dangerously close to the edge. The orbs narrowed in a very familiar way, and then she heard the dull rasp of Arke’s voice.

“Keep it down, hunter.”

Evren swallowed and ignored the uncomfortable sandpaper feeling in her throat. She forced her breathing to calm. Now that she was looking for him, she saw the barest outline of Arke in the shadows.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“It’s been ten minutes,” he said flatly.

She paused, contemplating the question before asking it. “Your eyes glow?”

“Goblins’ eyes glow. We are tunnelin’ creatures by nature.”

“Right.” She knew that. “Some warning next time?”

He scoffed, and she knew she wouldn’t get it if there ever were a next time.

Arke’s glowing gaze fell on the village below. As he scooted to the edge, the blue light bathed his features and gave him a ghostly appearance. “So, they’re the ones?”

“They have to be.” Evren shot a quick glance at the guards walking closer to the gardens next to their perch and waited until they passed to continue. “The fish above the fire. The closest water source is our lake. It’s a straight shot.”

“No boats,” Arke pointed out.

She shook her head and looked to one of the larger tents. She could just make out the wood shavings under its tent flaps. “They’re building. Perhaps they’re preserving, too. The Divines know where they get the wood for them.”

“The lake was big,” Arke hesitantly agreed. “We could’ve missed others.”

“Exactly. No way a village of this size lets their only boat drift from one shore to the other.”

“Fine.” He shrugged. “Where’s Sorin?”

She hesitated, and the glowing eyes flashed back to her. “I don’t know.”

“So, they might not be here?”

“You want to go down and ask them?” she inquired, struggling to keep her voice down.

“I want you to admit that you were wrong.”

His words made her flinch, and she struggled to make it look as if she were still shivering from her dip in the lake. “I’m not wrong.”

“If they use that lake and have more than one boat, then the tracks you saw could’ve been them draggin’ the boats through the tunnel. Am I right?”

“There were scrapes on the wall—”

“Again. Boats.”

Frustration bubbled up like a hot mess in her chest. She could feel herself burning from the inside out. “Why are you so desperate for me to be wrong? What do you have to gain?”

“Not a damn thing. Don’t have nothin’ to lose either.” He shuffled back and stood up. “You’re seein’ what you want to see and draggin’ me along.”

“But you believed me earlier.” Evren couldn’t force herself to stand. It took all her willpower to keep her voice down.

“I told you that I didn’t think you could do it.” She watched his shoulders shrug. There was very little emotion in his voice. “I was right.”

“Then go,” she snapped.

The glowing eyes blinked at her. “What?”

“You heard me.” The bitter edge in her voice wasn’t contained anymore. She would’ve been thankful for the shadows hiding her face, but she knew Arke could see her perfectly. “Go. Survive on your own. Go find Karas and drag him back to the surface screaming. Or turn back and find a way to the surface. You can obviously do it without me.”

“I can,” he said. “I work better alone anyway.”

She swallowed back a strangled laugh. “No, you don’t. Goblins are pack creatures.”

“Then I ain’t a goblin.” The snarl that came from him was nearly feral. There was a flash of something more than anger in his eyes, but Evren didn’t catch enough before he turned around sharply. “Goodbye, hunter.”

“Farewell, goblin,” she whispered coldly and watched the hunched shadow scuttle off and far away from her. She waited until she couldn’t hear his footsteps and huffed breaths anymore. Until she was well and truly alone again.

Finally.

She focused her narrowed eyes back on the village below. She swept over the paths between the tents and separated the residential ones from the practical ones. Where would strange elves keep a group of even stranger travelers after fishing them out of a lake? A medical tent, perhaps?

The flashing glint of blue fire on armor reminded her of what she was dealing with. Most likely a holding cell, then. A tent kept off to the side, possibly guarded. She scanned them, crossing each one off her ever-shrinking list. Until there were only two left.

Each was at the edge of the village. Each had a guard at its entrance. They could easily be guarding wealth, weapons, or even a chieftain. But they were also Evren’s best bet to finding her companions again.

She dug through her pack and pulled out the still-damp coil of rope. She counted the feet with each pass of her hand, and slowly formed a plan.

She wasn’t like Arke. She did work better alone. A village like this wouldn’t expect a sole hunter to come sneaking in. One quiet predator could do much more than a pack of them could in this instance. She would find her people, and she’d get them out. And after that?

As always. She’d survive.

10

Evren wedged her anchor as securely as she could into a small gap in the stone. It took longer than she would’ve liked, but she couldn’t risk hammering it in. Every loud breath, every slip of her boots against the rocks, made her wince and freeze for a few minutes. Miraculously, no one came for her. By the time she’d tied her rope in a manner that wouldn’t have her falling into the village, she was shaking and constantly looking over her shoulder.

She crawled back to the ledge and peeked over. The village was mostly quiet now. It could be night for them. All that was left were the guard patrols, and she’d stared at them for so long, she’d nearly memorized their routine.

Evren waited until a guard passed the ridge and counted to five under her breath when they disappeared around a tent before tossing the rope over the ledge. It made a low thump when it hit the ground next to the glowing garden, but after a few more breathless moments, no one came to investigate. She shrugged her pack off and left it near her anchor before gathering the rope and beginning to rappel down.

It wasn’t a long drop, but with her back facing the village, she felt that low flame of fear turn into a blaze. Sweat made her palms sticky, and she struggled to slide down the rope without losing her grip. Every passing second she was exposed, she expected a shout or for someone to raise an alarm. It couldn’t have taken more than a minute for her to get down, but it felt like an eternity.

As soon as her boots hit the ground, she sank into a crouch and crawled away from the rope. The strange fauna she hid behind seemed to do the trick, but the dull green glow made her eyes burn. She ducked under the wide cap of a giant mushroom and waited. Her nose itched, and her eyes watered, but she didn’t allow herself to do anything but breathe.

Another guard rounded the corner, not a second later than he should have. His eyes passed over the garden with dull interest. Evren glanced at the rope dangling over the ledge. It was the only part of her plan that she was truly worried about. If anyone saw it, her whole cover would be blown.

But the guard didn’t pay the wall any mind at all. His eyes passed right over her, and she found herself holding her breath. It was only when he stopped right in front of her fungus that she started to let the panic take root.

He squinted down into the garden and then looked back over his shoulder. He unlatched the gate and walked in quietly. Evren felt her fingers twitch for her bow. She didn’t want to leave a trail of bodies, but she would if she had to. No one could raise an alarm if they were dead.

The guard inched closer. Evren wrapped her fingers around the handle of her bow and slowly reached for an arrow. One would do the trick. Right between the eyes. His helmet didn’t cover there; she could make the shot easily.

But just as she started to pull an arrow from her quiver, he stopped. She watched as he looked over his shoulder again and then pulled off a piece of a smaller mushroom. He sniffed it and shrugged before plopping it into his mouth.

She started to relax and let her hand drop back down to her side. He took another piece quickly, and his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s as he chewed and walked back out. He latched the garden gate and took off into a jog. Just as he made it out of sight, the guard behind him appeared, looking just as bored.

Evren watched him disappear and counted again. The hungry one had messed up her timing, but she was relieved that it hadn’t resulted in a fight. She wouldn’t have been able to hide his body in time for the other guard to miss him.

Once she was sure that she had a clear opening, she snuck out of the foliage and over the gate. She darted into the shadows behind a tent. The uncomfortable prickle of being exposed made her skin crawl, but she couldn’t stay in one place. She had to keep moving.

One hand always on her bow, she crept from shadow to shadow. She only paused to let a guard pass. She followed their route around the village, but she couldn’t keep up with their pace. Each tent she passed made her start to sweat with fear again. Sometimes, she heard murmured voices behind the hide, and she was sure they were discussing her. Other times, she smelled cooking food, and her stomach ached sharply.

She covered it in a vain attempt to keep it quiet. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. But for now, she shook off the faintness and the uncomfortable rumble that came with hunger and moved on.

She ducked behind a pile of neglected leathers just as a group of guards passed. They spoke to each other in hushed voices, but their tones were light. Whatever Elvish they spoke was beyond Evren, especially with her neglected use of the language.

The warm, comforting scent of leather almost kept her there for too long. She waited as they passed and even a few seconds longer afterwards. She put her hand on the pile and pushed herself up. As her hand slipped, she felt something cold and hard under the material and paused. Crouching back down, she moved the leather to the side and saw metal. Blackened and stained with a dragon holding the sun etched on the chest.

Hope flickered dangerously. She sifted through the leathers. It was a garbage pile. The closer she looked, the more she saw the discarded and torn remains of leather armor and hide that hadn’t been properly tanned. As she dug through, she found more familiar pieces.

Sorin’s deep blue coat, faded at the shoulders by the sun, the gold threads fraying at the cuffs. Sol’s expensive leather armor, still shining and new. Gyda’s furs and hides, carelessly tossed to the side.

Evren licked her lips nervously. Good or bad, this confirmed her theory. A part of her wanted to show Arke how wrong he’d been. But just the mere thought of him sent a stab of regret through her. She shoved away the thought and pushed the unwanted pain down. The plan hadn’t changed.

She put the garbage pile into her memory. When she found them, they’d loop back this way and get their armor before leaving. She couldn’t carry it to them right now.

Evren checked to see if the coast was clear before moving again. She held her breath as she dashed across the pathway. The blue flames’ light seemed to burn her as she did. As if it marked her for the guards to see. But she slid under the paddock fence unseen, the next round of guards passing by unaware.

Evren took a moment to calm herself and breathe deeply. The stench of animal hit her hard. She looked around at the creatures the fence contained. They didn’t pay her any mind at all. Some dozed contently, their tiny eyes closed as they swayed back and forth on their clawed feet. Their armored shells made them easily the size of a buffalo, if not bigger. Evren suddenly felt very small.

But even with their armored shells and clawed hands, the creatures acted like livestock. Content and calm. One shook some dust off its head, its long and trailing snout flicking in her direction curiously, much in the same way horses did to her when she offered them treats in secret. She patted its trunk but offered nothing in return, and it snuffled and turned away.

As another patrol came and went, Evren cautiously got to her feet. The paddock wasn’t very large, but she could easily squeeze past the creatures without causing much of a ruckus. Their large shells easily hid her from any passing eyes. It was hard to find in the dark, but eventually, her fumbling fingers found the latch to the gate.

A trunk flopped on her shoulder, and the creature gave her a low groan in her ear. She brushed it off and shushed it. She unlatched the gate but didn’t open it all the way. Turning around, she patted the creature’s head again and moved towards the back of the paddock. At this point, most—if not all—of the creatures were awake and watching her eagerly. They expected food, and Evren secretly wished she had some to give. She hopped over the fence and gave the one following her another pat on the head.

“Sorry about this,” she whispered. “But you’re my distraction.”

It flicked its tiny ears at the sound of her voice. She removed her Luminstone carefully. It was still wrapped in her scarf, but she didn’t want to risk bringing any more attention to herself than she needed to.

She put it on the ground and hovered her foot just above it. She hesitated as doubt came creeping in. If Arke could do it underwater, she could certainly do it on land.

She gave one last apologetic smile to the creatures, who all looked at her expectantly, and then brought the heel of her boot down on the stone with as much force as she could muster.

She felt it crunch under her boot, and then daylight erupted in the cavern.

Blinding light poured out like a captured star and lit everything in a brilliant haze of golden-white light. The creatures in the paddock wailed in pain and shied away from the illumination. Their large, armored bodies clambered against one another as they stumbled away from the light as fast as they could. The open gate had no chance as they burst through, crying and stampeding through the village.

Evren grinned and ran in the opposite direction. The light from the stone had already faded, but the damage was done. She hid behind a rack of drying meat and watched as the village turned to chaos. The creatures tore through it, knocking over fires and rampaging through tents. They were still wailing in pain and wandering around panicked and blinded.

Guards quickly abandoned their routines and posts. They shouted orders at each other and desperately tried to stop the creatures. One poor elf tried to move out of the way of the stampede but wasn’t fast enough, his cries of pain soon swallowed by the stomping of feet and the creatures’ terrified bleating.

Families ran from their tents. Children held onto their mothers or caretakers, crying. Confused shouts became a chorus over the camp.

Evren didn’t have time to feel bad. She wanted her people, and she was going to get them.

In the chaos, it should’ve been easier to move unseen. But Evren knew better. Now that the ant colony was swarming, they’d be on alert. Focused on something else, yes, but only for a short while. She had a small window to get in and out before someone realized what had happened.

She quickly made her way across camp. Her ants focused on the stampede on the opposite side of where she was headed, thankfully. The shadows between tents covered her. She sat on her heels for a few minutes at a time, waiting for people to pass before dashing to the next pool of darkness. Once she’d made it to the other side of the village, it was nearly deserted.

She didn’t breathe any easier. She had two tents to check, and the wrong one could make her whole plan blow up in her face. The guards that should be standing in front of both were gathered off to the side, whispering nervously. The two she’d counted before had turned to five. So, she snuck around them to the back. They were focused on the chaos on the other side of camp anyway, not on her.

Evren put her ear to the side of one tent. But the shouting and wailing from the other side of the village was too loud. She couldn’t hear anything. She crawled over to the other tent, but again, heard nothing.

Secret knocks or signals. We’re coming up with one of them by the end of this, she thought bitterly.

She had a fifty-fifty chance. But she didn’t like it. If she’d learned anything in life, it was that her bad luck always held out until the very end. The last thing she needed was to survive the lake, track them all the way to a strange village, sneak in, and successfully set off a distraction, only to die because she picked the wrong tent.

But she could hear the sound of shouting overwhelming the creatures’ panic. They were getting them under control. She didn’t have much time.

Evren didn’t give herself even a moment to hesitate. She picked a tent and went with it. She trusted her gut and prayed that it led her in the right direction. Lifting the heavy hides, she slid under them with ease and sat up inside the tent.

The blue light of the fire was almost blinding after so long in the dark. Evren blinked in a desperate attempt to get her eyes to focus. Once she did, she found the tent to be pretty much exactly as she’d imagined. Woven rugs instead of the hides she’d expected covered the floor, and the large, blue fire in the middle lit the whole space from its spot in the stone hearth. Two small beds rested along the walls, and crates filled with strange trinkets took up the rest of the space. The whole tent smelled strongly of incense and something faintly musty.

Evren slowly got to her feet as she scanned for any familiar faces. Her stomach dropped when she found something else instead.

A little girl stood in front of her bed. Her skin was a pale and ashy grey, and her ears were still slightly droopy at the tips. Her long, white hair fell in her face, and her black eyes were wide with fear as she stared at Evren.

Evren angled her bow behind her and tried to put on what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She put her finger to her lips. What was the Elvish word for quiet?

“Zhelas,” she whispered, forcing her voice to be gentle. The little girl flinched anyway and took a step back. “Quiet, please.”

The Core words sounded harsh compared to her shaky Elvish. But it didn’t matter. Every word that came from her mouth was like a physical blow to the child.

The little elf screamed.

This time, Evren flinched. The high pitch of the wail pierced her ears and sent panic coursing through her veins like wildfire. She stumbled back, her hand nocking an arrow just as someone threw the tent flap back, and guards ran in with their weapons drawn.

“This looks bad.” She winced and immediately ducked under the tent, rolling outside back the way she’d come. The air outside the tent was significantly cooler than inside, but she didn’t have time to breathe.

She leapt to her feet, just as she felt an arm wrap around her neck from behind. She immediately dropped her bow as the chitinous armor dug into her skin. Harsh breaths filled her ears, and the arm started to tighten and cut off her breathing.

Evren grabbed the guard’s elbow with both of her hands and pulled as much as she could away from her throat. She rammed her head back and heard a sickening crunch as her skull broke her captor’s nose. The cry of pain easily made the instant headache worth it.

She then pushed her legs up and rocked back against him. He stumbled for a bit and shoved her forward. She let her feet touch the ground and pulled him over her with all her strength. He tumbled over her and fell on the ground with a clatter of armor. Evren didn’t hesitate to stomp on his throat. She left him clutching his neck and gasping for air.

Evren ran and scooped up her discarded bow. As she neared the other tent, she took out her last dagger and slid it under the hides and into the interior. She couldn’t get them out herself, but maybe she could buy them some time to get out on their own. The cattle creatures were meant to be a distraction, but she would serve just as well.

She ran back out onto the path and skidded to a halt as a small army of gathering guards intercepted her. There were about twenty of them now. She’d really chosen the wrong tent.

“I don’t suppose we can talk this out?” she asked.

“Fesalos cin’an!”

She didn’t need to know their language to know that was an insult. “Guess not.”

And then Evren very bravely turned and ran.

Away from the tent. That’s all she was focused on. Moving away from the tent and from her people. And, of course, the very pissed-off natives hot on her heels. The village was a maze and a blur all at the same time. She jumped over crates and dodged oncoming guards. She tossed a brazier of blue fire behind her and heard pained shouts. She even wanted to laugh as she turned a corner. But the laughter immediately died as more guards faced off with her.

Without question, they lunged. She barely dodged one as he aimed his spear at her neck. She whirled around him and kicked him into another guard, and they both fell into a tent. It didn’t take them long to start getting back up, their weapons ready. She couldn’t keep disabling them or else she would be overwhelmed.

Briefly, she recognized the mushroom-eating guard and felt a little bit sorry. Still, she raised her bow, and he immediately went down, clutching the arrow in his shoulder. Evren slid to the side as another guard swung his spear at her. He stumbled forward by the momentum of his attack, and she rammed the end of her bow into his face and sent him reeling back, clutching his bleeding nose.

She tore the spear from his hands and spun around just in time to catch the warrior behind her with the tip. It pierced the elf’s gut like a knife through soft butter, and she stumbled back as blood poured from her mouth. Evren let the spear go with her and kicked her body back as her fellow warriors rounded the corner. They fell to the ground as she toppled on top of them.

Evren whirled around and shot an arrow at another guard. He screamed as it caught his knee, but kept running towards her, his eyes wild. She darted back as his sword cut through the air, but she wasn’t fast enough. The blade tore through her armor and her side, pain blossoming bright and urgent. She cried out and could’ve sworn that she saw him smile.

Taking another arrow, she plunged it into his neck and shoved him away from her. He was still smiling as he sank to the ground. She took the same arrow and shot it at another approaching soldier. The shot was sloppy but the blood-soaked arrow found its target, and the guard crumpled.

Evren stumbled back, clutching her side. She could feel the warm blood seeping through her leathers and coating her fingers. The pain was an insistent throb, and she felt her breathing speeding up in time with it. Her vision blurred, but she could easily see that she was being surrounded.

Gritting her teeth, Evren dug her fingers into the wound. The pain spiked like a white-hot knife through her. Sudden and terrifying clarity came with it. She could work with pain. She would not be weaker because of it.

She took her bloody hand away from her side, breathing hard. They stared at her with a mix of rage and fear. What did they see? Something feral, most likely. The thought almost thrilled her, and she bared her teeth in what could’ve been a grin or a display of aggression.

They took it as an invitation and swarmed her.

It was suddenly a storm of weapons and blood. She dodged and weaved through the blaze of swords and sudden jabs of spears. For each one that missed her, another three seemed to take its place. She used her bow as a blunt weapon—breaking bones and shoving soldiers away from her as more crowded in on the other side. A flash of pain in her thigh sent her to one knee. Warm blood seeped into her boot. She lashed out with an arrow in her hand, but found she barely nicked the closest enemy. She was breathing hard and running out of steam.

She swung out her good leg and hooked it around a soldier’s ankles. They cried out as they lost their balance and fell. Evren brought the arrow in her hand down into their throat to finish them off.

Someone roughly kicked her bow out of her hand. As she lunged to grab it, a blow to the head sent her reeling backwards. She fell onto her back, her head aching sharply, and blood already pouring into her eyes. Her fingers clawed at the dirt to get back up, but a boot stomped on her wrist and kept her in place.

She was only dimly aware that they weren’t killing her. Her head swam in pain, and all she could see was blood and blue fire as they hauled her up and started dragging her through the village. She tasted the blood as it trickled into her mouth. A part of her wanted to laugh, and she didn’t know if she should be more scared of that reaction or where they were taking her. She didn’t remember herself as the type to laugh as she bled out in enemy hands.

If she was lucky, they would take her to where they were keeping the others. Perhaps they’d gotten the knife and had cut through whatever bonds were holding them and had gotten out. Maybe Gyda and Abraxas were already diving into the chaos she’d left to try and get back to her. Sorin and Sol had found the rope and were making it out. They had to be.

It was a frail hope nestled deep inside her fractured ribs, but it was hope, all the same. She wouldn’t let it flicker and die.

They roughly pulled Evren into a very large tent. She let her feet drag on the ground heavily to try and make it harder for them, but they didn’t seem to have any issues. They roughly shoved her to her knees, and her leg screamed in pain again. She took a shuddering breath and blinked away the blurriness and blood.

The hut was much larger than the one she’d been in previously. The hearth that held the blue fire was blackened with soot, and the fire itself was hot enough for her to squirm away from it. Three figures stood in front of the fire. One was a male with almost midnight-black skin. His hair was shaved short, save for a long braid of black laced with silver that fell to his waist. He wore the type of robes and a headdress that Evren assumed denoted him as a possible leader of the village. Beside him was a taller woman. She was just as pale as the girl at her side, the one Evren had found in the other tent. A circlet of driftwood that shone almost silver in the blue light held back her white hair. Her eyes were the deepest black Evren had ever seen, and when she looked at her, she couldn’t help but shiver.

“Sky-Touched,” the elf said in Core. “You trespass.”

Evren blinked in surprise. She couldn’t find the words to reply. When she tried to speak, her throat was full of blood, and she coughed violently and spat on the floor.

“Whoops.” She coughed a little more.

“Why?” the man demanded. “For child?” His Core was broken at best, and Evren’s sluggish brain could barely comprehend. She watched him point at the little girl, who still stared at Evren with wide eyes.

She shook her head and immediately regretted it. She swayed on her knees and would’ve fallen had one guard not roughly put her right.

“Why?” he repeated.

“The others.” The woman waved him off as if it were obvious. “She comes for her levenya.”

The Elvish word for family or clan swirled around in Evren’s head. She hoped it still meant the same thing in their tongue as it did to her.

“You know Core.” Evren’s voice was weak and bubbled with hidden blood. “How?”

The woman frowned down at her. She took a few steps forward but seemed to float rather than walk. As she got closer, Evren wanted nothing more than to turn away from her. The energy that came off her in waves made the hairs on the back of Evren’s neck stand up. She felt a sick feeling in her chest. Whatever magic this woman possessed, Evren wanted no part in it.

But she was powerless to move. The woman took her chin in her hand, her long fingers cold as ice, and her sharp nails digging into her skin like talons. She studied Evren closely, tilting her head this way and that before finally saying, “You are immune to poison.”

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” she murmured between her pressed lips.

“How?”

“I’m not,” she insisted.

“If not, then you would be a corpse in my hand,” she said as if scolding Evren.

The weapons must’ve been coated. Evren groaned at the thought. Why wasn’t she dead if that was the case?

“I promise you, I’ll catch up to that point.” She hissed in pain. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“Naet.” The leader shook his head firmly. “She is fifth Sky-Touched. Maybe more are coming?”

This time, Evren did laugh. The sound startled them so much that the woman let go of her. Evren’s head drooped, and she kept laughing. With every shudder of her chest, she felt more blood leaking out onto the floor. She was staining their woven blankets. Good.

“No one is coming,” she said as her laughter died down. But the smile didn’t leave. “It’s just me.”

The woman looked her up and down. “We shall see.” She turned back to the man and spoke curtly in Elvish. Evren couldn’t latch onto any of their exchanged words, but the conversation was short. The man took his leave without so much as a second glance in her direction. The soldiers at her side only followed when the little girl tottered after him. She watched Evren with an unreadable expression before leaving. Soon, Evren was alone with the woman.

“This is intimate.” Evren spat out more blood and tried not to look at the growing stain on the floor.

“Your levenya proved to be extraordinarily uncooperative, even after we saved them from the visha.” The woman stalked closer. “They are not creatures easily taken from their meals. Tell me how you came to them and how you escaped.”

“A worm and a whole lot of bad luck.”

The woman tsked, shaking her head. “Serevadia is not meant for your kind. Why are you here?”

“Serevadia?”

She waved her off. “Why are you here?”

“Sightseeing. It’s such a lovely place for a getaway. How can you blame us?”

Suddenly, the woman’s cold hands were on Evren’s face again, and Evren found her nose inches from hers. Fear rioted in her belly, and it took all her willpower not to cringe away from those bottomless eyes.

“Even in death, you refuse to answer with honor,” she hissed, her breath fanning Evren’s face. “But I will know you. Your motivations, your fears, what name you whisper in the dark of the night. I will know all of you.”

The tips of those nails dug into Evren’s temples. She struggled not to scream but as they pierced deeper, she felt the cry rip through her lips. The world was white with searing pain, and the woman’s cold promise.

And then it all fell away.

11

The white faded. The only thing left was black nothingness that stretched on forever in all directions. Evren stood cautiously. There was no pain. She was . . . numb, for lack of a better word. She knew she wasn’t okay. But she didn’t hurt. Though she wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

She turned around and found the woman standing in front of her, her hands clasped on her stomach and her eyes closed. Evren watched her for a while. When she opened her eyes, she took a step back. There was no black anymore. It was pure white. But she knew she was staring right at her.

“What did you do?” Evren asked. “Where are we?”

“In your mind.”

“Oh.” It was a lot emptier than she remembered. “So, what are you doing digging in my head? Kind of rude, don’t you think?”

The woman cocked her head to the side, her white hair shifting like snow in an avalanche over her shoulder. “Rude would be invading our home and slaughtering our people. Which you have done.”

“I did.” Evren winced. “To be fair, I did my best to get around that. You people aren’t what I would call approachable.”

“And those of the Moving City are?”

Evren’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“Orenlion is such a quaint place,” the woman murmured. “So lonely for a child.”

“Stop that!” Evren’s hand went to her head as if to block her out. “Get out of my head.”

“Why such loyalty to a place you do not love?”

“It’s more the fact that I don’t like your rooting around in my thoughts.” She took a step towards the woman. Maybe this was all in her head, but strangling her would still feel as nice as it would in real life. But she stopped short and brought her hand up. Smooth glass met her fingertips, nearly invisible. She let her dull fingers scrape against it, her frustration building.

“What do you want?” she asked. The woman on the other side of the shield didn’t respond. “Don’t go through my mind. You won’t find anything useful. Just tell me what you want, damn it.”

“My name is Ainthe.” Her voice seemed to echo. “And I want everything. But I’ll settle for all that you are.”

The echoes grew louder and louder until they rattled the very bones of Evren’s skull. Ainthe disappeared before she could do anything, and what little light remained with Evren died. Once the echoes faded, her teeth started to chatter, and she looked around desperately for a glimpse of white hair and pale skin. She turned in a circle once and then twice, met with nothing. Just empty darkness. It wasn’t heavy like the shadows of the Yawning Deep. It was just barren and lonely.

Evren turned back to the glass and nearly jumped out of her skin. In front of her now was no longer clear glass but a mirror that stretched on for what seemed like miles and miles. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and bloody. Old blood crusted her lips, and one of her eyes was swollen shut. The cut from the blow had narrowly missed her eye. Her hair hung limply down to her shoulders. She didn’t look like a threat. She didn’t look strong or fierce as she felt in battle. Had this been what the soldiers and guards saw? Was this what Arke saw when he left? No wonder he didn’t believe her. She didn’t look as if she could track her way out of a farmhouse, much less find and free her friends.

“Ah, self-doubt is such a terrible beast.” Ainthe’s voice sounded in Evren’s ear, and she swung around quickly, only to find the same lonely darkness. When she turned back to the mirror, she watched a white hand move her hair gently to the side. She felt it. But she knew what she would find if she turned around. So, she stood still.

“Tell me, little Ren, was it foolishness or pride that led you to me?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Ainthe’s face appeared over her shoulder, and she patted her oily, knotted hair lovingly. “Pride, then?” When Evren said nothing, she grinned. “For someone who longs for solitude, you care very much for your levenya.”

“I promised to lead them safely,” she said. “They trusted me.”

“Yes, they did.” She pressed a kiss to her temple, and Evren flinched away. Something akin to anger flashed in her white eyes, but the gentle smile remained. “They trusted you, and you led them to their deaths. Just like you said.”

Evren’s veins turned to ice. She heard her breath hitch in her chest and watched Ainthe’s grin grow wider. She’d heard it, too.

“You’re lying.” Evren tried to keep her hands from shaking at her sides. “You just need information. You’re trying to fuck with me.”

“Whether or not I am, I can see it’s working. But I do not lie, little Ren. The dwarf was dead when we pulled her from the water. There wasn’t much of her left. We had to put down the giant woman. The other two fell in line after that, but they were stubborn. They gave me very little, aside from your language, before their minds gave out. Yours is stronger, however. Perhaps it’ll last until your heart stops.”

“Or you could keep me alive to get more information,” she offered. “That’s always an option.”

“Mmm, I don’t see you doing well with that.”

Evren barely acknowledged her words. She knew the possibility that she was lying was exceedingly high. But she couldn’t get the image of their armor in the trash pile out of her mind. How had she missed that? Could she really have been so blindly hopeful that she’d ignored all the red flags before she went charging in? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Frail hope started to fracture in her chest. She clutched it tightly. Ainthe was lying. She had to be. She was doing a damn good job of it, but she was lying all the same.

“Why did you save them?” For the first time, Evren forced herself to meet Ainthe’s white eyes. “Why go through the trouble?”

“Many reasons.” She let her long nails comb through Evren’s hair, catching all the knots and every little snag. “Perhaps the biggest is we don’t get trespassers.”

“We’re explorers,” she began. “We didn’t mean—”

Ainthe yanked her head back by a fistful of her hair as her grin turned into a snarl. “Explorers do not slaughter our people or disturb our waters,” she hissed into her ear. “Explorers do not come armed to the teeth, bearing blood made for war. They do not come into our homes and steal our children.”

“Children?” Evren cried out. She could feel her scalp being pulled apart. “I didn’t come for the little girl. I didn’t even know she was in the tent. Why would I want her?”

“She is ambition and potential made whole,” Ainthe sneered. “She is more precious than anything in this world. I will not lose her, too.”

“If you believe anything I say, believe this,” Evren gasped. “I’m not here for the girl. I’m just here to get my friends. I’m sorry, I should’ve approached you on better terms, but I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

The grip on her hair lessened bit by bit until Ainthe let go at last. Evren gasped in relief, her hand going to the back of her head where her hair was knotted from where it had been gripped and tugged. In the mirror, Ainthe watched her with a cold expression.

“I was warned about you,” the elf said finally. “Of a creature bearing the blood of power with a taste for death. I did not expect to see such a beast take your form.”

“There’s nothing powerful about my blood.” Evren straightened her spine. “Other than it is far from the pureness you so desperately want.”

“This is true.” She nodded. “Nonetheless, whether you realize what you are or not, I have. And I will take it from you.”

Whatever Ainthe wanted to take, Evren didn’t have. But, for whatever reason, she felt a jolt of panic. She watched the elf disappear in the mirror, and even though she knew it was futile, she turned around again. Faced with nothing but the black void of her mind, she slowly turned back to the mirror.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to see, but the image looking back at her still scared her regardless.

The reflection was her again. This time, she wasn’t beaten and bloodied. She was clean and fresh-faced. Her black hair was longer and clean. It was perfectly and carefully styled away from her face and held in place by two glistening pins with dangling silver charms that brushed the back of her neck. She wore a wedding dress of glowing golden silk, and a ring stood out on her finger far more than it should for such a simple silver band.

The mirrored Evren looked at her with a tired smile. That, at least, hadn’t changed. The smile still wasn’t straight. Despite looking healthy and dressed finely, she wasn’t happy. The pit in Evren’s stomach grew.

She held her left hand up. It was still covered in her blood, but it was dried now. She twisted it back and forth, looking for a ring she could still feel the memory of. Her mirrored self did the same, frowning at the band as she did.

“You don’t have to look so disappointed.” Evren didn’t even jump at the sound of his voice, but she felt the bitter twinge of regret all the same. “I know this isn’t something either of us wanted, but there are worse things.”

“Worse things than marrying me?” she and her mirror-self said, still gazing at their hands.

“Look, we’ll make it work. We still have a few weeks. Maybe we can find a loophole somewhere.”

Evren felt the warmth of the sun as if she were still there, leaning over the balcony that overlooked Orenlion. She could smell the trees and the leaves, feel the autumn wind driving away the warmth of the sun. She could still see Aster beside her, just as she’d left him, the last of the red-gold rays turning his hair amber as his brows furrowed the way his father’s did. The way he hated.

She wanted to tell him so many things. The list was endless, but it always started with an apology. Every single time. And they all caught in her throat. She felt her lips forming the same words they had before.

“A golden shackle is still a chain, Aster,” she whispered to the ring. “I won’t chain myself to anyone. Not even you.”

She finally tore her eyes away from her hand and met her mirrored self again. This time, she’d changed. The dress was torn and soaked in blood. The charms dripped crimson. Her mirror self was wide-eyed and crying, her hand still held up. The ring was gone, as was the finger that held it. The blood coated the hand the same way hers did now.

Evren took a fearful step back. “No. This didn’t happen. It didn’t happen like that. Do you hear me?” she cried out into the void. She knew Ainthe was listening. She could feel her. She turned away from the mirror and faced the shadows head-on now.

“You have no right to bring back those memories,” she continued, her anger rising with each word. “You have no right to them!”

“Such a strange creature.” Ainthe’s voice was everywhere, echoing again. Evren gritted her teeth. “You bind yourself to no one yet would bleed out your heart for those you push away.”

“Fuck off,” Evren spat. But the echoes were too loud. She covered her ears. It did nothing to keep the voices out—hers pathetically small compared to Ainthe’s.

“You cannot defend a pack you do not have, little Ren.”

Her ears were bleeding. She felt the fresh blood slipping between her fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut, but all she saw was Orenlion. The soft touch of daylight and the sweet scent of sap. She saw herself running between the massive oaks again, laughing as someone just out of sight chased after her and purposely let her be faster. She saw Aster’s smile and heard his laughter as he threw back his head with abandon. Always at her side. Always smiling so she didn’t have to. Always there when she was so utterly alone.

Evren choked back a sob. The golden memories wouldn’t leave her. She kept trying to remember why she’d left. Why did she leave a city that loved her? Why did she forsake an unending sky and a place of belonging for pain and darkness beneath the rock?

Nothing came to her. The only thing that grounded her was the piercing pain in her head, and the coppery taste of blood. It was all she could taste and feel. She didn’t need to look at herself to know that she was covered in it like a monster straight from a children’s story.

The pain was overwhelming. Evren screamed, but she couldn’t hear it over the echoes of Ainthe’s voice. She felt the tender flesh of her throat being torn apart. She felt the air leaving her exhausted lungs. Her dull fingernails dug into her temples the same way Ainthe’s had before, and she forced Aster and Orenlion out of her mind.

She could work with pain. She would not be weaker for it.

She turned her mind to Arke. She watched him leave over and over. She felt his words biting into her chest the way few had before. She thought of Sorin’s face as the visha dragged him below the water. Thought of how she would never hear him talk or hum again. She thought of Sol’s second chance and how she hadn’t gotten to clear her name. How she would forever rot at the bottom of a still lake. She imagined Gyda fighting until her last breath, the last of her runes on her sword flickering out as she died. She imagined Abraxas’s kind face and the words he’d promised the night before. The promise of a team she’d never have, one she had no idea she wanted. She’d take a hundred shackles and a thousand wedding rings to do it all over again and do it right.

The empty void changed.

Suddenly, she was in a storm. The leaves swirled around her feet so much, she couldn’t see the ground. The towering trees above her creaked and groaned. Under the cold flash of lightning, they looked like monsters rather than the guardians she remembered.

A crack of thunder tore through the forest. Suddenly, she was on her back. Something had her pinned. Something tore at her chest. Tears pricked her eyes, and she felt her heart break.

“Stop!” she cried over the storm. “Don’t do this to me, please!”

Lightning flashed again, and it was Ainthe. But her eyes were more like an animal’s. This was something more. Ainthe and a memory. Ainthe and a nightmare. Begging couldn’t stop it.

She felt her claws tear open her armor and start cutting at her skin. She screamed in pain and tried desperately to keep her hands away. But she wasn’t strong enough. She felt the skin split open, and her rib cage crack. She felt a clawed, monstrous hand reach for her heart.

“I will have all of you,” Ainthe hissed, her eyes wide and feverish.

Evren lashed out and felt her own blood-soaked hand sink into Ainthe’s chest. She felt the hand around her heart stop. She tore through skin, muscle, and bone with ease as Ainthe’s eyes grew wide with something new: fear.

“Or I will,” Evren said through bared, bloodied teeth.

The monstrous form Ainthe had taken reared back and out of Evren’s grasp. She suddenly felt herself falling. There was no more storm, no more forest. She fell through darkness and a void and blood.

She hit the ground and was suddenly back in the tent. The hide above her was black with smoke. She heard blood squishing in the woven blankets as she settled. She was utterly spent. Her legs and arms were cold. She couldn’t stop shaking. Everything looked darker than she remembered.

“Get her out!” She heard Ainthe screech. “Get her out now!”

Evren didn’t miss the panic in the woman’s voice. She would have laughed if she could. Someone roughly hauled her into the air, and the chitinous armor dug into her skin uncomfortably. But she found she didn’t care. She tried to crane her head to catch a glimpse of Ainthe as they took her out, but all she got was a flash of white.

I’ll see you again, she promised. To herself, to Ainthe, to the void itself. It didn’t matter. It was a promise born of blood.

She knew it was a bad idea to close her eyes, but she felt her lids growing heavier and heavier all the same. The guards weren’t gentle with her. All she could focus on as she closed her eyes was keeping her breathing calm. But even that grew out of her control. Too fast, too shallow. But she was still breathing, at least.

“Why isn’t this one dead?” her guard whispered. “Why didn’t the priestess kill her?”

Another one shushed him. “Forget about it. She’s almost dead anyway.”

Evren was dimly aware that they were speaking Core too, although much better than their chief had. But she didn’t have the strength to say anything. All she could do was breathe. She counted her list in her head, too.

Air? Check.

Solid ground? She assumed. So, yes. Check.

Fresh water? Negative.

Food? Absolute negative.

Health? Did functioning lungs count as good health if she was bleeding out? She wasn’t sure if she should check that one off or not.

She was still pondering that when the guards tossed her into a tent. She barely had the energy to break her fall and felt her shoulder and hip crunch with the impact. Through the pain, everything sounded like she was underwater. It was all she could do to remember not to hold her breath.

She heard an argument. Shouting she couldn’t understand. Weren’t they just speaking Core a moment ago? Divines. She was so cold. She wanted sunlight and a warm fire and fresh-baked bread crusted with a sugar glaze that she wasn’t supposed to coat it with.

Breathe, Evren, she reminded herself. Sugar rolls can come later.

The arguing finally stopped, and the guards stomped out. Their footsteps were too loud. Too heavy. The worm would hear if they weren’t careful, so she put her palm on the bare floor and felt for it.

“Stay away,” she murmured to the rock.

Warm arms suddenly scooped her up. These weren’t bristling with armor, and they handled her as if she were made of spun glass. She felt herself being carried away from her landing spot, and then settling down somewhere else. Whoever held her was as warm as the sun, but she couldn’t open her eyes to figure out who it was.

“Oh, that’s a lot of blood.” She knew that voice. From where did she know that voice? “You can fix her, right? Tell me you can fix her.”

The next voice was closer, deeper. She felt another pair of hands pressing against her side, and she whimpered at the burst of pain. “I-I don’t know. I can try to stop the bleeding, at least.”

Whoever held her shifted a bit so one of their arms wasn’t around her anymore. The cold suddenly rushed in, and Evren wanted to panic. But even that took strength that she didn’t have.

“Here.” The chest under her hummed with the voice. “Bind her with that. It’s all we have.”

“Thank you, Gyda,” the deep voice murmured. Evren felt the pressure on her side increase. But she didn’t care. Because, deep in the depths of the darkness that swallowed her, she wanted to cry. They were alive. She’d found them, and they weren’t corpses rotting as they waited for her. They were breathing and doing far better than she was.

“Sweet Jalaa . . .” Sol was beside her now. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know.” Through the haze, Evren struggled to put a face to the voice. But it had to be Abraxas fixing her. “We can pray.”

“You can pray.” Sorin paced. Evren wanted to snap at him to stop. He was too loud. “We can try to get out of here. Sol, you still have the dagger?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“We can’t move her.” She imagined Abraxas’s words stopping Sorin’s pacing.

“Then we wait,” he said. “We wait for Arke. He’ll come for us, right?”

A grim silence crept over all of them. But Evren just sank deeper into Gyda’s warmth. She didn’t want to think about Arke. She didn’t want to hurt anymore. She just wanted to sleep.

As she faded away, she was aware of Gyda keeping her steady. The others argued as Abraxas worked. But Gyda said nothing. All she did was hold Evren as she finally fell asleep, her crooked smile still in place.

12

She dreamed of strange things. Of sweet sugar rolls warm in her hands and coating her fingers with sticky glaze. She tasted more blood than sugar when she bit into them, but she closed her eyes and savored the warmth anyway. The memory of a wedding band she’d never worn lingered on a finger she kept losing over and over. She couldn’t ever seem to get her eyes to focus on it. In her mind, she swam in a dark void, teeming with white fish. There were so many of them, she couldn’t see the bottom, only the flashing white of their scales. They all sang, humming a melody with no real tune. She felt her skin vibrating with them. She wanted to sing, but every time she tried, she just coughed up blood. So, she stopped trying and let them sing for her. She promised to ask them to teach her the tune once they stopped. But they never did.

A nagging thought rooted itself in the back of her mind, urging her to focus, saying that she should be afraid. Every metallic-laced bite of the sugar rolls reminded her that something was wrong. The white fish scared her when she forgot they were there. She saw a flash of claws and dripping fangs if she didn’t look closely enough. But try as she might, she couldn’t get herself to fight against the dreams.

The endless cycle continued.

A bite of a roll, almost too hot now. It burned the roof of her mouth. She fumbled for her ring finger again and laughed when the bloody stub made everything too slippery to grasp. She lay back in the void with the fish darting between her hair and legs. Their humming tickled her ears. The farther she sank into their embrace, the more of their song she thought she understood.

Just a little deeper, she thought to herself. Just drift a little farther.

She was comfortable with those dreams. They were soft. They didn’t hurt to look at. They were numb and comforting. When the sharp ones broke them, she tried desperately to get back to the fish. The sharp dreams made no sense. They were filled with shouting and arguing. She smelled desperation and blood. When she moved, she hurt, and the pain was almost too much. She was weaker for it now. And with each jostled step they carried her, she sank deeper and deeper, moving away.

She never understood the shouting. Not really. Some felt like battle cries, but she drifted away before she could be sure. She thought she heard someone laughing at one point. She wanted them to sing again.

The words that made it to her ears were familiar.

“ . . . we can trust them, right?”

“I see little choice.”

In the sharp dream, she felt a stranger try to take her away. Their hands were cool and soft like water. They smelled clean and earthy. But the sun holding her gripped tightly.

“She stays with us.”

“Gyda, they want to help her . . .”

The white fish drowned out whatever words came next. She floated amidst them again. They hummed strange, muffled words now. She felt their fins brushing against her cheeks and tugging at her hands and feet, pulling her farther down. It was softer down there. She knew that. Nothing but gentle darkness. She wouldn’t taste so much blood anymore.

But something kept her above the surface. Like a gentle hand tipping her face and refusing to let her fall. She wanted to curse the tether that kept her afloat. She wanted to drift, to sing and float. Why wouldn’t they let her?

The soft void tugged at her feet. The fish hummed. But she stayed there, torn between falling and flying.

“Stop praying for me,” she heard herself say.

The humming fish faltered. The softness of the void withdrew with every sharp bite of her words. She instantly regretted it. She wanted to go back. To sleep. But the tether wouldn’t let her. She felt herself rising out of the water, inch by desperate inch.

The choice was there. As it always was. She could easily cut the tether and continue to fall. And the temptation to do so was great. Things were simple when nothing but the soft void was there. It guaranteed no more fighting or hurting. She wouldn’t have to worry about anything or anyone ever again. She could finally rest. And it would be enough.

Evren lifted her hand from the water and grasped the tether. It was shockingly warm in her grip. She almost imagined that it was a hand. She focused on it instead of the biting cold she felt as she slowly rose from the void. She tuned out the fish’s voice. She’d see them again one day; when she was good and ready. Perhaps on a day when she didn’t want their embrace but accepted it anyway.

But that wasn’t today.

The cold didn’t last long. Neither did the dark. She was too tired to force her eyes open, but she saw the soft light behind her eyelids. She was lying on something soft and warm. She smelled spices. If she didn’t move, she didn’t hurt.

She took a chest-swelling breath. Something ached, like a muscle that hadn’t been used in a long time, but it was pain she could endure. She tried to open her eyes but felt herself slipping back to sleep. The good kind.

As sleep took her, she heard a shaky breath of relief from beside her, and a warm hand on her shoulder.

“Welcome back,” the voice said. And she smiled as she slept.

WHEN EVREN WOKE AGAIN, everything was sharp and dry. She felt like a stiff piece of parchment, ready to snap in half if she moved too fast. She blinked open her heavy eyes, wincing as the grit gathered in the corners poked and stabbed her eyelids. A quick glance around the room did nothing but confuse her.

There was no tent. No cavern ceiling bristling with jagged rocks. Instead, she found a simple vaulted ceiling above her. Small, glowing orbs gathered like floating bubbles in the center and shed a soft green light on the space. Nothing sickly feeling like green almost always seemed to be outside of nature. It was a gentle shade and reminded her of sunlight passing through tree leaves. The rest of the room was comfortably shadowed. The walls were a soft grey, and the window on the far wall had its curtains drawn shut. The bed she lay on was simple, but it felt like heaven after lying on rock for so long.

With his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed, Abraxas sat beside the bed. He looked smaller without his armor somehow. She heard soft murmurs coming from behind his hands and fallen hair, which had been left loose to fall freely across his shoulders.

“I thought I told you not to pray for me.” Her voice didn’t sound like hers. It was raw and too deep. Her throat felt like it was on fire.

Abraxas’s head snapped up, and his dark eyes were pools of relief. Dark circles and deep worry lines started to reveal his age, but he looked healthy besides that. He let his hands fall to his sides, a small smile creeping up his face.

“So, you weren’t completely delirious.” A hint of laughter laced his voice, but he still looked worried.

“Honestly, it was just a good guess.” She shrugged and choked back a cough. She tried to hold it back, but it tore through her anyway. It hurt like hell, and Abraxas hurriedly gave her a glass of water. She was relieved to find she didn’t taste any blood and drank the water greedily. She let herself catch her breath and licked her chapped lips.

“I apologize.” His words were delivered with a soft voice, but they carried the weight of mountains.

“For what?” she rasped. “You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the problem.” He set the water down. “Before, when I had Haphion’s powers, I was more than a warrior. I could heal, too. I’d forgotten how much I relied on that to feel useful until this quest.”

She put a hand on his arm and tried to reassure him. “Abraxas, you are useful. You’ve defended us and kept us together. Your words stuck with me more than any of the tutors and priests I’ve ever had over the years.”

“My shield and my words meant nothing when you were dying,” he said bitterly and clenched his fist to his chest. “I tried to heal you then. I tried to call upon the light that used to reside in me but . . .” He let out a breath and splayed his fingers. “Nothing. I fear the time will come when I could use my power if only it was there. I never want to be that helpless again.”

What could she say to help that? She squeezed his arm with what pathetic strength she could muster. “We’ll just have to stick together and be more careful.”

“What if it happens again?”

“We’ll figure it out together. Like you said. You’re not alone in this. We’ve got your back, and each other’s.”

He nodded but didn’t look convinced. Still, he patted her hand and seemed to accept it for now. That was all either of them could do.

“How long have I been out?” she asked. It wasn’t the only question she had, or even the most important one. But it was easy to ask, and easier for him to answer.

“It’s hard to tell down here. Maybe four, five days.”

“Five days?” Evren tried to sit up, but her side erupted in an insistent, dull throb, and she settled back into her pillows.

“You’re not completely healed yet.” Abraxas winced. “Apparently, you fought them most of the process. Or your body, at least.”

“Them?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He nodded. “The Serevadians. The same elves we encountered at the lake.”

“I remember those being a lot less friendly,” she said dryly. “And less advanced.”

“It’s complicated. Those who found us are a different faction. The elves here call them the Mora. It means—”

“Still,” she finished. “Stagnant or stuck in the past.” He blinked at her, surprised, and she just shrugged. “I guess my lessons are coming back to me.”

“Perhaps.” But he didn’t look convinced. Evren wasn’t sure she was, either. She put the thought away and wiggled her way up to a sitting position, letting her back rest against the headboard.

“How is everyone else?” she asked. “Are they all right?”

“Healthy and whole.” He waved off her worry. “Although all worried about you. You gave us quite the fright.”

“You died first,” she muttered. She was surprised to find that he laughed and let herself smile. “How did you survive the lake, by the way?”

“With no small degree of luck.” He rubbed his hand over his tired face. “I don’t remember much. Only being pulled from the water and meeting their priestess. She was . . .” A dark shadow crossed his face.

“A bitch?” Evren offered, and he snorted.

“To put it mildly.”

“Did she go rooting in your head, too?”

He nodded stiffly. “One of the least pleasant experiences I’ve ever had. Sorin fared worse than I did, but the whole experience was draining. I’m still not sure what she gained from such magic.”

“Our language, for one.” Evren sighed. “She spoke Core well by the time I got to her.”

“Then I pray that’s all she learned.”

Evren let herself rest a little more before she asked her next question. The biggest one. “How did we get out?”

“The Serevadians found and released us. It wasn’t a pretty fight, but according to those that traveled with us, the factions have had more than their fair share of spilled blood on each side. Arke found them and pointed them in our direction, and they liberated us and took us to their city.”

Evren’s throat felt tight at the mention of Arke’s name, but she let herself smile. Whether or not she felt entirely comfortable with these strange elves, she was grateful. None of them would have survived if they hadn’t intervened.

“What do you make of them?” she asked.

Abraxas paused, his brows furrowing again. “It’s hard to tell now. Those we’ve met are cautious but seem to mean well. They keep a healthy distance but have been generous with their help. Solri seems to think they can help us with Karas since they seem to recognize dwarves, but they haven’t said anything to her when she questions them.”

Evren had almost forgotten about Karas and their original quest. But it would make sense that Sol would hold onto that hope. Evren shared it with her.

“Gyda is suspicious of everyone,” Abraxas went on. “She won’t let any of them get close if she doesn’t already know them. Most give her a wide berth anyway. Sorin is an anxious mess, and if he paces any more, he’ll wear a trench in the floor. Arke is mostly unchanged. He hasn’t said much to me, but that’s not new.”

His gaze returned to her, and she found that hopeful sparkle in his eyes much better than the stark worry she was used to. “Do you feel strong enough to see them? I could funnel them in here, but the room is rather small—”

“Yes!” she blurted. “I mean, I think I can.”

He smiled gently. “I can help, don’t worry.”

It was a long process to get her out of bed, and took even longer to get her on her feet. She had to stop more than a few times to catch her breath. Everything in her body felt weak and underused. Even her lungs felt smaller and frailer. Abraxas had more patience than she did, and he carefully guided her to her feet with strong words and subtle prodding with his hands.

Once on her feet, Evren felt like she might fall again. She wobbled unsteadily but waved away Abraxas’s hand. The lightheadedness passed with a few breaths, and eventually, her feet felt sturdier than they had before. One step after the other, and she felt her strength returning in small bursts.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped. The girl that looked back at her was less a stranger than the one Ainthe had shown her. She was pale, and her skin was tight across her bones. The cut above her eye was sealed shut and nearly healed, but she felt the bandages under her clothes. They weren’t hers, and she hadn’t noticed until now. She ran a hand over the soft material the color of the twilight sky. The clothes were loose and breathable, and her chest scar was visible for all to see. It tingled under her gaze, and she let her fingers touch it. It hadn’t changed, even after the fight with Ainthe. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not.

The girl in the mirror was bruised and healing. But the light in her eyes showed that she was alive. Evren smiled before moving on.

Abraxas led her to the arched door on the far side of the room. “They’re in fine form today.” He smiled. “Just a fair warning.”

“Aren’t they always?” she offered as he opened the door. He held it open for her, and she shuffled through with little hesitation.

The door opened into a round sitting room. Five identical doors to hers dotted each wall. The vaulted ceiling came to a rounded point at the top, and the arched beams holding it up were elegantly carved with symbols and artwork she didn’t recognize. The green orbs glowed and bobbed up there, as well, weaving between the beams with little effort. The smooth floor was polished to a shine, and a plush carpet of deep emerald-green covered most of it. The chairs and couches surrounded an elegantly carved table, but all faced a large fireplace, directly opposite two double doors.

The room was far from quiet, however. The chatter bounced off the walls and high ceilings and drowned out the cheery crackle of normal, orange fire. Sorin paced in front of the hearth and looked nearly unchanged, aside from his new clothes. Sol sat on the chair nearest him. She had thick stubble on her chin, and her hair was a mess, but she looked healthy. Arke was perched on the arm of the couch, his flat nose buried in his book.

It was Gyda who noticed Evren first. From her spot next to the double doors, she looked more like a statue than a woman. She also wore new clothes, and her hair was wrapped in a cloth the same grey as her outfit, rather than the deep purple Evren was used to.

“Enough.” Gyda’s voice cut through whatever Sol and Sorin were arguing about. They looked at her and then followed her gaze to Evren, who stood in the doorway awkwardly.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Her voice broke whatever spell they were under. Sol immediately jumped up from her spot on her chair and ran over to her.

“You’re awake!” she cried and wrapped Evren in a hug.

Evren froze, unsure what to do. But Sol didn’t let go, so she hesitantly wrapped an arm around the dwarf’s shoulders. “Uh, Sol?”

“Yeah?” Evren’s shirt muffled her voice.

“You’re pinching my bandages.”

“Oh!” She backed away swiftly. “I’m so sorry, Evren. I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s what you get for being so short.” Sorin pushed past her and grabbed Evren’s shoulder. “Come ‘ere.”

She didn’t have much of a choice in this hug either. Sorin’s lanky arms wrapped around her tightly. How did he still smell like salt and the sea after so long away from it? She awkwardly patted his back and felt the tips of her ears growing warm. She wasn’t used to this much attention. She didn’t know what to do with it. But she was a little sad to feel Sorin pull away.

“Don’t do that again, okay?” He squeezed her shoulder, his smile light, but his eyes serious.

“Do what?” She laughed.

“Nearly die.” Gyda’s voice made all of them jump, even Abraxas. She hadn’t moved from her spot near the door, but she nodded in Evren’s direction. “It is good to see you well again.”

“It’s good to be well,” she breathed.

Abraxas shooed them away from her and guided her to a chair near the fire. Evren was grateful to sit again. Her legs shook even as she took her weight off them. She tucked them under her with a lot more effort than she would’ve liked. But the pain in her side wasn’t as jarring as it had been in the beginning, and the more she moved, the more she knew the wound wasn’t open. Just extremely sore.

“So,”—she picked at her thumb—“how is everyone?”

Sorin laughed, his dreads falling back as he lounged on the couch. The tips of his toes poked Arke, who hadn’t looked up. “‘How is everyone?’ she asked. Oh, we’re fine. Thanks to you and Arke. I knew you’d pull through.”

Arke finally looked up from his book and met Evren’s eyes. They stared at each other for a while before she smiled. “It was always part of the plan.” She looked back at Sorin. “I’m a good distraction.”

“Too good,” Sol said and crossed her legs under her. “You nearly died.”

“I pissed off the priestess a little more than I planned.” Evren shrugged. “So it goes.”

“Let’s keep that to a minimum from now on,” Abraxas said. She couldn’t argue with that.

“Right.” Sorin fiddled with a stray thread on the couch. “Now that we’re all here, can we go? If I stare at these walls any longer, I’m going to lose it.”

“You’re not exactly the picture of mental health normally.” Sol laughed. “Besides, you can walk around outside.”

“Yeah, with an armed escort.” He snorted. “I’d rather not.”

“Then drive yourself mad, seaman.”

“Maybe I will! Rock . . . girl.”

Sol gave into a fit of snorting laughter that sounded as if it came from a pig rather than a dwarven noblewoman. Evren shook her head at Sorin, grinning.

“Oh, Sorin, that was weak.”

“I know! I’ve lost my touch. It’s all this bloody rock.”

He did sound genuinely upset, but eventually, Sol’s giggling got him laughing at her. Evren couldn’t help but share in the infectious mood. Her cheeks started to feel sore, and she couldn’t let herself laugh too hard. But her chest felt warm and whole. The strange knot of nerves that had built there had started to loosen. It was such a stark contrast to what she’d felt before. She didn’t want it to end.

But, of course, it had to.

The double doors opened with a click and a light whoosh of air. Three strange elves walked in. The two in the back were simple guards, but their armor was beautiful. It seemed to mold to their bodies and wrap around them in silver swirls that tapered off into delicate points at the elbows, shoulders, and for the gauntlets. Their helmets almost completely covered their faces. But the one in the front wore elegant robes made to look like moth’s wings rather than armor. A bright silver moth brooch shimmered on his chest. He was beautiful. He had his long, white hair pulled away from his face into a series of elegant, twisted braids that hung down his back. His skin was a deep, soothing grey. Long, white lashes framed inquisitive, light grey eyes, his gaze falling on her immediately.

“Death has lost its grip on you, finally.” His voice was low and smooth, and he bowed to her.

Any words she might have spoken caught in Evren’s throat. But she didn’t need to worry. As the elf straightened, he finally caught a glimpse of Gyda lurking beside him and hastily darted away from her.

“Ah, she hasn’t grown less suspicious.” He straightened his robes and waved off one of the guards. “No need. She is harmless.”

“Brave words coming from a man standing right in front of her,” Evren retorted.

The elf looked at her in shock. Even Gyda raised an eyebrow. Evren started to squirm under their attention.

“What?”

“You are not Serevadian,” he spoke slowly. “And yet, you understand me?”

“Yes?” Evren looked around the room and found the rest of her party looking just as confused. “Can’t everyone?”

“Only when the small one casts his spells.” He gestured to Arke. “You know our language?”

“No, you’re speaking—”

“Serevadian,” he finished. “It is my native tongue.”

“Right. Evvie, you’re starting to freak me out.” Sorin’s gaze darted back and forth between the two of them.

“Don’t worry. The feeling is mutual.” Her eyes didn’t leave the elf’s, but she spoke to everyone. “I can apparently understand their language.”

“This is extraordinary.” The elf swept into the room and took the last empty chair. He clasped his hands on his lap and looked at her expectantly. “You must have gotten our language from your Melding with the high priestess.”

“Arke?” Abraxas had lost his easy demeanor. The goblin flipped through his book quickly.

“On it.”

“Melding?” Evren asked. “That mind fuckery she pulled?”

He nodded. “It’s a sacred ritual. Both parties are supposed to be willing. It makes the exchange of knowledge easier.”

“I can tell you, it wasn’t a willing ritual,” she muttered. “At least not on our parts.”

“So I’ve heard. You have my deepest apologies on behalf of my people. The things you have endured do not represent all of us.”

Evren knew when Arke had finished his spell. The wave of magic settled over the whole room and tingled against her skin. He snapped his book shut and scowled at both of them.

“Speak normally now.”

Evren didn’t have the energy to tell him that she had been, as far as she knew. Surely, she would have known if she were speaking another language. Elvish had always felt so strange on her tongue. Her mouth was too clumsy for her father’s language. And yet, Serevadian felt as natural as breathing.

The elf straightened his shoulders. “I shall reintroduce myself.”

“Thank fuck, I’d forgotten again,” Sorin whispered under his breath.

“My name is Viggo of Andovine. I am the Herald of Light to the Convocation.”

“Are you sure the spell worked, Arke?” Sorin smirked. “I still don’t understand him.”

“It is a lot to process for those unaware of our ways.” Viggo winced apologetically. “In short, I am a representative of my people, chosen by them to help better guide them. My title refers to my work with our advancements.”

“Advancements?” Evren sat up straighter.

“Given to us by our Maker, yes,” He raised a hand. “But that is a story for another time. I have been assigned to you and your party.”

“To keep us contained.”

“To keep you safe,” he corrected. “Serevadia hasn’t had outsiders such as you in a long time. None in our lifetimes. Some are scared, others curious. And many would see you as lesser beings.”

“Because we’re not like you.” She frowned. “But Abraxas is an elf, too.”

“He is.” Viggo nodded at Abraxas. “But not of our kind. We have not seen others of the Elder blood in a long time. You can forgive our wariness.”

“Then why help us?” She crossed her arms. “If we’re such a risk, why not leave us to the Mora?”

“We make a point to not stoop to the level of our lost brethren.” Viggo sniffed. “We are a civilized people, and you needed assistance. Should we have left you to your fates?”

“Not that we’re not grateful,” Sol said hurriedly. “We are. You’ve been more than generous . . .”

“Don’t kiss his ass, Sol,” Sorin said. Evren shot him a warning look, and he muttered an apology and sank farther into the couch. She turned back to Viggo.

“We are grateful, especially me. But you understand why we’re wary of you, right?”

“I do.” He sighed. “There is much to discuss. And, unfortunately, little I can explain on my own. For now, could you at least tell me why you traveled so far?”

Evren looked at her party. They each shrugged. Sol hesitated but nodded. There was no use in keeping secrets, especially in such a delicate situation.

“We were tasked with finding a group of prisoners that fled and came this way,” she explained. “We had to take a different path due to the giant worm, but we hoped to loop around if that was possible.”

Viggo immediately brightened. “Alkimos.”

“Uh, I’m sorry?”

“The Great Worm. Alkimos! You’ve seen him?”

He looked far too overjoyed at the mention of the giant worm. Evren didn’t know what unsettled her more. That or the fact that the beast had a name. She shuddered to think of it as a pet.

“A few times, yes,” she said cautiously.

“He nearly ate us. Twice.” Sorin wiggled two fingers in the air.

But Viggo merely laughed. “This is fantastic news.”

“It . . . is?”

“We haven’t seen Alkimos in decades. We thought him dead. This will bring great joy to the people.”

“Oh, you can have him.” Sol shivered. “He’s getting far too close to the surface for comfort. Say, you don’t happen to have a magic whistle or something to call him back?”

The elf shook his head, the excitement in his eyes fading a bit as he settled back into the seat. He crossed his legs and was obviously getting more comfortable. “Unfortunately, no. Normally, we go to his nest to call him. But since there were rumors of his death, we stopped trying. Perhaps we will try once more, now that we know for sure.” He smiled. “Thank you, again, for such news.”

Evren laughed his thanks off awkwardly. “You know, just doing our best. Returning worms and all.”

“It’s what we do best,” Sorin piped up. “Apparently.”

“This will help your reputation throughout the city, as well. If you survived Alkimos, that means you have a right to be here. Many in Andovine will see it that way, anyway.”

“Good news all around, then,” Abraxas mused.

Viggo nodded thoughtfully. Evren watched his eyes glaze over as his mind drifted. She couldn’t imagine what could be taking him so far away, so quickly. But as quick as it started, it ended. He shot to his feet, his robes rippling out around him.

“There is much to do,” he said, the hint of excitement still drizzling over his words. “I will speak to my fellow Heralds about Alkimos’s return, and return to you in the morn. We have much to discuss.” He turned and started to leave. Gyda even stepped out of his way. But Evren unfolded her legs and clambered to stand up.

“Wait!” Her voice stopped him, and he turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “The prisoners we were looking for. Do you know anything about them?”

Viggo looked at the floor, and Evren watched his white brows furrow and draw together. They didn’t change when he looked back up at her. “As I said, there is much to discuss. Just know that your path led you to us for a reason, and I will see to it that you walk back to it safely.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said with more strength than she actually had.

“I expected nothing less.” He took a breath and straightened, his forehead smoothing as he put on the smile again. “This wing is open to you now. Should you need any assistance, guards will be posted just outside it. Do enjoy the amenities and get some rest. You have earned it.”

He left the room with a flourish of robes. The two guards left also, and the doors closed behind them with a soft click. Nothing broke the silence after that except for the cheerful crackle of fire.

Evren collapsed into her chair. The sudden surge of movement had left her drained, and she struggled not to show how winded she was from just standing up too fast. It would be a long road to get back to the way she was before.

“There’s your answer, Solri,” Abraxas said. “They know about Karas.”

She nodded, her fingers tapping her chin. “If Karas was here, he might still be. We should look for him.”

“We need to be careful,” Evren said. “They’re watching us. They know we want him.”

“But why protect him?” Sorin asked.

“Why protect us?” Gyda answered him. “We do not know these people or their motivations. I don’t trust them.”

“The best we can do is play by their rules.” Abraxas held his hands out as if to calm everyone. “At least until Evren heals completely. Something tells me we’ll know more tomorrow.”

“And then what?” Sorin started pacing again. She could see the dent he’d already made in the carpet. “You think they’ll let us just leave?”

“They don’t have to let us,” Evren murmured. They all turned to her, but she was staring into the fire. The flames danced in her eyes, their warmth enticing her even from her spot in the chair. The wheels in her sluggish mind began to turn again. “We’ll walk out of here, just like he said. I intend to do so whether we have their permission or not.”

A gilded cage and a golden shackle weren’t very different. No matter how grateful she was to Viggo and the Serevadians, the fact remained that they knew next to nothing about these elves. She and her team were blind. At an extreme disadvantage. And if the Serevadians had been working with Karas for some reason, their motivations were far from fair.

She would not allow herself to be caged. But she would wait until she was stronger. Until she had more information. She wanted to trust Viggo, but she would bite the hand that fed her if it meant freedom.

13

Despite having slept for five days, Evren couldn’t wait to crawl back into bed. The food the elves brought barely registered in her mind, and while she was grateful for the warm meal, she nearly fell asleep in her bowl of soup. No one argued when she excused herself to rest some more.

She’d caught Arke’s eye as she left. She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed in her or still mad. Perhaps a bit of both? She’d been reckless and impulsive. Right or not, she could’ve avoided the situation. And deep in the tangled mess of her chest, she knew that Arke was thinking just that. She could’ve chased him down and demanded that they work together. Perhaps they could have tried a more peaceful approach, or Arke’s magic could’ve gotten them in and out undetected. If she’d put away her wounded pride, things could’ve ended differently.

Could haves, what-ifs and maybes swirled in her head long after she’d sunk beneath the covers of her bed. It was useless to dwell on the past, but that had never stopped her before. Why would it now?

She rested in the comforts of her soft bed but didn’t sleep. She couldn’t tell if it was because her thoughts refused to quiet down, or if her body had truly had enough sleep. Regardless, she lay in the dark with her eyes closed, trying to dream despite the world just outside her window begging her to explore.

She was almost there when she heard her door creak open.

“Evren?”

“Mm?” She didn’t want to open her eyes. She’d just started to calm her mind.

“You up?”

“If I said no, would you believe me?” Evren managed to open one eye to look at Sol, who was still wedged between the door and the arched frame. Her hair was a mess as if she’d been asleep, too—or had been trying. “Is something wrong?”

“Complete opposite of wrong,” she whispered excitedly. “You have to see this.”

Evren sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What is it?”

“Well, Gyda was exploring the wing Viggo left us . . .”

“And?”

“And . . .” Her eyes sparkled. “She found a bathhouse!”

Evren blinked in bed for a bit, trying to wrap her mind around her words. “Bath?”

“Yes! Come on, we’re trying it out.”

The idea was tempting. More than tempting. It sounded heavenly. But it was still very late, and as welcoming as a bath sounded, she wasn’t sure how much her body could handle. “It’s late, Sol. Can’t it wait until morning?”

“Absolutely not!” she retorted. “Once the boys find out it’s there, we’ll have no privacy. Come on. I’m not taking no for an answer.” And then the dwarf disappeared back behind her door and left Evren alone.

Evren didn’t know if she wanted to follow her or curl up back in bed. She was fairly sure Sol would drag her out by her ankles if she didn’t make an appearance, but the image was almost too good to pass up. Almost.

She sighed and slowly got out of bed. Her side twinged in pain, but she’d come to ignore it. Or rather, rely on it. The pain meant that she was healing. That she was still alive. Evren wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be numb again if it meant being closer to death.

She shuffled her way out of her room, flattening her hair as she went. The common room was dark without the light of the fire and with the green orbs dimmed, but she could easily make out Gyda and Sol waiting for her near the double doors. Sol practically bounced on her feet, and Evren was glad to see her happy energy back. Even Gyda wore a relaxed smile.

“This bath had better be worth it,” she whispered.

“It will be, I promise.” Sol grinned broadly. “Now, let’s go.”

She darted through the double doors and outside. Evren and Gyda shared a look and then shrugged and followed her. What else was there to do anyway?

The hallway outside their chambers was very similar to what they were used to. The vaulted, arched ceilings made everything feel light and airy, despite the absence of windows. The floor was chilly under Evren’s bare feet, but it felt as smooth as marble. Several different doors stood on each side of the hallway, but only one of them on the far end to the left was open. The light pouring out of it was warm and rosy, and Evren could smell the sweet air wafting out of it already.

She ducked inside after Sol. The room was large and wide. A massive sunken pool took up much of the space. The water was bright and clear and seemed to glow. The little waves sent dancing arcs of blue light onto the ceiling. Glowing orbs like the ones in the previous rooms flitted around the room. They didn’t confine themselves to the ceiling, and sometimes dipped close to the water. Their soft pink glow was a welcome change that Evren hadn’t realized she needed. The air was warm and humid from the steam of the bath, and it smelled of fine salts and incense. She found her shoulders starting to relax.

“Wow,” she breathed. She stepped aside as Gyda joined them, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the pool. “This is amazing.”

“I told you it would be worth it,” Sol said triumphantly as she closed the door behind them. “It’s about time we all got really clean.”

“I agree,” Gyda said, nodding and surprising them both. At their odd looks, she shrugged. “I don’t mind getting dirty. Or clean. I can like both.”

“Good to know you’re not just the bathe-in-blood type.” Sol laughed. “All right, let’s get naked.”

“Uh, what?” Evren tried to question her, but Sol was already stripping out of her borrowed clothes and running towards the pool. “Naked?”

“It is a bath.” Gyda’s rumbling laugh took her by surprise as Sol jumped into the water with an impressive splash.

“Well, I know.” She wiped off a few droplets that landed on her cheek. “I just didn’t think—Gyda!”

Evren turned around sharply, her ears burning almost as much as the sudden glance at the disrobing woman had burned into her mind. She knew the warrior was impressive, but up so close and completely naked, Evren was taken aback. Again, she heard her laughing, and through her haze of embarrassment, she found herself liking the sound.

“It’s fine, Evren,” she said. “It’s just a body.”

“Aww!” Sol swam up to the edge of the pool. “She’s shy.”

“I’m not,” she protested but still averted her eyes as Gyda climbed into the pool. “I’m just used to more privacy, is all.”

“Communal baths are common for dwarves.” Sol shrugged. “All the hot gossip happens in the bath. Right, Gyda?”

She shrugged, lowering herself into the water until she could rest her arms on the edge. “My people just took baths whenever.”

For Evren, this was wildly outside her comfort zone. She’d grown up believing those who saw her bare were the few she loved. To have such an intimate affair with anyone baffled her. But the more she thought about it, the more she felt stupid. What had she expected when Sol had said bathhouse? When she’d obviously invited Evren and Gyda to join her. Would it be rude to refuse? Even standing at the edge of the pool felt too awkward. Of course, she could always use her wound as an excuse, but it was closed. And the warm water would probably help it.

“You don’t have to join us,” Gyda said as concern softened her voice. “Don’t make yourself uncomfortable.”

“Oh, right.” Sol winced apologetically. “No pressure or anything.”

“No, it’s fine.” Evren took a deep breath and tried to shake off the embarrassment that clung stubbornly to her cheeks. “Just . . . turn around.”

Sol laughed. “Seriously? The water’s clear, you know. We’ll be able to see you, regardless.”

“I got stabbed for you.” She jammed a finger in her direction. “Turn around.”

Sol was still laughing but did it anyway. She swam to the other side of the pool, splashing everywhere as her snorting giggle echoed through the room. Evren looked at Gyda pointedly, but she just smirked and shut her eyes.

She scowled, feeling ridiculous but undressing anyway. She wiggled out of her clothes and fiddled with the bandages around her waist until she found the edge. She held her breath as she unraveled them until they finally revealed a tender, pink scar cut into her side. She touched it gently and winced a bit. But as sore as it was, it looked safe to submerge. So, she tossed the bandages into the same pile as her clothes and walked as confidently as she could into the pool.

The tiled steps were slippery under her toes, but the warm water enveloping her inch by inch made all menial worries drift away. She sank deeper into the water until all that was above the surface was her face. Swimming was a little much for her wound, so she drifted lazily until she found a little tiled bench on the side and settled down there.

“You’ve got muscles.” Sol waggled her eyebrows over at Evren, who frowned at her and hugged her arms to her chest.

“Using a bow requires a lot of strength,” she said defensively. “Not as much as Gyda, obviously.”

“Well, obviously.” Sol rolled her eyes. “She uses a sword almost as big as you. Of course, her arms would be that size. It’s a compliment, Evren. You look good.”

“Oh.” Her ears were burning again, and she sank a little deeper into the water. “Thanks.”

So close to the water, the heady scents of herbs and flowers filled her nostrils completely. Sighing, she tilted back her head and let the warm water encase her hair and scalp. She felt weightless. Not numb, but calm.

“Better?” Sol asked from across the pool.

“Mm-hmm,” was all Evren said, and the dwarf started snickering.

There wasn’t much talking for the next several minutes. They passed around the various soaps and shampoos they found waiting to be used. Sol insisted on smelling each and every one but settled on a strangely spicy scent. For Evren, nothing felt better than finally washing her hair. It felt like the roots themselves were sore, and each pass of the shampoo washed away all the hurt and the grime that had built up. She felt more whole after that than she had since waking up.

Gyda never took off her hair wrap, however. Even after she was done bathing and washing off what Evren had thought were permanently inked tattoos, she didn’t touch her hair.

“This feels a little blunt, I’m sorry.” Evren put aside her bar of soap. “When did you get a new hair wrap?”

“I made it.” She shrugged. “They had to give me an extra shirt because of it.”

“What happened to your old one?”

“She, uh, let Abraxas use it to stop your bleeding.” Sol shrugged awkwardly.

Evren looked at Gyda in shock. The warrior, for once, wasn’t looking at her. She’d chosen to focus on her toes far beneath the water instead.

“You ruined your scarf for me?” Evren couldn’t believe it.

Gyda shrugged. “It was either that or force Sorin to tear up his shirt. I didn’t want to see that.”

“Still, thank you.” It wasn’t enough. The scarf was obviously important to Gyda. Evren had never seen her without it. “I’ll get you a new one, I swear.”

“Maybe if I ever find the time to go home.” She smiled ruefully. “It was a clan weave. I doubt you could find its likeness anywhere else.”

“Oh . . .”

“So, you’ve got a thing with your hair?” Sol asked.

Gyda nodded, looking a little uncomfortable as she did. “Among my people, we cover our hair with our clan’s weave. Each is unique to the clan, and it marks our loyalties as well as our status within the clans. One is not supposed to show their hair unless they are married.”

“Does that mean you married everyone in the tent?” Sol asked with a wicked grin, to which, Gyda just scowled.

“No.”

“Aw, it would’ve fun to be my wife.”

Gyda snorted but looked like she was relaxing more. It was easier when it was a joke. And now that Evren knew just how much that purple scarf meant to her, she felt incredibly guilty. Like she’d accidentally taken something very precious. She knew Gyda wouldn’t have done it if she were too worried about it, but it didn’t make her feel any better. And there was no way to fix it.

“I never saw your hair,” she offered with a small smile. “What color was it, Sol? Blue?”

“More like a really bright green. Right?”

Gyda just rolled her eyes. “You’re both terrible at this.” But there was still a smile there.

“I really didn’t see.” Evren shrugged. “Nearly dying will do that.”

“So, you’re not married to Gyda.” Sol waved a finger between the two of them. “I think Abraxas might’ve taken a vow of chastity or something, so he’s off the table. And, honestly, if we asked Sorin, he might actually believe your hair is blue. So, you’re off the hook.”

“That still leaves you,” she pointed out.

“Me?” Sol laughed and sent a small wave across the pool to her. “I’m taken, love. I decline your proposal.”

“What is the story with Mal?” Evren cocked her head to the side. “You two were quite close when we left.”

“Oh.” A sweet blush tinged her cheeks, and she actually curled deeper into the water. But her blue eyes sparkled. “We’re, uh, not married.”

“I saw a ring,” Gyda pointed out. “Well, many of them. You dwarves like your jewelry.”

She nodded and brushed the wet hair out of her eyes. “We do. Mal is married. I’m not. It’s very complicated.”

Evren blanched. “You mean . . .”

She winced. “Yes, yes, I know. I’m a horrible person.”

“I don’t understand?” Gyda looked between them, confused, and Sol sighed and sank deeper into the water until her mouth just barely poked over the surface.

“Mal is married to another. He and I are secretly seeing each other outside of that.”

“And that’s a problem?”

Sol floundered for an explanation when Evren took over. “For most people, marriage is just between two people. To go and sleep with someone else behind your partner’s back is considered taboo.”

“And you do not invite his wife to join?” Gyda offered.

Sol quickly shook her head, water droplets flying everywhere. “No. His wife would hate it.”

“That’s a little awkward for you, Sol,” Evren said softly. “Are you doing okay?”

“Oh, having the love of my life be married to another is the least of my concerns right now.” She scoffed. “Emotionally, I’m fine. He didn’t want to marry her. It was political, like most things are in Dirn-Darahl. So, I don’t take it personally. I know who he is. I know he wants me. There’s just nothing we can do about it yet.”

“Yet?”

She shrugged. “Once I clear my name, I’ll have my seat back in Court. Things can go back to normal. Divorces are ugly, and Mal doesn’t have the same type of power that used to come with my name, so he could risk losing his seat. But given enough time, I can make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“Is he not ill?” Gyda asked. “Why would you want to marry a sickly man?”

“Huh? Oh. You mean his nosebleed?”

“Yeah,” Evren said. “What was that about?”

“It’s common for the workers who deal with the gas to get them,” she explained. “Mal used to work down there until he got into politics. It’s safer for his health, and he’s come a long way. Not many dwarves in Court don’t have old, noble blood backing them. The nosebleeds come and go. Probably will for the rest of his life.”

“Well, he seems to really care about you,” she said with a smile. “That can be rare to find.”

Again, Sol had that giddy twinkle in her eye. It was so obvious how much she loved Mal, that Evren ached for her. How long had she been away from him between their journey and her time in prison? And to never fully have him in the first place . . . it must have been draining. But Sol just looked happy. Hopeful even.

“I know,” she said finally. “He’s good to me. Kind, intelligent, and funny—when he wants to be. He’s no warrior, but I find I like that about him. It’s refreshing.” She sighed and then turned to Evren. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you?”

Evren froze. “What?”

Sol cackled, her soft demeanor gone, replaced by her usual, bouncy energy. “Tell us about yourself. Do you have a secret lover?”

Evren wanted to laugh but settled for wafting the glowing orb that had fallen too close to her back up to the ceiling. “Uh, no. Almost got married once, but I ended up backing out.”

“Ooh, a runaway bride!” Sol was far too excited at the idea.

“It was a mutual running away.” She laughed. “He and I were friends, but our families pushed for the marriage. I didn’t like the idea of being tied down, you know?”

“Nope. Mal can tie me down however and whenever he wants.”

Evren laughed. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“So, not married. Hmm,” Sol mused. “What about your scar? The one on your chest?”

“Oh.” Evren’s hand immediately went to cover it, and she had to force it back underwater. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t remember?”

“That’s odd,” Gyda huffed. “I remember all of my scars.”

Evren shrugged, trying not to let on how much it bothered her that she didn’t know. Gyda was right; it was odd. But it didn’t change that she had no clue how she’d gotten it.

“All I know is that it means I survived,” she said. “It’s not very pretty, so no low-cut dresses for me. But I’ll take a nasty scar over a grave anyday.”

“A wise choice,” Gyda agreed. But her eyes lingered on the scar. “You should not be ashamed of it. Only proud that you are alive to have it.”

Of course, a warrior like Gyda would think like that. The words stuck, though. Evren couldn’t deny that. Even when she turned away, she didn’t try to cover up the scar. It was a start, if a small one.

“Very smart. Let’s hope the boys keep that kind of attitude,” Sol said. “No more death-defying acts, okay? I want a clean adventure from here on out. We find Karas, we drag him out, and we go home. You all get paid handsomely, and I get my job and my honor back.”

“No arguments here.” Evren leaned against her bench and stretched out her pruning toes.

“Oh! And you are all coming to dinner at my home when this is over,” Sol said firmly. “No, you don’t have a choice. Dinner is the least I can do for helping me.”

“I’ll never turn down dinner,” Gyda grumbled.

“So, find Karas, get him home, get our reward, and get Sol’s honor back in time for dinner,” Evren listed. “Am I missing anything?”

“You said I could kill some prisoners.”

“Ah! I did. Don’t let me forget that.”

“This’ll be over soon,” Sol promised.

It would be. But it was far easier to believe her words while they were relaxing in a bath. Evren had the sneaking suspicion that everything would seem far less simple come morning. But she couldn’t deny that she was buzzing with excitement to see Andovine and all it had to offer. And, for at least a moment, she could allow herself to believe that the hard part was over and done. It was a lie, but a pretty one. And she clung to it throughout the night.

They couldn’t stay in there all night, though. Before long, it came time for them to climb out of the pool, one by one. Evren endured more of Sol’s teasing, but the dwarf gave her a towel to cover herself and dry off with without much issue. Getting back into her clothes, she felt like a whole new person.

She gathered the bandages and decided to leave them off and let the wound breathe through the night. Sol happily skipped out, still yammering nonsense about the different food she’d get them to try once they got back to Dirn-Darahl. But as Evren started to follow her, she noticed that Gyda hadn’t left the pool.

“Gyda?” At her voice, the warrior turned back to Evren.

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked. “Your fingers will stay all wrinkly if you stay in the water too long. At least, that’s what I was always told.”

Gyda smiled at her awkward words. “I have to wash my hair.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened once she remembered. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot. I’ll get out of your, uh, hair.” She laughed nervously and started to duck out of the pool. At the threshold, she caught the side of the door and swung back around.

“Thanks again,” she said. “For the scarf thing. I’ll pay you back for that.”

Gyda’s smile was soft, much softer than she ever expected from such a woman. “I know, Evren. I’m not worried.”

“Well, good!” She grinned. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

She didn’t let herself linger any longer. She walked out into the hallway and shut the door behind her. A little privacy wouldn’t be too bad for Gyda anyway. She quickly made her way back to the common room and through her bedroom door.

As she collapsed into bed, her skin and hair still damp and smelling like the bath, she felt warm and whole. Her mind was blank, except for the thoughts of dwarven food and wine waiting for her back at the surface. And it wasn’t long before she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

14

It would be another three days before Evren saw Viggo. Other Serevadians came and went. Her healer was a very stout elf who refused to speak to her at all but was always mumbling under her breath. After the second day, she stopped coming. Evren took that as a good sign. The other Serevadians brought food and drink, as well as their old clothes. They were still refused their weapons, and while it made sense, Evren couldn’t deny that she’d feel better with her bow at her side.

Aside from their armor, the Serevadians didn’t understand why her party wanted their old clothes back. They were filthy and bloody. Some of them were ripped. But Sorin clung stubbornly to his coat, and no one argued with Gyda when she demanded her clothes back. Evren and Abraxas were content with whatever they got, but the elves made an effort to make them comfortable.

The trousers and shirt Evren received were made very similarly to what she was used to. She could feel the difference, though. Serevadian cloth had a silkier feel to it. But the colors were hers. No more greys and silvers. Her trousers were a rich brown, and the shirt was a beautiful deep green color. She felt a little more like herself with them on.

Sorin had scoffed when Abraxas had come out in his clothes. “All black? Really? You look like you’re headed to a funeral.”

“Perhaps I am,” he said and settled into his usual chair by the fire.

Evren spent a good amount of her free time repairing her armor. It was a slow, menial task, but it kept her focused and steady. The well-worn leather had been patched in some areas, but she took it upon herself to go further. Sitting cross-legged on the bed with the comforting weight of the leather in her lap, she filled the dull hours by stitching the armor even more. The needle was large, and the threads weren’t particularly colorful, but by the end, she managed to get a rough shape of the giant’s doors they’d seen before the lake stitched on her right gauntlet. The light blue thread was nowhere as vibrant as the runes had been, but she was proud of how it had come out. It was a good memory, and she wanted to remember it.

The best piece that had been returned to them, however, was the map. Sol practically squealed with glee when the elves brought out the leather cylinder. She took no time clearing off the table. Everyone had to take their food on their laps from then on. But as soon as the parchment was laid out, the excitement faded.

The map had been sitting in the lake water pooled in the cylinder for a long time. The blank ink was little more than smudges over the mottled parchment now, which was heavy and still dripping with water. The entire thing was unreadable.

“Hold on.” Sorin sat up quickly. “I may be able to fix this.”

“You gonna talk it into fixin’ itself?” Arke asked as Sorin rounded the corner and went to the double doors.

“Of course not,” he scoffed and then disappeared through the doors.

He came back thirty minutes later with three jars of powders and sat them down one by one on the table.

“What is this?” Evren asked as she picked up a container with white powder and gave it a little shake. Sorin took it from her and put it back on the table.

“Salt, very finely ground,” he explained.

“And the others?”

“Closest I could find to the starches and powders I’m used to on ships.” He sniffed at the yellow powder. “I’m a little worried about this one, but the elf I talked to swore it would work. So, we’ll see.”

He took her napkin and started soaking up as much water as possible. The cloth napkin was nearly black when he finished. Once he had that done, Evren could almost pick out the old lines and marks through the clouded ink. That was until Sorin started sprinkling the salt on the paper. He put a little, and then pressed it into the parchment with a clean napkin until he’d coated the whole thing. Then he went to work mixing the yellow powder with the other white one, sprinkling both liberally on the surface until there was nothing to look at but powder.

“Sorin, what’s this supposed to do?”

He put away the containers and wiped off his hands. “Old Vasa trick. It would work easier if I could draw the water out like most Vasas can, but alas, I am not so talented. We’ll have to wait a few hours.”

“And then?” Evren asked.

“We’ll have our map back, of course. What? We deal with soaked papers all the time at sea.”

Sol looked across the table at him, astonished. “Sorin, that’s brilliant!”

“Why do you all act so surprised?” He laughed. “I do have other talents besides looking amazing and singing like a siren.”

Gyda clapped him a little roughly on the shoulder, and he yelped. “Very good, sea rat.”

“Thanks! I think?”

After that, they scattered back to their respective rooms. Later, Evren heard Sol’s excited squealing again, and Sorin’s rambling. His little trick had worked. Now, they wouldn’t stop chatting about adding onto the map. The lake, the Serevadian village, the road to the city, it all had to be put down. And the two of them were positively beside themselves with their new task.

She thought briefly about joining them, but she was never very good at maps. And out of all of them, she was the only one who hadn’t witnessed the walk into Andovine. It wasn’t long after that that Evren finally built up the courage to open the curtains over her window. It seemed so silly that she hadn’t done it sooner, but she hadn’t found the strength yet. A part of her was afraid that she’d see nothing but a blank rock. And another ridiculous thought was that she’d ruin her first glimpse of the city. It was like a present waiting to be opened on her birthday. Peeking was nice, but it would ruin the surprise.

Still, she ignored that notion and drew back the heavy curtains. Through the strange, stained-glass window, she saw a lush, glowing courtyard. Mushrooms as tall as trees had been carefully planted in straight rows. Odd vines that looked as if they were bristling with soft, glowing orange hairs, clung to every archway and wall. White flowers so transparent she could see through them cast a soft glow on the pebbled path. It was all so alien and unique—and strangely disappointing.

“The courtyard view wasn’t what you hoped for?”

She turned around at the sound of Viggo’s voice. He stood at the threshold of her room, still dressed in the fine robes she’d seen him in before. But he lacked the armed guards. She allowed herself to relax and withdrew from the window.

“I’ll admit, I was expecting to see the city,” she said.

“We had you put up in the quieter part of town,” he explained. “The nobles here prefer the peace of nature.”

She could respect that. On more than one occasion, she’d snuck out of Orenlion for that exact reason.

“Which noble’s house is this?”

“Mine, of course.” He smiled. “I hope you have found everything accommodating.”

“That and more. We owe you much for your hospitality.”

Viggo winced. “I don’t relish debts. A simple thanks will do. And perhaps a walk?”

She blinked at him. “A walk?”

“I’d be a poor host if I didn’t show you Andovine, wouldn’t I?” The smile was genuine, and he held out his hand for her—long, slender fingers, and a soft-looking palm. This was the hand of a man who hadn’t known battle. It reminded her almost too much of Aster.

She put the thought from her mind and took his proffered palm. It was just as soft as it looked. “A tour through the city does sound amazing. I think if Sorin spends any more time indoors, he’ll break your walls down.”

“Ah, I was hoping it would be just the two of us.” When she raised an eyebrow, he quickly added, “A large group will draw attention, you see.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And, if I’m being honest, there is a great deal I wish to discuss with you privately. About your travels here and the surface.”

“We’re all from the surface,” she told him. “Except for Sol, of course. Abraxas is the oldest and has seen the most. Sorin would know more as well since he’s traveled the most.”

“Yes, but you are . . .” He hesitated before sighing. “There is something astonishing about you. Your survival at the hands of the high priestess, the fact that you drew information from her into yourself during the Melding. Your companions talked highly of your skills leading them here.”

“I’m just a hunter,” Evren said.

“We are all the basis of our souls until we are forced to blossom into something greater.” Viggo let go of her hand and took a step back. “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable. If you wish to bring your companions, we shall.”

Evren chewed on her lip and thought it over. She was eager to see the city, but more than that, she needed information. They all did. If Viggo was more comfortable with her than with everyone else, she might be able to get a clearer picture alone. Abraxas and Gyda wouldn’t like it, she knew that without a second thought. But if they wanted Karas, this might be the best way to go about it.

Something curled inside her chest, and the knot tightened. Her memories of Aster came back again. How many walks through Orenlion had they taken in some small hope to appease the crowds and maybe click on a level other than platonic? Too many. But this was different.

Evren walked past Viggo and into the common room. The table was still a mess, but the map was gone, as were Sol and Sorin. It was empty. She walked over to the double doors and turned back to Viggo.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked. “Or shall I let myself get lost?”

The uncertain expression on his face broke into a grin. He quickly made his way back to her side, his whole being practically humming with excitement. He didn’t say a word as he pushed the doors open and walked confidently into the hallway, but Evren spared a glance behind her. She thought about telling someone or leaving a note, but then thought better of it. They’d worry regardless, but at least she could buy herself a little more time this way.

She followed Viggo into the house. She and the others had explored much of the wing he’d given to them. The bathhouse was still a favorite, but Arke spent most of his time in the little study they’d found. There were other guest bedrooms and a room that looked as if it could be used for mediation that no one touched. But outside of that, they hadn’t done any of the sneaking around that Sol kept threatening. So once Viggo led her outside of the wing she was so familiar with, she couldn’t help but stare.

Everything seemed to be carved out of the same bluish-gray stone. It was shaped so smoothly and elegantly, unlike the harsh lines and geometric shapes she was used to with dwarven architecture. The stone steps leading down were part of a wide and sweeping staircase. The same bubbles of light gathered in the corners and on the ceilings everywhere. Occasionally, she saw them following the servants, all of whom Viggo greeted warmly as they passed. They went through wide hallways, past rooms with dazzling pieces of strange art, and even cut through the kitchen.

“Mushrooms are a favorite,” Evren commented as they passed a platter full of large mushroom caps that had been seasoned and lightly fried. She wasn’t a fan of the texture, but the smell was amazing.

“Many of us are vegetarian,” he said over his shoulder. “Meat is hard to come by when the creatures here are as dangerous as they are smart. And your people?”

“Definitely not vegetarians.”

They left the kitchen without stealing any food. Evren doubted she could even if she wanted to. The cook watched them both suspiciously even as they walked out. It wasn’t long before they reached the front doors of Viggo’s manor, which were a bright bronze and incredibly warm compared to the cool greys of the rest of the house. They had been carved to look like giant moth wings. They opened, and as they stepped outside, Evren felt her breath catch in her throat.

She’d seen cities before. Dirn-Darahl, of course, was as impressive and awe-inspiring as the rumors claimed. Orenlion was beautiful but small compared to Linston in Etherak, which was a sprawling city of buildings that seemed to be stacked on top of one another and centered around the Greyreach Conclave’s massive tower. But even her memory of Linston paled when she saw Andovine.

There was a simple elegance to the city that seemed as if it had been laid at her feet. Built into and almost from the rock itself, it covered the whole wall of the truly massive cavern they were in. Evren couldn’t even see the top. If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought the night sky was above them. Twisting spires seemed to pierce through the rock and reach high for the ceiling. Streets were wide and paved under the feet of the teeming crowd. She saw a massive aqueduct in the far south corner, and if she listened closely enough, she could hear the water echoing through the cavern. Buildings ranged from being tall and skinny to wide and flat, but they all held a sophistication she hadn’t seen elsewhere. And everything seemed to glow. The flickering lights and glowing vegetation on every corner gave the illusion that Andovine breathed. It was magnificent.

Whatever she had expected, this wasn’t it. She stood there for a while, gaping at it all. Viggo chuckled beside her.

“A far cry from tents and hovels, yes?”

She nodded and turned around to look at the manor. It had a similar style, but she could tell that Viggo preferred to incorporate nature into his home. The vines she’d seen in the courtyard were out front, too, covering almost every inch of the house. Beyond that, she saw more homes climbing the cavern wall. All paled in comparison to the one at the very top. All she could see was a huge, circular balcony that overlooked the whole city. Through the windows, she could just make out a larger room beyond, but she couldn’t tell what it was for.

“Is that a palace?”

Viggo snorted. “Absolutely not. That is where the Convocation sits and discusses how to best lead the city. It’s dark, you see.” He pointed at the windows. “No meetings today.”

“So, how many people rule this city?” she asked.

He shrugged. “There are about thirty Heralds, including me.”

“Thirty?”

“Well, yes.” He laughed. “Each is elected by the people. In all fairness, it should be closer to ten or twelve. But we don’t just run Andovine. We’re also in charge of our other cities.”

“Others? How many are there?”

“Three in total. Andovine could be seen as the capital. Farther south is Kleros, and to the west is Xoria.”

“Are they all this big?”

His grin widened. “As far as I know. I’ve yet to visit Xoria. Travel through the sea can be a bother.”

“The Boreal Sea?”

“If that’s your name for it.” He nodded. “Why does that surprise you?”

She shook her head and let out a shaky breath. Her eyes still couldn’t get enough of the city below and above her. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t expect all of this.”

She suddenly remembered the figure in Dirn-Darahl, and their words to her. You’ll shake the world to its very foundations down there. Is this what they had meant?

“No one had any idea there was a whole civilization living under here.” She turned back to Viggo. “This is amazing. You have no idea what this could mean for the surface.”

“I’m sure it could mean a great many things,” he said and cast a glance up at the Convocation center. “That is what we’ve been discussing—or arguing about, really.” At her pointed look, he shrugged. “It’s hard to get everyone to agree on everything. And your arrival has stirred up a lot. But it will sort itself out in due time. Come, the city awaits.”

He held out his arm to her. This time, Evren didn’t hesitate to take it.

Viggo led her through Andovine, and it was a blur of excitement. Once they got deeper into the heart of the city, she felt as if she were in a whole different world. The open-air markets were packed and bustling with merchants selling trinkets and spicy-smelling food. They passed a large coliseum filled to the brim with spectators all cheering and placing bets on the games in the sand below. Children ran between their legs. Old men sat on their stoops and debated. And women took turns coloring yards and yards of shining silk in large vats of steaming water and dye. They passed by vibrant parks and gurgling fountains, and the whole while, Viggo pointed out his favorite parts of the city.

His favorite bench was just close enough to the coliseum that he could hear the games, but far enough away that he didn’t have to worry about being trampled or paying for a ticket. His favorite food vendor was a kindly older elf that gave them each something skewered and roasted on a stick. She chatted fondly with Viggo while Evren nibbled on her treat. They passed his favorite restaurant that had sweeping views of the waterfall that fed into the aqueduct, and cut through small alleyways with hidden fountains and gardens to escape the busy streets. Everywhere they went, people were laughing and talking. They traded news or their strange coin. She saw some even tossing an odd contraption made of wood and cloth in the air to try and get it to fly.

“This place is incredible,” she said for probably the twentieth time today. But Viggo just grew brighter with every passing comment she made.

“I’m glad you think so.” He smiled as he led her down a sloping cobblestone street. “We are a proud people, and we’ve come a long way to be here.”

“Come a long way from the Mora, you mean.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Our people lived simple lives before we flourished. Many still believe we should lead such simple lives while we wait.”

“For what?” she asked.

He paused on the side of the street, and a group of giggling children ran around their legs. “Perhaps it would be better to show you.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

Viggo steered her down a different street. The farther they went, the quieter the city became. There were still signs of life, and the glowing orbs brightened every corner. But the hustle and bustle of Andovine seemed to be behind them the farther they walked. Eventually, Viggo stopped at a tall building with beautifully carved columns decorating the entire outside of it. The windows were just as tall, but they were a simple green rather than the stained-glass mosaics Evren was becoming accustomed to seeing. As they went up the steps, she looked at him.

“What is this place?”

“Our library. Do tell me you’re familiar with the concept.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I am. I’ve just never seen one this big.”

Andovine’s library was bigger than any she’d ever seen. In Orenlion, libraries were reserved for the wealthy. She knew the Greyreach Conclave had the largest assortment of magical books in Eith, but it was also a place for mages to study, not for the common folk to read. This library was easily two stories high from what she could tell as they got closer and was bigger than Viggo’s manor.

When they walked inside, she nearly stumbled. It was three stories, not two. She saw the gated walkways of the second and third floors overlooking the ground floor. The walls were covered with books. No art, no blank spaces. Just books. The shelves on the bottom floor sectioned off nooks for reading and tables for studying. She even caught a glimpse of someone disappearing behind a curtain, which kept a reading spot even more private from the rest of the library.

Viggo tugged her along past the numerous shelves of books. The very center of the building was open and airy. The tiled floor changed from a repetitive pattern to a beautiful mosaic, and Evren bent to get a closer look.

“This is Serevadia,” Viggo said proudly as she traced the tiles. “We’re here.”

He pointed to the star tile that signified Andovine. She touched that one lightly before following a path upwards. Excitement built in her chest as the path split in two. One led directly upwards, and the other made a larger loop closer to the massive underground lake. It was hard to tell if they met again since the map was cut off, but she was sure that was their path back to Dirn-Darahl.

Evren pushed back on her heels to look at the rest of the map. She noted the other cities, she kept the roads and trails memorized. The rivers and lakes, too. They even marked the wilderness of Serevadia, where no one was meant to go. She saw the tiled representation of the worm, Alkimos, to the west of Andovine and barely suppressed a shudder. She didn’t like the idea of his nest being so close.

“What are you doing?” Viggo asked, watching her curiously as she squinted at the map.

She shushed him quickly and took another step back. Then she started laying out her mental map of Eith over it. She fit Etherak where she knew it would be, and Terevas snuggly to the south of it. Andovine lay just north of Linston, and Kleros was under the Vanguard Mountains separating Terevas and Etherak. She moved across the Boreal Sea in her mind, mentally rearranging the continents to fit the puzzle in her head. Xoria and its expansive territories took up most of Gratey, with only a bit of the wilds touching Vernes to the south. Everything under Melkarth farther north looked to be untouched wilderness.

“Etherak.” She showed him. “Is here.”

“Etherak.” His eyes lit up. “It still stands?”

She tried not to laugh. “Oldest kingdom in Eith. Why am I not surprised you know it?”

“Our records mention it. At one time, there was only Etherak. Or so the records say.”

“It’s smaller now,” she explained. “The southern colonies here with Kleros lie just on the border of Terevas, its southern neighbor. And across the sea, Xoria spans underneath almost two continents and three kingdoms of Eith.”

“Impressive.” His eyes twinkled. “You’ll have to draw me a map of the surface soon. All these new places must be fascinating.”

“I’ll admit, I haven’t seen all of them.” Evren stood and dusted her hands on her pants. “But I intend to.”

She craned her neck to look up at the second and third floors. People were watching her but as soon as she looked up, they looked away. She found she didn’t mind. There was a strange peace in the library that she hadn’t felt before. She looked back at Viggo, who watched her with unbridled interest.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked. “Are you showing me Mora history and territory?”

He shook his head. “I could spend weeks pointing out the little pockets of Mora across this map. They can be nomadic, too, so it could even take months. But I had something else in mind.”

“Oh?”

“Come.” He waved her to follow him and disappeared into the maze of books. Evren had little choice but to follow, but there was no hesitation in her steps. They wove through the bookshelves as the heady scent of ink and parchment filled her nostrils. Her side started to hurt a bit, but she pushed past the ache. She could rest more after this was done.

Viggo led her to the far corner of the library, where a stone door sat sunken into the wall. Its architecture was similar to the rest of the city but older. There was no doorknob, only a pulsing stone of bright purple light at the side. Evren watched Viggo tap it in a pattern, and then the door swung open. He stepped inside, and she followed as the door closed behind them.

The round room was smaller, only about ten feet in diameter. While obviously well-kept, the stone here was worn and pockmarked with age. The domed ceiling was small, and its brightly colored paint had faded and flaked over time. Evren thought it could’ve been the night sky at some point.

Viggo walked to the center and sat on a velvet cushion. There was another directly opposite him, and he gestured for her to take it.

“What is this place?” she asked as she settled down. Her sore side relaxed a bit as she did.

“A piece of the old world.” He smiled. “One of the few we have. The Mora tend to sit on any other Elder ruins there are, so we are left with these smaller pieces.”

“You said that before. What do you mean by Elder?”

“You are elven, are you not?”

“Half-elven, half-human.” She shifted on the cushion. “But I was raised primarily with elves.”

“So did you not learn of our Makers?”

She frowned and tugged on her memories. “Not really. We often visited this really old temple in the forest. I remember there being mosaics there, too worn to really make out. Our teachers told us they were signs of the ones who’d come before us.”

“The Elders, yes.” He nodded. “There were four.”

“Yes, I remembered four mosaics.”

“And each made a race of elves.”

She looked up at him abruptly. “What? Like the giants made the dwarves?”

“No. The Elders were something between mortality and divinity. They were not as crude in forming life.” He leaned in closer as if he were telling her a particularly interesting secret. “Would you like to see?”

“What?” She felt as if she were saying that too much now, but she couldn’t help the word from slipping out.

“Melding our minds would allow me to show you our history and what I know.” When she started to back away, he quickly held out his hand but didn’t touch her. “No, I won’t hurt you, I swear. Melding must be consensual, and I won’t force you to do it.”

“I think enough people have seen what is inside my head.” She said flatly.

“That’s the beauty of it.” He held his hands out. “I can only see what you allow me to see. And since I’m here to share my knowledge, we have no need to go further into your mind.”

She squinted at him. “How do I know your brain isn’t full of weird, sadistic thoughts and you’re just messing with me?”

“You don’t.” His robes shifted like water as he shrugged. “Not until you try. I’m no priest. I cannot force you to Meld with me. But you should know this would be a first for my people.”

“Melding with a Sky-Touched?”

“It’s often considered an intimate way to learn. Many don’t see outsiders as worthy.”

“But you do?”

“I see you as many things, Evren Hanali.” He held out his hands once more. “Allow me to show you.”

Evren stared at those soft hands again, turmoil tumbling in her gut. Wasn’t this what she wanted? Information and a way in? But at what cost? Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined Ainthe’s nails in her temples. It was hard to shake off what she’d been forced to see. Then again, she’d also ripped Ainthe out of her mind, and apparently stole information without realizing it.

She looked up at Viggo’s eyes. They were so much kinder and softer than Ainthe’s. It was a far stretch to say she trusted him, but there was something curious about him that she couldn’t quite place. How could she have landed someone so curious and willing out of every distrustful Serevadian in the city? A stroke of luck? Of genius? Or purely by design?

She placed her hands in his without even realizing it. Hers were so rough and calloused compared to his, but he didn’t seem to mind. His smile widened, and he placed her hands on either side of his face. Her fingers found their resting places above his temples, entwined with his hair. Even his hair was soft.

“There.” He let go of her hands and put his on her temples, mirroring their placement. She stiffened slightly when they brushed over the scabs left there. His thumb gently brushed her cheekbone, and his smile was understanding.

“I would never hurt you,” he promised.

With a jolt, she realized that she believed him. “I know.”

He closed his eyes and bent his head forward, his hands gently moving hers to do the same. She hurriedly closed her eyes and felt their forehead’s touch.

“Now what?” she whispered.

His breath fanned across her face as he chuckled. “Let go.”

For a moment, she thought he meant his head. But a familiar rush of magic surged over her like a wave breaking on the shore. Whether she was letting go or not, it swept her away. Only this time, she wasn’t falling. She wasn’t in pain. The magic was as soft and comforting as Viggo. And before long, she let herself relax and lean into the wave. It took her gently.

And the world fell away.

15

Being in Viggo’s mind was an experience in itself. Everything was orderly, but nothing stayed still. His thoughts streaked past like a haze of meteors. His void was strikingly different from hers. The one Ainthe had forced her to see was cold and lonely. Devoid of anything but fear. Even as Viggo built up a world, his void was full of life and thought. It was gone in a moment, but Evren could’ve spent months there.

Piece by fragmented puzzle piece, Viggo brought to life a whole new world. She was there, and yet . . . she wasn’t. She felt the cool floor beneath her feet, but she was also keenly aware that it wasn’t real. Even stranger, everything felt different. Crisp and clean and soft all at once. This wasn’t at all what she was used to. His thoughts were like quicksilver beneath her fingertips, and there were millions of them. They held no fear or anxiety.

A twinge of envy flickered in her chest.

“Your mind is . . .” She struggled for the word.

“Odd?”

“I was going to say refreshing.” She felt more than saw him raise his eyebrow. “I suppose I’m not used to seeing everything work so smoothly. Without hesitation or second thought.”

“Ah, but this is only my good side. I have plenty of doubts.”

It was hard to imagine Viggo ill at ease. But she had to remind herself that she’d known him for less than a week. She couldn’t possibly think to know who he truly was.

Within the blink of an eye, she was somewhere else entirely. The room was massive and lit by both the green orbs she was used to seeing and the vibrant stones she’d seen Viggo use in the library. The smooth, nearly glass-like floors reflected the glowing stones set on the walls like an infinite mirror. Beautiful archways, marred by time but still maintaining an essence of grace, surrounded her. A mural of stars, moons, and suns littered the roof above. The gold paint caught the light, and despite the fading, she even made out the orbits that had been drawn there. The biggest attraction was the massive murals that took up all four walls. Seeing them sent an unwanted pang of homesickness through her.

“These ruins,” she breathed, turning around to drink it all in. “I’ve seen them before. Or, well, some like it. The Fractured Temple in Orenlion has murals just like this. And I found barely standing ruins with this architecture all over the forest.”

Viggo watched her with an amused smile, his hands clasped behind his back. “These ruins are the oldest we’ve found. My people spent decades excavating and preserving it. I’ve only seen it once, but as you can see, the memory has stuck with me.”

Evren moved closer to one of the murals. It stretched high above her, but as she set her hand on one of the glistening tiles, she knew she recognized it. Unbidden memories of warm summers and sunlit afternoons chasing Aster around the temple gardens while their parents scolded them flashed in her mind. The room shuddered and seemed to shift to that memory for a moment before righting itself.

As cool shadow overtook bright sunlight, she winced and looked back at Viggo. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “You are free with your emotions and memories. Do not be sorry.” He nodded back at the mural. “You know this one?”

She turned back to it. The artistic image of a woman cloaked in night, a crown of glowing stars upon her head, and the sun and moon in her hands smiled serenely back at her.

“This mural looks like the one back in Orenlion.” She nodded.

“She’s called the Horizon Walker.” Viggo walked up beside her. “If she had a name, if any of them did, they are lost to time. Look here.”

He pointed to the bottom half of the mural. It showed Eith at her feet. Not a map, but the brilliant blue of the Boreal Sea and the crisp white of the Reino Terminan. But what took up most of it were trees as tall as buildings. So wide, it would take five or six people to wrap their arms around them. Evren touched the glittering brown tiles that made up the trunks, and she could almost see Orenlion between the gilded leaves and foliage. Her fingers trailed down to the people depicted beneath the trees. Crude representations, but there were many of them, all with their arms raised towards the woman.

“We believe she made the elves you are descended from,” Viggo went on.

“I can see that,” she murmured, still enamored with the mural. “Most of them still worship her as a deity.”

The hazy memories of summer came back to her, but she was careful to not let them overwhelm her. She could just barely remember the sermons in the temples, and the tenets they vowed to keep. Of trust, truth, and sacrifice. She remembered more of the adoration Orenlion held for the night sky.

“We had a festival for each solstice.” She drew back her hand. “Each phase of the moon held different dinners and fasting. And if there happened to be an eclipse, the whole city went into prayer.” She laughed a little to herself. “I never paid attention.”

“No?”

“The idea that something greater and more powerful was out there and had just disappeared never sat well with me.” She shrugged. “Why should I pray to something that isn’t there?”

“In the hopes she comes back?”

Evren moved away from the mural, shaking her head. “We were taught that someone killed her. That she was betrayed by a friend. Her death kept us, her people, safe. The ultimate sacrifice.”

Evren moved to the next wall and its mural. It was wreathed in black and striking silver. Shadows seemed to envelop the figure in the mural, his face unseen but his gaze cast down at his feet. He held an elegant sword made of shadows and rimmed with silver—not unlike the crown of stars. At his feet, Evren clearly made out Serevadia and its elves. It was an echo of what they used to be, with their huts and boats, but it was clearly them.

“Our people came from this one,” explained Viggo. “The Shadow Dancer.”

“Is he dead, too?”

“To have closure on that question would put every single Serevadian at ease,” he said with a rueful smile. “We know he left when the Horizon Walker died. We know the only tenet he left us was to stay below the surface and keep to ourselves. But it has been many centuries since his departure.”

“You sound like you miss him.”

“I do not have free will to throw my adoration of my Maker out the window.” His tone was teasing and playful. “He lives on in us, and we await his arrival. Me, most of all.”

“Oh?”

“As the Herald of Light, it’s my job to take what he left us and see that it is used properly. He left many gifts that we have taken and made our own. Ways to protect our cities, to cultivate our crops, and to better our medicines. Those gifts are referred to as Shadow’s Lights.”

“Can I see them?”

“You already have. Andovine’s structures, its aqueducts, the lights and the weapons our guards use, they all come from the Light. It can come in a cruder form. What you would call magic. But few of us are blessed with it.”

“So, you’re in charge of a lot.” She looked him up and down. “Defenses, agriculture, architecture, the works.”

“I’m in charge of the Light itself.” He held a finger up to correct her. “In what it’s made into and how best to utilize it. What’s done with it beyond that is more like a surprise each day.”

“That’s still a lot of power,” she said as she turned away from the Shadow Dancer. “Most politicians on the surface deal with more mundane things.”

“Such as?”

“Sewage, medicine, agriculture, finances.” She glanced over her shoulder as he followed her from behind. He was smiling again.

“We have all of those,” he said.

“Ah. Which poor sod is the Herald of Sewage?”

“An absolutely wretched man. I won’t make you meet him.”

Evren’s laugh bubbled up in her sore chest as she moved in front of the next mural. This one was in stark contrast to the last. Everything was a blinding, brilliant white. So much white fabric draped the hunched figure in the mural, Evren couldn’t see their face. Despite the color, she couldn’t shake the sinister feeling behind the mural. Everything looked too sterile and clean.

“The Pale One,” Viggo explained. “We know very little. Only that if they did create elves, they were destroyed.” He pointed to the bottom, and all Evren could see were graves. “Many scholars believe that this one killed the Horizon Walker.”

“Why?”

“Other temples have seen depictions of a figure in white over the Horizon Walker’s body.”

“No, I mean why kill her?” She frowned and looked between the two murals.

“Why do deities do anything?” he asked. “Power, revenge, maybe their own twisted form of justice.”

“You say that as if they would think like us.”

“What gives you the notion that they wouldn’t?” He raised his eyebrows in an almost childlike way. “They did create us, after all.”

“And who’s to say they created us to be like them?” she questioned. “What if we were made to be better?”

“Now you’re talking like a scholar.”

Evren rolled her eyes as she moved on. She was far from the philosophical mind of scholars like Viggo. But she did find herself enjoying these talks. She just prayed she wouldn’t run out of decent arguments before their time was up. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

The next mural was a blaze of gold and bronze that would’ve been too bright to look at if not for the soft light of the temple. Deep bronze robes that dissolved into sand at the edges covered the figure. He was blindfolded and held an elaborate, curved dagger in one hand. The blade was outlined and haloed in gold, much as the crown of stars was.

“This one?” She looked down at the person’s feet. She saw figures again. These were in castles and armor; magic brimming from their hands, and shields at their back. Each was different and varied. Some even fought each other. None looked at the central figure in the mural, and he didn’t seem to care for them, either.

“Ah, the Eternity Keeper.” Viggo followed her. “We have little on him. We only know that he created his elves purely by accident.”

“That would explain the chaos.” She smiled and poked at an elf surrounded by flames. “Who are his elves?”

“The others, we assume.” He gestured back to the Horizon Walker. “She made your people. The Shadow Dancer made ours. And the Pale One’s elves were destroyed. If the Eternity Keeper’s elves did not follow him as a deity as our people did and went in different directions, nothing would keep them from spreading out over the entire world. Abraxas, for example, would be a descendent of these elves.”

Evren could make that theory fit if she thought about it hard enough. There were elves all over Eith. Few were like the ones in Orenlion, and those always kept to the more rural areas and out of the complex tangle of cultures the world now held. More elves were like Abraxas: widespread and from everywhere. Abraxas worshipped the Banished Faith, but an elf on a Vasa ship wouldn’t. An elf in Gratey would pray to dragons or giants or nothing at all. Those in Melkarth were just as varied. Some found gods from spirits of the earth. The only constant was their lack of origin. If Evren looked hard enough, she could almost see Abraxas as one of the elves in black armor in the mural. Or maybe she only saw what she wanted to see.

“What happened to the Eternity Keeper?” she asked.

“A question for the ages.” He sighed. “He disappeared much like the past three. Only the Elders would know where.”

Evren circled the room again, humming with questions. “This is all amazing, but it doesn’t explain the issue with the Mora.”

“Only because this is the beginning.”

As quick as it had appeared, the temple fell away. Before Evren knew it, she was standing in the middle of a village. Without thinking, her hand immediately went for the bow that wasn’t there, but she felt Viggo’s cool hand on her shoulder.

“It’s just a memory.” He gestured to the village that looked so like the one she’d first encountered, her side ached with pain. “It can’t hurt you.”

“My experience says otherwise.” But she forced herself to relax.

Viggo didn’t take his hand off her shoulder, and he started to lead her through the village. She didn’t want to admit how much the anchor helped to calm her fears.

“There’s no one here,” she noted as they passed by an empty hut.

“There weren’t any when I visited,” Viggo answered. “This Mora camp was abandoned. In truth, this is more of a recreated example of how the Serevadians lived before we began to experiment with the Light.”

The more he talked, the more Evren saw and started to relax. Everything was far too clean. No smoke stains on the tents, no trails of blood on the ground. Even the animal hides hung up looked too orderly and neat. The atmosphere was the same, but it lacked the grit and darkness she remembered so vividly.

“This is how we all started, and how the Mora would keep us if they had the choice,” he explained as they walked through the fake village.

“Why?”

“They believe that the Light the Shadow Dancer left wasn’t for us to use. By tampering with it, we are essentially stealing from him.”

“Stealing from an absent deity?” She tsked. “Shame on you.”

He chuckled. “I’m aware. Of all the Heralds, I am the least favored by the Mora.”

“Well, that happens to make you my favorite.”

“Just that?” he asked. “Not my sparkling personality?”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Sorin.” She grinned. “But, yes, you are the best Herald I’ve met.”

“I’m the only one you’ve met.”

“Keep me from the others then. To keep your status.”

“I shall try my best.” He lightly squeezed her shoulder before letting go. She wasn’t afraid anymore, but she was sad at the absence of his touch. As they circled the rest of the village, it started to melt away. She saw the beginnings of buildings, not huts or tents, being built from the rock. She saw paved roads forming where sand and dirt had been. The rivers were rerouted, and the aqueducts built. A city rose where nothing but a village previously stood, and all of it happened in a matter of seconds.

She watched the weapons change from simple spears and swords, to shields made of pure energy. Bows with bright arcs of fiery green light instead of arrows. Massive crossbows with the same sat at the perimeter of the city. Silver armor replaced the simple kind. She saw bright metal being made and tested until it didn’t so much as dent under the weight of a boulder. She saw flashes of labs and infirmaries where individuals made new medicines, tonics, and substances she didn’t recognize. She watched as plagues were eradicated before they began, and tyrants were taken down by the vast majority of people and replaced by leaders they chose rather than just the one.

Andovine rose in the blink of an eye, and it took her breath away.

“All of this because of the Light?” she asked.

“And more,” he said.

The scene changed again. This time, they stood in a dark tunnel that seemed to move around them. It was pitch-black, and all around her, the walls murmured. Viggo opened his hand, and light blossomed in his palm. Evren barely kept her squeak of surprise at bay. The walls weren’t moving—they were water.

“This is the road to Xoria.” Viggo moved the light as something massive swam by—more a shadow than a creature in the low light. “This is the floor of your Boreal Sea .”

“How?” She breathed.

“Intense shielding from various stations across the ocean floor.” Viggo explained. “Another world-changing feat made possible with the Light.”

“Terrifying.” Her voice was still too high. She almost felt the pressure of the sea on her chest. It didn’t take much imagination to see the water caving in on her and swallowing her whole. She shifted a little closer to Viggo and his light.

“How are you doing that?” It was like he had a tiny star in his hand.

He let it flit over his finger, the soft rays making his white hair shimmer. “I have an innate gift for the Light, as I mentioned before. Like all Inherited magic, it passed through my bloodline and has its limits. But it’s beautiful, is it not?”

“I’m not great with magic. Using or understanding it.”

“From what I know, it is as simple as three branches.” Viggo’s voice took on a comfortable tone. He liked teaching; she could see it in his eyes. “There is Gifted, Inherited, and Written. Gifted is rare, only seen when beings of extraordinary power lend it to their followers.”

Evren’s eyes brightened. “Like Abraxas and his gods?”

“Yes. As I said, such magic is rare. But powerful. It is seen through miracles like reviving the dead or lifting a plague with a wave of one’s hand. Whereas Inherited, like my Light, is less powerful but all mine. It tires me and, as I mentioned, has its limits, but is a part of me, no different than your heart in your chest. For those who don’t Inherit their magic, there is the Written.”

“Like Arke uses. And the giant’s runes.”

“Small pieces of power, limited only by those who make them.” He glowed with every word. “They overlap, of course. Is a demigod’s power Gifted or Inherited? What about the magic in the wild? And the creatures in it? But we’d be here for a while if we went down that road.”

If they weren’t standing at the bottom of the sea, Evren would’ve gladly listened to him talk of magic all day. Orenlion had some that kept it hidden, but few people commanded it, so Evren never learned. Was the Vasas’ power over the sea Inherited? Could Gyda do magic like Arke if she wanted to? Already, Evren’s mind brimmed with ideas and questions, but she pulled herself back to the present.

“Aren’t you worried that all this,”—she waved at the water—“will come down and kill you?”

“It hasn’t failed in several centuries.”

“Sure, well, people in Vernes didn’t worry about a slave revolt until it actually happened.”

“Slavery?” He cast a long look at her. “Is that a common thing on the surface?”

“Only in Vernes,” she admitted. “Escaped slaves founded Gratey.”

“Fascinating.” He smiled. “And a little troubling.”

“Not every kingdom is a utopia,” she said. “Each has its bad sides.”

“They should strive to eliminate them.”

“Now you’re talking like an optimist.”

“Is that so bad?”

The light in Viggo’s hand was dim, and the shadows clung to their feet. For the first time in a long time, Evren could see them as comforting rather than a challenge to overcome. But Viggo was like a beacon with his soft light and bright eyes. Like a star that only grew brighter the darker the night became, she was drawn to him and his light. Or perhaps she just hadn’t had the strength to move away from him. His hair seemed to glow like the white flowers in his courtyard.

“No,” she said, daring to meet his eyes again. “I wish more people would talk like you.”

“And I wish more people acted like you.” He leaned in very slightly, and she smelled the lingering scent of parchment on him.

She choked back her nervous laughter. “I don’t know how many times I can tell you that I’m nothing special. There are plenty of other hunters on the surface with the same attitude as me.”

“And yet, I doubt they have your unique talents.” He took her wrist in his hand, and Evren jumped at the sudden contact. Under his thumb, her veins betrayed her quickening pulse. “It astounds me that you’re not more aware of your abilities.”

“It would help if I knew what they were.” Her mind wandered to Ainthe again. “You’re not the first to say I have something I’m not aware of.”

“The priestess would know,” he murmured.

“Do you?”

Viggo’s hesitation was so heavy in the air, Evren could’ve cut clean through it with a knife. Instead, she stood there and waited—inches apart from him, with his thumb rubbing the veins on her wrist. It made her shiver, but she didn’t feel the need to pull away from either his touch or his Light.

“No.” When he broke the silence, he sounded as disappointed as she felt. He stepped back and let go of her wrist. She still felt his touch burning her skin. “By the Light, I wish I did. But I don’t. I only know what I feel.”

“And what’s that?”

“There is a power in your blood that I have never felt before. And I can’t tell whether it excites or terrifies me.” He shook his head as if he could rid himself of some dark thought. “I’d tell you to learn what that power is and master it. If I knew what it was.”

Evren chewed her lip. He was the second Serevadian to comment on her blood. For all she knew, they could be sensing the fact that she was half-human. Because she had no magic. The only power she knew of that came from blood was that of nobility and bloodlines. Someone with muddled blood such as hers was little more than a mutt in a Court of purebreds.

“If I held any magic, I would’ve known by[CO63] now.” Even as she said the words, something in her ached. A desire to be something more than a good tracker. “Besides, if I had the ability to summon fire, I’d burn someone’s hair off.”

“I’ll be sure to steer clear when you learn how.” His smile had returned.

“If.” She shook her head. “Not when.”

“If you wish.” He sighed and let the light disappear. The shadows enveloped them once more, and the underwater tunnel faded to nothing. She felt something slipping from her grasp. All those quicksilver thoughts flashing by her and getting farther and farther away. Before she knew it, she was back in the little room on the velvet cushion, blinking away her confusion.

Viggo removed his fingers from her temples, and she did the same with his. She suddenly felt self-conscious—as if she should cover herself. She shifted on the cushion.

“I think I understand why so many see that as intimate.” She brushed her hair out of her face.

“Indeed.”

“I didn’t show you anything.”

He let out a soft breath. “Unconsciously, you gave me your language, for which I am grateful. But you had no need. As much as I would love to see the surface through your eyes, that can wait.”

“Thank you.” She looked back up at him. “For being so patient with me.”

He looked at her in surprise. A thin line of worry creased his otherwise smooth forehead. “To push you beyond what you are comfortable with is not my goal, Evren.”

“And what is?”

“To get to know you, of course.” He unfolded his legs and stood with ease. Evren did not have such luck, but she did take his hand when he offered it to help her. “Come, let us go home.”

They left the tiny room and walked back through the library. It all seemed too airy and real after being in Viggo’s mind. She couldn’t help but feel a little disoriented. As if the world moved by, sluggish and slow.

They left the library and took to the streets. Evren was glad that he was still guiding her. The wilderness was so much simpler than cities. She could easily find her way through woods and tundra. But place her in the middle of a city, and she’d be as lost as a worg in a kitchen. Cities were not her favored terrain.

With Viggo’s guidance, they made it back to the quiet, glowing manor. She felt herself start to relax as the bronze doors and glowing ivy came into view. But as they took the steps up to the door, she heard someone running up from behind to meet them.

“Your Worship!” The boy who ran up the stairs couldn’t have been older than sixteen, and his white hair stuck to his sweaty brow as he stumbled to a halt in front of them.

“Yes?” Viggo turned to him. “What is it?”

“Your presence has been requested, respectfully.” He handed Viggo a sealed scroll. Viggo took it and cracked the seal, reading the words scribbled on the parchment quickly before rolling it back up. The messenger stared at Evren the whole time.

“The Convocation is holding a surprise meeting.” Viggo shook his head, looking as close to irritated as she’d ever seen him. He shot a dirty look at the balcony far above them and tucked the scroll into his sleeve. “Very well. I’ll be there shortly. This doesn’t seem like it can wait.”

The young boy didn’t seem to hear him and just kept staring at Evren as if she’d grown horns and had started speaking like a demon. Viggo snapped in front of his nose and brought his attention back to him.

“She’s not a wild animal to stare at.”

“S-sorry, Your Worship.” He looked down at his shoes sheepishly.

Viggo shook his head. “You are forgiven. Let the other Heralds know I’ll be there shortly.”

“Right away.” Without giving Evren a second glance, the boy took off running and was soon out of sight.

Viggo turned back to her, the beginnings of a grimace clear on his face. “I do apologize for leaving you.”

“At your doorstep, no less,” she teased. “You couldn’t give me a challenge and leave me in the middle of the city?”

“I’ll challenge you some later date,” he promised. “Such a late meeting will no doubt take up much of my night. I probably won’t see you until tomorrow.”

“Duty calls,” she said. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a slight bow and started walking down the steps. “I trust you can find your way back to your party?”

“If not, look for me in the kitchens.”

His laugh was light as he walked away. But Evren felt as heavy as an anchor in the sea. Her words seemed to drag her down.

“Wait!” she called, and he turned. He looked worried. Had her tone been that bad? “About Karas . . .”

“Ah, that dwarven criminal you’re looking for?” He looked troubled. “Would it discourage you greatly to learn that I have no clue where he is?”

It would. “If that’s the truth, I can take it.” She gave what she hoped was a winning smile.

“Fair enough.” His smile was as bright as a star as he was leaving. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She waved at the empty air as he disappeared down the street. As he did, she felt her body slump with exhaustion. All the energy she’d had, simply drained out of her. She walked slowly through the doors and down the path they’d taken before. She didn’t pay any of the passing guards or servants any mind. Her body might be slow, but her thoughts blurred like shooting stars. They tumbled into each other, rolling into larger and larger theories and plans. By the time she found her way back into the familiar guest wing, the knot of worry in her chest was as tight as ever.

She pushed open the doors of the common room, and all conversations hushed immediately. Evren eyed her friends, all gathered around the table and whispering just seconds before she entered.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she said as she closed the door behind her. “You all look as guilty as foxes in a hen house.”

“Where in the hells have you been?” Sorin cried, standing from his seat. He was dressed for travel, his coat dusty at the ends.

“Where have you been?” she shot back.

“Uh, out.”

Sol rolled her eyes and got up, as well. She was dressed in her leathers. “While you were out, we did some digging. We think we found where Karas is being held.”

“Really?” She crossed her arms and smiled. “Me, too.”

“I don’t like your scheming face.” Sorin shuddered.

“How?” Abraxas asked.

“I toured the city with our host.” She walked over and took a seat on the couch next to Gyda. “He showed me a lot.”

“And?”

“A lot he shouldn’t have.” Guilt tore at her stomach, but she swallowed it down. She knew Viggo hadn’t meant for the memory to slip, but she’d seen it anyway when he showed her Andovine being built. It had been on her mind ever since. “I saw something I shouldn’t have. Just a flash. But I know Karas has been here. There’s a workshop in the city where they make their new inventions. I saw a dwarf there.”

“Just a random dwarf?” Sorin snorted. “What about Karas?”

“No, this is good!” Sol was bouncing again. “If there’s one dwarf, there’s more.”

“Like rats?”

“The staff we talked to said there are no dwarves here,” Gyda said, her face looking stormy.

“We knew they were lyin’.” Arke shrugged. “Big deal.”

But it was a big deal. He’d lied to her face not a few moments ago. If Viggo trusted her, why hadn’t he said anything? Had he been lying the whole time? She sank back into the couch and tried to ignore how much the idea stung.

“Viggo will be out for the night.” She crossed her arms and tried to look hopeful. “If we want Karas, we should go now.”

“It won’t be easy with all of us.” Abraxas looked as if he were imagining every way it could go wrong for them.

“We’re not looking for a fight. Leave your armor,” Sol said. “We don’t have any weapons anyway.”

“I can find them.” Gyda’s words were a lot heavier than Evren thought the warrior had intended.

“If need be. I don’t want to start a fight with these people in their city.” Sol turned to Evren. “Do you know where that workshop is?”

“Maybe.” She chewed her lip again and tasted blood. “The city is a maze. We’ll need some cover.”

“Leave that to me.” Arke’s eyes still didn’t meet hers, but he looked more himself than he had recently. “Let’s get this bastard and get out. I’m sick of this place.”

“For once, I agree with you.” Abraxas nodded.

Murmurs of agreement rose in the common room. Evren joined in. She wanted to find Karas, and she wanted to go home. But she also couldn’t deny how fragile the truce between them and Serevadia was. She couldn’t help but feel as if they were taking a hammer to it.

16

The hardest part of their hasty plan was getting out of the manor. The entire wing wasn’t patrolled, and the servants didn’t come in except at mealtimes, but the house outside their doors still teemed with guards and servants just doing their jobs. Getting past them and through the door would be a challenge.

Gyda stood and adjusted her hair scarf. “I will go look for our weapons and catch up later.”

“What? No, that’s too risky.” Evren’s side ached when she stood, as well. All day walking through the city had done a number on her.

“I’ll also be a distraction.”

“She’s right.” Sorin pointed his long finger at her. “Anytime Gyda leaves the wing, the guards follow her, and the servants are always looking at her.”

“I’m very noticeable.” She seemed smug about it, and Evren couldn’t argue the point.

“But how will you get out?” she asked. “Better yet, how will you walk out with our weapons?”

“I can be persuasive.”

“I don’t want to break the Serevadians’ trust too thoroughly. Let’s not burn all our bridges tonight.” She gave Gyda a pleading look. For a moment, she was sure the warrior agreed with her. Until Arke spoke up.

“Does it matter?” he rasped. “They’re just another obstacle. We don’t need to be nice to them.”

“Yes, we do,” she shot back. “These aren’t the types of people we want to piss off. We need to be careful.”

For all its art and beauty, Andovine had shown her something else. The weapons she’d seen were beyond what any kingdoms of the surface were capable of. Even Terevas with all its new fire powder, which was black and caught flames quicker than oil, didn’t stand a chance. The armor she’d seen was nearly impenetrable, and these people had never had to fight within their borders or against other armies. They were well-armed and dealt with monsters and the occasional skirmish with Mora, but that was a far cry from war. How could anyone on the surface stand a chance if they were as divided as Serevadia was united?

Etherak barely held together after Eldridge’s crusades. No one would come to their aid. Terevas was too young of a kingdom to have an army. Melkarth would sit on its hands unless it absolutely had to. Vernes would see Gratey fall so it could reclaim their lost pieces and rebuild their empire. And the Vasa would stay safe on the water as they always did. The only thing that stood between a Serevadian army, if everything went wrong, was Dirn-Darahl. And as good as Heliodar’s army was, she didn’t want to see a bloodbath between the two armies. Especially if she caused it.

“We will be.” Sol seemed to read her mind. Her eyes were solemn. Her people were at stake, too, much more than anyone else in the room. The dwarf turned to Gyda. “Be a distraction but leave the weapons.” When Gyda started to argue, Sol straightened her spine and looked the warrior dead in the eye, which was impressive considering the massive height difference. “If you want your sword, that’s fine. But be smart about it, or don’t do it at all. I can fight with anything. And if we need to fight our way out of the city, we’re doing this wrong.”

“You just expect them to let us walk out with Karas?” Sorin asked, flabbergasted. “After they’ve been hiding him?”

“Yes. I have Viggo’s word.” Evren forced her words to sound convincing, but Arke snorted.

“Yeah, I doubt that means shit.”

“It will.” This time, Arke actually flinched. She wanted to feel bad, but she was too tired. She’d apologize later if she thought the goblin would even care for her words.

Abraxas stood, and she was struck again by how old he looked. The worry lines on his brow seemed permanent, and the silver streaks in his hair were thicker by his temples now. “Gyda will stay behind as a distraction. If she can safely retrieve our weapons, she will. Once we have Karas, we’ll meet her back here.”

“Why?” Arke almost growled.

Abraxas looked down at him with a cool expression. “We will do this right. By coming back with Karas, we will show our hosts that we know they’ve lied. And we will state that we are leaving with our prisoner. Peacefully. By their word, they will let us leave.” Or by our swords.

That was the unspoken ending. Evren didn’t like it, but she didn’t argue. Neither did anyone else.

“Gyda, we’ll take the same back exit we took this afternoon,” Sol told her as they got ready.

“Understood. Make the ruckus up front, then.”

“Big bronze doors.” Evren smiled tightly. “You can’t miss them.”

Gyda nodded and didn’t say another word as she left the wing. Evren hoped they weren’t doing something foolish and that she would see her again.

They waited five long minutes with Sorin counting every second before leaving. Sol took the lead, and Evren stayed close behind her. She wasn’t great at talking to people who didn’t want to talk to her first, but if they got caught, she figured she could feign a pain with her wound so the others could go on without her. Abraxas took up the rear, sandwiching Sorin and Arke in the middle. They weren’t the most inconspicuous group, but it would have to do.

Sol led them out of the wing and carefully through the dark halls. What had once been so friendly and welcoming now seemed too fragile. Like an enchanted mirror ready to break. The shadows didn’t seem to want to aid them. Balls of light helpfully tried to follow them, and more than once, Abraxas had to bat them away.

The hallways were blissfully empty, though. Gyda was more than enough distraction, it seemed. Before long, they found themselves in the back of the manor. Sol pulled at the broken hatch of a window, and it swung open. The city waited for them.

One by one, with varying levels of difficulty, they climbed through the opening. They went around the manor and past the front door. Evren heard muffled conversation and Gyda’s booming voice. She winced when she remembered that neither side would be able to understand each other. But it didn’t sound aggressive, so she counted that as a victory.

Once they were past the manor’s gates, it was quiet.

“That was easy,” Sorin said too loudly, and everyone quickly shushed him. Easy or not, they still had a whole city to search, and none of them blended in.

“You said you could give us some cover?” Abraxas looked pointedly between Arke and his spellbook.

He just nodded and took out the tome. He was running low on pages, Evren realized. Only a fourth of the book remained. If the goblin was worried, though, he didn’t show it. He found the page he was looking for and muttered an incantation under his breath. His clawed hand ripped at the page and tore it from the binding as the shadows from the street suddenly leapt from their gathered pools and settled over them.

Evren looked around at everyone, and for a moment, she couldn’t see her party. She felt them and heard their breathing, though. She smelled the sweets still clinging to Sol’s breath. But until she focused, they were little more than shadows on top of shadows. Evren turned her hand back and forth. They weren’t invisible, but they were close to it.

“That’s new,” Sorin whispered.

“Learned it in the study the elf gave us to use,” was all Arke said as he snapped his book shut.

“So, that’s what you were doing holed up in there.” She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not.

“Obviously.”

“Let’s move.” Abraxas nudged them. “Evren, Sol?”

“Right.” Evren turned to Sol’s shadow. “Do you know where to go?”

“Do you?”

“I’ll know it when I see it. Two very different things.”

“Fair point. I’ll head to the place Sorin and I found. Here’s hoping it’s the right spot.”

As shadows took form, the five of them took to the streets of Andovine. They were no less crowded or rowdy than Evren had left them, and more than once, they had to turn around or take a winding side street to avoid the masses. Night didn’t look any different, there just happened to be more people out and about. If anyone noticed a bunch of people-shaped shadows scurrying from corner to corner, they didn’t say anything. They slowly picked their way through the winding streets and back alleys. Eventually, the wide and well-kept roads gave way to smaller, somewhat dirtier ones. The houses became more crowded, and the sloping hills weren’t level like before. It was quieter, too. People still roamed, but they kept to themselves or talked quietly on their porches.

Evren shouldn’t have been surprised at the sight. Every city had its poorer districts. But she couldn’t help but feel that Viggo had kept her from this side on purpose. Did he think she would turn her nose up at poverty? She’d seen slums in Linston far worse than this, where the humans almost lived on top of one another, and everything in their houses leaked. The very air in those streets felt thick and dirty. At least in Andovine, things were relatively well-kept, if not as grand and pretty as the rest of the city.

No, it was far more likely that he’d wanted to keep her away from any evidence of Karas. And as Sol stopped at the corner of a large, squat building, Evren knew that was true. What a fool she had been, falling for pretty streets and lively conversation.

“Is this the place?” Sol nudged her.

Evren frowned and squinted at the building. Nothing looked familiar. She had a good memory and a better eye for detail. But everything about this building was boring and plain. In direct opposition to everything else she’d been shown. She was starting to lose hope when something caught her eye—a soft amethyst glow coming from the back.

Without a word, Evren darted across the street and around the corner of the building. She heard Sorin hiss behind her as she left, cursing her lack of communication, but they all followed. When she got to the back, she prepared herself to see a guard but found nothing but an elegant door and a softly glowing rock beside it. Both stood out starkly against the plain building.

“I take it this is the place?” Sorin panted as they caught up.

“It better be,” she mumbled.

Her fingers hovered over the glowing stone as she racked her brain for the memory of Viggo’s fingers punching in the combination. Could it be the same as the one in the library? There weren’t even any buttons to press—it was just smooth stone. She swallowed her frustration and ran her fingers over the smooth surface. It lit up more at her touch, but nothing changed. She tried to tap out the same combination once, and then twice. Each time her fingers didn’t seem to hit the right spot, she let out a low growl of irritation.

“What is it?” Sol asked.

“Stupid. Elder. Lock,” she hissed through clenched teeth. She was far angrier than she should’ve been. Once again, her finger slipped, and she wanted to do nothing more than rip the rock off and toss it through the nearest window.

With a surge of frustration, she gripped the stone with her whole hand and tugged. She knew it was useless, but the action of pulling and exerting herself drained a bit of her anger. She stumbled back slightly when the stone gave and pulled out an inch. Panic replaced anger until the door cracked open, and the stone slid back into place.

“Well . . .” She cleared her throat and shook out her hand. “Meant to do that.”

She couldn’t see Arke’s face, but she could feel his eye roll. “Sure, you did.”

“Are we going to stand here, or are we getting our dwarf?”

“That’s the most pragmatic thing I’ve heard you say so far.”

“Save the big words for the spells, Arke.” There wasn’t much bite to her words. Nor his. She waved them all inside. Once Abraxas had passed her, she followed and closed the door. Just in time, too. Arke’s shadows had started to slide off them.

“I can’t keep it up forever.” He shrugged.

“We’ll deal with any guards peacefully.” Abraxas waved him off.

The hallway they entered was as plain and simple as the building, with very little light to guide their path. There wouldn’t be much room for a fight, even if they were ready for one.

“Am I the only one freaked out by the lack of guards?” Sorin whispered loudly, and Evren cringed as his voice bounced off the walls.

“I don’t think anyone is supposed to be here,” Sol answered in a softer tone. “Why station guards at a place that no one bothers to mess with? It draws attention.”

“So, they just hope no one angrily yanks on their glowing doorknob like Evvie?” Sorin shook his head. “Weird security.”

Abraxas looked back at them, his face grim. “It’s also good to remember that we’re outsiders. Everyone else in the city might know to leave this place alone for one reason or another. There’s no need for guards if people steer clear. We’re not meant to be here.”

“So, they’re not expecting anyone to be stupid enough to actually break in.” Sol snickered. “I love it.”

“Well, I don’t.” Sorin’s complaints went nearly unheard as they continued forward. “I don’t like being stupid. Stupid gets people killed.”

Evren patted his shoulder to comfort him, but the Vasa looked more on edge than she’d seen in several days. If he narrowed his eyes any more, he would start looking as serious as Abraxas.

They crept as silently as they could through the dark hallway. No other doors awaited them. The ground started sloping, and Evren got a sick feeling in her gut. It was uncomfortably similar to how the ground had sloped in the natural caverns of the Deep, just with a more even surface. Her fingers ached for the familiar heft of her bow but grasped nothing but empty air.

The hallway suddenly cut left and swung around until they were moving even deeper into a spiral. The previously calming green glow of the orbs felt more ominous now, and Evren squared her shoulders. She wasn’t alone. She’d be all right.

After a few minutes of spiraling down, Abraxas stopped short. Evren peered over his shoulder and saw that the hallway ended at a door. The moment she laid eyes on it, something in her memory snapped into place. The gilded bronze and how it shone in the green light. The elegant curve of the handle. It was all so familiar, yet she knew she’d never been here before.

“This is it.” She nodded to Abraxas.

He lifted his arm as if to raise his shield but then shook it out. The same hand took the door handle and, with barely a hitched breath of hesitation, he pushed it open.

The heavy metal swung open slowly. The room beyond was the embodiment of organized chaos. Tables of different sizes and shapes were stuck everywhere and turned the room into a makeshift maze. Their surfaces were piled high with stacks of papers, rolls of parchment, and vials upon vials of different liquids. The glass containers glinted in the dull light. Some steamed, others bubbled. They curved and twisted and connected from table to table. The whole room smelled like ink and chemicals. A very large, very impressive map of Eith hung on the back wall.

Evren knew this room. Only in stolen glances, and it hadn’t been this messy in Viggo’s memory. But as she stepped in, all she saw was the map. The black-inked mountain peaks, the soft curves of the waves in the Boreal Sea, the wide farmlands of Terevas. The sand dunes and massive crater in Vernes. All were exquisitely drawn. Every city-state in Gratey had been carefully labeled and marked. Every border precise. It was all there, in striking detail. She was suddenly sick to her stomach, remembering how she’d crouched over the map of Serevadia in the library and showed him where the surface countries would be.

He had known.

She didn’t have time to dwell. As each of her friends moved in, taking in their own pieces of the room, Evren saw something dart between the tables towards Sol.

“Sol!”

The warning came too late. In a crash of glass, and a flurry of papers, someone slammed into Sol and pinned her against the table. Evren numbly registered that the tables were all dwarven height, not elven. It didn’t surprise her nearly as much as seeing Karas with a broken shard of glass held at Sol’s neck.

“Figures you’d follow me to the depths of the hells,” he spat. His glass dug into her skin and drew blood, but she stood perfectly still.

Before he could cut any deeper, Abraxas was on him in a blur of black. He swatted the glass out of his hand, and it shattered on the floor. Within seconds, he had Karas on top of another table, his hand at his throat.

“Not just her.” There was cold fury in his eyes that made Evren shiver.

She moved over to Sol, who still tried to catch her breath. She held a shaky hand against the cut on her neck. It wasn’t deep and was only bleeding slowly. She’d be okay. But one look in the dwarf’s sky-blue eyes, and Evren could see her fear. She rested her hand on Sol’s shoulder. She knew that fear well.

Sol leaned into Evren slightly, but her eyes were still fixed on Karas and Abraxas. “Don’t kill him.” Her voice was a little shaky, and she straightened her spine some more. “We need him alive.”

Karas’s laugh was as rough and jagged as rocks and held little humor. “You heard her, elf. Let me go.”

“She didn’t say that.” Abraxas tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, like a predator examining its prey.

“Fine.” He swallowed with difficulty and looked at the rest of them. “Don’t close the door if you ever want to see daylight again.”

Sorin froze inches from closing the door. His hand went to find the doorknob on their side and found nothing but cool metal. He left it open by a foot for good measure and wedged himself into the gap. “Ah, I see! Nicer prison cell than the last. Didn’t know you could draw, Karas.”

“He can’t.” Sol’s eyes wandered through the room, picking it apart in her mind, stone by stone, vial by vial. She took Evren’s hand and led her farther into the room. Karas started to buck against Abraxas’s grip, but the elf held him firmly.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare! Amet, get back here and face me! I’m the one you want!”

The desperation in his voice made her want to turn back, but Sol had a firm grip on her hand. The farther they walked through the maze, the stronger the chemical smell became. She wasn’t sure if it was harmful, but she covered her nose with her sleeve anyway. They got to the back corner, where a table much like the others had been set up against the map wall.

Being closer to the map, Evren could make out more. There were little red notes in the margins. Next to Linston, someone had written, Conclave defensive shield. The whole of the Deep Wood where Orenlion would be was full of question marks. The Black Hall of Melkarth had been marked with a bright red X and a note that said: Leave the dead to their meals. On and on the notes went.

Border between Vernes and Gratey too dangerous.

Tal-Mashad port: cliffs = defenses

Noxcairn supplies Rhienwall, cut it off first

Farmland here is weak

Use mountains as an advantage

Not expecting an attack from below. Strike fast

Sol touched the note by Dirn-Darahl. It seemed too small wedged in the northeastern corner of Etherak, so far in the mountains. There were multiple notes on defenses, weapons, army sizes, and city structure. It was like a massive red cloud around the city.

“S-sorry.”

Evren turned around to see another dwarf. He was smaller and skinnier. His clothes were fine and Serevadia-made, but he didn’t wear them well. His kinky hair was wild around his face and streaked with white, and the heavy bags under his eyes seemed to make him look droopy. His beard was tangled and matted. Parts of it were burned. The scratches on his cheeks worried Evren the most. He’d been picking at his skin. Under her gaze, he started to do it again, but batted his own hand away.

“Temsen,” Sol breathed and stepped away from the map. “Temsen Cartack?”

“That’s, uh, m-me, me.” He pointed to his chest.

“The cartographer from the exploration mission?” Evren asked, and Sol nodded. She’d thought he was dead. “How long has he been down here?”

“He was reported missing in the Yawning Deep two years ago. Only the map came back with the one survivor.”

“Been here.” He scratched at his beard and tugged it until he winced. “Always here. A-al-always here.”

The Serevadians had kept him. Her gaze returned to the map, and the familiar, sickening sensation returned. They’d been using him.

“Gory’s here!” He brightened. “Where’s Gory gone? Want . . . want to see Gory.”

“Uh.” Evren didn’t know what to do. He looked at her with hopeful eyes. Had he always been like this? His mind broken and fractured to the point where he was almost childlike? Or had they done this to him?

“I’m here, Temsen.” Karas’s rough voice startled all of them. He walked with Abraxas close behind. The bruises on his meaty neck were already starting to form, and the hatred in his eyes hadn’t left. But he made no move to attack. Instead, he went to stand beside his cousin. He looked him over as if looking for wounds.

“We didn’t touch him,” Evren said.

“Does it look like I’d trust your word?” he shot back. He went back to looking Temson over and settled with his hands on either side of his face. “You don’t have to tell them nothin’. Understood?”

He nodded between Karas’s hands, humming his reply. But his eyes weren’t even focused on any of them. It was like he was far away.

“Has he always been like this?” Evren asked as gently as she could manage.

Karas stiffened a bit but turned to face her. “Not exactly. He’s not crazy. He’s always had his stutter and was better with maps and math than talkin’. He never liked people. But he wasn’t like this when he left home.”

“Isolation will do that,” Sol murmured. “He lost his whole crew. There’s no telling what he saw before they found him.”

“Or those grey bastards did this to him!” Karas pointed a thick finger at Sol. “What’s the first thing we’re taught in trainin’, huh? Do whatever is necessary to get the information you need. Breakin’ bones and breakin’ minds ain’t all that different. One just never heals right.”

“But we don’t do this,” Sol argued. “And there’s no evidence to support that the Serevadians did.”

“Look around, Sol.” Abraxas’s tone was icy, and his gaze was fixed on the map. “Do those look like friendly notes to you? Those are made for war. Finding weaknesses to exploit, scouting the area to get the best advantage. Using your enemies’ strengths against them.”

“Are they planning to attack?” Sol asked Karas, and he just shrugged.

“I dunno, they don’t talk to me. I barely survived gettin’ here to get him out, and then I got stuck. I have no clue where the rest of my men are.”

“No doubt rotting.” Arke spoke up between Abraxas’s legs but didn’t look up from his spellbook.

“Ain’t you just a bundle of sunshine, gobber?”

“I try my best.”

“So, your escape with the worm was all to get to Temsen?” She looked at them both. “How did you know he was alive?”

Karas looked as if he didn’t want to answer her, and the silence that followed made her think he wouldn’t just to spite her. But he cast a sideways glance at his cousin and sighed. “I didn’t. It was just a hunch. I meant to go with him into the Yawning Deep two years ago, but I got locked up. When word got to me that he didn’t make it back, well . . .” He shrugged. “Figured I had nothin’ to lose by followin’ his steps. I didn’t know he’d still be here.”

“What about the worm? How did you get that to work?”

He hesitated again. “I dunno, to be honest. It’s not like I can speak to it. But I could always feel it under the prison. It felt pissed-off. Like me. I got my boys to rig up shit that would cause a lot of noise on our level. Figured that would give us a distraction at the very least.”

“And Tavish?”

“What ‘bout him?”

“He was a Seeker like you. He helped you escape.”

Karas took a physical step back as if she’d knocked him in the teeth. Everyone else, besides Temsen, looked at her in bewilderment. “Tavish is a Seeker?”

“You didn’t know?” she asked.

“Fuck, no. That ass was straight as an arrow. Didn’t think he was the type.”

“Evren, how did you know that?” Sol whispered. She looked pale, and the lighting didn’t help.

Evren winced. “When I left the tavern, he ambushed me. He wanted to know why Heliodar was involved, and what she was planning.”

“Heliodar is involved?” Karas roared. “You’ve got—”

Evren cut off his cursing. “She sent us to retrieve you and the others.”

“Why didn’t you bring Tavish to us?” Sol asked. She looked close to joining in with Karas’s tirade of curses. “He could’ve helped! Given us information, at the very least.”

“I know, and I wanted to.” Evren tried to sound reassuring. Should she bring up the cloaked figure? Or had they had enough revelations for one day? “Look, something happened to him. He just turned to ash. It’s hard to explain, and we really don’t have the time. I just need you to trust me.”

Sol’s eyes had always reminded Evren of the clear blue skies above the mountains. Now, they held a bruised hurt and were darkening quickly. As if a thousand different thoughts blurred in her mind. Which one would stick? In the end, she seemed to deflate.

“I do trust you.” She looked over at Karas and Temsen and then back at Evren. “Something’s not adding up. But you . . . I trust you.”

Evren would’ve melted in relief if she could have. She’d taken Sol’s trust for granted for so long, and the weight of her friend’s life, legacy, and people were on her shoulders. She couldn’t let her down. Sol was right, though. Something didn’t add up. But she’d get to that later. They had more than one issue to tackle first.

“Abraxas, we need to get out of here.” She looked up at him and tried not to flinch. She’d gotten used to his softer side. It was hard to remember that he was a soldier that served a god and crushed armies under his heel. He had the look of war in his eyes again. “Let’s start with this lab and then get Gyda. Do we know what this was used for? What are these vials?”

“Fire suppressors.” Temsen suddenly brightened. “Highly concentrated. M-ma-makes a big boom if exposed to other chemicals.” He pointed to the other liquids.

“They’ve had him makin’ everything. Shit that can melt rock. Fire that doesn’t go out.” Karas looked disgusted and perhaps a little bit afraid. Evren didn’t like the look of fear on him.

“So, we can’t destroy everything without hurting ourselves.” She looked up at the map again. All she could see was red. The marks, the notes, the haze of questions around where Orenlion would be. It was just as red as the rage in her chest. She let go of Sol’s hand. “Let’s start simple, then.”

She took the corner of the map and peeled it off the wall. It was heavier than she expected and came down nearly on top of Sol. Karas seemed to know immediately what she planned and made a big show of turning Temsen away. He distracted him by getting him to put his inks away and pack his bag, but it just confused his cousin further. Evren didn’t care. She tore the beautiful map into strips and wadded them up. Vernes and Gratey separated permanently. The Boreal Sea was torn in two. She sundered mountains and blocked rivers with a single tear. Each wad ended up on the table in front of her, where a small flame boiled a pot of terrible-smelling liquid. She moved that aside and, one by one, burned the pieces of the map.

The room smelled of burnt things and smoke, but she preferred it to the chemical smell. Fields burned, cities withered away. Until all that was left was ash.

She turned back to her friends. None had made the move to stop her. They just stared at her. Some looked worried, others impressed. From his spot at the door, Sorin coughed through the haze of smoke.

“They don’t get Eith,” she said firmly. “Whatever reason they had for this map, they don’t have a right to the surface. They stayed down here for centuries while we warred and starved and suffered above them. They speak of unity, of peace and utopia, but what do they know? There are no storms down here. There’re no border disputes or slavery. There are no wars fought to prove whose gods are more worthy than others. That’s all above us. And I’ll be damned if they get to ruin what little hope we have up there.”

She turned back to Karas, who held his cousin’s arms as he gripped his bag and stared at the smoldering pieces with teary eyes. She wanted to feel sorry but couldn’t find any remorse in her bones. “We’re leaving. But we need answers. If we go back to Dirn-Darahl with this information, there’ll be a war. And I’ve seen what these people are capable of.”

He nodded stiffly. “I ain’t gonna like what you have in mind, am I?”

“No one is. Least of all the Convocation.”

17

No one liked the plan. It was just as reckless and hasty as sneaking into the Serevadian camp. But the worst part was that no one had a better one. No one checked her or argued for something more sensible. They were past the point of that. It was time to be reckless and bold.

Sorin didn’t like being the expendable one. But this was Evren’s plan, and Sol’s work in politics was nonnegotiable. Abraxas wouldn’t leave Karas alone with them, and Arke needed to keep up his shadow spell for as long as possible. So, Sorin complained and cursed as they left the lab behind but ultimately didn’t argue when he got to the manor. He split with them, promising to meet them again. Hopefully with a larger-than-life, pissed-off warrior at his side.

Past the manor, the streets were deathly quiet. As they made their way around noble houses and farther up, Evren became more and more thankful. Temsen wasn’t quiet. He kept mumbling to himself and yelping at every strange noise. For a man who’d been in the city for two years, he acted as if he’d never seen it.

“Who’s Catarmon?” Sol asked as they made their way up. The streets were getting steeper now. Evren’s side ached fiercely.

“I wish I knew.” Karas sighed and tugged Temson away from a bush of glowing flowers. “He won’t stop talkin’ about them, though.”

Evren spared a look at Temsen, who worriedly wrung his hands and scratched at the skin. They were already red. He’d make himself bleed if he kept it up.

“Catarmon,” she said, and his eyes snapped up to hers with uneasy focus. “Who is he?”

“Beginnings of a god.” His voice was steady, and his words weren’t muddled. “He makes it right again. He s-sings of better days.”

“You’ve heard him?”

He shook his head wildly, and his curls flew through the air. “They talk about him sometimes.”

“The Serevadians?”

He nodded.

“Should we be worried?” Sol whispered as they turned back to their climb.

Evren shrugged. “Only if you fear a god.” She’d never met a god. What was there to fear?

The doors to the Convocation were bright, bronze, and hilariously unguarded. Again, Evren was struck by how the Serevadians underestimated them. How content they were to leave everything unguarded. If this was a trap, it wasn’t a good one.

The building itself was just as grand and cold as she’d expected. Generously carved rooms of stone, arches and columns that reached impossible heights. The floors gleamed like mirrors. The image of them marching towards the Convocation followed her until she climbed the stairs. Up and up and up. She remembered how high the round balcony had been. It was a long way to the top.

They were out of breath by the time they reached it. Arke had long since dropped the shadow magic and was breathing hard. Double doors marked their prize, again, gloriously unattended. She heard shouting and arguing from the other side. The nighttime discussions had turned to sour debates, it seemed.

Evren marched forward and pushed against both doors with all her strength. They groaned, and her side burned in protest, but she gritted her teeth and shoved them, nonetheless. The moment the heavy doors slid open, the whole room beyond was as still as night.

It lasted for only a few seconds, a fragment of time where everything was silent and hushed. The Convocation’s debate room was truly massive. Evren saw the soaring windows on the opposite side, and the balcony that lay beyond. Andovine lit the dark cavern. The room itself was like a smaller coliseum, with sweeping rows of chairs. They were all filled with different Serevadian elves. Some darker, some lighter. Old and young, male and female, and everything in between. And they were all staring at her.

All at once, the shouting began. They yelled and pointed fingers. Many of them stood. It was like standing in the middle of a storm. Evren felt the weight of the Heralds’ gazes as easily as she felt the tug of wind and rain. Her ears started to ring, and she could no longer make out what they were saying. None of this would work if they screamed like toddlers.

“Enough of this,” Arke growled from behind her. He snapped his book shut, and a thunderous boom sounded throughout the room. Temsen covered his ears, and Karas scowled, but Arke was far from done. The uneasy silence that followed gave him the time he needed to burn another spell. The familiar weight of his magic washed over them. She didn’t need it, but they would.

“Ready?” she asked Sol.

The dwarf gulped and tried to smooth her hair. “This is worse than Court. Much worse.”

An elf stood back up from where he’d fallen into his chair after Arke’s boom. He was older, his head shaved, but had a ridiculously long goatee that fell to his chest in white wisps. Even from her spot on the floor, Evren could see how furious he was.

“What is the meaning of this?” he shouted. But he wasn’t asking them. He was looking at his fellow Heralds.

Evren’s eyes found Viggo easily. She wished they hadn’t. He didn’t look calm, but his face was neutral. He was trying very hard to look as surprised as everyone else. But the moment his eyes found hers, she knew he wasn’t. There wasn’t anger there. There was disappointment. And that sent her over the edge.

“Heralds of the Convocation,” she cried, making her voice as loud as she could over the crescendo of their whispers and murmurs. The room carried her voice well enough. She didn’t need to shout. “My party and I stand before you as representatives of the surface world of Eith. We peacefully request an audience.”

“Peaceful?” A woman swathed in black looked down her nose at Evren and sniffed disdainfully. “Barging in here like some common thug. How does it speak our language?”

“Learned from a rather delightful Mora,” Evren said dryly. The woman ignored her, and Sol took a step forward.

“You will address us as equals,” the dwarf said. “Or you will not address us at all.” She looked every inch a graceful politician, even in her leather armor. But they all looked at her in confusion and started whispering to each other in concern.

Arke’s spell didn’t reach very far, Evren realized. Damn it.

“Address us as equals, or don’t address us at all,” Evren translated Sol’s words. She lacked the same conviction, but judging by the bitter looks, her message had gotten across just fine.

“You have no rights in these proceedings,” another elf said. “You are not Serevadian.”

“When it comes to matters of our people and their relation to yours, we have every right,” Sol said, and Evren translated.

A hush fell over all the elves. There were more than thirty. Some servants ran back and forth, carrying drinks and notes. But they didn’t pay Evren’s group much mind. They simply moved faster now.

Sol waved Karas and Temsen up. More murmurs followed. Evren watched Viggo most of all. She saw his gaze flick to Karas and then move back up to her. His jaw was clenched, but that was the only thing in his body language that betrayed him. Her anger rose even more. Do something, she urged. Fight back. Get angry. Show some fucking emotion.

He never did. But his gaze never left hers. Evren was the first to look away, and she did so with purpose and narrowed eyes.

As Sol talked, Evren translated. It wasn’t easy. Sol talked fast and eloquently, and Evren could hardly keep up without stumbling over her words. It didn’t sound right coming from her mouth. But it was better than any of the words she could think of.

“Temsen Cartack is a valued cartographer and scientist of the city of Dirn-Darahl. We assumed he died in a mission to explore the Yawning Deep two years ago. Solri Amet,”—she gestured to the dwarf—“is a valued representative of the same city. She has repeatedly come to your Heralds in hopes of gaining information and brokering peace. Our mission was not for Cartack but for his cousin, an escaped convicted prisoner. Goriryn Karas. We have, on numerous occasions, abided by your laws and waited patiently. We explained the danger Karas and his fellow prisoners posed. And when we asked for information, we were met with lies.”

Evren let herself look at Viggo then. He squirmed under her gaze as she and Sol continued.

“Due to the nature of our mission, we sought out Karas ourselves and found him and his previously-thought-dead cousin alive and well in the middle of your city. Safely tucked out of sight and locked up.”

“How did you find them?” a Herald snapped. “Sneaking around and breaking into homes. You broke our laws!”

“What laws?” Evren asked without Sol’s prompting. “Are there rules that say we cannot wander the streets?”

Silence descended on the room, and she took her next step forward.

“Do these laws of yours prevent people from opening doors?” she asked. “None of them were locked. There were no guards. We assumed friendly hospitality. Until it became more evident that we had been lied to.” She let venom coat her words. She let it sting. She wanted it to hurt.

She turned and pointed to Temsen and Karas. “They have been held against their will. One for two whole years. Was that your plan for us?” She turned to Viggo, speaking to him directly now. All eyes were on him. “Did you plan to keep us in luxury and hope we wouldn’t look into this further? Showing me the wonders of Andovine was a good move. You almost had me there.”

The Heralds all looked at Viggo expectantly. One older one whispered furiously in his ear, but Viggo waved him off. Fluidly, he stood. He did not look bothered at all, but his easy demeanor was gone.

“You betrayed my hospitality,” he began.

“You betrayed my trust,” she snapped. “I’m grateful beyond words that the people of Andovine saved my team and I from the Mora. But I will not be forced into submission by that gratitude. We came here for one purpose, and we were honest about it. We were no threat to you, and yet you still lied and manipulated us. Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged. “Tell me this meeting was a discussion about freeing Karas and Temsen, giving them into our custody, and letting us walk free. Go on. But remember, you are bound to your words.”

Viggo’s lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to argue. She could see the words brimming at the corners of his mouth. Instead, he smoothed his robes and sat back down. His eyes held storm clouds that looked as if they wanted to drag her down. She turned away from him and nodded at Sol to continue.

The dwarf hesitated. Evren had gone off-script. She’d gotten carried away, and it had thrown Sol off. Still, she shook off the moment of weakness and pressed on.

“The plans we saw in Temsen’s room have also shown that you feigned your lack of knowledge beyond a missing dwarf or two.” Evren translated easier now, though her hands shook at her sides. “As representatives of the surface, which includes Dirn-Darahl and its fellow dwarven cities, the kingdoms of Etherak, Terevas, Vernes, Gratey, and Melkarth, as well as the moving city of Orenlion, and the Vasa of the Boreal Sea—not to mention all the people and creatures that reside in it—we demand an explanation. The surface world has not been any threat to your empire.”

“Republic,” the goateed elf corrected her. “We are a people who listen to our own.”

“Good for you. Do you want a treat?” Arke snickered behind her, and Sol did her best to keep her face impassive. “Answer the question. For your people.”

A murmur swept through the crowd. Viggo made no move to answer, even when his fellow Heralds seated around him tugged on his robes and tried to nudge him out of his seat. He was still looking at Evren, his arm resting on his chair, and his finger at his temple. In the end, a smaller elf stood. She looked nervous, and her face was nowhere near as schooled as her fellow Heralds.

“As the Herald of the Watch of Kleros, I speak for my people and my fellow Heralds when I say I have no knowledge of such subterfuge.” She shifted from foot to foot but looked at Evren firmly. “What evidence do you have that stands?”

Now, they were getting somewhere.

“Temsen Cartack has been here for two years.” Sol laid a hand on Temsen’s shoulder and ignored the dark look she got from Karas. “He says he’s been here making a variety of maps and alchemical agents for your people. Temsen?”

The cartographer looked as if he’d rather wilt into the floor and never get back up again. But Karas murmured something Dwarvish in his ear, and he nodded. He pulled out a vial from his bag and held it shakingly in the air.

“M-m-mine,” he said slowly. “Made it fo-for you.”

The Andovine Heralds looked extremely uncomfortable. Any from Kleros looked bewildered at the stuttering dwarf. None seemed to be surprised by the vial. They recognized the chemical, but whether they realized that it was dwarven-made and not theirs was up for debate.

“Is that all?” the Herald of the Watch asked. “A dwarf with our chemicals?”

“Mine.” Temsen looked confused, and Sol gestured for Karas to pull him back.

Evren took a breath and pulled out a ripped piece of the map she’d managed to save, holding it in the air. She let them get a good look and start whispering to each other. She still felt an itch to burn it. The piece held a scrawled image of Dirn-Darahl with the red haze of notes surrounding it.

“A piece of the map your people forced Temsen Cartack to make.” She held it up higher for all to see, then balled it up and put it back into her pocket. “I burned the rest. You’ll have to forgive my distrust. All the red you saw were notes on defenses, security, and structural weak points of the city. An entire map of Eith had similar markings. Every kingdom. Every small village. Such a find could be seen as a declaration of war.”

Half of the crowd went mad.

“That’s absurd!”

“We are not a warring people! They’re lying!”

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Are they speaking the truth?”

It took a while for everyone to settle down. Once they did, an older elf with visible wrinkles frowned down at Evren. “We are a peaceful people. I cannot imagine our own holding prisoners and forcing them to do such work.”

“Where are you from?”

“Kleros.”

I’m sensing a theme, Evren thought bitterly.

“Your Worship, we do not make these accusations lightly. As the Herald of Light will tell you, my people on the surface are divided. We have suffered greatly and are working on healing ourselves. We do not have your unity. We do not wish for war. We came in peace and mean to leave in it, as well.”

“Is this true, Viggo?” He twisted his body to look up at the younger elf, who bowed his head to his elder.

“It is true. Evren Hanali spoke little of her world, but much festers up there. Greed, slavery, wars fought over false gods.”

Abraxas took a step forward, but Evren put her hand on his shoulder. He practically hummed with anger. She didn’t want to see him lose it now.

“They are weak, then.” A different elf stood. He was muscular and looked like the night taken form. “Perhaps we can show them unity.”

“To try would incur the wrath of every kingdom of Eith. Every army. We are divided now, but waging war on us would give us ample reason to come together,” she shot back. They didn’t need to know how much of that was a lie.

The elf held his stomach and laughed. He didn’t look fazed at all. “My people have been dealing with your so-called armies for the past several decades. They are pathetic and weak. They pose no threat.”

“Who are you?” she and Sol demanded in unison.

“I am Velcros of Xoria. My people and I owe you nothing.” He turned his back to them and faced his fellow Heralds. “My friends. Xoria has long endured the prodding and trespassing of the Sky-Touched. They do not respect our borders. They do not listen to reason. More importantly, they are no match for us.”

“You deal with one army in Gratey and think you’ve won?” Sol was fuming now, and Evren could barely keep up. “They have many cities, each with their own army. They will drown you.”

“They are divided by their petty politics and squabbles.” He snorted. “Xoria is vast and united. We have even taken the Mora under our wing. No longer do we fight our brethren, for they have seen reason.”

A riot of whispers broke out in the Convocation. Evren clearly saw which Heralds came from where. The Andovines kept to themselves but listened intently. The Xorians [CO7] were loud in their agreements. Those from Kleros made up the smallest batch, and they did not look convinced by any speaking party.

“What do you mean, Velcros?” Viggo stood to face the other Herald. “The Mora have never followed our path. What changed?”

“We have changed, little Light.” Viggo physically flinched at the nickname. “The Mora of Xoria found a new calling. A new god. They showed my people and me, and we have heard it, too. Serevadia is no longer a barren prison for us to carve a home out of. We are mighty and deserve much more than this wretched darkness.”

Over the cacophony of shouts from Xoria, Viggo demanded, “What god? What has been whispered to you that made you turn your back on the Shadow Dancer’s Light?”

“A god that is here now. The Shadow Dancer is dead. And for all your pretty words, we know the Light is fading. Catarmon will give us the strength we need in the new era.”

“N-no.” Temsen clutched his ears and shook his head as Karas held him. “Nonononono.”

“This is an outrage!” The older elf slammed his staff on the floor. “This Catarmon god has not made itself known to us. You speak lies, Velcros.”

Velcros scowled at him. “Catarmon has not made himself known to those of Kleros because they are weak. There are those in Andovine who have heard his call.” A ripple of agreement ran through the crowd. Viggo was not one of them. He looked far too pale. “Xoria is strong, and Andovine has potential. But have you ever wondered why Kleros has had less and less influence in the past years? We do not need your coffers and crops anymore. What we need is strength, and Catarmon will give us that. With his help, we will take back the lands we were exiled from. We will show the Sky-Touched what true peace looks like. We will do this as we have moved rocks to make cities. As we have turned rivers to aqueducts. My brothers and sisters, this is simply another metamorphosis. Do not be afraid.”

Evren couldn’t tell if everyone agreed with him or was arguing even more. The grand chamber practically shook with all the shouting. Karas had moved Temsen near the back and tried his best to comfort his distressed cousin, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. The only thing Evren was certain of was that Velcros had taken the attention away from them and moved it to him, and it didn’t look good.

“What is this?” Abraxas hissed. “Madness?”

“The beginnings of a civil war,” Sol murmured. She looked grim. “I’ve seen this type of arguing before.”

“We didn’t come here to keep them stable,” Evren said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arke nod. They exchanged a glance, and without a word, he opened and slammed his book shut again. The boom that shook the chamber barely got anyone’s attention, even though it rattled the windows. One by one, the attention turned back to them.

Sol cleared her throat and began, clutching Evren’s wrist behind her back tightly. “Your gods are of no concern to us. All we wish to do is return to our homes and do so in peace.”

“You speak of peace, yet spill blood at first contact.” Velcros’ midnight eyes found Evren. “Word of your battle has spread. More like you will come.”

Evren lifted her chin, trying to look as confident as Sol. “I protected my people from what I assumed was a violent attack. Was I wrong? Didn’t the guards of Andovine find and rescue us from those Mora? I only spill blood when I must. When I’m backed into a corner and need to defend myself and the people I care about. So, yes, there will be more like me. Many more. We defend our own.”

“As much as it pains me to agree with Herald Velcros, you did indeed spill first blood here.” The woman from Kleros spoke again, though her eyes accusingly cut towards Xoria’s side of the room. “We cannot let you leave without the proper payment.”

“Of what?” Abraxas took a threatening step forward. Velcros’ eyes gleamed hungrily.

“Of blood.” He grinned. “Blood for blood.”

The room started to fill with arguments once more, although this was a much easier subject than Catarmon. Viggo still looked pale and now refused to look at her. He talked furiously to a fellow Herald, his soft and slender hands waving in the air with every sharp word. They had no effect.

“Now’s the time, kid.” Arke nudged her.

She swallowed nervously and looked back at Karas again. He didn’t appear any more pleased than she felt. But there was still a chance. He nodded stiffly, and she turned back to the crowd. She met Velcros’ gaze easily and stepped forward, away from her party.

“Blood for blood? How barbaric.”

“Such is our way.”

“And if I could offer something better?” she asked. Her gaze settled on each of the Heralds, one by one. She lingered on Viggo, and he gave a subtle shake of his head. She smiled that crooked smile again. “I can give you Alkimos. In exchange, my people and I, including Goriryn Karas and his cousin, Temsen Cartack, go free. You will leave the surface in peace unless they provoke you in a manner of war. All this in exchange for the Great Worm.”

Velcros laughed again. “You cannot bring us Alkimos. He has evaded even our best trackers. You offer nothing but empty promises and shadows, Sky-Touched.”

“I am a hunter and a tracker.” She narrowed her eyes at him as a hush fell over the crowd. “More than that, I have seen and survived Alkimos three times. That’s three more than your men. I guarantee that I can bring him back to you. And if I can’t? You’ll have your blood. Either way, my people go in peace, and you win.”

Velcros shifted uncomfortably. There was no shouting now, just murmurs of hushed conversation that hung heavily in the air. Viggo looked at her as if she were already dead, so she pointedly ignored him. Throwing down the Alkimos card had been risky, but now Evren could see how much the worm meant to the Serevadians. The fact that they seemed to be seriously considering her proposal showed their desperation. It was the only advantage they had.

“I’m not sure this was a good idea.” Abraxas’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m sure it’s the only choice we’ve got.” She looked at him, and he still had his soldier face on. But she also saw the soft worry she was used to. “Trust me.”

“I do. I don’t trust them.” He jerked his chin to the Heralds.

The whispers stretched on for what could’ve been an hour. None of Evren’s team moved from their spots in the middle of the chamber. At last, the older elf stood, and a hush fell over the Convocation as he tapped his staff on the floor three times.

“The Heralds of Kleros vote to allow Evren Hanali of the surface to clear her blood debt by retrieving Alkimos the Great Worm. Failure to return him, or any attempt at escape, will lead to the swift execution the blood debt normally calls for.”

Velcros stood, his face flushed and fuming. “The Heralds of Xoria do not recognize Evren Hanali’s power in these proceedings and vote for the swift end of the blood debt.”

All eyes turned to Andovine. None of their Heralds stood quickly. Evren’s throat tightened when she looked back at Viggo. He didn’t want her to find Alkimos. She didn’t know why, but everything in his demeanor had changed after she made the offer. But, surely, he wouldn’t vote for her death. Right?

The goateed elf stood instead of him and sighed. He appeared as weary as Evren felt. He looked her up and down as if trying to pick apart what made her so special. “My Herald of Light tells me you are quite talented. That you might yet surprise us with something of a miracle.”

“The Herald of Light is fond of miracles and optimism, Your Worship.”

A smile twitched his lips under his goatee. “Indeed, he is.” He turned back to the Convocation. “Andovine votes for Evren Hanali to bring Alkimos the Great back home. Once she has done that, her people will go free. Without further bloodshed. All matters of this . . . Catarmon, will be saved for a later date. The hunt will begin in the morning, and you will be escorted.” He looked at her pointedly. “Do try to get some rest.”

An unspoken order seemed to take effect. Suddenly, everyone tried to get out of the chamber all at once. Sol and Abraxas quickly rushed everyone out before the crowd trampled them. Once out the doors, they moved to the side to allow the flow of traffic free access to the stairs. They’d follow once it cleared.

Just as the Heralds made their way to the stairs, two familiar figures barely squeezed out in time. The elves noticeably shied away from Gyda’s hulking form. With her sword on her back, she looked like a beautiful menace, and Evren couldn’t have been happier to see her or Sorin run up to meet them.

“We missed it,” he exclaimed.

“What took you so long?” Arke hissed and pulled on the hem of his coat so he could get out of people’s way.

“We got lost.”

“It’s the tallest building in the city. How did you get lost?”

“There’s no maps, and we couldn’t ask for directions.”

“Just head up.”

They squabbled in hushed tones, but Evren was simply glad to have everyone back together again. Gyda approached and held out Evren’s bow and quiver. The moment her fingers wrapped around the familiar grip, she instantly felt better. The tension in her shoulders was still there, but not nearly as bad.

“How did it go?” Gyda asked.

“Evren signed us up for a worm hunt.” Sol ran her hand through her hair and slumped against the wall. “I really thought we could get out without that.”

“We had to speak their language.” Evren shrugged on her quiver, and the familiar weight settled across her back. “Besides, this is what I’m good at. I can find Alkimos, but I can’t kill him. And they want him alive.”

“We only have their government’s word. If they go back on that, we flee fighting. The best army in Eith is waiting for us up top.”

“I just hope it doesn’t come to that.” Evren sighed.

“Nor I.” At the sound of Viggo’s voice, Gyda’s hand immediately went to the bone hilt of her sword. Evren shook her head. The warrior woman reluctantly backed down, but her accusing eyes never left Viggo.

He looked exhausted. The man in front of Evren was entirely different from the one who had shown her the city before. His hair was a mess, and the bags under his eyes were far more pronounced. He gave Karas and Temsen a passing glance, and his jaw tightened.

“How did you know?”

“Sol and Sorin did some sightseeing of their own and found a strange building out of place,” Evren crossed her arms. “And you let your memories slip.”

He looked over his shoulder quickly as if to see if anyone was listening. They very well might’ve been, but she didn’t care. “I shared knowledge with you in confidence.”

“In the hopes that I would do the same,” she shot back. “What did you hope to gain from me? Orenlion’s location? I haven’t been there in over a year. The city reveals itself to the worthy, and only then.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You lied to me.” The red anger burned again. “You spoke of peace, but the map I burned said otherwise. The people of Eith do not deserve whatever wrath you plan to rain down.”

“That wasn’t my plan.” He blew a white strand of hair out of his face. “I wanted to see if Eith was as bad as Velcros claimed. Only Xoria has had any real contact with the surface until Cartack and you. But what you told me did not sound like a world worth saving.”

“Saving? You don’t get to decide who gets saved,” she spat. “You haven’t even stepped foot on the surface, and already you think you can make it better?”

“Evren—”

“Don’t.” She held up a hand. Surprisingly, it wasn’t shaking. “I’ll find Alkimos and leave this place. And you will stay away from the surface.”

All the softness was gone, and Evren was sad to see it go. “You believe that your surface armies won’t try to attack us once you return? We’re a threat.”

“You are now. Had you been honest and patient, maybe we could’ve made an alliance that would’ve changed the world. Instead, you’ve fractured our fragile peace further.”

“Serevadia is patient. This movement is nothing new. My actions will not be the tipping point, I assure you.”

“We’ll see.” She slung her bow over her shoulder. Behind her, she felt her party readying themselves. “Now, I have to get some rest. I have a hunt in the morning.”

She brushed past Viggo and towards the stairs. The crowd was long gone. Only a few elves remained, and they eyed Viggo and her curiously. As she took the steps down, she heard her friends’ footsteps behind her. Their talks of the morning had already started. What to expect, where to start, what to do when things inevitably went tits up.

She started to smile.

She really was going to shake Eith to its core. One way or another.

18

No sleep came to Evren that night. She was keenly aware of the armed guards at the doors again, and her friends grumbling and pacing in their rooms. Karas and Temsen stayed with them and had taken up sleeping in the common room. The entire manor was still and tense, as if holding its breath with the rest of them and waiting for it all to come crashing down.

The weight of what she’d discovered, and what she was about to do, was heavy on Evren’s chest. She couldn’t breathe right. Every inhale felt like a fight. The hours ticked by, and all she got from swaddling herself in the blankets was creeping irritation and dangerous thoughts of everything that could go wrong. This wasn’t rest. But as tired as she was, she couldn’t force herself to sleep.

Groaning in frustration, Evren kicked off the covers and sprang out of bed. Her wound twinged in pain, but she was too tired and too aggravated to pay it any mind. She padded out of her room and into the round common room in hopes of maybe breathing a little easier.

The common room was dark and chilled. The green orbs in the ceiling had dimmed for the night, and the only illumination in the room was the smoldering coals in the fire. Karas had taken up a spot near the door, while his cousin curled up on the couch. Neither seemed to be sleeping deeply, and Evren made sure her steps were silent so she didn’t wake them.

She sat down on the floor in front of the fire. The coals gave off enough heat to combat the chill of the floor, but she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs anyway. Despite all her efforts, she still felt like a child on nights such as these. Worry knotting her stomach and driving away any chance of sleep, her mind raced through everything that could go wrong in vivid detail. She never had her mother to tell her it would be all right, and her father had never understood the anxiety she felt. She couldn’t blame him. Not for that. But this wasn’t the first night she’d spent alone with her thoughts.

“Can’t sleep?”

Evren jumped and then cursed herself as Arke settled down beside her. He looked as if he was having the same problem. Although if her hair looked as wild as his, she was worse off than she’d thought.

“Yeah.” She glanced back at the two dwarves, still seemingly asleep. “Never could on nights like this.”

Arke just grunted and wiggled his toes closer to the flames. They sat like that in silence that wasn’t entirely comfortable for several minutes. Evren didn’t want to be the one to speak first. She wasn’t even sure she should say anything at all. And where would she even start? All this time cooped up in the manor, and neither of them had spoken of what’d happened after the lake.

She blew a strand of hair out of her face and watched the embers pulse and fade in the hearth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered after a while. The words didn’t seem like enough, but they still fought her not to break free. “About what I said before the village. It wasn’t . . .” She sighed and tried again. “I wasn’t myself.”

“We’re most ourselves when we’ve lost everythin’.’’ Arke’s voice was low but still startled her anyway. “But I don’t blame you.”

“You don’t?”

He shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the fire. “I did the same thing. You and I? We’re used to bein’ alone. Harder to stay together when shit falls apart.”

“Yeah.” She rested her chin on her knees. “I guess that makes sense.” Then, she let the words slip out that she’d been bottling up for a while, maybe even since before she descended into Dirn-Darahl. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. It’s easier, but I spent a lot of my life alone. It’s exhausting and . . .”

“Lonely?” he offered. She rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Obviously. But you know what I mean.”

“More than you know.”

She looked at him sideways. He still wasn’t looking at her, but something about him had changed. Something in his demeanor or maybe the way he spoke. It was Arke through and through, but he wasn’t the same goblin she’d watched storm away from her.

“How did you find Sorin?” Her voice was soft. She still didn’t want to wake the others.

Arke sighed, and the wrinkled corners of his mouth turned down into a frown. “Didn’t. He found me on my way out of Terevas. Cheeky bugger irritated the hells out of me. But he stopped a group of humans from killin’ me on sight.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. All they saw was a goblin with a stolen book. Sorin’s got a mouth that never stops runnin’, but when he actually thinks ‘bout his words, they’ve got a magic ‘bout ‘em. Never seen the likes before. I don’t think he knows what he’s got.”

Evren thought back to the prison where she’d first met Karas, and how Sorin had nearly convinced a bunch of angry prisoners to stand down. If that wasn’t magic, what was?

“Could be a Vasa power,” she offered. “They control the storms and sea, right?”

“Sorin might think he’s a storm, but all that is honeyed words.” Arke shrugged. “Only magic I know is from my books.”

“Written word has power.” She nodded. “Who’s to say spoken word doesn’t?”

“Bah, I dunno. All I know is that he stood by me, and I’m standin’ by him. Somebody ought to.”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to him, Arke.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He finally looked at her, his large eyes glowing. “You think we’ll make it out tomorrow?”

The glowing embers were turning to grey, their heat far less intense now. She felt the cold creeping through her pajamas and into her skin. She took a deep breath and felt the knot in her chest unravel just a bit.

“I don’t know. But I hope. And that’s all we have right now.”

THE MORNING CAME with little rest for anyone. Regardless, everybody ate and got dressed. They donned their armor for the first time in days and checked their weapons. Arrows were counted, swords and daggers were sharpened, and bows restrung. Evren tied back her hair again, looking at herself in the mirror as she did. This was not the same woman who’d left Dirn-Darahl. The shadows under her eyes looked earned, and the new scars didn’t bother her as much. Her armor felt as if it fit better, and her bow’s familiar weight was less a precaution and more an extension of herself. She was glad that she wasn’t the same, although she wasn’t sure what had changed, exactly. Nor if it was for the better.

The march out of Andovine was surreal. Guards led Evren and her friends, as well as Karas and Temsen, through the streets as if on display. Andovine was quieter than she remembered, and the people watched them go by with morbid fascination. Would it have been any different if the roles were reversed? If a group of Serevadians had made it to the surface and were marched through the streets of Linston, would the people stare at them the same way? Or would it be worse? Etherakians were known for their terrible tempers.

The city gates were just as grand and awe-inspiring as Evren expected them to be. She could vaguely make out the image of the Shadow Dancer carved into the surface, his arms wide and beckoning. She doubted he would’ve been so warm to her or her friends if he’d been alive.

Viggo, Velcros, and the Herald of the Watch stood waiting for them at the gates. They’d all ditched their formal robes for something easier to travel in. The Herald of the Watch didn’t look comfortable in her fine but plain clothes. Neither did Viggo, really, although Evren noted that he kept his silver moth pin on his chest. The only one that looked at ease was Velcros. He wasn’t just a politician, he was a warrior. Something Evren might’ve respected at one point, but not today.

“Here to see us off?” she asked as her group stopped in front of them. The ten guards that surrounded them couldn’t suppress their surprised glances at her casual tone.

Viggo pursed his lips into a thin line. “We are to accompany you.”

“To make sure we get back your worm?”

“To make sure you don’t double-cross us,” Velcros snapped. Up close, he was even more imposing. Evren wished for the rows of chairs between them again. “You should know that hurting any of the Heralds will be taken as an act of war.”

“As will you going back on your word.”

“Enough.” The Herald of the Watch waved her hand in the air. “Let’s see this done. Hunter, do you know where to start?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “The nest.”

Velcros let out a deep laugh. “Such naivete! Do you think we have not tried such a search?”

“Do you have people stationed there now?” she asked.

“Well, no.”

“So, it’s been years since you last entered Alkimos’s home. We’ll start there.”

Velcros closed his mouth, but his dark eyes burned with fury. Was it her imagination, or did Viggo’s lips twitch up into a smile? She raised an eyebrow at him, and he looked away.

“Open the gates!” the Herald of the Watch called up. With a rumble that shook the earth in a similar way to Alkimos himself, the gates started to part, and the Yawning Deep awaited them. The Herald turned back to Evren, her face unreadable. “I hope you’re right about this, hunter.”

“Me, too.”

They took off into the shadows of the Deep. It was different to walk away from Andovine. She forced herself to not look back at the great city as they turned west. But she knew deep down that she’d never see it again.

The journey to Alkimos’s nest wasn’t a long one, but it wasn’t easy, either. Evren would’ve kept a quicker pace, but the guards in their heavy armor kept her slowed. The Heralds themselves weren’t used to hiking. Velcros dealt with it well enough and never wasted an opportunity to glare at her. But neither Viggo nor the other Herald had an easy time. They slowed her down. Evren told herself that it didn’t matter when she got to the nest, only that she did.

Temsen didn’t do much to help the pace, either. He stopped every few minutes, either out of panic or curiosity. It was all Karas could do to keep him walking, but she could tell that his patience was wearing thin. No one blamed Temsen, though. It had been years since he’d left the relative safety of Andovine. No doubt the trek brought back old memories he’d rather leave forgotten.

But it was Sol who fixed that particular kink. She pulled out the recovered map of the Yawning Deep to show him, and he practically lit up as soon as she unrolled it. His fingers traced the old lines as if he’d found a long-lost friend. He and Sol muttered back and forth at the rear of the group about her add-ons and what they could do to make the map better. From then on, Temsen was at least content, and Karas left him with Sol to wander up next to Evren.

“You sure this is a good idea?” he grumbled and shot a guard a warning look when he got too close.

“Not at all.” She smiled. “Got a better one?”

“I fuckin’ wish.” He looked back at the three Heralds trailing them, and his frown deepened. “They’re just like the nobles in Dirn-Darahl. They won’t let us go.”

“Sol is a noble.”

“Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders and turned back around. “Prison toughened her up. She’s not so bad now.”

“You know what happens if we get out of this, right?” She spared him a sideways glance. He just shrugged. “Maybe we can put in a good word if this goes right.”

“You don’t like me, Hanali. Don’t make promises you won’t keep in hopes I’ll give you an easier time.” When he looked back at her, she couldn’t help but see the toughened prisoner she’d met before. It didn’t frighten her as much as it should have. “You still shot me. I remember that.”

“I’ll do it again if I have to.” She smirked. “But I’d rather be allies right now.”

“At least, you’ll shoot me. Those fools will just lock me up until I lose my mind.” Something close to a smirk found its way onto his cracked lips, but he looked far more menacing with it than she did. “You’re the one I’m puttin’ my bets on right now. Just don’t get comfy.”

“You, either. My aim is better now.”

The truce they’d made entirely out of necessity was easier than Evren could’ve imagined. She wouldn’t get comfortable, but she’d take Karas over Viggo any day. At least a criminal was honest in his betrayal. And she knew Karas would do anything for his cousin. Temsen was his weakness. She had yet to find Viggo’s.

They marched on. Rock blurred, and the ground rose and fell as it gave way, turning from well-traveled roads to more natural tunnels. The hours ticked by, and Evren found her rhythm again. She called out holes and dips in the ground. She helped get people down whenever they were about to slip. Gyda took the front of the group to make sure they could all make it through the tunnels. Route be damned, she wasn’t going anywhere near Alkimos without her. Abraxas took up the rear with the rest of the guards and stood out starkly from them with his blackened armor. He looked like the shadow to their gleaming silver.

Gyda hopped down a two-foot ledge easily and looked back at Evren. “Looks like it opens up ahead. We should be close.”

She nodded. “All right. Be careful. Don’t go too far.”

Gyda nodded and walked off as Evren got down from the ledge. She stood at the base and helped everyone down, one by one. Karas blatantly ignored her offer and helped Temsen down before following Gyda. Sol and Sorin looked grim but managed a smile as they passed. The Herald of the Watch clutched Evren’s hand tightly and wobbled as she came down.

She let out a shaky breath. “I’ll be glad to be done with this soon. Thank you.” Her smile was cold, but she didn’t snatch her hand away from Evren as if she were poisonous.

Velcros hopped down and walked past them both. “Too soft, Teyla.” He tsked. “We could fix that for you in Xoria.”

The Herald took back her hand and smoothed her clothes to follow him. “I don’t need any lessons from heretics such as you,” she shot at him. But she lacked any steel in her voice, and it fell flat on the stones. Velcros just ignored her.

Still paying attention to the two Heralds, Evren didn’t have time to take back her offer for help from the next one. Soft, slender fingers grasped her hand, and Viggo hopped down with considerable grace. Sweat beaded his forehead, but that was the only sign of exertion she saw. She tried to take her hand back, but he held it firmly.

“Let me go,” she hissed.

He pushed her farther against the wall to make way for the others. Suddenly, he surrounded her. The rock pressed against her back, and he was inches from her, her hand still held in his between their chests. His grey eyes were bright with desperation.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered. “Tell them you couldn’t find anything. I’ll get you out of the city.”

“I can’t do that.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m trying to prevent a war.”

“What do you think will happen if you return Alkimos to us?” His breath fanned against her face. “They’ll use him to destroy Dirn-Darahl.”

“You said no one could control the worm,” she shot back. “You said he was a symbol of strength, not an instrument of war.”

“He is. But there are plans.” He looked behind him as the guards passed, but they were too busy arguing with Arke about something to notice the two of them in the corner. “I don’t know how, but I do know that Velcros plans to use Alkimos against you. If you bring him back to us, you’ll be handing the destruction of Dirn-Darahl to him on a silver platter.”

“And if I don’t, I die.” She ripped her hand from his grasp. “You said nothing of the blood debt, and you could’ve. You could have said a lot of things.”

Viggo looked torn. His shoulders sagged, and his head lowered. “I know. I walked a fine line, and I didn’t do it well. I wish things were different.”

“They aren’t.” She pushed herself away from the wall. Behind Viggo, she saw Abraxas climbing down, and he certainly noticed what the others hadn’t. She shook her head at him and turned back to Viggo. “I don’t know if I can trust you, so I’m trusting myself. But you should know that I never lied to you. It’s more than I can say for you. But I hope it keeps you up at night.”

“The Shadow’s Light doesn’t sleep,” he muttered glumly as if it were a prayer or a promise.

She didn’t give him a chance to explain further; just walked away. Abraxas waited for her and looked as if he might turn around and talk to Viggo himself, but she shook her head again and pulled him away.

“Don’t. It won’t help. Just be ready.”

“For what?”

“Exactly what we planned.”

“Everything going tits up?”

“Exactly.”

Gyda waited for her at the front of the group, and she pushed through everyone to get to her. The darkness of the tunnel beyond looked no different than what they’d been going through thus far. But the air moved more here, and she heard a dull echo whistling through. They might’ve made it, then.

“What do you think?” Evren asked Gyda.

The warrior frowned. “Smells stale. Maybe they’re right and no one is home.”

“Alkimos has to nest somewhere. And unless someone scared him away, he’ll go back to where he feels comfortable. All animals do, no matter how big.”

Evren stepped into the darkness alone. She drew an arrow and nocked it, willing her eyes to adjust to the unrelenting dark. She saw nothing but black, but she felt the sheer size of the chamber by how the air rushed by her. It was gentle, but insistent. She needed light.

“Let’s light this place up.” She turned back to the group. “Arke?”

The goblin started fumbling through his pages, but Viggo stepped around him and ignored the goblin’s hiss of aggravation. The elf squeezed past Gyda and held out his hand.

“Allow me.”

Spite made her want to tell him to get back in the tunnel. But she took the arrow and gave it to him. His fingers slid over its length, and with every passing touch, the arrow started to glow with bright green light. He handed it back to her, and his face was more solemn in the light he’d created.

She nocked the arrow again and turned back. It was bright enough to almost blind her, but she drew her bow anyway and tried to ignore it. She didn’t need to be precise, she only needed to see. She aimed and let the arrow fly. It soared through the air in a lazy arc, lighting the world around it as it flew.

Evren took a shocked step back as the projectile continued on. Up and over, the ceiling was farther away than she could ever reach. As the arrow started falling back to the earth, its light passed over the walls. Evren knew anything big enough to be comfortable for Alkimos would likely be larger than she could imagine, but as she saw the grand scope of the nest, she couldn’t help but be shocked. The walls were covered with Alkimos-sized holes. It almost reminded her of a honeycomb, but whether it was the scale or the shadows that clung to the walls themselves, she felt a great sense of wrongness inside her.

As the arrow clattered to the ground, Viggo curled his fingers into the air, and it brightened even more until it illuminated most of the nest. The shadows jumped into every hole, and she was sure Alkimos was stirring inside one of them, just now noticing them. Which was impossible. He would’ve heard them long before this. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.

We shouldn’t be here.

They all poured into the nest and started walking towards the illuminated arrow. Evren drew another one and tried to ignore how sweaty her palms were as she looked at each and every hole. There was no telling where he’d come from—or when he’d come. He could easily cut off their route back to the city without even trying.

“It’s like a cathedral,” Sol breathed. “It feels like one.”

“I am more and more glad I don’t worship any deities if this is what a cathedral feels like.” Sorin’s voice echoed through the chamber.

Evren said nothing, just placed her hand on the floor. Palm flat against the rock, she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of the stone below her, and the ones around her. Every breath she took, she put into the ground. Searching, silently calling instead of pushing away.

Come home, she begged. Come back.

“That’s your trick?” Velcros’ voice jolted her out of the rock. “Stand there and wait for him to come? Some hunter you are.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, and he visibly recoiled.

“What did you say?”

“I said, shut up. I can’t concentrate.”

“Velcros, leave her be.” Teyla stepped between the two of them. “She has yet to prove herself and you haven’t given her a chance.”

“Because there is no chance!” Velcros shouted and held out his hands. “Look at this place! It hasn’t been lived in in years. For all we know, she was lying about ever seeing Alkimos. The only ones who claim to have seen him are surfacers, and you would have me trust them?”

“I would have you be silent for a moment.” Her voice was cold.

Viggo circled the arrow and sent shadows dancing through the nest. “She’s right, Velcros. Give the hunter time.”

Velcros looked as if he wanted to say more, but Gyda’s voice cut him off when she called from the entrance to one of the holes.

“Evren!” She looked grim. More so than usual. “You’ll want to see this.”

Evren stood up and walked past the three Heralds, who had started whispering furiously to one another. As she got closer, she realized that Gyda held her Luminstone, and a part of her started to calm. It wasn’t true sunlight, but she preferred it to the cold light that Viggo had summoned.

“What is it?” she asked, and Gyda just pointed inside.

The tunnel was as wide as Alkimos, but not nearly as long. It ended abruptly and looked more like a hollow cave. Gyda’s light barely illuminated it, but Evren could make out the outlines of something large and cylindrical inside. It was almost transparent in some areas but shadowed in others. Until the shadows inside it wiggled into a different position. Her blood froze.

“We need to get out.” She started backing away. “Now!”

Gyda didn’t question her, simply started herding everyone back to the entrance.

“What is the meaning of this?” Velcros moved away from Gyda and turned to Evren, fuming. He didn’t notice how badly she was shaking. She could barely keep a hold of her bow. “Why are you forcing us away?”

“We can’t stay here.” Her voice was thick with fear. She couldn’t breathe. “Alkimos has been here, but we can’t stay.”

“Why would we—?”

“His egg is here. If he finds us near his young, he’ll destroy us.”

Teyla visibly paled. “By the Light, it’s true.”

“We have to go. Now.”

Velcros refused to move and blocked her path towards Gyda and the tunnel. “I’ve had enough of your games, Sky-Touched. Call Alkimos or let me kill you now.”

“Velcros, we can’t stay!” Teyla’s fear was palpable. “Let us pass—”

She stopped talking, and Velcros laughed. “At a loss for words, Teyla?”

Evren turned around. Teyla was still pale, and fear shone brightly in her eyes. She swayed from side to side, a look of confusion rooted in her. A strange gurgling sound came from her throat.

“Teyla?” Viggo reached out to steady her, but she suddenly slumped in his arms. He barely caught her, and nearly dropped her when he saw the pale arrow protruding from her back. He looked up at Evren, and for the first time since she’d known him, she saw true panic in those bright eyes of his.

“Mora!” he cried.

But it was too late.

19

They were on them all at once.

The Mora poured from the huge holes in the walls from every direction. Their war cries were blood-curdling and echoed over and over through the massive cavern. Some thundered in on the strange, armored beasts she’d seen before. Others ran, their spears held just as high as their heads. She could see the whites of their eyes. No fear drove them. They were battle-starved.

“Gyda!” Evren cried over the chaos, but she couldn’t see her or the others anymore. There was only a tide of Mora in their chitinous armor.

Their shadows danced wildly on the cavern walls. Evren loosed an arrow but missed entirely. There were too many of them. Too many shadows.

The ten guards they’d brought with them circled around Evren and the Heralds. Velcros had taken a soldier’s sword, the blade humming with green energy as he sneered at the circling Mora.

“I thought you were friendly with the Mora,” she spat at him and shot again. This time, her aim was true, and a Mora fell, clutching his neck.

“Not these savages!” he growled and stood with the soldiers. No armor and only a sword. Bold or stupid. Evren didn’t want to admire it, but she did.

She turned to Viggo, who knelt over Teyla’s now-dead form. He whispered something to her. A prayer or final goodbye? Evren didn’t have time to ask. A stampede of the armored creatures bearing warriors came at them in a wave. She fired an arrow, but it glanced off harmlessly.

“We need to move!” But there was nowhere to go.

Viggo looked up. Blood stained his silks, and it somehow suited him. He stood next to her and held out his hands.

“Close your eyes.” His voice was deathly calm, and Evren did as she was told as white-hot light burst from his hands to envelop them all. She heard the creatures’ familiar, panicked screams and sickening cracks as bone and metal splintered and crashed—over and over until it became dull thuds and then stopped altogether. She dared to open her eyes and choked back a cry of surprise.

The bubble of light was still around them, with Viggo holding it, his eyes dark. The stampede of Mora piled high on one side against the wall of light. All crushed and broken. Evren saw the blood seeping through their armor, and their jagged bones protruding from skin.

Arrows clattered uselessly against Viggo’s light, which had the whole cavern lit up like midday. Through the chaos, Evren saw her friends backed into a corner. Bodies were piled up at Gyda’s and Abraxas’s feet, and the air was thick with the smell of Arke’s fire. But they were still surrounded and cut off from the tunnel.

“How long can you hold this?” Evren asked Viggo, daring to take her eyes off her friends.

He grimaced as another round of arrows struck the barrier. “How long do you need?”

She didn’t know. There was no way to get out of this brawl alive. There were too many Mora—easily three times as many as she’d faced in the previous camp. She needed a distraction. Something to stop the fighting long enough to get everyone she cared about out. But the only thing she could think of was a major risk.

“Velcros, tell me about the Mora!”

He growled and turned to her as if she were a child. “I don’t know these—”

“Battle tactics,” she argued. “Weaknesses. How do they operate, and what can we use to our advantage?”

He thought for a moment. She saw a war brewing inside him. He wanted her to die, and this would be a good way. But she and her party were his best chance of survival. He had no pull over these Mora—not like the ones back in Xoria.

“This isn’t a simple raid.” He narrowed his eyes at the amassing soldiers. “More than one clan of Mora is here. Led by their priestess, no doubt. They joined arms for some reason.” He looked back at Viggo. “Most likely you.”

“Charming,” he said through gritted teeth.

“They want Viggo for his Light?”

“Among other things.” His smile was cruel. “All those campaigns against the Mora are coming back to bite you. Eh, little Light?”

“I will drop this and let them skewer you,” Viggo growled.

“Do it.” Evren scanned the field. She knew what she needed to find, she just needed to find it. Find her.

“What?”

“Drop the shield and run.” She said. “And cover me.”

“You won’t make it,” Viggo protested. His arms shook, and the sweat on his brow dripped down his cheeks now. He was clearly exhausted. She saw his light starting to dim.

Velcros laughed. “No, no. Let the Sky-Touched kill herself for you. Two birds with one stone, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.” He turned back to her. “What are you planning? Let me help.”

“Get to my party,” she told him. “And light things up. Make sure they notice you.”

“That’ll draw them to your friends.” He shook his head. “And it’ll leave you defenseless.”

“Just do it. And tell Arke and Karas to wait for my signal.”

He wanted to argue. She saw it in the way his arms stiffened, and his jaw clenched. And a part of her wanted him to. She knew it was a bad plan, like everything else she’d done. She didn’t want him to talk her out of it. So, she kicked his leg out from under him and sent him to his knees with a yelp of pain. The barrier of light flickered and died, and Evren ran.

She leapt over the pile of corpses and felt the barrier snap back into place behind her. The armored shell of the creature was slick with blood, and she slid down it with frightening speed. She landed on her feet and took off at a run, away from her friends and the entrance and straight to where the fight was the thickest.

Whatever the Mora expected, a lone half-elf running directly at them wasn’t it. The first few she got to were so surprised, she took them down with just her dagger. Under the armpits, at the neck, through the eyes. She stabbed and twisted into every weak point she could find. The bodies dropped behind her. Her hand slick with blood, she flung the dagger at the next Mora and felt a twinge of satisfaction when the blade sank into his neck up to the hilt, and he dropped dead before she even ran over his body.

A beam of light suddenly erupted from behind her. A spear whizzed past her head, and she dove to the right. Rolling up, she fired an arrow. The Mora cried out in pain as the arrow pierced her unarmored hand. Another arrow stopped her screaming. Evren would thank Viggo for the blinding light later.

Foot by foot, body by body, Evren ran into the fray. But with every Mora she took down, more cleared out. Viggo’s light hummed brightly behind her and occasionally reached out to blind her enemies. Not enough to cause attention to be drawn to her, though. He was doing as she’d told him. The Mora were moving towards him and away from where she was headed.

She felt laughter bubbling up inside her. Frantic, desperate, on-the-edge-of-death-fueled laughter. From her spot on the battlefield, she saw a graceful figure in white. She was close, so close she could taste the end.

Evren took down another soldier and slid low enough to retrieve the arrow. As she did, something suddenly knocked her backward and shadows overtook her vision. She skidded to a halt on her back, gasping for breath and feeling the shadows worm their way into her mouth and down her throat. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. Panic gripped her veins like ice water. The only thing that anchored her was the feeling of warm blood on the arrow she clutched.

She gasped, struggling for any air, but met only thick, oily shadows. She drew the arrow closer to herself.

I was warned of you. Of a creature bearing blood of power with a taste for death.

She snapped the arrowhead off and clutched it tightly. Her lungs burned. She felt the shadows ripping her apart from the inside out.

There is a power in your blood that I have never felt before, and I can’t tell whether it excites or terrifies me.

Evren tightened her grip on the arrowhead. The sharp edge dug into her soft flesh, and the pain was instant and bright in its arrival. She felt the blood seeping through her knuckles between her clenched fingers and running down her arm. Nothing about this was right. Nothing about the drawing of her blood was whole or powerful. But as the pain hit, and the blood poured, she felt the shadows leap back and tear themselves away from her.

Evren took a long, heaving breath and tried not to choke on it. The sounds of the battle came rushing back to her. She pushed herself to her feet and blinked away the black spots from her vision. She wanted to turn around to see if Viggo and her friends were okay. Instead, she forced herself to face the shadows’ wielder.

Ainthe stood seething, shadows rippling around her with the same kind of intensity as Viggo’s light. Evren was struck suddenly by how similar the two were. The way their hands curled and they called their magic. The way their eyes narrowed. Two sides of the Shadow Dancer’s coin.

Evren took off at a run again, aiming straight for the priestess. Ainthe flung her hand out, and a flurry of shadows leapt from the wall straight at Evren. She barely dodged in time, ducking under them and kept running. It should’ve worried her that Viggo’s light was nowhere to be found. It should’ve frightened her that every arc of shadows Ainthe sent her way was as sharp as a blade and sheared off pieces of hair and armor with every passing swipe. But all she could feel was the arrow digging into her palm, and the warm blood seeping from the wound.

Her blood. Her wound.

She was mere feet from Ainthe when the priestess sent a rolling wave of darkness through the ground, churning rock like the sea churned water. Evren leapt over it and sent her blood-soaked arrowhead flying towards Ainthe. The priestess batted it away but stumbled back a few steps. Evren landed on the ground and quickly shot another arrow at her face before diving away. The priestess hissed and threw her shadows up around her to deflect the arrow. It clattered to the ground, useless.

But when the shadows cleared, Evren wasn’t in front of her. Ainthe stilled. Her fingers curled as she called more shadows until her corner of the battlefield was as black as night.

“Wrong way.”

Ainthe whirled around, blades of shadows lashing at the air. But they quickly dropped when she caught sight of Evren with her last remaining dagger at the throat of the little elven girl from before.

“Bringing a child to a battle is risky.” She glared at Ainthe. “Tell your soldiers to stand down.”

Beneath her blade, the little girl cried, and a piece of Evren broke. Her blood stained the girl’s white robes. She didn’t want to hurt her, but it was the only chip in Ainthe’s armor.

“Don’t you dare,” Ainthe hissed. “You’ve taken one from me. Do not take another!”

“I don’t recall killing any children.”

“You!” Her shadows grew as she shrieked, and her hair flew back. She was beautiful and monstrous all at once, like an image straight from a fairy tale. “Your kind. Surfacers. You’ve stolen them before. One of my girls. I will not let you have this one.”

Her shadows grew closer, and the little girl screamed as Evren’s dagger cut into her throat enough to draw blood. Ainthe took a physical step back, looking caught between murderous and mournful.

“I don’t want your child,” Evren said. “I don’t know what happened to your first, either. You can have this one back as soon as you call off your men.”

Behind Ainthe’s growing shadows, Evren saw the battle waging on. Viggo’s light came in short bursts that were barely bright enough to see. Arke’s fire was more visible than his beams. But Evren had no idea how close they were.

“Call them off!” She let her blood flow more. Let the girl cry. Whatever it took to get out of this mess. And if that meant acting like a monster, she could do it.

“I can’t.” To Evren’s disbelief, tears gathered in Ainthe’s otherworldly eyes. They spilled down her cheeks, running through the black war paint that marred her otherwise perfectly white skin. Blood began trickling from her nose like an ominous warning that Ainthe clearly wouldn’t heed. “The warriors do not answer to me anymore.”

Evren watched the blood, something unlikely and damning clicking in her head. But she tore her eyes away from it. “Who, then?” she demanded. “Who do you answer to?”

“A god that answered our prayers.” Ainthe looked weary, but the shadows thickened. “Catarmon.”

The name was enough to leave Evren’s fingers numb. Her eyes flickered to the fading light at the other side of the battlefield. Within seconds, Ainthe was on her. The shadows leapt to her aid like wings on a dragon and carried her to Evren. Evren barely had enough time to throw the child away from her and roll. Long nails scraped against her cheek. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to sting and leave Ainthe screaming in frustration.

Evren leapt to her feet. Ainthe came back around. She locked eyes with the girl. “Run!” she begged. She wanted to apologize for the nightmares she’d no doubt inflicted on this girl. “Go!”

She stared at her with terrified eyes but picked herself up and ran back the way she’d come. In the air, Ainthe halted, caught between following her child and going after Evren. Evren didn’t wait to see what she chose. She took off back across the battlefield and slung her bow across her shoulders.

She fumbled with the vials in her pockets. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She couldn’t see a way out of this. But she had to hope.

She tore across the battlefield and ignored the shadows nipping at her feet. She ignored how the blood on her hand nearly cost her one of the vials. She just ran. Towards the fading light. It was only bright bursts of orange fire now. The flames illuminated the soldiers in a hellish glow. From behind, they looked like one massive monster clambering to get to the fire.

Evren didn’t slow her pace to uncork the vials and pour the contents together. It was dangerous business with already slick fingers, and when some sloshed on her, she shook it off with a hiss of pain. The burn blistered immediately, but the mixture, now in the single vial, was much more dangerous. It started to fizz and heat in her hand, and Evren tossed it as high into the air as she could.

For a brief moment, she was afraid nothing would happen. But then a bright burst of blue flames lit the air around them. Not enough to harm anyone, but quick and bright enough to get a signal across.

Please work, she begged as she got her bow back out and nocked another arrow. She wasn’t sure who she begged or who might be listening, but she did it all the same.

Like answering a cry for help, a familiar, thunderous boom rippled through the air. It shook the ground at her feet and even drove back some of the Mora who had been swarming them. A few seconds of silence passed before Evren stumbled over another boom. Her ears rang, but she still ran. She had to get to them.

She got close enough to take down a few soldiers. Her arrows made quick work of them, as yet another boom shook the cavern.

“Come on!” she shouted at the monstrous holes. “I drop a pebble, and you try to kill me. I’m in your home fighting near your egg, and you can’t be bothered to answer?” She slammed her hand against the wall and felt the blood soak into the rock. And then she felt something else. Fear and excitement in equal measure shot through her. He was coming.

Between Arke’s magic and the sound of battle, no one noticed the cavern start to shake. No one noticed the pebbles on the ground begin to dance. But everyone noticed when Alkimos’s monstrous form tore through one of the openings and into the nest with the fury of a hundred dragons.

Even in the massive cavern, Evren was still in awe at just how enormous he was. The worm easily stretched from one end of the cavern to the other, with plenty of room to spare. The spines along his back were the size of a building and scraped rock onto the floor like rain. His body pulsed and wiggled as he slid from hole to hole, his sightless head seeking who caused the noise. Arke had the good sense to stop his magic then.

Evren turned to watch as, with a furious scream that would haunt her for years, Alkimos dove at the crowd of Mora nearest the egg. They didn’t know any better, but their screams were cut short as the worm ate them whole and then turned to the next victim. His body thrashed and bisected the nest’s floor. His tail sent her illuminated arrow tumbling down a nearby tunnel. The Mora picked their battles and turned on the massive worm. The worm’s screeches drowned out the battle cries. He put himself directly between the egg and the army, just as Evren knew he would.

“We protect our own,” she muttered as if that somehow connected her to Alkimos. As if he wouldn’t consume her like the night sky swallowed stars if he wanted to. She just wasn’t making as much noise as everyone else.

Alkimos wreaked havoc on the tiny Mora raiding party. His massive body was still a problem, but her eyes searched for her friends anyway. They would’ve gotten away the moment Alkimos came through. That was the plan, although everything had gone wrong as expected, that’s what they knew to do.

A hand grabbed Evren’s shoulder, and she swung around, her arrow in her hand. Another hand grabbed her wrist and kept it from going any farther.

“Is that how you greet a friend?” Sorin grinned, and Evren choked back a sob. He had a nasty cut on his cheek and his coat was torn, but he looked all right. Behind him, Arke helped Sol herd Karas and Temsen her way. They all looked bad. Karas’s knuckles were bloody and split, and Sol was limping. Temsen couldn’t tear his eyes off Alkimos. Bringing up the rear, Abraxas kept the remaining Mora, who’d caught on to their plan, at bay with his shield. Gyda moved ahead of him, half leading and half carrying an exhausted and bleeding Viggo. His eyes met hers, and she grimaced. He was the one part of the plan they hadn’t expected.

“Exit’s cut off by your, uh, friend.” Sorin winced as Alkimos screamed into the air and smashed a dozen Mora with his body. “What now?”

“This tunnel should loop around.” Viggo pointed to a hole a few rows down and struggled to stay on his feet. His side bled, staining his clothes a dark red. But it didn’t look too severe.

“Why are you helpin’ us?” Karas asked.

Viggo nodded to the battlefield where Velcros led the Mora like a born general. Evren couldn’t make out what he was saying, but the message was clear. No one but he was supposed to make it out of the nest.

“We’re taking him with us,” Evren said.

“But—”

“We don’t have time to argue,” she cut Sorin off. “We’ll figure it out later. Let’s move.”

Viggo, with Gyda’s help, led them to the hole. Evren wanted to doubt him, but she hoped that being the difference between life and death for him would make him honest. And with Gyda holding onto him, he really didn’t have a choice.

Evren was the last to go. They all ran into the tunnel, eerily reminiscent of their first descent, but she paused at the mouth. Her eyes searched the battlefield. For Ainthe, for Velcros. She didn’t want to leave this unfinished.

She found Ainthe’s white form calling the warriors on her side of the nest away. She used the shadows to aid them and keep Alkimos distracted. Almost as if she felt Evren’s eyes on her, her white gaze snapped up. Evren raised her bow and watched the shadows darken and split off towards her. Which would find its mark faster? Magic or arrow?

The seconds drew out impossibly long between the two of them across the battlefield. She watched Ainthe’s magic waver with every crash of Alkimos’s body. With every fallen soldier. Then she watched the priestess’s robes tug. Both their gazes fell to the little girl at Ainthe’s legs. She looked terrified, but her little wrinkled nose looked as if she were trying to call shadows, too. Not towards Evren, but to Alkimos.

Evren lowered her bow. Ainthe’s shadows retreated. The priestess pursed her lips into a thin line and laid one hand on her child’s head. The girl that would carry her magic. Her legacy. A child of potential and hope.

We protect our own.

She nodded to them once and turned to leave. She didn’t wait to see if Ainthe returned the favor. She only knew that, at least for now, the priestess would stand down. The shadows that did not come for her told Evren as much.

She jogged down the winding tunnel to catch up with everyone, and they didn’t stop running for what seemed like hours. They ran until their sides hurt, until their legs cramped, and their lungs burned. And then they ran some more. Until, finally, the tunnel opened into a familiar cavern with a glowing city in the far distance.

They all collapsed and struggled to regain their breath. Temsen was crying, and Karas, as usual, did his best to comfort his cousin. Abraxas leaned against his shield, his face turned to what should’ve been the sky as he uttered a prayer only he could hear. Sorin sat with Arke and Sol, somewhere between hiccupping and giggling like a madman. Evren was drained. Her hand pulsed with the useless kind of pain that came after battle—the kind she hated. She could use the other kind and had on many occasions. She flexed her sticky hand as uncertainty crawled into her bones and waited like a scheming monster.

“So.” Sol struggled to catch her breath. “What now?”

“Now, you leave.” Viggo struggled to his feet, and Gyda rose with him. Not to help but as an extremely threatening shadow. He took a step back from the blood-soaked woman and scowled. “I’m letting you go. The least you can do is the same.”

“Just like that?” Sol asked. “I thought there were rules and laws.”

“There are.” He looked back at Andovine with a pained expression. “Velcros’ trap with the Mora was no coincidence. He meant for this. And it’ll spell war.”

“For whom?” Sol asked the heavy question.

“For now? My people. Serevadia has never been so divided, and Velcros’ outright murder of a Herald will turn Kleros against us. I can only hope that my presence will allow democracy to continue. At the very least, we can hold a complete re-election of the Convocation. That will wipe away those who have been corrupted, but I doubt it’ll drive away the Mora influence and their new god.”

“And you’ll lose your seat,” Evren said.

The pain in his eyes was brighter now, but he did not turn away from her. “Yes. But my last act as Herald will be to pronounce you all as dead. Velcros did not see our escape, and perhaps I can prevent his wrath from ascending to the surface once he’s done ruining Serevadia. And by calling for a completely new Convocation, he’ll lose his power just as I’ll lose mine. No one who held a seat will be allowed to influence it afterwards. It is the only thing I can think to do to keep my country safe.”

“Well, if that’s what you want . . .” Arke sat up on his feet. “Let’s go.”

“Follow this road all the way to the divide. The left path will lead you to the surface, although it won’t be an easy climb. Few of us have made it.”

“We’ll make it,” Gyda said curtly and pulled both Karas and Temsen to their feet. The dwarves weren’t happy but fell in line. Everyone started getting up and shuffling forward, but the moment Evren stood, she knew she wasn’t done. The gnawing thoughts in her head wouldn’t leave.

“Come with us,” she blurted without thinking. The shock in Viggo’s eyes said it all, as did her friends’ sharp hisses of breath. “Come to the surface with me. We could use you to smooth things over.”

“What a tempting idea.” A hint of Viggo’s smile came back as he stepped close to her. “To run away to a strange land and avoid all my responsibilities. What would I do?”

“You could travel with me.” The words were honest, but she didn’t know where they came from. “You could save Eith and prevent the surface from descending into Seravadia.”

“Isn’t that your job?” He raised a white eyebrow.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes.”

“Then I can think of no one better suited than you.” He closed his eyes, and those brilliant white lashes fanned his cheeks for a moment like a moth’s wings. He opened them again, his gaze grave and only for her. “While seeing the surface you cherish so much is a beautiful dream, I have to stay here. My duty is to my people and my city. I cannot abandon them. Although I do wish to. Quite terribly.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek, and Evren’s chest rioted with emotions. His soft fingers traced the scar above her eye, and he looked at her as if trying to memorize her features. The thought struck her to do the same, but she knew she wouldn’t forget his face.

“Let me show you,” she whispered, and his breath hitched. Her fingers were bloody and dirty as she raised them near his temples. He looked torn, his gaze roaming her face and then moving to her hands.

“Are you sure?” His words were breathless.

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

He swallowed nervously and nodded. His fingers felt like butterflies dancing on her skin, and she didn’t flinch away this time. His eyes closed when her hands met his skin, and she felt the breath leave him in a slow shudder. She closed her eyes and brought her head slowly to his until their foreheads met.

Evren felt Viggo let go and fall into her mind. She felt herself guiding him and leaving the hot, still air of Serevadia behind. She wasn’t as practiced or as soft as he had been. She was clumsy in her making. But the memory was fond, and she brought it up easily.

They stood in the Fractured Temple with the red-gold rays of the setting sun glittering off the fountains and turning every leaf gold. There was no roof. The air swept into the ruins with abandon and smelled of forest and sugar rolls. Vines and fallen leaves covered the mural at their feet, and the trees above them made a haphazard roof. It was a poor imitation of the one he’d shown her in his memory. It was broken and crumbling and the only things that shined were the moving water and the rain-heavy leaves in the red light.

But Viggo’s smile was wide. He held his hand up to the sun, catching the ray in his hand as if he could hold it there.

“Never before have I seen light so free,” he whispered in awe. “Is it always like this?”

“No,” she admitted, watching him with a smile. “Sometimes, it’s like this.”

Day turned to night in the blink of an eye, and suddenly, a dazzling assortment of stars filled the sky. The moon hung low, just barely skimming the trees. The stars themselves were so numerous, there almost wasn’t any pure black left above them at all.

“Impossible . . . ” Viggo’s eyes were glassy as he stared up at the sky. “And yet . . . ” His gaze fell on Evren again, and a single tear dropped onto his cheek. Despite that, he smiled. “I cannot help but feel envious. You have light everywhere. I must call it like a mother calls a petulant child. And I can feel it fading.”

“Velcros was right, then.”

“About many things. But not about you.” Evren didn’t know what to do when he looked at her like that, but she didn’t really want him to stop now that she knew this would be the last time she saw him.

“You’ll be all right, yeah?” she asked. “Back in Andovine?”

The wry smile caught her off guard. “I have survived long enough in my city that threats such as Velcros’ don’t scare me anymore. Besides, I have this memory to come back to whenever I need it. Thank you.”

She wanted to thank him back, but all the words sounded too bitter in her head. Thanks for showing me the city while lying to me. Thanks for purposely keeping me in the dark and leading me to believe Serevadia was better than it actually is. Thanks for the great bath!

She settled on, “Thank you for the memories.”

The starry sky and overgrown ruins fell away, and much sooner than she would’ve liked, they were back in Serevadia. She felt her eyes burning with unshed tears and blinked them away stubbornly as she took her hands back. Viggo, however, was free with his tears and continued smiling through them. He took the silver moth from its place on his chest and pressed it into her hands.

“Should the unlikely time come that you find your way back to Serevadia, present this, and I will find you,” he promised. His fingers squeezed her hand gently, and Evren’s chest was all too tight again. “Farewell, Evren Hanali of Eith. May the shadows never burden you, and the light guide your path. I will carry your memory to my grave.”

He dropped his hands. For a moment, Evren was tempted to hold them and keep him there. A thousand thoughts burned in her head, a million different words on her tongue. She could say goodbye properly. And then what? Make it harder to walk away?

So, she let him go and watched him slowly limp back to Andovine until the shadows claimed him, and he disappeared from sight.

Evren tucked the moth into her pocket and turned back to the others. None of them looked her in the eye, and for a brief, hot moment, she was embarrassed. They’d seen all of that exchange. What did they think of her?

Sol was the first to speak, and her eyes were soft and knowing. “Let’s go home.”

20

The trek back to the surface was long and filled with anxiety. Every slight noise, every fall of a rock had them on edge. Evren kept expecting to see an army coming for them—or Alkimos at the very least. They slept in shifts and picked at what little food they had. They had packed very little, and with a larger group, they were paying for it.

The only one who seemed content was Temsen. The quiet of the caverns was good for him, and Sol let him take the map. He happily doodled the roads and fixed mistakes. The map became more and more complete the farther they traveled. Evren couldn’t help but think: At what cost?

The battle was a blur, but she clung to those memories. Of Velcros’ subtle but excellent betrayal. Of Ainthe’s child, and her fury at the mere idea of losing her. Ainthe’s fury was earned, Evren knew that now. Just as the worg’s attack in the woods had been. But what, exactly, had earned such ire?

She didn’t speak a word of her theories and kept silent as she led the party upward. Every step brought them closer to freedom, and she couldn’t deny how much she wished to see the sky again. Showing Viggo had reawakened the longing. She was afraid it would be gone when she returned.

It could’ve been the last night they set up camp, or it could’ve been the fourth to the last. No one was really sure. They found a little alcove in the tunnel and built a small, smokeless fire with Arke’s help. He was running extremely low on pages now. He had maybe five left. But he didn’t show if he cared. They ate the little bit of dried meat they rationed and drank their water. They were all too tired to talk much. So, they simply stared at their measly fire.

As per Sorin’s usual fashion, he broke the silence. “What should we call ourselves?”

Evren blinked at him as if he were just coming back into focus. “What?”

“Well, we need a party name, right?” He grinned. “I mean, we did it! We survived a terrible adventure and lived to tell the tale. We’ll be heroes.”

“We’re not out yet.” Arke smacked his leg playfully. “Don’t jinx us.”

“We still need a name. Gyda, help me out.”

She looked up from her mug with a bewildered expression. “Name what?”

“Us. The party.”

“We all have names already.”

“Oh, forget it.” He threw his arms into the air and lay down on his bedroll with a dramatic thump. “Here I am, trying to cement our names in the history books, and none of you are helping.”

Sol and Evren exchanged an amused look and tried not to laugh. It felt wrong to laugh after everything they’d experienced, especially when they hadn’t made it out yet. But Sorin’s words had already planted seeds of the future in them.

“How about . . .?” Evren bit her lip. “Um, I’m not good with names. Levenya is the Elvish word for group or party.”

Sorin sat up swiftly. “Yes! That’s a start. Anything else?”

All thoughts in her head froze. “Uh . . .”

“Not you. Sol?”

The dwarf scratched her head, deep in thought. “I don’t know. The Bloody Levenyas doesn’t sound really heroic.”

“We spend more time covered in blood than not, though,” Gyda said with a laugh.

“A little melodramatic.” Sorin waved his hand back and forth. “Arke?”

“Well, we’re from a bit of everywhere. The Outlanders?”

Sorin snorted. “Absolutely not. That’s terrible. Next.”

Abraxas picked at his bedroll, his gaze far off. “It’s been a while since I looked at the night sky. Sorin, what about a constellation? Any that remind you of us?”

“A constellation, eh? Let’s see.” He stroked his chin, his eyes turned up to the ceiling as if he could see the sky through the rock. Suddenly, his face lit up. “Oh! Oh!”

“Oh?” Evren repeated.

“My favorite constellation isn’t even a constellation.” His eyes were bright, and his enthusiasm fell off him in waves. Evren found herself leaning a little closer. Everyone did. “There’re these stars that move in the sky. Vasa know because we use them to navigate. But these always move. Sometimes, they come together to make their own constellations. Other times, they stay apart for years. But they always drift together at some point. My mothers hated them. They always messed up their maps. But I loved them. It reminded me of the sea. The constant changing and shifting. They were always alone until they found others. Sometimes, they stayed. Sometimes, they left. But they always forged their own path. Kind of like us.”

Evren looked at them all. Really looked at them. She and Arke liked to say they were loners until they found themselves roped into an adventure. But were any of them any different?

“Before I came here, I was alone.” Gyda shuffled a rock under her shoe. “I lost a lot, and people were scared of me further south. I didn’t know what to do but wander.”

Abraxas’s kind eyes returned, and he nudged her lightly. “We are not so different. I lost everything after Eldridge’s conquest, including my faith and purpose. I haven’t found a place to stay since then. Until now, I suppose.”

Sorin looked at Evren expectantly, and she squirmed in her seat. “I haven’t really stayed in one place for long since I left Orenlion. People usually leave at some point, and I go my separate way. This quest has been the longest I’ve had anyone stick around.”

“Not for lack of tryin’.’’ Arke snorted and gave her a toothy grin. When Sorin looked at him, he shrugged and pointed to her. “What she said.”

“Ever the poet, my friend.” He chuckled. “But I suppose I’m the same way. Vasas are constantly on the move anyway, and it’s coming time for me to get my own ship one day. Until then, until I find my crew, I suppose I’m doing the same wandering as you all.”

“Not me.” Sol smiled sadly. “I’ve always been in Dirn-Darahl. It’s where I’ll stay once this is done. Although I’m grateful for what you’ve done. You’re always welcome in the city and my home. But someone had to make a change that doesn’t send the city crumbling to the ground.”

Sol wasn’t coming with them. Why was that thought only now hitting Evren? When it was all done, she’d stay, and they’d leave. The thought wounded Evren a lot more than she’d expected it to. Sol put her arm around Evren and pulled her closer. She laid her head on Evren’s shoulder and sniffled.

“It’s not goodbye yet, so let’s stop acting like it,” Evren said with a sigh. She didn’t want another goodbye. They were always harder than they should be. Enough was never said.

Sorin smiled at them. “I’ve got it. The Wandering Sols. It’s the Vasa word for star.”

Beside her, Sol took a sharp breath. “That’s my name, though.”

“Fitting then, isn’t it?” he said with a cheeky grin. “Since you’re the one who started it all.”

“It’s true.” Abraxas stretched out. “We wouldn’t be here without you.”

Tears welled in those brilliant blue eyes of hers. “If you all make me cry, I’m going to stab you.”

Evren laughed, and this time it was a good one. In a strange moment of deja vu, everyone chimed in. Gyda’s rumbling laughter sounded like thunderstorms, Arke hiccuped with every giggle, and Sorin’s laugh sounded like something from a dream. And Sol’s little snorts eventually overcame her tears, and they were all laughing again beside the fire. They stayed like that until the flames burned low, and sleep dragged them to the bedrolls. Sol continued sniffling until she fell asleep, and Evren’s throat burned with unshed tears. It wasn’t even over yet, and she was crying. What had they done to her, these wandering stars?

Evren turned to Abraxas, who was settling in for his first watch. She wiggled down into her bedroll, “Wake me when it’s my watch?”

“Of course.”

She always asked. He never woke her.

WHEN THEY REACHED the crossroads Viggo had told them about, they all made the decision to cause a contained cave-in. The fork in the road could barely be called that, and Temsen was eager to point out that he’d connected those spots on the map. But in the end, with the help of the last of his stolen chemicals, they sealed Serevadia behind them—at least the easy way to get to it. Sol was already talking about how they would do the same with the route they’d taken. It did nothing for Gratey or the tunnels no doubt under the Vanguard Mountains, but it was a start.

When the dust settled, they turned their backs and walked away. Evren reached into her pocket and thumbed the silver moth she had tucked securely at her side. As with all her wounds, it ached to think about Viggo and the fact that she was sealing him down there like it was his tomb. But they’d both made sacrifices, and she wasn’t taking any chances with either of their peoples.

They knew they were getting closer to the surface when things got hotter. But it was the sight of two grand carved-stone doors that sent Sol whooping for joy.

“You see those!” she cried. “Vazgun’s Gate is on the other side. We made it!”

Her joy was infectious. She had Sorin practically skipping up the road with her. Arke scurried to keep up, his thoughts likely overtaken by Sol’s talk of feasts and mountains of food. Evren had never seen the goblin so excited. Temsen was also thrilled but kept blinking as if he were dreaming and expected to wake up. He had the map tucked firmly under his arm and walked next to Karas. They never walked without each other, almost like they were afraid one of them would disappear again if they let go.

Gyda looked at Karas as they climbed. “You’re not thinking about running, are you?”

He grunted. “I’m far too hungry to run.”

Evren had to agree. She’d entered Dirn-Darahl starving before, and here she was, doing it all over again. But the end was in sight, and she couldn’t be more thrilled. Beside her, Abraxas hummed one of his war tunes. It made the steps easier with every passing note. She still hadn’t mustered the courage to ask him or Sorin to teach her one of their songs.

After, she promised herself. When you see the sun again and feel the breeze. Then you’ll ask them.

“Something’s troubling you.” Gyda kept her eyes on Karas but her words were for Evren only.

Evren shrugged and savored the parts of her muscles that were sore. Better sore and alive than numb and dead. “I don’t like mysteries or unfinished puzzles. So, I guess I’m still trying to figure something out.” She turned to Gyda and gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, the pieces will fit once we get to the city.”

Gyda didn’t look convinced but shrugged her shoulders. In the dim light shared by the remaining Luminstones, Evren couldn’t make out her expression. But she didn’t protest or push further, and the rest of the hike was completed in relative silence. It was nice to be trusted, even if she still doubted herself. But it was just another step in the right direction. Eventually, she’d get to the point where she could fully believe in herself, just like she would get to Dirn-Darahl. One step at a time.

They heard their arrival before they saw it, thanks to Sol and Sorin. Arke, surprisingly, also played a large part in the hollering and whooping as they reached the heavily guarded gates that would lead them out of the Yawning Deep and Serevadia.

“Hold!” A soldier with a rather large nose that protruded from his helmet held up his hand. “Just who are all of you? No one was let out.”

“We’re the Wandering Sols!” Sorin crowed. “And we have finished our quest. Now, I’m well-aware that you, my good man, have not been made aware of this secret mission. But just go get the lovely general, and we’ll be on our way.”

He narrowed his eyes at Sorin’s lanky form. “I don’t think so.”

“Sorin, don’t screw your face up like that.” Abraxas walked up to the soldier and held the golden medallion he’d presented to Tavish up to him. “Only Heliodar gives these out. Take it.” He flicked it over to the soldier, who fumbled to catch it in his gauntlet-clad hands. “And go get her for us.”

“I-I . . . ” He looked at the lot of them, dirty and starving, some of them still crusted with blood. But the gleam of the medallion drew him right back. He licked his lips nervously and put the medallion away. “Right, I’ll go see what the general has to say about this.” He picked up his spear and whispered something to one of his fellow soldiers before activating the rune on the side of the door and disappearing.

Time had long lost its value to Evren, so waiting wasn’t difficult. She couldn’t tell if it was a long time or short, only that the remaining soldiers all looked increasingly nervous every time Sorin started talking, or Gyda so much as moved. It made her smile.

When the door finally opened, she could almost taste the sweet air beyond. The soldier looked a little puzzled but gestured for them to follow him back through the doors. Without hesitation, they all followed, and the Yawning Deep and Serevadia were shut firmly behind them. Evren was a little disappointed to see just another tunnel and no city, but after some more climbing, they squeezed through a crack in the stone and made it to a familiar expanse of cavern.

The bottom prison level was as sprawling as she remembered, but she couldn’t see the lift or the prison from where they stood. They must be on the opposite side of the level. Looking back where they had come from, Evren couldn’t even make out a crack in the stone. It was like it had disappeared entirely.

“Another rune to hide the exit,” Gyda muttered to her as they walked away.

“I thought they didn’t have another exit on this level.” Evren remembered Poig’s dismay when they’d landed with nowhere to go and no hope of escape. It seemed like ages ago.

“They will let anyone believe that, except those who need to know.” Karas was steadily looking like a storm cloud with skin. “Didn’t matter that I knew it was there, either. Wouldn’t have made it in time.”

“Wouldn’t have been as dramatic, either.”

Karas barked out a laugh. “You got me there, half-breed.”

They followed the soldier over a small rise. Once they got to the top, all remnants of a smile were wiped from Evren’s face. The familiar knot in her chest tightened. Rows upon rows of tents filled the cavern. From there, she saw the gaping hole Alkimos had left and the pile of rubble that had once been the prison. Now, all around the lift, stretching towards the hole, was a vision of dwarven military. The tents were deep maroon and copper and seemed to glint like coins in the firelight. Soldiers went through drills, and some just walked back and forth. Her mind went back to the level above, which had been so organized and deceptively far away. This wasn’t a training camp.

“This is a war camp.” Evren looked at Sol, but she looked just as pale. She shook her head at Evren’s questioning gaze.

“We don’t know anything yet, just wait.” Her words made sense, of course. But it didn’t help ease Evren’s anxiety at all. In the back, Karas seemed to exude a smug energy, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

Their soldier escorted them through the expansive camp. Up close, the tents still glittered, but so did the armor. And the spears, war hammers, shields, broadswords. Evren suppressed a shiver as they wove between the tents and soldiers. They got to the edge of the camp, closest to Alkimos’s hole, where several larger tents had been set up a little farther away from the rest. He led them to the largest and held the flaps open for them.

Ducking inside, Evren half expected a war room. Instead, she found what appeared to be a dining room. A long table was set upon a luxurious carpet, and a glowing Luminstone lantern kept the room well lit. The table had been set with simple but delicious-smelling food and plenty of water. Her mouth watered just looking at it. Off to the side sat a bed cot, as well as an empty armor stand with a curtain pulled back that could be used for privacy. From behind that strode Heliodar, looking like a vision in her gleaming armor with her long hair tied away from her face and dangling to her waist.

Her face lit up into a smile when she saw them. “And here I had almost lost hope that you would return to us.” She went over all of their faces, pausing at Karas with Temsen hanging on him. “I see you brought one prisoner. Tell me, where are the others? And who is this one? He doesn’t match any of the descriptions of the convicts.”

Almost as if the mere sound of her voice was enough to wake him up, Temsen blinked away whatever fogged his mind. He took a hesitant step forward, but Karas kept a firm grip on his shoulder. “G-ge-general!” He bowed low, his curls dragging against the carpet. When he got back up, his eyes were bright. “You s-s-sent me! Temsen Cartack. I w-went to Serevadia f-f-for you.”

Heliodar looked him up and down, realization dawning on her. “It can’t be.” Her voice was soft. “They told us you were dead.”

Temsen shook his head. “I-I’m alive. And . . .” He pulled out the map and held it out to her as if it were as precious as a jeweled scepter a King would hold. “Finished the map.”

Almost as if in a daze, Heliodar took the map from him and unrolled the parchment gently. Her eyes seemed to greedily soak up the ink before her and devour all the information. Evren had the sudden urge to snatch it back, but she rolled it up quickly and set it aside. The bright smile returned.

“This is wonderful news. Much better than what I feared. You were all gone for so long, I thought the worst.”

“Is that what the army is here for?” Sol spoke up for the first time.

“Well, of course. But a lot has changed in the three weeks you’ve been gone. Please, sit and eat. We have much to discuss.”

She hadn’t finished her sentence before everyone was pulling out chairs and diving into the food. Evren’s hands shook as she grabbed a piece of bread and tore into it. It wasn’t a sugar roll, but it was the best thing she’d tasted in a long time. She’d finished two rolls and a whole glass of water before she realized that Karas was still standing.

“Ah, very good 2633.” Heliodar gave him a disapproving look. “We’ll see you to where you belong. Lieutenant!” The soldier from before swept back into the tent. “Please take prisoner 2633 to the holding cells to await further judgement. We’ll know more when His Majesty gets here.”

The lieutenant gave a sharp salute across his chest and escorted Karas out of the tent. Temsen’s cup clattered to the ground, and he struggled to stand up and follow his cousin. But Karas shook his head.

“Stay there, Temsen. I’ll come back for you, I promise.” The soldier yanked him out before he could say more, and Temsen stood near his seat, watching the tent flap expectantly. Sol gently pulled him back to his seat, but he never took his gaze off where Karas had disappeared.

“Well, now that that is over with.” Heliodar sighed and sat at the head of the table next to the map. Her fingers tapped the medallion. “Tell me about the Yawning Deep.”

Sorin, with his mouth still full, started to talk, but Sol interrupted him. “The King is coming?” She looked paler than normal. “Why? What’s going on?”

“There’s the matter with Karas and the Seekers, of course. His Majesty wanted to personally oversee any information given.” The general sipped her water, and when she set her cup down, it was almost like a judge’s gavel hitting the table. There was some finality to it that made Evren want to sink deeper into her chair. “There’s also the strange matter of the Deep. About a week after you left on your quest, soldiers started disappearing. I set up patrols in case the prisoners circled back around, or the worm came back, but none have returned. A few soldiers reported strange whispers in the tunnels beneath the city. I trust the men, and I know when they’re lying. Whatever enemy is down there has them terrified, and I won’t have it. They’re probing our borders and looking for weak points. They’re testing us.”

Abraxas shifted in his seat. “You’re preparing for war.”

“If necessary,” she admitted. “Tell me, what did you find down there? Did you see the attackers?”

Evren and the others exchanged knowing looks. Deep in her mind, Evren knew what Heliodar said could be possible. It could be that Andovine had sent scouts after they’d rescued them to see where they had come from. Or that the Mora were creeping beyond their borders. She couldn’t cast any theory out because she didn’t really know what the Serevadians would’ve done even with their intervention.

Heliodar sighed and tapped the map at her side. “This map shows cities and roads, farms and rivers. You don’t need to hesitate.”

“There are people down there,” Sol said slowly, and Arke cursed under his breath. “But they shouldn’t be a threat now. We dealt with them, and they’re reasonable and civilized folk.”

“The attacks have only gotten worse.” Heliodar’s voice was sharp. “I’ve lost nearly forty men now.”

“Bullshit.” The word left Evren’s mouth before she could stop it. But even with her skin prickling under the heat of Heliodar’s gaze, she didn’t waver. She took a calm drink and prayed her hands didn’t shake.

“Excuse me?” Heliodar’s voice was far from warm and welcoming.

“Your men aren’t being attacked. At least not by the people we met.” Evren shrugged. “You’re wrong.”

“Then enlighten me.” The words were hissed through gritted teeth, and Evren finally turned to face her. Inside, she shook; her blood hot and pounding. But her voice and gaze were steady.

“The people we found down there were not a threat and were too far down to reach you even if they wanted to.” She swallowed the gathering lump in her throat. “They helped us survive the Deep, kept Temsen safe, and held Karas. They have no interest in war.”

All lies, and they tasted bitter on her tongue. Beside her, Sol gripped her arm in warning, but she ignored that too and continued.

“What was Karas’s crime?”

Heliodar blinked at her, her rich, copper eyes shining with rage at the mere audacity of being questioned. “He’s a Seeker.”

“Yeah, I got that. But what was his crime? What got him locked up? Unless merely expressing different political opinions is a crime. Sol?”

“Uh . . . no, it’s not.”

“Do you know what he did?”

Sol took a deep breath. “All I was told was that he took part in many Seeker attempts to overthrow the Court.”

“Did he confess?”

“No. Only that he was a Seeker.”

“Seems to me, he’s someone who would proudly own up to his crimes.” She turned back to Heliodar. “But it could be a mistake, right? Sol was put away with no evidence at all. Just rumors. Seems to be a common theme here, General.”

“I don’t remember you being so mouthy,” growled Heliodar.

“You didn’t know me. I have a habit of biting. Now, circling back to our friends beneath us—”

“I don’t have time for this.” Heliodar abruptly stood, her chair teetering dangerously on its legs. “We are on the brink of war, and you are lecturing me about something I have no control over.”

“Ah, but all I’ve heard is about how much power you have.” Evren leaned back in her chair, desperately trying to exude the same relaxed energy Sorin usually had. “Second only to the King, who you’re rather close to. I mean, it makes sense. In a society where fighting and war is so central, of course they would respect a great general such as you.”

“Flattery will win you no points, hunter.”

“But you haven’t led any wars, have you?” Evren raised her eyebrow at Heliodar. It felt like she was poking a dragon with a stick given the rage that simmered off her. “The dwarven kingdoms haven’t had a war in nearly four hundred years and now people are starting to fall away from your treasured way of life. That scares you, doesn’t it?”

“Watch your tone—”

“But you can’t fight any wars with the surface anymore. All those binding treaties have you stuck like a pig at Harvestclose. So, you’re trying to pick a fight with a peaceful people.”

“Those grey rats down there aren’t peaceful!” Heliodar’s chest heaved, the engraved griffon on her chest plate looking as if it were about to take flight. “They attacked us first, and I will be damned if I have a mutt stand in the way of my people’s safety. Just because they’re elves doesn’t mean you should defend them. They aren’t your people.”

“They aren’t.” Evren set her cup on the table and felt as if her blood were on fire. “But I didn’t say they were elves. None of us did.”

Deathly silence settled over the table like a thick fog. Around her, her party looked confused and torn. Sol the most, and Evren felt a twinge of regret. But realization was dawning on her. On all of them. Just as it was with Heliodar.

The general looked Evren dead in the eyes, and Evren was suddenly aware that the general was a truly massive predator. The type to leave alone rather than hunt. But she’d stepped into the den already, it was too late.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Heliodar’s smile was predatory. “You say I caused all of this? From Karas’s escape to the starting of a war. You give me a lot of credit.”

“You didn’t blink when Temsen said Serevadia instead of the Yawning Deep,” Evren explained. “As if you’d heard it before. Whatever happened to the last survivor of Temsen’s team? The one who came back with the map?”

“He died of his wounds.”

“Convenient.” Heliodar bristled, and Evren went on. “I think you knew about Serevadia when he came back, and what he said scared you. I think you dug into the earth and fucked with something you shouldn’t have. And you did earn the rage of certain people down below. The Mora are elves, as well, but not nearly as advanced or civilized as the Serevadians. I know they’ve been up here, at least as close as the gas fields. They’re looking for something that someone stole from them. Tell me, what did you do to the child you stole?”

“You speak nonsense.”

“Occasionally.”

Sol gripped Evren’s arm tighter. “Evren, what are you going on about?”

She didn’t take her eyes off Heliodar but spoke to everyone. “Abraxas, what did the priestess ask of you when she caught us?”

He didn’t hesitate. “She asked why we came and where we were from. Near the end, she asked why we would steal more from her.”

“She kept calling us thieves and trespassers.” Sorin’s words were slow.

“She was also incredibly protective of her child.” Evren tapped the wood on the table in time to one of Abraxas’s melodies. “I faced her in the battle with Alkimos. She was willing to do anything to keep her young safe so she wouldn’t lose another one. She blamed the surfacers. No matter how you live, General, she would view dwarves as surfacers. And, curiously enough, her nose started bleeding.”

“It was battle,” Heliodar snapped. “You got a lucky blow in.”

“No.” Evren sat up. “I didn’t hit her. Could just be a nosebleed, or a sign that she came up here searching for the child you stole. So where is she, Heliodar?”

The general paused and let out a deep breath. Her shoulders sagged, and for a while, the light seemed to change. As if she were no longer a great general from a story but little more than a weary woman in armor too big for her.

“The girl is gone.” Her gauntlet flashed in the golden light as she waved the air. “And barely young enough to still be considered a child. I don’t know where she is. I assumed the Seekers took her, but it’s been years since then.”

“Did the Seekers actually do what you said?” Sol’s voice quivered. She looked as if her whole world were falling apart. “The lift, my imprisonment, all those little attacks . . . Was that really them?”

“The people needed to see what happens when there isn’t an army to protect them.” Heliodar fixed her gaze on Sol. “As for your imprisonment, I can easily say I had very little hand in that. All it took was a few whispered words in Malrus’s ear, the threat of exposing his dealings with you, and he ran to the King. So, no, I didn’t send you to prison. But I will see you all in graves.”

Sorin’s voice was a squeak. “What?”

Gyda was on her feet in a moment, her sword already drawn. With a snap of her fingers, Heliodar summoned a whole battalion of soldiers into the room. They surrounded Evren’s group, their glistening spears aimed at their chests. Evren’s hand twitched to grab her bow, but a spear point dug into her neck, and she hissed and drew away. Temsen cowered in his seat, on the verge of tears again, and Sol remained frozen. Her fingers had long since slid from Evren’s arm, and she stared at Heliodar with enough hurt in her eyes to make Evren feel as if she’d been punched in the gut. Heliodar looked unfazed, her weary façade gone.

“Regardless of what you say, one thing still stands. Serevadia is an enemy at our doorstep.”

“An enemy you baited,” Arke snapped.

“Our kingdom is weak and soft. Those savages below would destroy us without a second thought. They have been testing us—”

“If they were here, you wouldn’t be tested. They don’t need to.” Evren shut her mouth after that. She didn’t need to give her anymore ammunition. But calling her out on her lies was satisfying.

“We will be ready.” Her eyes sparked dangerously. “I will lead my people to victory, and our strength will return. They will gather under the banner of war as they have countless times before. After the death of the King and the tragic disappearance of the brave adventurers thought to have been killed by those elven monsters, there will be no question in our strength and unity. Glory will be ours once more.”

“Kill the King?” Sol shot to her feet and was nearly impaled by the spears. “Why? He’s like family to you.”

“He is weak. He doesn’t have the strength to lead our people to war. I do. The people will rally behind his death.”

Sol looked around at the soldiers. “How can you do this? You swore an oath to our King, to serve him and only him. You would help in his assassination?”

They didn’t waver. They didn’t answer. Abraxas’s voice was rough, and his pain was sharp and clear in his eyes. “They’re not loyal to him. They’re loyal to her.”

“Just as you were loyal to General Loghain when he overthrew Eldridge,” Heliodar reminded him, and Abraxas looked ready to snap.

“Do not compare our situations like you were there. You know nothing of war.”

“But I will. And for that, I thank you. All of you. And you should thank me, Abraxas. You’ll be meeting your gods soon enough.” She turned to the soldiers. “They’ll fight, but I’ve taught you well. Make it quick and clean, and then meet me for the King’s arrival.” She picked up the map and smiled at them all. “A new era is beginning, and we will be at the top. Your sacrifices are appreciated.”

Heliodar marched out of the tent, and they were all left with their soon-to-be murderers. The soldiers stood perfectly still, and the party held their breath. Evren met Gyda’s gaze across the table. For what, she wasn’t sure. But the warrior seemed to nod as if she understood something Evren said.

She put her sword on the table, and the blade hummed on the dark wood. The runes on the handle lit up, even as she pulled her hand away. The soldiers regarded her warily, and Gyda took a menacing step forward. As she did, the spears snapped away from them to the part-giant until fifteen glittering steel points surrounded her. And then she smiled.

“You know, Gyda.” Evren moved her head to the side, one eye on the soldier at her back and the other on the warrior. “You never did get to kill any prisoners.”

“Are soldiers any different?”

Evren’s eyes flicked to Sol in a silent question. She nodded.

“No.”

And then the tent went red.

21

The chaos was immediate.

Gyda batted three spears aside and bowled over the soldiers holding them. Before the others could lash out at her, Abraxas flipped the table over, and her sword clattered to the ground. Sol was on her feet, her daggers sailing through the air, neatly impaling two of the soldiers. Evren kicked the feet out from under the soldier guarding her and swiftly brought her own dagger up into his neck.

Another was on her in a moment, and she barely rolled out of the way of his spear. But the tent was too small for all of them and their weapons. The soldiers were at an extreme disadvantage, one the Wandering Sols were happy to exploit.

Evren grabbed the spear and yanked it. The soldier stumbled towards her, and she kicked him hard in the chest. It sent him straight into Sorin’s blade and he was cut down.

Sorin’s laugh was nothing like the ones she was used to. He darted across the room to fight with Abraxas, who already had a pile of men at his feet. Arke tore a page from his book and crumpled it in his fist. He sent a stream of ice past her to impale a soldier that Sol was battling with grim determination. Sol kicked the icy corpse away and turned to the next one.

They were still mainly focused on Gyda. Still weaponless. Evren wrapped her hands around the blade at her feet and picked it up. The bone handle hummed with energy and left her fingertips tingling. If Evren didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn it was excited about the battle.

“Gyda!” She tossed the blade over to her. It arced through the air, and a bloody fist emerged from the fight to catch it. The runes seemed to come alive at Gyda’s touch, and the hum in the tent intensified. The blade swung in a deadly arc, and with a spray of crimson, three more guards went down. The remaining two started to back away but found themselves between Sorin, Abraxas, and Gyda.

“Stand down!” Sol shouted and shook the blood off her blades. “Live to see your families.”

Gyda paused to watch Sol, but Evren saw her muscles twitching for a fight. The two soldiers didn’t even shake. They clutched their spears tightly and narrowed their eyes.

“We will not cower before krevas.”

“Very well.” Sol sheathed her daggers, and Gyda took their heads off with a clean swing.

As the last of the bodies tumbled to the ground, they all turned to Evren. Sol’s jaw was hard, and her hands never left her daggers’ hilts. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t until I saw the army,” she admitted. “Heliodar wanted a war to bring Dirn-Darahl back to the old ways. This was the only way she could’ve gotten it without looking like a warmonger.”

“We should’ve let Serevadia have them.” Sorin cleaned his blade on his pants. “They both want war so badly. Why are we fighting to stop them?”

“Because Serevadia would demolish Dirn-Darahl with their knowledge alone, not to mention their weaponry.” Abraxas planted his sword in the ground and ruined the rug as he tied his hair back. “And if Dirn-Darahl fell, Etherak would be forced to go to war next.”

“With no allies,” Evren added. “Everyone is still pissed about Eldridge’s conquests. They’d watch Etherak fall before stepping in. And by then, it’d be too late. Besides, we promised Viggo we’d keep war away from Serevadia. Our word has to mean something.”

“Did theirs?” Sol pointed to the dead soldiers, tears gathering in her eyes. “Did Heliodar’s? Or Mal’s? Or Viggo’s? What’s the point in keeping our promises if everyone just lies to us?”

“We’re better than them.” Gyda’s voice was still too rough, still made for combat. She looked at Sol with a fierce intensity. “You are better than they are. We must prove it.”

Sorin threw his hands up in the air. “How? Heliodar has the whole army wrapped around her finger. We can’t take on an army. Not even you, Gyda.”

Sol wiped away her tears and smeared blood across her face as she did. She looked like she’d rather deflate and curl up on the floor. Evren didn’t blame her. Her whole world had crumbled in her hands just as she got a hold of it again. How many lies had she endured? How many people had she trusted? Months suffered just to get back to her old life? Only to have it be for nothing. Whatever ties had kept Sol from wandering had been very suddenly and brutally cut, and it wasn’t fair. She wasn’t the one who had severed them. She didn’t deserve any of it. The mere thought made Evren want to feed Heliodar to Alkimos.

“We don’t need to fight the army.” Sol looked down at her bloody hand. Heliodar’s medallion glimmered in her palm. When she looked up, her eyes were hard but tear-free. “I need to save the King.”

“And then what?” Arke asked. “That bitch still has an army. They answer to her.”

The beginnings of an idea sprang into her head, and Evren’s eyes widened. “We can convince them. At least plant a seed of doubt in them.”

“How?”

She grinned at Sorin. “You.”

He took a flustered step back. “Me?”

“Time to put that mouth to good use.” Arke cackled as he patted his leg.

“But I don’t . . . what do I say?” He blinked at them. “Do I get up in front of the whole army?”

Abraxas shook his head. “No. Start small. Get some people aside and talk to them in small groups. All at once will be too risky.”

“I’ll help you.” Sol walked over to him. “All we need them to do is doubt, not lay down their arms.”

“And then what?”

“And then,”—Evren pulled her bow out—“I go hunting.”

THEY DIDN’T HAVE time to go over their hasty plan as much as they would’ve liked, but they were each confident in their roles. By the time everyone left the tent, they went their separate ways and knew exactly what to do. A silent vow hung in the air to see each other again, but no one said it out loud. No one wanted to be the one to break the promise.

Temsen wasn’t doing great after the battle in the tent, and he straggled behind Evren dangerously as they snuck through the camp. He constantly whispered to himself and cried more than once. But they didn’t have time to stop. She snagged his shirt and tugged him along multiple times before she just gave up and kept a hold of his sleeve. She wasn’t Karas, but it seemed to work better. They crept low and stuck to the shadows as much as they could. Even with Sol’s instructions, it was still difficult to find her way through the maze of tents. They all looked the same.

Evren stopped at the back of a tent to let a group of laughing soldiers pass. She frowned at the tents, trying to pick out the one she needed. Would it kill the dwarves to add some labeling? A sign, maybe?

Temsen tugged on her shirt sleeve, and she looked back at him questioningly. He pointed behind them where another patrol was coming, and they swung around the corner quickly. But as Evren watched them pass, she realized that wasn’t why he’d caught her attention. The two soldiers walking had Karas between them, and if it was possible, he looked even worse than when he’d left them. New bruises and jagged cuts were visible, and the guards walked him out of camp towards the ruins.

“Good call.” She patted his shoulder. “Now, stick close to me.”

She followed the soldiers as closely as she dared. This time, Temsen stayed right on her tail. They snuck out of camp, always keeping an eye on the three forms in front of them. As the tents gave way to rocks and ruins, the trio stopped. And there was nowhere to hide.

Evren sprang up and wrapped her arm around a soldier’s throat. She squeezed her chokehold, and he let go of his sword and tried to pry her off. The other soldier cried out and tried to attack, but Karas was on him in an instant. He wrapped his chains around the soldier’s neck, and in a brutal mirroring of Evren, took him down. Once they stopped struggling, the two of them let the bodies fall, and Temsen hurried with the locks on his chains.

“Miss me that much?” Karas asked.

“We’re stopping another war. Up for the challenge?”

The chains fell to the ground in a heavy heap, and he rubbed his wrists. “Heliodar did all this, then?”

“And more.”

“Right.” He looked at Temsen, and his stony façade crumbled. “You ain’t a fighter, Temsen.”

“You n-ne-need me.” The smaller dwarf did his best to stand up straight and imitate his cousin. Karas smiled weakly and hugged him tight.

“Stay by my side. Don’t do nothin’ stupid.”

“Only if you don’t.”

He snorted and drew back, then gave Evren a daring look. “That’s entirely up to this one’s crazy plan. I won’t like this one either, will I?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

Evren quickly laid out the plan for him and focused mostly on his part. As expected, he was less than thrilled, but he took it all in stride and only called her mad three times. When they were done, she watched them disappear down Alkimos’s tunnel and then turned back to the camp. She had to trust him to do his part, just like she trusted the others.

Sneaking back into camp was a lot easier than before. The more she walked between the tents, the more abandoned it started to feel. Without Temsen to worry about, she made good time towards the armory without being seen. As she slipped inside, Arke and Gyda were just finishing up their work, a pile of broken, blunted, and worthless weapons at their feet.

“How many have you hit?” she asked.

“Three.” Arke wiped the sweat from his brow. “Abraxas took the other two. How’d it go?”

“Karas is getting into position. If we need a little bit of chaos, he’ll be there.” She kicked a ruined spear to the side. “The camp’s emptying. It’s too easy to move.”

“Sol said they’d be gathering for the King’s arrival soon.” Gyda snapped the last blade in half. “I didn’t think so soon.”

“We don’t have enough time. Sol and Sorin can’t have talked to more than a dozen at this point. It’s not enough.”

“It has to be,” Arke insisted. “We ruined their armor and their weapons—at least enough to slow them down. Sol and Sorin can talk their way out of anythin’. And we’ve got your fiery backup plan if the fight breaks out.”

“When, not if. They want a fight.”

A loud horn sounded in the air. Evren imagined it cut through the dusty air like a knife. Instinctively, her hand went to the ground as if Akimos would take the sound as an invitation. For a moment, the earth seemed to rumble, and her blood spiked with white-hot panic. But then she realized that it wasn’t him. It was the stomping of hundreds of boots.

“The King has to be here.” She pulled away from the ground, and Arke was already making his way out of the tent.

“I’ll circle around to get Abraxas. You two find Sorin and Sol.” He disappeared without another word, and Gyda shrugged.

“After you.”

Evren slipped back out, and her eyes immediately spotted the lift descending through the hazy air. It was still just a wooden platform, but she saw it glowing from far below. Whoever was on it glowed nearly as brightly as the Luminstones themselves. She and Gyda walked unimpeded closer to the lift, and as the crowd started to gather, they crouched behind a stack of crates.

The lift descended and the stomping grew louder and heavier. Cheers erupted when it came close to eye level, and an ancient dwarf with a crown wrapped around his head that glowed so brightly it shone white came into view. Evren’s eyes started to burn the more she looked at it. The rest of the King was adorned in simple, golden robes. The only thing glowing was the crown, and it put out enough light to illuminate thirty feet around him clearly. Behind him were armed guards. Not soldiers, but King’s Guards. Their armor was much more elaborate and gilded. Also behind him was Mal.

“I should shoot him between the eyes for what he did to Sol,” she muttered to Gyda, who laughed.

“I’m not the person to talk to if you want to be stopped.”

The lift came to the ground with a rumbling halt, and the King lifted a withered hand. The cheering and stomping quieted immediately. When he spoke, his voice boomed across the cavern, but he didn’t look as if he were straining at all.

“My loyal army.” He smiled fondly like a grandfather at his grandchildren. “Look at what you have become. We knew a dark day such as today might come, and we have been ever vigilant. Dwarven metal has gone untested for far too long. These unknown threats in the Deep hold nothing against the finest soldiers in Eith!”

The cheer that went up at that was enough to leave Evren’s ears ringing, and still, the King spoke.

“To this, we have only to thank our general. A beloved friend, a faithful ally, and Dirn-Darahl’s strongest warrior.” He swept his hand out, and Heliodar joined him on the lift. She was unarmed, but Sol had said that she wouldn’t dare murder the King in front of her men anyway. It still put Evren on edge.

She looked through the crowd and easily found Sorin with Abraxas and Arke. He looked miserable, and Evren’s blood went cold. He hadn’t done enough. But where was Sol?

“There.” Gyda pointed, and Evren followed her finger. Sol was amongst the soldiers and dressed in some of their armor. The only thing that stood out about her was her cold expression. She didn’t cheer or stomp. She just stared.

“Gyda, I could shoot Heliodar from here.” She looked back at the general. “It would be a clean shot.”

“You’d give her a warrior’s death?”

“What else can we do? There’s no way Sol got enough support in that amount of time.”

“Killing her would martyr her and turn the army against everything we say. Let her dig her own grave.”

Evren knew she was right. But watching Heliodar up there in plain sight had her fingers itching for a shot. Heliodar’s rousing speech about strength and unity barely registered in her ears. She kept looking at everyone in the crowd. Who was friend or foe? Who would follow blindly, and who would try to do the right thing? For once, her eyes didn’t help her.

And then, Sol moved.

Evren froze and gripped Gyda’s arm. She hummed her acknowledgement, and they watched as Sol took off the helmet and let it clatter to the ground. The crowd parted, and Heliodar’s words stumbled to a halt. Behind the King, Mal took a step forward, the shock of seeing her vivid and only eclipsed by the sudden guilt in his eyes. If Sol noticed, she didn’t let on.

“What the hells is she doing?”

Sol stopped a few feet from the King, and his guards bristled around him and Heliodar. Their weapons glowed. Sol looked miserable in that light. All her injuries and weariness were on full display.

She bowed low but stiffly. “Your Majesty, my name is—”

“I know your name, child. You are the one who tried to dethrone me.”

She stiffened and stood up straight. “No offense, Your Majesty, but if I wanted to do that, you’d already be without a throne and Crown. And I wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

The King guffawed, his hand on his belly as if the golden chain that acted as his belt would fall off. “You admit so freely?”

“I admit nothing but my abilities. I did no such thing. But I know who did.”

He raised a pure white brow. “Such intensity. Tell me, Amet. How does my most brilliant courtier find themselves before me looking like death and speaking such poison?”

“Ask your general.”

He turned to Heliodar, who looked as if she wanted to skin Sol alive right then and there. The smile she gave the King didn’t cover her murderous intent. “Your Majesty, Solri was one of the ones who escaped the prison three weeks ago. We caught Karas but were told she was dead. I had no idea—”

“Stop lying.” Sol took another step forward. She pulled out the medallion. “You don’t have to hide anymore, Heliodar. We both want the same thing. Tell him the truth. Tell him how you sent me to prison to root out the Seekers and their plans. Say how you kept me in the shadows so I could give you the information you needed to keep us safe. I wanted the same thing you did, and I sacrificed everything to get it.”

“And what’s that?”

“A new era for my people.”

Evren saw Sol’s hand flick out. She saw the glint of steel in the air as it flashed against the glowing crown. She didn’t register what it was until the dagger was buried in the King’s chest.

Red blossomed bright against the gold robes. Heliodar let out a strangled cry as the King stared at the dagger. When he fell, she couldn’t catch him in time. The crown fell off his ancient head and rolled to the ground at Sol’s feet. She kicked it away.

The shock didn’t last long before Heliodar screeched, “End her!” And then the chaos truly broke loose.

Sol disappeared into the crowd as if she were made of living shadow. The King’s Guard scrambled into the crowd desperately. A lot of soldiers joined them, but some of them fought back. They raised their shields and used their spears to keep back their brothers and sisters. They were shielding Sol.

“I don’t know what she did, but we have to get to her first,” Evren stood up.

“Agreed.”

The army was pure chaos. Some didn’t know who to fight. Others simply seemed content to hit anything. Gyda waded into the battlefield and fought those who opposed her. There were only a few at first, and they all fell to her sword. But the more that saw her, the more went after her. Evren shot down as many as she could and stepped over the bodies she left in her wake. They found a steady rhythm. Her sword hissed through the air and sent blood and metal flying. Evren’s arrows flew past her swings and cut foes down left and right. The farther they moved, the harder it was, and the more Evren realized that no one really knew why they were fighting. For Heliodar, for the King, for Sol? It didn’t matter. They were just fighting each other, and it was bloody chaos.

“I don’t see her.” Evren stood with her back to Gyda and shot down a soldier screaming at her like a worg. Warm blood soaked her thigh as Gyda took down another soldier.

“Me, either. I can’t see any of them.”

There was too much. Too much blood, too many bodies—both living and dead. There was no way she could get to them and get them out.

It only got worse when a familiar screech tore through the air and the tents were suddenly on fire. Soldiers screamed as Guzzlers came out of nowhere and pounced on them. They tore at the dead bodies and threw themselves in droves at the moving ones. Their bulging bellies swayed and bounced with every step. It would’ve been comical if everything weren’t on fire.

“Okay, this was a bad plan.” Evren shot at a screaming Guzzler. Karas did exactly what she asked. This chaos would’ve been nice if Sol had stuck to the plan. “Any ideas?”

Gyda grunted and stumbled backwards. Evren watched in horror as she tore a spear out of her shoulder and tossed it to the ground. Her whole demeanor changed, and the runes turned as red as the blood pouring from her shoulder. Her eyes were on the one who’d thrown the spear, but everyone took a shocked step back. It was as if the energy coming from her in pulsing waves drove them back. Evren was among them.

Gyda took a step forward, her foot crunching the remnants of the spear. The soldier who’d thrown it went white and fell to the ground on his hands and knees.

And another terrible idea was sparked.

“Get to the others, I have an idea!” she called to the part-giant, but Gyda didn’t respond. She just kept staring down at the man on his knees, and the others turning away from her. Fear was a powerful tool.

Evren tore across the field and returned the way she came. No one tried to stop her. They were all too busy fighting each other. She swept through the blazing tents and screeching Guzzlers and went even farther. The more she ran, the less doubt she had. She relied completely on chance, but it was all she had.

She ran out of the burning camp and towards the vast hole Alkimos had made. She skidded to a halt and tried to catch her breath. Doubt nagged once more, but as she shouldered her bow and picked up a fist-sized rock, she forced it down. It scraped along her palm. The skin was still pink and tender. It wasn’t bleeding. Yet.

Evren got on her knees and brought the rock down as hard as she could on the ground. The shock reverberated up her arm, but she slammed it down again. And again. Each time, the jagged rock dug more and more into her palm. Warm blood started to sluggishly seep down onto the stone, but it still wasn’t enough. Over and over. Again and again.

“Why. Won’t. You. Answer. Me?” With every word, she hit the ground. The last blow shattered the rock completely, and she fell on her palms, her chest heaving. In the background, she heard the battle getting worse. The smell of blood made her sick. All she imagined was finding her friends lying dead. Gyda impaled by dozens of spears. Arke trampled. Sol at Heliodar’s blade. The images got worse with every passing second. She choked back a sob. This was the one pain that didn’t make anyone stronger.

Then she felt it. The low tremble beneath her blood-slick fingers. She started to laugh and stand, but the vibrations got louder and more intense—and quicker than expected. She pulled her hands away just as the ground beneath her suddenly caved in. She fell. The air around her was like a storm. And something large, warm, and familiar rushed up past her.

Evren grabbed blindly and felt slippery skin pass through her fingers. She reached out again and found purchase on something long and flexible. Suddenly, she rocketed into the air on the side of the worm. She clung desperately to one of its spines as it tore through the air. The ground below her was far away. Too far away. Everyone looked like ants. She was going to puke. She looked away.

Evren pulled herself closer to his body as Alkimos roared into the air. He started to dive towards the swarm of armies fighting each other. She screamed, “If you dare—”

Turned out, Alkimos did dare. If anything was worse than looking down at everything, it was rushing down at the ground at breakneck speed. Evren was well aware that she was screaming, but all she could do was hold on as Alkimos dove into the frenzy and tore through the ground. They plunged into the dark abyss, and the only thing that kept Evren from becoming a stain on the wall was the spine she clung so desperately to. They tunneled for far longer than Evren thought possible before he suddenly twisted and went back up. They erupted back into the light, and he screamed again.

He was dramatic and eye-catching. In the bare glimpses she’d dared to take of the ground, she’d seen that the army barely fought each other now. They all stared at Alkimos. And he was going straight towards them.

The tricky part about giant, monstrous worms was that they didn’t train very well, and now that Evren had gotten the fighting to stop, she wasn’t sure how to send him home.

If I survive this, I need to think through my plans better.

She tried to pull herself up Alkimos’s body but yelped when the spine suddenly snapped and gave a little. Alkimos’s next scream was one of annoyance and pain. Although Evren was sure it didn’t feel like he was getting his arm ripped off, she still felt bad. Looking up, she saw the spine tearing at the base and continuing. She was going to fall.

She grabbed at the base desperately. When her bloody, injured palm met the torn stump, both she and Alkimos cried out.

It was like she was seeing the world twice. Once through her eyes, and once with everything else. She felt every breath, every stomp of the foot on the rock. Her rock. She could almost see the ripples of the vibrations everyone made. She even saw herself. The expanse of the Yawning Deep below was vast and . . . beautiful. Alkimos’s territory was massive. He was everywhere in the continent. She felt his pull back to his nest, back to his home. But the army in front of her was annoying with its noise. She wanted it to stop.

No. She wanted to stop.

Alkimos suddenly froze. Underneath her, his muscles were quivering. Then, he lowered himself until he lay flat. Shaking, Evren slid off his body and fell to the ground. Without the physical connection, her focus returned to normal, and she stumbled onto her knees. Her stomach heaved, and she tried not to vomit. Beside her, Alkimos’s great body shivered as if he too were trying not to hurl.

“Please, don’t,” she murmured and patted his side to get up. It could’ve been her imagination, but she was sure he growled at her. She decided to ignore that and walked to his front where the army stood in gaping horror.

Evren winced at the damage they’d done. Whatever tents weren’t burning, Alkimos had destroyed under this massive body. His heaving breaths threw gusts of winds at the soldiers. Evren spared a glance at her hand. It was soaked in his blood. She had the sudden urge to shed her skin, but she couldn’t tell if it was because she was so uncomfortable or if Alkimos was still influencing her. Whatever power Viggo had said she had was there, but she wasn’t sure she liked it. The only thing she was sure of was that she had no idea how it worked, and she was terrified.

Three familiar figures stepped up, and Evren nearly sobbed in relief. Sol had Heliodar in a death grip with her remaining dagger at her back. Sorin walked behind them, looking as if he might piss himself, but he was alive. She had to hope the others were, as well.

“Death by worm?” Evren asked as they got closer.

“I won’t even ask.” Sol shuddered and shoved Heliodar next to Alkimos. The worm made no move towards her, but the general looked far less brave next to him.

“You’re actually insane,” she spat at Evren. “Could you control this beast all along?”

“You think I’m controlling him?” As if to prove her point, Alkimos let out a low growl, and she took a frightened step back. Evren wanted to laugh, but she did the same thing.

Sol turned to Sorin. “Do it now.”

“Now?” He tore his eyes off the worm. “And say what? We were originally talking sense into people. I think we’re far past that.”

“I’ll stand by you. We’re going to frame this in a good light.”

Heliodar laughed humorously. “Take my kill and the glory that goes with it? You truly are a snake, Solri.”

“You have no idea.” She turned to Sorin and linked their arms. They faced the army, and Evren watched as Sol discreetly whispered to him. With every word, he voiced it. And there was something different in these words.

“Brothers and sisters, I am not one of you. I didn’t have the privilege to live down here. I didn’t see the hard work and ingenuity that you put into the very walls as you made them. What I did see when I finally came here was discourse. Unrest. Resentment. The old ways are gone. Many of you know that. But they didn’t die with the King. They died long ago with you. Dirn-Darahl will emerge into a new era, like it does with every birth. Bloodily, painfully, and full of potential. We’ve lost much today but gained even more. From now on, there will be unity. There will be no blind devotion to those in power. There will be change. There will be no destruction. There are things beneath yet undiscovered.” He gestured to Alkimos behind him, and the crowd shivered. “We must be open to peace but be ready for defense. From now on, the city will no longer be led by nobles with no more right to rule than what their bloodline says. Warriors won’t be given special privileges over the hard-working miners or tradespeople. We will open our gates, to hope and new beginnings. And, more importantly, to a new era. Where those who rule are chosen and do so with honor and integrity. And not with ulterior motives.”

Everyone, unprompted, looked at Heliodar. Sol hadn’t said one demeaning word to her, but the entire army knew what she’d been willing to risk for power.

“The world is changing, my friends.” Sorin smiled, and everyone smiled back. Evren caught herself doing it, too. “Join us in the light of a new era.”

His voice swept over the crowd like a summer breeze. Every word, no matter how problematic, was soothing. It sounded right, as if it were the best idea known to man. They drew themselves closer to him, despite Alkimos lurking behind. Evren couldn’t help but watch with pride swelling in her chest as he spun Sol’s words. His eyes widened when he realized how he’d affected everyone. There were whispers of agreement. Swords clattered to the ground. Others started weeping when they realized what they’d done. The profound effect was so hard to grasp, and so mesmerizing, Evren’s smile grew wider.

Sorin looked back at her with an amazing goofy grin. It was like a light had been sparked inside him. He was almost glowing from within. His eyes said it all. I did it! I did it.

Heliodar was on him in a flash. Before anyone could move, she snatched Sol’s dagger from her hand and plunged it into Sorin’s chest.

Sorin gasped in pain. Evren screamed. Alkimos reared up, and his screams joined hers as Sorin’s body fell. The crowd rioted.

Alkimos made to swallow Heliodar but stopped as a mass of soldiers swarmed her. They ripped off her armor and threw it to the ground. They tore her braids from her head in bloody chunks and, all at once, descended on her like a pack of wild dogs. There was nothing poetic or dignified about her death. Her screams of pain could be heard over their shouts of grief. They tore her apart. With weapons, with their bare fists. It was everything beautiful about Sorin’s strange magic turned sour. Evren turned away, sobbing long before Heliodar stopped screaming.

She touched Alkimos’s side, and found him quivering. Did he feel her grief? She wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“Go,” she urged him. “And don’t come back.”

Alkimos, without any grandeur or dramatics, slid back into the Deep. Evren watched him go through blurry eyes, not sure whether she felt pain at what she’d lost or if it was because she was sure she’d never see the great worm again. When the last of him was gone, she turned back to Sorin.

He lay still on the ground, the dagger still in place. Sol was at his side, sobbing incoherently. Her hand was around the dagger, but she wasn’t pulling it out.

Evren slowly made her way over to his other side. He was still breathing. Every breath was ragged and wet, and blood trickled from his lips. He looked at her with those warm brown eyes, and her heart broke. The tears spilled over, and she barely choked out, “I’m so sorry.”

He grabbed her hand clumsily. It was already colder than it should’ve been. And then he smiled. There was so much pain and fear in his eyes, but he smiled at her as if there was nothing to worry about. Like he wasn’t slipping away from them with every drop of blood.

“Nice touch,” he choked out. “With . . . the worm.”

She smiled through her tears. “I knew you’d like that.”

“Dramatic enough for . . . me.”

Sol tried desperately to keep her tears back, and when she looked at Evren, she looked even more lost than she had in the tent. “I can’t stop the bleeding.”

“Bitch got my heart.” Sorin coughed, and a river of blood leaked out. “Abraxas . . . gotta see which gods of his I get to say hello to.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Sol wiped some blood off his chin. “We’ll . . . find a way out of this. Don’t worry. You’ve got to see the sky again before you die.”

“That’s okay.” He smiled at Sol weakly. “I see it every time I look in your eyes.”

His hand went limp in Evren’s. His eyes glazed over, and before they knew it, his chest rose one final time. Sol pushed back one of his dreads from his face, her eyes looking desperately for some sign of life and finding none. The tears came back and cut rivers through the smeared blood.

Evren let go of his hand and went around to hug Sol. Her knees dug into the ground, and everything inside and out hurt. But the moment she drew her arms around the dwarf, she broke down in her arms. She wailed and cried, and the tears mixed with the blood on Evren’s armor. She just kept saying the same thing over and over.

“It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.”

She was still repeating that when the rest of them came running up. Gyda saw it first. She was still in a rage, but seeing Sorin’s body was like a physical blow. She took a step back, and the fury was gone in an instant. The grief that clouded her eyes was far worse.

Abraxas was beside her, and he immediately turned around as if to stop someone. But Arke in all of his three-foot glory marched through his legs as if it were nothing. When he saw Sorin’s body, all bloody and lifeless, something inside him snapped. His now-empty spellbook fluttered to the ground, and his arms started shaking. He couldn’t stop staring at the Vasa, as if Sorin were the only thing he could wrap his mind around. Then his eyes snapped to Evren.

“You promised,” he hissed. “You said you’d keep him safe!” He launched himself at her with wild abandon. Gyda caught him in midair, but he scratched and tore at her arm until it was a bloody mess. “You promised me he’d be all right! You swore!”

Evren closed her eyes. She tried to block it all out. Arke’s anguished yelling, the image of Sorin on the ground beside her. She wanted it all gone. She wanted this pain to burn and die but with every breath, it came back anew, and she couldn’t rid herself of it.

She opened her eyes when she saw Abraxas kneel on Sorin’s other side. Her eyes met his, and the tears came back. Another promise gone. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I didn’t see. I couldn’t . . .” She trailed off. Her words were flat and useless, even to her.

Abraxas didn’t say anything. He set his sword and shield down and then ripped the dagger out. Sol cried louder at the sound and inched away from the blade when it landed next to her. Then, Abraxas laid his hands on Sorin’s chest, one on top of the other. She saw a glint of tears in the elf’s eyes before he bowed his head. But she heard him clearly.

“I know you’re there,” he prayed. “I know you can hear me. Please let me save this one. He’s not a believer, and he will never be. But I need him here. Bring him back. Do not take him away from us so soon.”

Evren tried to ignore the hot spike of anger that surged. She wanted to yell at him that his gods were gone, that he hadn’t been able to heal her when she was alive, much less bring back Sorin from the dead. The anger was good because it wasn’t directed towards her, but she couldn’t open her mouth to say it. Not when he whispered over and over again. Not when his shoulders started to shake under the armor.

“Bring him back!” Abraxas suddenly shouted. Not to Sorin’s body, not to himself, but to the heavens themselves.

His hands started to glow. Softly at first, but soon, bright rays of white light poured out from between his fingers. Evren squinted against the light until it became too much. She closed her eyes. This light was nothing like Viggo’s. There was nothing contained or careful about it. It was pure. It was . . . Divine.

It faded as suddenly as it came, and Evren dared to open her eyes. Nothing looked different. Sorin still lay unmoving on the ground. Abraxas drew back his hands and stared at them in wonder. The wound in Sorin’s chest was gone.

“Did you just . . . heal him?” Evren looked at his hands. But they were still bloody and clad in black armor. Nothing looked different.

Abraxas shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words. Arke marched up, still fuming, and Evren was sure that he would murder her in a way that made Heliodar’s death look merciful. Instead, he slapped the hell out of Sorin’s face.

Sorin suddenly gasped and sat up abruptly. He clawed at his chest where the dagger would be. When he found nothing but a bloody shirt, he wiggled his fingers through the hole. Then he looked back at everyone.

“Good to know everyone would miss me terribly if I died.” His grin was shaky, but it was entirely Sorin. Arke hit him again on the shoulder, hard, and Sorin yelped in pain. But then the goblin had his arms wrapped around him, and Evren was sure she saw tears.

Sol laughed and nearly toppled him over with the force of her embrace. Sorin wrapped them both in his arms and then looked at the rest of them expectantly. “Well, come on! There’s room for all.”

Evren’s laugh was full of happy tears, and she gladly descended into the hug. Despite it all, she could still smell the sea clinging to him like a needy child. She knew immediately when Gyda joined the hug, rather awkwardly. But her strong arms held them all amazingly well. When Abraxas tentatively joined, Sorin howled.

“Spiky armor!” he cried. “Spiky armor in my spleen!”

Abraxas scoffed. “You don’t even know where your spleen is.”

One by one, they started laughing. Sol snorting; Arke rasping his giggles. The breathlessness that came after surviving the inevitable had nothing on the sheer joy of living. They were full of it. A group of stars wandering in the void with nowhere to call home had found their place together. Nothing could tear them apart or keep them together except their will and bonds.

And the most amazing part of all? They’d survived. Barely.

22

Solri

The week that followed the Battle of the Worm as they’d come to call it was a hurricane of chaos and confusion. Sol had no one to blame but herself for it, of course, but it didn’t help her mood. There wasn’t a waking moment when she wasn’t surrounded by harried advisors or pissed-off nobles and courtiers. The letters stacking up by her door at The Bed Rock grew by the day. At this point, she gave them all to Gyda to burn. They all said the same thing anyway.

What do we do now?

The army that had accompanied them up to the city had explained it all. From the King’s death, to Heliodar’s plot, down to Evren’s crazy entrance with Alkimos. The one change was how the King died. It was Sol’s dagger that killed him. It was her anger and resentment that fueled his death. But she wasn’t made out as a traitor, or even a hero. She was blissfully kept off to the side; just another tool in the narrative of Heliodar’s betrayal.

The story grew more and more ridiculous as the days dragged on, but one thing stayed the same: All the nobles currently in power were forced out. Most were physically dragged out of the palace. They still held their titles and their land, as well as all their money and houses, but they simply weren’t in power now. To say that Sol had been inspired by Viggo’s reform of his government would be an understatement. She just did it bigger and better.

The problem now was that no one knew what to do. The city was running on its emergency protocol and thank Jalaa those were well established. No one currently ruled, so no one made decisions. The letters begged for structure, for a new King. She had been lucky to walk free, but she was still krevas. Now more than ever. Politics used to bring her joy. She used to love it—all the speeches and debates and actually making a difference. But now, it left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she couldn’t stand the thought of doing it again.

Her friends kept her safe. None of them understood why she’d killed the King, and they never would. It hadn’t just been about depriving Heliodar of her kill and victory. What poison had led to her actions had been unfurling ever since she realized her second chance was a lie. All that she’d suffered, all that she’d done was for nothing. And it all started with a King too weak to rule. A King she could’ve easily swayed to her side if she wanted to. But that wouldn’t have fixed Dirn-Darahl. It all would’ve been the same. Nasty, backstabbing politics circling around a man too weak to lead. She’d changed that, for better or for worse. Now, she didn’t want to be here anymore.

Not after Heliodar. Not after Mal.

Sol’s heart twisted painfully as it did every time she thought of Mal. She put him out of her mind and poured more tea. The person in front of her was far more important.

“Your hair is so short, my diamond.” Her mother sighed again and sank deeper into her wheelchair. She took her cup of tea with shaking hands. They were so wrinkled and frail now, even her rings looked as if they might break her. Sol’s hands steadied hers and brought the cup closer to her mother’s mouth.

“I know, Mama,” she said for the fifth time today and poured another cup of tea. Her mother’s hair was as silver and shining as the metal itself and curled at her side in an elegant braid. Sol missed her long hair. It was a symbol of her status. To have it sheared off in prison had been her first breaking point. It was curling at the ends of her ears now, but after everything she’d done and abandoned, she wasn’t sure if she had the heart to grow it out again.

“You truly won’t tell me what happened to you all those months?” Yovena Amet wasn’t used to asking more than once for something and still not getting it. Even in her withering age, she looked every bit the elegant noble Sol worked so hard to be. The one her father had fallen in love with and whose name he had died with on his lips. The kind of dwarf that would never kill a King. Jalaa’s arse, that information might actually kill her mother.

“I met a group of people,” she said truthfully. “Good people. They helped me.”

“I see.”

“I’m going with them to the surface, Mama.”

Yovena wrinkled her nose. “No Amet has ever left the city. What is this? You want some daredevil life as an adventurer? Solving dangerous problems for a tiny sum of coin?”

A lot of coin, Sol thought to herself. The treasury had been generous with their promised reward. Mostly because of Gyda’s intense staring, and Sol’s conviction that the situation could’ve been far worse. They were worried about the future, but she hadn’t seen anyone mourn the King. It almost made her sad. But she reminded herself every time that he’d holed himself away in his palace and never made an effort with his people. He never really ruled. Heliodar was right about that, at least.

“I’ll come back, Mama.” She set her cup down and knelt beside her mother’s chair. She turned her face away from Sol in disapproval but when Sol took her hand, she easily wrapped her fingers around hers. “I need to get out. I have to find myself again. I’m . . . lost. And I don’t know where to go from here.”

“My diamond, what do you hope to find on the surface?” She patted her cheek.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “But I’m going to find out. And when I come back, and I will, I’ll have so many stories and presents for you. I’ll write every week. I’ll find those toffees in Noxcairn that you like so much.”

Yovena scoffed, but her frown lightened. Sol squeezed her hand gently. “I just need to get out of here for a little while. See the world and fix it if I can.”

Her mother sighed, and for once, she seemed to show her age rather than fight it. “My dear, you have your father’s spirit. I won’t stop you. But you’re hurting, and decisions made out of pain rarely go well.”

“You always said I was rare anyway.”

“Just promise me you’ll come back to me.”

“If I keep any promise, it’ll be that. You’re my world, Mama. Nothing can change that.”

HER LAST DAY in Dirn-Darahl was a blur. She’d packed for the trip the night before, but she hadn’t slept. She didn’t need Abraxas’s knowing eyes to tell her why. She snuck out early and found herself following the familiar paths through the empty streets. She loved this city. Every stone was beautiful; every piece of the city had been made with love. It hurt her to leave, but even the quiet walks she used to love were bittersweet. Because they always ended in one place, and now, her feet led her to him.

She took the stairs instead of the lift up a level. She didn’t want to bother the workers, and the stairs gave her time to think. When she reached the first level, she made her way up and to the back to find a very plain building amongst all the jewels and shining metals. She waved at the new guards posted at the door, and they let her in.

The Seekers, once they’d come out of hiding, had been extremely helpful, although they knew nothing of the missing Mora child. Now that she knew they weren’t the extremist terrorists that Heliodar made them out to be, she found their ideas refreshing. Many of them were like Karas; not noble born but dying for a new system that would treat them better. She didn’t like all of them, and they didn’t like her. But it was a start.

They’d taken an abandoned vault house as their new base, and many of the key individuals who had been part of Heliodar’s coup were being kept there. Dozens of nobles stood to gain a lot from Heliodar’s rule and couldn’t go anywhere until they established a new form of government. So, the people Sol knew wouldn’t have anything to do with them, kept them there.

She walked to the very back. Most of the nobles weren’t awake in their makeshift cells. One cried in his bedroll. At least all his hair was intact. A part of Sol wanted to barge in and shear him herself. But she put that anger away neatly as she came face to face with the occupant of the last cell.

“Mal.” She hated even saying his name now.

He looked up from his spot in the corner, and her traitorous heart leapt when his eyes met hers. Her carefully planned words stuck in her throat, and an awkward silence descended on them. Mal stood and walked towards the bars, and Sol took a step back. Hurt flashed in his eyes, and Sol told herself that was a good thing.

“I deserve that,” he said roughly. “Why are you here?”

Why was she here? To gloat? To cry and shame him over and over again? She did that enough in her dreams.

“I’m leaving today.” She forced her chin up. “For good. You won’t see me again.”

“Sol, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t have to do anything.” Her eyes flashed. “I want to do this. I came to ask you why.”

“Why I hurt you?”

“Betrayed me, framed me, destroyed my reputation and my mother’s name. Put me through six months of hell at the bottom of the city and sent me down to the Yawning Deep to start a war and die.”

“She was going to tell Elinda.” Mal rubbed his face. “About you and me. I would’ve lost everything I worked for.”

“So you threw me to the wolves.” She crossed her arms and ignored the burning in her throat. “I didn’t take you for someone who would trade love for politics.”

“Don’t lecture me, Sol,” he snapped. “You would’ve done the same thing to protect yourself and your mother.”

“Wrong. I would’ve found a way around it. Because that’s what I do.”

“Like with the King?”

“Precisely.” She sucked in a breath and tried to calm her rage. It was better than tears, but it was dangerous. She let it settle in her chest. Let it melt into her bones. She would use it. For whatever adventures came later, she would use it. But not right now.

When she opened her eyes again, she forced herself to soften. When she spoke next, her voice cracked slightly. She didn’t want to be weak, but she couldn’t keep her mask up forever. “Tell me you didn’t care. That I was just some easy fling to distract you from your horrible wife. Tell me that you lied when you said you loved me. In the royal gardens. In my bed. In the tavern when I came back for the first time. Before I went into the Yawning Deep. Tell me that every time you said you loved me was a lie.”

He looked at her with eyes she could’ve drowned in. “I can’t.”

Somehow, that was worse.

“Goodbye, Mal.” She had a thousand bitter things to say that would leave him in the same mess she was in, but she couldn’t say them. She turned around and walked out. A part of her wished he’d call her back, but he didn’t. She walked out with silence as her companion.

Karas was waiting for her at the front. He’d cleaned up well and led the Seekers with much more organization than she expected of him. He looked her up and down. “That bad, huh?”

“I’m fine.”

“What do you want me to do with him?”

Sol thought for a moment. Every one of her friends had offered up increasingly terrible punishments for Mal. All because he’d hurt her, and they wanted him to pay. But Sol wouldn’t give in to personal feelings now. Mal wasn’t an exception to all the other corrupted in the cells.

“Ask his wife,” she said finally. “I’m sure she’ll be creative.”

“And that’s why I’ll never marry.” Karas crossed his arms and looked at her again, He took in the leathers and the heavy cloak tied around her. “You’re really leaving? The only noble with a lick of sense?”

“I am.” She nodded. “You’ll watch out for my mother?”

“She and Temsen can have a few playdates. He likes the quiet anyway. Still dunno why you trust me to do that.”

“You riled up a nest of Guzzlers and set them on fire for us.” Sol let herself chuckle. “My mother can take care of herself. I’d just be happy to know that someone is watching over her while I’m gone.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” He grinned. “I expect a cut of your treasure for my troubles, though.”

“I had no doubt.” She started to walk out, her boots dragging heavily on the floor. But when she reached the door, Karas’s voice stopped her.

“Everythin’ is changin’, ya know? It’s all gonna be different.”

Sol shrugged. “That’s the way of life. You either learn to adapt or fall behind. We need to be better. And we will.”

She walked back out and into the streets. Again, she took the long road back. She let herself wander through the streets she loved so much. She marveled at the gardens, the glittering mansions, and every detail on every stone. Her hands trailed along the rails of the staircase she took down to the second level. Every part of her wanted to leave and needed to, but Dirn-Darahl would always be home, and she’d miss it fiercely. But maybe that was better. To miss what she loved instead of festering with everything she hated. That would be washed away by the time she got back. She wasn’t running away. She was letting a nasty wound heal under a bandage and not taking it off until it was done.

By the time Sol wandered back to the Bed Rock, the city was just waking up, and her party was already bustling. She could hear Arke and Sorin arguing as she got closer to the lift. Every now and then, Gyda’s low voice chimed in, or Abraxas kept the bickering from going too far. No doubt, Arke was still furious about the new spellbook Sorin had bought him. The goblin couldn’t stand gifts, but he would never turn it down if it was from Sorin—something the human was quickly taking advantage of.

As she rounded the corner to the lift, Evren melted out of the shadows. “Jalaa’s arse!” She put a hand over her heart. “Walk a little louder next time.”

Evren just flashed that crooked grin of hers. She’d recovered well from the battle. Sol had been afraid that the half-elf wouldn’t wake at all. She’d slept for two days straight. Now, she looked fresh and rugged with her new scars. Her armor had new stitching, too. Alkimos was curled on her left pauldron, a constant reminder of a terrible gamble gone right.

Evren handed Sol her bag. “How’d it go?”

Of course, she knew where Sol had gone. The hunter was infuriatingly perceptive. “About as well as you’d expect.” Sol shouldered her bag and fiddled with the straps. “He told me he always loved me. But he still did . . . everything. It makes it hurt worse, you know?”

Evren’s deep black eyes were soft and understanding. She put a comforting hand on Sol’s shoulder. “Hey, it’ll get better.”

“Really?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never had a lover betray me for political gain. Maybe one day, though?”

Sol snorted. “I hate it. I hate men.”

“There’s always women,” she offered with a shrug, and Sol bumped her shoulder into her side.

“For you, maybe. Although . . . think I can still marry Gyda?”

Evren started laughing. “Oh, yes! Please propose to her. I’d love to see that.” She looked back at the lift and started to walk towards it. Their friends were waiting, but Sol tugged her back.

“Wait.”

Evren looked at her quizzically.

Sol let her go and started toying with her nose ring. “Back when we found Temsen, you said that Tavish was a Seeker and turned to ash. You said you’d explain that.”

“Yeah.” Evren sighed heavily and rolled her shoulders. Her eyes flickered to the wall. “When I was out here, something found me. Whoever or whatever it was turned Tavish to ash and told me to go back into the tavern. They knew about Serevadia, about what we’d find down there. They said . . .” She faltered. “They said I’d see them again. And I’m not sure I want to.”

Sol didn’t know what she’d expected from Evren, but that hadn’t been it. She took a few long seconds to get her words in order before saying lamely, “Okay.”

Evren’s black eyes flashed to her. “That’s it?” You’re not angry?”

“Why would I be?”

Evren shrugged sheepishly, and Sol took her friend’s hand. “Look, it sounds weird when you talk about it. And while I understand why you didn’t say anything, I don’t like that you kept secrets from me the whole time.” Evren opened her mouth to protest, but Sol cut her off. “I trust you. But you have to do the same for me. For all of us. This creepy weirdo comes back? Let me know. If you have a bad feeling about someone, let me know. I could’ve helped you with Heliodar a lot quicker if you’d trusted me first.”

She nodded, her mouth set in a firm line. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Sol nodded. “I know. That helps.”

Worry creased Evren’s forehead. When she spoke again, her tone was distant, as were her eyes. “Sol, we have to find that child.”

“We looked everywhere in the city. There’s no sign.”

“I know, but . . .” Her eyes flickered to the shadows that clung to the alleyway. “There’s a lot we don’t know. We don’t have all the facts. And it’s going to irritate the hells out of me until we do.”

She squeezed her hand gently. “We’ll find her, Evren. I promise.”

They shared a small smile. They were still smiling when they got back to the lift. It was easier to carry a burden with more than one person. The others were all waiting for them. If they noticed how long Sol had been gone, they didn’t mention it. As they got on, Evren made her way to the middle.

“Still scared?” Sorin snickered. The lift jolted as it moved upwards, and Evren’s jaw clenched.

“Shut up, Sorin.”

“You rode the Great Worm. How are you still afraid of heights?”

“He made it worse.”

“I’ll catch you this time,” Arke rasped.

“Only because Gyda is too heavy for the spell.”

“I heard that.”

Sol smiled as they bickered back and forth. She liked listening to them. She’d had a small family before. No siblings, just her parents. Was this what family was like? Throwing rolls at each other from across the dinner table, and dragging each other out of foul moods with bad jokes and warm embraces? Was it taking turns checking on Sorin when he woke up screaming from a nightmare? If it was, it wasn’t so bad.

Dirn-Darahl disappeared below them, and Sol barely gave it a second glance. They reached the grand vestibule at the surface and found the massive doors were still closed. As they filed off the lift excitedly, Sol trailed behind. This was what she wanted, but it was all so new. Eith was massive, and no matter how many times she looked at the map and listened to her friends’ stories, she knew she wasn’t prepared.

They lined up at the door, and Sol found herself between Evren and Abraxas. “When the door opens, where do we go?” she asked. “What do we do?”

“Everywhere,” Abraxas said.

“Everything,” Evren added.

The doors opened, and a cold gust of air hit Sol. Her cloak flew back, and her hair lifted. It stung her cheeks, and pieces of soft snow swept into the vestibule. All her friends took deep breaths, and Sorin might’ve started to cry. Sol looked up at the vast expanse of the sky above her and smiled.

Everywhere and everything. She could do that.

The End.

Thank you for reading WHERE THE SHADOWS BECKON.

The Blood of Eith series continues next with WHERE THE NIGHT CONSUMES.

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WHERE THE NIGHT CONSUMES…

EXCERPT OF WHERE THE NIGHT CONSUMES

THE BLOOD OF EITH, BOOK TWO

It was the dead of a long winter’s night, and Evren Hanali was singing.

The tune, and the half elf that sang it, were entirely out of place. The shadows of the night were thick and grasping as they clung to the towering pine trees of the Enrial Wilds. What little moonlight crept from behind the heavy blanket of clouds illuminated the thick layer of ice covering the needles and ground. Ice and snow crunched under her feet, a bow empty of arrows dangling leisurely from her hand as she walked deeper into the Wilds.

“Take to the stars ye lost soul of water,

Where your salt laden spirit cannot falter.

Oh, spirits to ash, and bones to the thunder,

We wait for the day our souls meet in wonder.”

Evren’s voice was wobbly and untrained. Pleasant, and it carried far through the crystalline forest, but wasn’t the type of voice to grace a tavern or stage. It was the voice made for lulling children to bed, for special lovers in the dead of night, for the kitchen when there was nothing but flour and sugar beneath her fingernails.

She was not that type of woman.

“Leave behind your home of salt and the sea,

Forget the ending of life you didn’t foresee.

The Bond that holds us has never been stronger,

I wait for the day our souls meet in wonder.”

Ice covered branches snatched at Evren’s heavy cloak, but snapped musically as she pulled away. Her breath clouded in the air in white puffs, caught silver by the moonlight. Behind her, something in the trees stalked her.

“Swim in a sea of stars and ride waves of wind,

Your brilliance in life such death cannot dim.

Just don’t forget who waits for you under,

I cherish the day our souls meet in wonder”.

The words left her lips in a last puff of air as she stopped in between two pines. Her throat ached from the cold and the song, and she took a soft gulp of air. She could start all over and keep walking. A fourth time through couldn’t hurt much besides her patience. She kept her body loose as she leaned against the tree and closed her eyes.

The smell of pine and ice filled her nostrils. The darkness behind her eyes was not so different from that of the night surrounding her. Plenty of dangers lurked in the shadows, but her fear of the dark had long since been trumped. The Yawning Deep had a gloom unrivaled by anything on the surface.

Besides, one could not hunt a hunter.

A twig snapped.

Evren kept herself still. It wasn’t behind her anymore. It was circling. She kept her eyes closed and started to sing again.

“Take to the stars ye lost soul of water,”

She’d sung these words for so long they were losing all meaning. The Vasa funeral song felt numb on her lips. But there was something in the steady rhythm that kept her calm. It kept her fingers from twitching towards her quiver, bristling with arrows. It kept her stiff legs from bolting into action.

It kept her still. The perfect bait.

Her borrowed words lilted across the frosty wilds, and she kept her eyes closed. Evren could hear the crunch of ice beneath its feet and could picture it watching her, circling her, and waiting for the right time. She ignored all her instincts that tried to drive her away. To nock an arrow and join the hunt as predator, not prey. She licked her chapped lips. She could do none of that.

Evren leaned her head back against the tree’s cold bark. She forced herself to focus on the music, on the smell of the earth around her. She wouldn’t be afraid.

She took another deep breath, a new verse on the tip of her tongue, and then stopped. Thick silence descended over the forest, unbroken by creaking tree limbs of cracking ice. The air smelled less of pine needles now. It smelled of rot.

Something warm and wet dripped on Evren’s cheek. She forced her eyes open.

Nothing. Nothing but ice laden branches and chipped bark. But she could smell it now. She could feel it’s hot breath on her face. A moment too late, she saw a sliver of its fangs shift in the air.

The ice wraith’s invisible body slammed into Evren from above. Jagged claws dug into her shoulders and dragged her to the ground. Snow and dirt flew up around them as Evren tried to roll away, and her bow slipped out of her grip. The wraith clung on stubbornly and pinned her by her shoulders to the ground. Snow slipped into her armor and down her back. The wraith hissed in her ear, a tune eerily similar to what she had sung earlier. Mocking her, taunting her. As it had countless others before.

Evren fought back her panic as it crawled up her throat. She brought her arm up to keep the invisible beast back. Its neck strained against her arm. She could feel the vibrations from its throat through her layers. She was already shaking from excretion, but the wraith was stronger. It was winning. She could just make out the shimmering outline of its fangs; several inches long and sharp as daggers. Inching ever closer to her throat.

Evren let its throat go and slammed her wrist into the wraith’s mouth. The fangs cut through her armor like butter, and white hot pain laced through her as the teeth almost met bone. She swallowed back a cry of pain. It was better than her throat.

She could use this.

Her blood rushed down her arm, and the coppery scent filled the night. She watched with evening breaths as her blood coated the wraith’s mouth. It dripped down its neck, tangling in its matted fur. A spike of adrenaline shot through her. And she smiled.

Evren ripped her arm out of the wraith’s mouth and, with the same arm, elbowed it square in its bloody jaw. It reared back, snarling with bubbles of bloody foam at the corner of its mouth. She took her brief window and kicked her legs at the wraith’s stomach. She rocked backwards and rolled onto her feet, a steadying hand still on the ground.

The wraith had recovered, and she could see its translucent spikes along its spine bristling in the frigid air. It paced back and forth in front of her. Her bow was behind it. She was eye level with it still, and her veins were humming with the special kind of fire she welcomed during fights now.

The tense moment between two predators could’ve lasted hours for all she knew. But one of them needed to crack, to blink. The wraith started hissing the Vasa tune again, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran down Evren’s spine. She could’ve sworn she saw it smile.

She waited for it to pace again, all the while singing its song, before she lunged at the bow behind it. Quick as lightning, it lunged at her. She pulled back at the last minute and took off in the opposite direction. The wraith screeched with frustration, and the bounding footsteps behind her let her know it was following.

Finally.

Her arm was stinging as she ran through the woods, the wraith hot on her heels and her bow getting farther away with each step. A calculated risk she hoped she wouldn’t regret later. She didn’t have her knives on her.

Evren skidded on some ice and grasped a tree trunk to swing around and continue her momentum. Seconds later, she heard the tree crack and groan as the wraith slammed into it. The midnight forest blurred past her eyes in shades of grey and silver. The cold air stung her lungs and throat, and her arm throbbed with every footfall. But she was grinning like an idiot anyway. If the wraith could see her face, perhaps it would’ve turned around and ran back. Perhaps it would’ve made the smart decision and waited for her to come back to it. Instead, all it tasted was her blood, and her running away was far too tempting.

The trees thinned out suddenly into a small clearing barely lit by the moon. Evren ran to the opposite edge of the treeline, her voice raw and piercing as she screamed,

“NOW!”

She turned around just in time to see the shimmering, bloody outline of the wraith leap at her. Then, as it was twisting in mid-air, a lasso snagged around its neck and yanked it backwards. It yowled in pain, its claws digging into the metal reinforced rope lassoed around its neck.

Behind it, a dark-haired elf kept the rope taunt, his eyes not moving from the wraith’s writhing form.

“A second pair of hands, Sol?” Abraxas yelled into the trees.

There was barely a murmur of movement before a large net made of the same rope came down on the wraith from above. Its screams of outrage echoed throughout the previously silent Wilds. Evren looked up to the treetops and couldn’t contain her grin as the pale blonde dwarf waved at her from above.

“Quite an entrance there!” Sol nodded to Evren’s still bleeding arm. “You alright? Need a healing potion?”

Evren shrugged. She barely felt her arm now. “Maybe later.”

Sol climbed down from the ice slick tree nimbly as Abraxas tied down the wraith. It snapped at his hands and feet, but the old elf was quicker than the beast. His scowl showed more annoyance than anything.

“If we don’t quiet this one down, it’ll bring its brother.” Evren looked at the darkened trees. “Who’s got the potion Professor Elend gave us?”

Sol shrugged her shoulders and gave Abraxas a questioning look. His frown deepened, and he put his foot on the rope to pull out a large bottle of glowing blue liquid. “Evren’s got butterfingers and you would lose her head if it wasn’t attached. Honestly, did you think I would let anyone else carry it?”

Sol started to argue, but stopped herself before she could. It was no use when he was right more often than not.

Abraxas let himself smile. “Now, let’s keep the net on this one while I put him to sleep.”

Evren and Sol shuffled into position and kept the net and rope tight so the wraith couldn’t move much beyond some mild thrashing. Sol wrinkled her nose at the blood on its mouth but said nothing as Abraxas carefully pried the wraith’s maw open and got the potion down its throat. No simple task, but the potion was highly potent. Even a splash would’ve been enough. Eventually, the beast stopped struggling, and they could loosen the rope.

“Is it snoring?” Sol whispered.

Evren grinned and watched the shimmering outline of the wraith’s stomach rise and fall. “Sounds like it. Maybe we should take some of that potion tonight?”

Abraxas tucked the half empty bottle into his cloak pocket. “It’s made for beasts, not us.”

“Yeah but . . .” Sol looked back at the wraith and then at him. “Just a small drop? It’s so damn cold up here, I can’t sleep! My toes ache!”

“You have your toes still attached?” Evren laughed.

“Not for long!”

Three months in the mountains of the Reino Terminan, and none of the Wandering Sols were getting used to the cold, except Gyda. The part giant woman could walk out in the snow with little more than her small clothes on and complain that it was too warm. Evren knew cold, but so far north where the nights were far longer than the days and the ice never melted was more than she bargained for. Of course, it was their own fault for braving the mountains in the dead of winter. Not that they had much of a choice, since no one else wanted their help elsewhere. Tropical vacations would have to wait.

They gathered up the ice wraith by tying its four feet together and securing a soft but strong muzzle over its mouth. Their last one had woken up halfway back to the outpost, and the result had almost been ugly. Professor Elend, a short and balding human, liked the wraiths alive and had only paid them half for the dead one. Evren still considered the job well done.

“Fifth one,” Evren grunted as she tied off the last of the rope. “Think he’s got enough for his work?”

“I don’t care if he does, no amount of coin is worth it at this point.” Abraxas rolled the wraith onto a tarp and gave them each a rope. Dragging the two hundred pound beast through the Wilds wasn’t fun, but it was easier than carrying it.

They pulled forward, following Evren’s highly visible tracks and blood trail back the way they came, with only small grunts of excretion between the three of them.

“How do you think the others did?” Sol panted. Her feet dug into the slippery ground with every passing step.

“They’re fine,” Abraxas said. “If the wraith followed Evren over Sorin, then they’re just bored.”

Large groups terrified the quiet wraiths. They were mostly scavengers, but would pick off lone hunters and wanderers if they had the chance. And they loved singing. It was a strategy they’d been using for the past few months in the Wilds. Split up into threes, one always plays bait to get the wraith interested, and then leads them to the other two. Sorin, Arke and Gyda had less muscle between the three of them, but they’d had the most luck catching the creatures. A part of Evren was just giddy she’d gotten the wraith this time.

They moved back through the forest, Evren leading them back to the spot where the wraith had jumped her. The signs of a fight were obvious. The churned up snow and earth, drizzled with Evren’s blood, wasn’t hard to miss. She could see the wraith’s claw marks on the tree she’d leaned against and shivered again. She’d beat these creatures time and time again, but that didn’t make them any less dangerous.

“Hold a moment, I dropped by bow.”

Evren dropped her rope, and Sol sighed in relief. She was a talented fighter and a hell of a diplomat, but the ex-noble was not used to menial labor.

Evren crossed the battlefield to the spot where she remembered her bow being left. She could see the prints where the wraith paced and kept her cut off. Beyond that, the snow was empty.

She slowed to a halt and knelt down. No other tracks besides hers and the wraith’s. The imprint of the bow was still visible in the snow. But it was nowhere to be seen.

She looked up, but the tree branches were empty. She circled the battlefield, and past the trees she recognized, before coming back empty-handed.

Abraxas frowned at her. “Where is it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. There're no tracks but maybe one of the others got it and are holding it for me.”

Things went missing in the Wilds all the time. Just because Evren wanted to spend the rest of the night combing the woods for her bow didn’t mean it was a good idea. People could go missing too.

She picked up the rope again and, without another word, they headed to where they’d left Gyda and Arke.

The terrain of the Wilds wasn’t easy, but this part of the Terminan was a shallow valley that didn’t get deep snow like the rest of the mountain range. Evren would take steep trails and jagged rocks over deep snow any day. She kept her breathing slow and even, even as the cold air made her lungs ache and she felt numb. Beside her, even Sol couldn’t keep up her useless chatter. And Abraxas was always quiet during a job.

They worked like that for a while until a familiar battle cry broke the silence and made them all freeze.

“That’s Gyda,” Evren said, worry knotting in her stomach.

“Could they be dealing with the wraith’s twin?” Sol’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“It shouldn’t be following them at all. Even if it heard our wraith’s capture, it makes no sense for it to travel away from us and attack others.”

Ice wraith behavior was simple. It was something Evren had memorized at this point. No wraith would bother with potential prey if their twin was in danger.

Abraxas let go of his rope without a word and drew his sword. “Something else then. We’ll come back for the wraith.”

He took off toward Gyda’s battle cry. Sol shrugged and did the same. Evren winced and followed with as fast of a jog as she dared. The ground was slippery now, and she’d be little help, wounded and weaponless. But she couldn’t ignore the cold pit in her stomach. Something was very wrong.

She raced after her companions, dodging past trees and leaping over boulders. The sounds of battle grew closer.

They ran into a clearing eerily similar to the one they’d left. Only this one held the stench of decay and death. Two dead bodies laid at Gyda’s feet as she stood between  Sorin and what looked to be two other men. But they were weaponless, and their skin was grey and peeling off in places. With a sickening feeling, Evren realized she could see frost covered bones peaking through their dead skin. Ice coated their matted hair.

On the other side of the clearing, Arke stood on top of a boulder and held his spellbook in the air. The goblin bared his teeth at the two figures clambering at his feet. He tore a piece of paper from his book, and as he crumbled it into his hand, fiery runes sprung up in the air. They swirled around his fist until they formed a flaming sphere in his palm. He hurled it down at the figure, who soundlessly stumbled back. The fire didn’t catch on their clothes, but the smell of burnt flesh filled the clearing.

“Took your damn time!” Arke shouted as he noticed them.

Abraxas wasted no time descending on the figures. He slashed at the one Arke had burned and chopped its arm clean off. The figure didn’t even flinch. It turned to Abraxas at a frightening speed, its slack jawed face and empty eyes brimming with a strange, ethereal light. Abraxas took a shocked step back. Evren wasn’t sure if she imagined the fear in his voice.

“Undead!” he cried. “Aim for the hearts!”

Undead.

The air suddenly felt much colder than before.

Abraxas drove his sword through the Undead’s chest. The same bluish green light pouted from its wound. He twisted his sword in further, reached in and pulled something out of the creature’s chest. Its heart. He tossed it to the ground and smashed it under his heel. The Undead, and its strange light, fell away. The light left the corpse and took to the sky, leaving it hollow and lifeless.

Arke and Abraxas took the next Undead together. Evren turned to the last one, who had Gyda on the defensive. Her shoulder was bleeding, but her great sword was steady. It wasn’t something she was used to seeing, but while her face was furious, her eyes betrayed an icy fear. Anything that made Gyda afraid was enough to turn Evren’s stomach.

Anything that made Gyda bleed normally just pissed her off.

Sol drew her daggers in swift elegance. Before Evren could blink, she was across the clearing and had struck one of Gyda’s Undead three times. The creature turned its attention towards her, its glowing eyes somehow following her quick movement. It reached out to grab her, and Evren saw claws of ice at the tips of each finger. A swift cut from Gyda took both the head and the arm off. Sol drove her daggers into the Undead’s chest and stabbed until the light left the corpse and it fell to the ground. The next Undead found Gyda’s blade through its chest.

The last Undead fell as Evren raced across the clearing to Sorin. The human was curled up at the base of the tree, his brown eyes wide with fear as he stared at the corpses in the snow. She settled down beside him, checking through his many layers for wounds but finding none. His heart was beating so fast she almost couldn’t feel the beats at all.

“I thought it was a wraith . . .” Sorin’s voice was unsteady and far too soft. “I led them right to us, I thought . . .” He broke off, covering his mouth in horror.

“Sorin, look at me.” she took his face in her hands and ignored how cold his cheeks were. “Look at me.”

His eyes finally broke away from the corpses and back to her.

“You’re okay.” she promised him. “We all are. Take a breath with me.” She took a deep breath of cold air and let it out slowly. Sorin nodded and did the same. It took him a couple of tries to calm down his erratic breathing, but after a while they were in sync and his heartbeat had calmed down to normal.

She dropped her hands from his face. “Better now?”

He nodded. “Yeah, just . . . I didn’t know, Evren.”

“It’s okay, you couldn’t have.”

She looked back at the rest of the party. Some wounded, all shaken. Undead weren’t something they’d expected. That was something for Melkarth and Vernes to deal with. It was why everyone in Etherak burned their dead. They hadn’t had an issue in several centuries. And there had been no reports of walking corpses in Wilds ever. If there had been, no one would willingly go.

Evren turned her gaze to Gyda, who was holding her sluggishly bleeding shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She turned to look down at Evren, and while her expression didn’t change, she could’ve sworn her eyes softened. “It’s just a scratch. Corpse got lucky.”

“I’m sorry, Gyda.” Sorin struggled to get to his feet. Even with his lanky legs, he was a good foot shorter than her. “I didn’t mean to get you hurt.”

She looked at him quizzically. “You did not hurt me,”

“But--”

“You did not.” she repeated firmly. She tapped the edge of her sword against the corpse. “It did. Stop blaming yourself.”

It was the same conversation after every battle, just with a different person. Evren eyed Sorin carefully. She watched him nod and wiggle further into his heavy cloak. His eyes were distant. He wasn’t even looking at the corpse anymore.

Something happened every battle now where Sorin would freeze up, or stumble and almost get hurt. One of them would have to step between him and danger. Evren had done it, as had Arke and Abraxas. And now Gyda. Each time, Sorin apologized. She wondered what he was sorry for. Most of their injuries, if they had any at all, were minor. None of them had the heart to hold a grudge, either. In their darkest moments in Serevadia, Sorin had been the glue. He’d changed after Heliodar had killed him, but who wouldn’t change after that? There were nights Evren wondered if Abraxas’ magic had brought him back whole, though. Tonight, as he shivered and shame melted off of him in waves, she wondered again.

“What happened?” Sol asked, turning to Arke as he jumped off the boulder. His fur layers nearly swamped the three foot tall goblin and waddled as he came up to Sorin.

“Fuck if I know.” He shrugged. “Thought we were layin’ down a trap for another wraith. Got three deadies instead.”

Abraxas toed one over and used his sword to dig into the dried rib cage. “These undead are . . . different.”

“How?” Evren asked.

“For one, they shouldn’t be so nimble in this weather. And that light,” He shook his head, and looked north where the light had disappeared. “I’ve never seen that before. The Undead in Vernes didn’t hold light like that. This is new magic.”

“Great!” Sorin’s tone was cheerful, but his voice was hollow. “Some crazy mage hiding in the mountains sending corpses after us. Just great.”

“But they burn their dead up here,” Evren said. “Everyone in Etherak does for this reason. Where’s he getting the bodies?”

No one had an answer for that. Not until Gyda knelt beside the closest corpse. She stuck her sword into the ground and let her hands hover over the body for a moment. Her face was unreadable. With a tenderness someone like her shouldn’t possess, she pulled a tattered scarf off the body. The air was still, but the scarf was so threadbare and thin it fluttered in her hand, anyway.

“A clan weave.” Gyda’s voice was barely a murmur. “These . . . these are my people.”

Evren sucked in a breath. Her eyes found the other bodies as the others did the same. Each had the same type of scarf. One had it around their head, like Gyda herself wore. There was little hair to cover, and Evren could barely tell that it was female.

Abraxas stepped forward and knelt opposite to her. Even without his plate armor, he still held himself like a soldier. In the soft moonlight, he looked older than his five hundred years. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her fingers tightening around the scarf.

“What do you people do to the dead?”

“It varies. We’ve never had to burn them. No one desecrates the fallen like this. It’s wrong.” She looked back at the other two corpses. “They are not laid to rest. They cannot join their families now. It is . . .” She took a breath and closed her eyes to compose herself. When she opened them again, all softness had vanished. “Barbaric. Whoever is doing this is stealing people from their families. We have to find out who.”

“I agree,” Abraxas nodded. “But not right now. We’ll return to the outpost and get some rest. Maybe some more information. Then, we’ll go from there. So long as everyone agrees.”

No one spoke against it, but Evren could feel the unease radiating off her friends. Monsters and beasts were one thing. The Undead was another. There was a reason Vernes was so widely hated by Etherak, and its use of necromancy was a major part of that. In Melkarth, powerful Undead ruled in part. It was because of them that Eldridge could never conquer the kingdom. Undead were simple to take down in theory, but in swarms they were impossible. And every necromancer was different. They’d be walking in blind.

Evren looked at Gyda. She never met her gaze, but she knew she was watching her. Her head bowed a little, and she tucked the scarf into her belt. The hollow look in her eyes wasn’t one she enjoyed seeing. She’d wipe it away now if she could.

But only what laid beyond the Wilds could do that. And Evren knew Gyda would go, with or without them, by her side.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing this book started out, as with everything in Eith, as an escape. I’d lived in this world so long that it seemed a crime to not write such an important piece of its history and bring it to life. And if doing that made my days a little easier, why not? It was just a passion project for the longest time. Something I could excitedly message my friends about and say, “You’ll never guess what new things I’ve come up with for our world.” and they would get just as excited as I was. I can’t really say when it hit me that I could publish this, but when it did my whole world changed.

Suddenly Eith wasn’t just mine and my friends. It didn’t belong solely to my rickety kitchen table, our group chats and my mind. It was going everywhere, to anyone who wanted to disappear into another world for an adventure. And I was going to take it there. It’s been a long road taking a world that was only meant for my friends and I and putting it to paper for everyone to read, and there are a lot of people to thank for getting it there.

For starters. All the amazing people who knew more about the journey of self publishing than I did, and helped me get there. Chelle, who took the rough story I gave her and made it better with her amazing edits and brilliant comments. I never stop thinking about them or how much they’ve helped me grow as an author. Charity, who went out of her way to ease my stress and anxiety about putting myself out into the world. Not to mention her endless optimism and support! Frauke, who literally had to lead me through the computer stuff step by step, to which I will always be grateful for. And to Stef for a fantastic cover that made the whole journey finally seem real. Thank you to Daniel for taking my extremely rough map and bringing Eith to life. Seeing a world that's only really existed in my head drawn out so beautifully it feels like a dream.

Thank you to my mom, who knew everything about everything and spent countless nights leading me through it all. Not only the ins and outs of self publishing and marketing, but also all the nights where everything good seemed far away and I couldn’t see past all the bad. I can’t count how many nights we spent talking over takeout with Criminal Minds paused on the TV screen, but I wouldn’t have gotten where I am without them.

Thank you to my dad, who’s eyes genuinely lit up when I talked about this book. And to Gina, who may never read fantasy but was just as excited about the story as I was. And to Mallory, who endured that rant about naming a giant worm like a champ. Lord knows it takes a certain skill to deal with your sister as she rants about a fictional worm needing a name, and you did it all with a straight face.

And thank you to my brother who took one look at the cover and said, “That’s your name! That’s so cool!” You were far away for most of the process, but you got back for all the good bits.

To the group chat of amazing friends that endured my rants, struggles and endless messages of how many words I wrote that day, I can’t thank you enough. You were all so supportive. Kara, with your fire and love for a book you hadn’t read yet, to Libbie and your sunlight optimism always encouraging me to do more. Tristan and Ethan, who might not have understood my frustrations or plots, but who’s jokes and laughter kept me going anyway. Bringing all of you into Eith for your first D&D game was one of the best things I was a part of, and I can’t wait to play even more games with you. Fleshlights, battle weddings and contracts with Cthulu all included.

And, starting back at the beginning, I have to thank my D&D groups. For their support and encouragement, for their own brilliant minds shaping Eith in ways I could never dream. Dungeons and Dragons is cooperative storytelling, and even though I was at the head of the table shaping the story, it was my friends who made the world even better. Thank you to Nick and Rae, for building continents and countries and histories with Gratey and Melkarth and giving me permission to write about them. Thank you to Heather, who’s brilliant storytelling in her own campaigns and her character in mine inspired me to go even farther. Not to mention all the pep talks in the grooming salon, which I’d be lost without. Thank you to Johnny for the characters you make that make me think and reshape the world to be even better, and for that crazy grin you get when you’re about to rock our world with an insane plan or epic speech. Thank you to Grace, for not only a character that changed the course of our first campaign, but also being the first person to ever read Where the Shadows Beckon. You were also the first to meme it, which is a feat all on its own. And thank you to Trystin, for joining our merry band a little later than everyone else but bringing a special brand of chaos to the table that fit right in.

Last but certainly not least, thank you to my readers. To the ones who wanted an escape like me, and the ones who long for an adventure the normal world can’t bring them. Eith has been home to me and my friends for years, and welcomes you. There’s so many stories to tell and adventures to go on, and it means everything that you took the chance to join us.

I can’t wait for the next one.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gillian Grant was born in Texas and grew up enthralled with fantasy stories of all kinds. As she got older she often traveled with her family and imagined wild adventures while exploring the mountains of Colorado and the glens of Scotland. Back home in Texas she took her love of fantasy to the next level and sat a group of friends down to play Dungeons and Dragons. From there, they built the world her first novel, Where The Shadows Beckon was set in. When she’s not writing Gillian is normally juggling too many D&D campaigns, grooming dogs, and imagining her next adventure. She still lives in Texas with her two cats.

www.GillianGrant.com

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Dedication

Pronunciation Guide

Map of Eith

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Excerpt of Where the Night Consumes

Acknowledgments

About the Author