Chapter 9 — The Child the Maze Could Not Swallow
The landing hurt.
Xheavend hit the ground on one knee.
Her palm slapped against something cold, slick, and unpleasantly soft.
Her other hand closed around—
Something.
She froze.
Behind her—
CRASH.
The metal raft struck the ground hard enough to make the floor shudder beneath her boots.
Somewhere to her left, Q rolled across black stone and disappeared briefly behind a curtain of hanging vines.
Xheavend barely noticed.
Because there was something in her hand.
Something that had not been there a heartbeat ago.
Cold weight.
Familiar weight.
Her fingers had already wrapped themselves around a grip before her mind understood what she was holding.
Slowly—
Xheavend looked down.
A short sword rested in her hand.
Dark grip.
Compact guard.
Coralsteel running along the blade's edge in a jagged line of pale pink-red.
Her breath stopped.
No.
She knew this sword.
She knew the tiny imperfection near the guard where the coralsteel dipped slightly deeper into the metal.
She knew the grip.
The weight.
The balance.
Everything.
Because yesterday—
Varin had bought it for her.
For one brief moment, the dripping cavern disappeared.
Deepcrest returned.
Salt.
Sunlight.
Hot metal.
The Coralsteel Cutler.
Rows and rows of weapons resting inside velvet-lined shells.
And Varin standing beside her looking far too pleased with himself.
The retired spear-saint had asked her one question.
"Balance for speed… or weight for stopping power?"
"Speed."
She hadn't needed to think.
"Always speed."
Varin's smile had immediately become unbearable.
Of course he'd liked that answer.
He'd bought her the short sword.
And two boot daggers.
Thin enough to disappear beneath clothing.
Small enough for her hands.
Fast.
Practical.
Hers.
He'd slid the sword toward her with that stupid grin.
"For your birthday."
She remembered picking it up.
Remembered Varin watching her test the weight.
Remembered him looking ridiculously proud when she'd approved.
"I picked it."
As if purchasing a sword required heroic sacrifice.
Then—
Deepcrest vanished.
The Living Maze returned.
Xheavend stared at the blade.
Her sword wasn't here.
It couldn't be.
She'd lost it when she was captured.
The daggers too.
Everything from Deepcrest was gone.
So—
"What?"
A voice answered from somewhere far deeper than hearing.
Weapon.
Xheavend's heart jumped.
End.
Not one of the others.
End.
She looked at the sword again.
You did this?
A pause.
Then—
We did.
Xheavend frowned.
We.
Not I.
Before she could ask what that meant, Q groaned somewhere nearby.
"I'm fine."
Xheavend hadn't asked.
Apparently he felt the need to announce it anyway.
She ignored him.
Her attention remained on the sword.
An idea occurred to her.
The daggers.
She pictured them.
Black handles.
Narrow blades.
The little curved markings near their guards.
She remembered exactly how they had felt tucked into her boots.
Nothing happened.
Xheavend concentrated harder.
Still nothing.
Her eyes narrowed.
You forgot them.
The response came immediately.
No.
End sounded offended.
Varin bought me three weapons.
One.
Three.
One at a time.
Xheavend stared at the sword.
That was considerably less impressive.
End seemed to notice.
Now, one.
And later?
Silence.
The sword felt strangely heavy in her hand.
Not physically.
Maintaining it required something.
Attention.
Like holding onto a thought that kept trying to drift away.
She tightened her grip.
And later?
This time End answered.
As many as you require.
Xheavend blinked.
How many is that?
All of them.
She frowned.
All of what?
Every weapon that exists.
A pause.
Every weapon that existed.
Another.
Every weapon that will.
Xheavend stared at the coral-edged blade.
Oh.
That was better.
Much better.
She tried the daggers again.
Nothing.
One.
I was checking.
You were hoping.
Xheavend scowled.
End said nothing else.
Probably because End knew it had won.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
Something cold struck Xheavend's cheek.
She wiped it away.
Slime stretched between her fingers.
She stared.
It moved.
Slowly.
The translucent substance crawled across her fingertip as though trying to return to the floor.
Xheavend wiped it against a rock.
The rock swallowed it.
Her face twisted.
No.
Absolutely not.
Nearby, Q had apparently reached the same conclusion.
"No."
He stood, wiping slime from his hand.
"I already dislike this floor."
Xheavend rose.
And finally—
really—
looked around.
The cavern was enormous.
No.
Not a cavern.
Something else.
The ceiling disappeared into darkness so deep she couldn't tell where stone ended.
Roots thicker than buildings twisted through everything.
Some vanished upward.
Others descended through the ground.
Several pulsed.
Slowly.
Rhythmically.
Alive.
Towering mushrooms filled the darkness.
Some were taller than houses.
Others were taller than towers.
Their caps glowed blue, white, and sickly green, casting long overlapping shadows across the ground.
Spores drifted lazily through the air.
Vines wrapped around broken ruins and statues.
Crimson liquid moved inside them.
Pulse.
Pause.
Pulse.
Q approached one wall.
Xheavend watched him reach toward it.
"Don't."
Too late.
His palm touched the stone.
The wall moved.
Barely.
An inch.
Maybe two.
Like muscle flexing beneath skin.
Q jerked backward.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Q said:
"...This maze is alive."
Xheavend's eyes moved across the cavern again.
Yes.
But that wasn't the interesting part.
If it was alive—
then it behaved like something alive.
And living things had habits.
Her brothers had taught her that.
Varin had taught her to watch hands.
Rezorin taught her to watch exits.
Icardà taught her to watch breathing.
Tavran—
Tavran taught her to watch everything.
People told you what they were going to do long before they actually did it.
Usually without realizing.
Apparently—
mazes did too.
Xheavend crouched.
The moss beneath her boots compressed easily.
Soft.
Quiet.
Good for hiding footsteps.
Bad for hiding weight.
A trail of deeper impressions disappeared between two fungal trunks.
Someone had passed recently.
Several someones.
She looked upward.
The hanging roots created blind places.
Good for ambushes.
Bad for anything trying to attack from above because the same roots would restrict movement.
Her eyes shifted toward the enormous mushrooms.
Too close together there.
Choke point.
Wider there.
Too exposed.
The crimson vines pulsed.
One.
Two.
Three—
The wall beside them shifted.
Xheavend's eyes narrowed.
Interesting.
The vines had changed first.
Barely.
Their pulse accelerated just before the wall moved.
She looked toward the drifting spores.
Most floated lazily downward.
But near another passage—
they moved sideways.
No wind touched Xheavend's face.
Three seconds later—
the passage narrowed.
Oh.
Xheavend smiled slightly.
The maze had habits.
Habits could be learned.
And anything that could be learned—
could make mistakes.
"Come on."
Q had started walking.
Xheavend followed.
The coral-edged sword remained in her hand.
Every few seconds, she checked that it was still there.
It was.
Although maintaining it was becoming increasingly strange.
Not painful.
Just tiring.
Like keeping one finger pressed against a door that wanted to close.
She didn't mention that.
They continued deeper.
The corridor curved between fungal trunks before opening into—
Xheavend stopped.
A village.
At least—
she thought it was a village.
People moved through fields of glowing moss.
Children chased luminous insects.
Elders sat beneath enormous mushroom caps.
Small structures had been built between roots and ruins.
Nobody screamed.
Nobody fought.
Nobody appeared particularly concerned that they lived inside something that breathed.
One person stood in the middle of the path.
Tall.
Thin.
Charcoal-black skin.
Silver veins glimmering beneath it.
Pale tendrils floated around their head as though underwater.
They stared upward.
"...yes..."
A pause.
"...I understand..."
Another.
"...no... the stars are quieter today..."
Xheavend looked upward.
There were no stars.
The person nodded anyway.
"...thank you."
Then walked away.
Q stared after them.
Another resident approached a wall.
Stopped.
Placed one hand against it.
"Oh."
They smiled apologetically.
"My apologies."
Then bowed.
To the wall.
And walked around it.
Q stopped.
"...I have several questions."
Xheavend almost smiled.
She didn't.
A child nearby whispered into the underside of a mushroom.
The mushroom's glowing gills flickered.
The child nodded seriously.
Then ran back toward their mother.
Xheavend watched.
That wasn't even one of the twenty strangest things she'd seen recently.
Probably not thirty.
She'd fallen through time.
Met a talking clock.
Watched Q argue with a voice living inside him.
Escaped a man who could command her blood.
Ridden a metal raft across lava.
Apologizing to walls barely qualified anymore.
She continued walking.
Then something bothered her.
She couldn't immediately understand what.
Her eyes moved across the settlement again.
People spoke.
Children laughed.
Someone argued with a root.
Someone else whispered to something beneath the ground.
Names drifted through conversations.
Places.
Warnings.
Food.
Family.
But—
Not his.
Xheavend's fingers tightened around the sword.
Nobody said Yzer.
Not once.
Her eyes dropped toward her arm.
The place where the needle had entered her skin was still there.
Small.
Almost nothing.
She rubbed it with her thumb.
No burning.
No pressure.
No pulling.
Nothing.
That should have made her feel better.
It didn't.
Yzer had been quiet.
Too quiet.
At the Furnace Mile—
he hadn't been quiet.
He had commanded her blood.
Made her body betray her.
Called her—
Pet.
Xheavend's stomach tightened.
She hated that word.
She hated how easily his voice returned whenever she remembered it.
Smooth.
Certain.
As though she'd already belonged to him and simply hadn't understood yet.
He had watched her escape.
He knew she was with Q.
He knew she was somewhere inside his Labyrinth.
And since then—
Nothing.
No voice.
No command.
No road pulling beneath her feet.
No burning beneath her skin.
No smug promise that he would find her.
Nothing.
Xheavend looked over her shoulder.
Only glowing mushrooms.
Did he lose me?
The thought lasted less than a heartbeat.
No.
Yzer didn't feel like someone who lost things.
Not things he wanted.
Her fingers pressed harder against the small mark on her arm.
Is he waiting?
End didn't answer.
Xheavend's jaw tightened.
End.
Nothing.
That was worse.
Xheavend touched the mark again.
Still nothing.
No heat.
No pressure.
No trace of him.
She should have been relieved.
Instead, she looked over her shoulder.
Once.
Then again.
Yzer was quiet.
And somehow—
she liked him better when she knew where he was.
A laugh came from somewhere nearby.
Xheavend flinched.
Only a child.
The little girl ran past carrying a glowing insect between cupped hands.
Xheavend watched her disappear.
Q had stopped several feet ahead.
He was watching one of the residents thank a root.
He looked deeply concerned about it.
Xheavend almost told him.
Almost.
Yzer is too quiet.
The words reached her tongue.
Then stopped.
Q already had enough things trying to kill him.
She could handle being afraid by herself.
She had practice.
So she said nothing.
And followed.
For several minutes—
nothing happened.
The scream came without warning.
"RUN!"
Xheavend's head snapped toward the sound.
For half a heartbeat—
nothing happened.
Then the entire settlement moved.
Not chaos.
Not confusion.
Movement.
Immediate.
Practiced.
A woman abandoned a bowl of steaming food on a stone table and grabbed the two children beside her.
A man dropped a bundle of glowing roots without looking back.
Three children who had been chasing insects moments before stopped playing at exactly the same time and ran toward the same narrow opening beneath an enormous mushroom.
An elder raised one hand.
Someone younger was already there.
Already crouching.
Already lifting him onto their back.
Nobody asked what was happening.
Nobody shouted for explanations.
Nobody tried to gather belongings.
Nobody froze.
Xheavend understood.
This wasn't panic.
It was procedure.
They had done this before.
Many times.
"What's happening?"
Q turned toward the fleeing residents.
Xheavend barely heard him.
She was watching.
Learning.
Families with small children moved toward the narrow passages first.
The fastest residents took the wider central paths.
Those carrying elders stayed close to the walls.
One root split apart when three people approached.
They disappeared beneath it.
The root sealed immediately afterward.
Another group ran past an identical root without even glancing toward it.
Why?
Xheavend's gaze sharpened.
Different color.
Barely.
The safe root had thin silver veins running through its bark.
The other had red.
She remembered that.
A mother carrying a screaming child darted around one of the enormous pale mushrooms rather than passing beneath it, even though doing so cost her several seconds.
Another person did the same.
Then another.
Nobody went beneath the pale ones.
Xheavend looked up.
Nothing.
No movement.
No threat.
Still—
she remembered that too.
People who survived somewhere dangerous usually knew things visitors didn't.
An old man stumbled toward them.
His body looked as though someone had carved him from cracked stone and packed fire inside the fractures. Golden embers burned where his eyes should have been.
He grabbed Q's sleeve.
"Don't..."
His breathing rasped.
"...stop."
Then he released him.
Turned.
And ran.
Within seconds—
the settlement was empty.
Meals remained steaming.
A child's glowing toy rolled slowly across the moss before bumping against a root.
One of the strange residents had left a cup sitting beside the wall they'd been speaking to.
Everything looked as though hundreds of people had simply vanished.
Xheavend's fingers tightened around her coral-edged sword.
It suddenly felt very small.
Very.
Very.
Small.
She touched the place on her arm where the needle had entered yesterday.
Nothing.
Still nothing.
No burning.
No pulling.
No Yzer.
She hated that.
"What are they running from?"
Q's voice sounded too loud in the abandoned settlement.
Xheavend glanced at him.
He went still.
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But she'd spent enough time around him now to recognize when Omen had said something he didn't like.
Q's eyes sharpened.
Then—
"Move."
He grabbed her hand.
Xheavend didn't argue.
They ran.
At first—
nothing followed.
That was almost worse.
Their boots struck damp moss.
Glowing spores drifted around them.
The enormous fungal trunks passed in flashes of blue and green.
Xheavend watched everything.
The people had gone left here.
Why?
The passage on the right looked wider.
Safer.
Then she noticed the moss.
No footprints.
None.
Everyone avoided it.
"Left."
Q didn't question her.
They went left.
Behind them—
the right corridor closed.
Xheavend's stomach tightened.
The crimson vines pulsed faster.
One.
Two.
Three—
"Move!"
She shoved Q forward.
A root erupted where his foot had been.
He stumbled.
Looked at her.
"How did you—"
"The vines."
"What?"
"They move before the walls do."
Q glanced toward them.
Then back at her.
"That's useful."
"I know."
They kept running.
The spores changed direction.
Up instead of down.
Xheavend noticed.
Something was coming.
Then—
Click.
She stopped breathing.
One sharp sound.
Metal striking bone.
Q slowed.
Xheavend didn't.
"Keep moving."
Another.
Click.
Closer.
Then—
Click.
Click.
Click.
The sounds multiplied.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Above them.
Behind them.
Ahead.
Inside the walls.
The noise spread until it seemed the entire maze had grown teeth and started chattering them.
Xheavend looked toward the pale mushrooms.
The ones everyone had avoided.
One opened.
Not cracked.
Opened.
Its thick fungal surface peeled apart like the petals of some enormous diseased flower.
Something unfolded from inside.
Nine feet tall.
Long limbs.
Hooked claws.
A head made from a faceless fungal bloom.
Xheavend's sword suddenly felt even smaller.
Another mushroom opened.
Then another.
Another.
Five.
Ten.
Twenty.
All around them.
Xheavend understood.
The creatures hadn't arrived.
They had been there the entire time.
Sleeping inside the walls.
Beside the village.
Above the children.
Waiting.
Click.
One dropped.
Not toward them.
Toward someone who hadn't escaped quickly enough.
The old man.
The one who had warned Q.
His ember eyes widened.
A hooked tongue shot from the creature's mouth.
Wrapped around his waist.
Yanked.
He vanished beneath several bodies.
Xheavend flinched.
The scream lasted less than two seconds.
Then—
nothing.
The creatures moved away.
No body remained.
No blood.
One pressed both hands against the ground.
The moss opened.
Roots parted.
Something beneath the earth swallowed whatever remained.
Then the creature crawled back into the wall.
The fungus sealed around it.
Xheavend stared.
The maze had eaten him.
Click.
Click.
Click.
More creatures descended.
"Q."
"I know."
They ran.
Something dropped behind them.
Q grabbed her wrist and pulled her around a fungal trunk.
A claw struck where she'd been.
Another creature landed ahead.
Xheavend raised her sword.
The coral edge shimmered.
She could fight.
She knew she could.
Then the ground moved beneath her foot.
"What—"
A root rolled.
Her ankle slipped.
The world tilted.
Xheavend expected the ground.
Instead—
an arm wrapped around her.
Then another.
Suddenly she wasn't running anymore.
She was being carried.
Her brain took exactly half a second to register what had happened.
Then—
Absolutely not.
"Put me down."
Q kept running.
"No."
"I can help."
"I know."
"So let me."
"You're nine."
Xheavend stared at him.
There it was again.
Nine.
Everyone suddenly cared tremendously about nine whenever she wanted to do something useful.
Nobody had cared that she was nine when Yzer put a needle into her.
Nobody had cared when she'd been dragged through the Labyrinth.
Nobody had cared when she'd needed to fight Vaelrith.
But apparently being carried while chased by giant mushrooms had very strict age requirements.
"You keep saying that."
Q vaulted over a fallen piece of stone.
"Because it keeps being true."
Xheavend's eyes narrowed.
"This is discrimination."
For one ridiculous moment—
Q almost laughed.
She saw it.
The corner of his mouth moved.
Then a fungal creature crashed into the archway behind them.
Q ran faster.
Xheavend wrapped one arm around his shoulders.
Only because falling would be inconvenient.
That was all.
Nothing else.
She absolutely did not like this.
Except—
A small part of her did.
And she hated that part immediately.
Being held was supposed to feel wrong now.
Hands meant restraint.
Hands meant someone deciding where she went.
Hands meant handlers grabbing her arms.
Hands meant Yzer.
Except Yzer hadn't even needed hands.
He had reached inside her body and made her blood obey him.
Made her muscles betray her.
Made something belonging to her answer someone else.
Pet.
Xheavend swallowed.
Q's arm tightened around her as he jumped another root.
"Got you."
Two words.
Nothing important.
Except her body heard them.
And didn't panic.
Q wasn't holding her like property.
He wasn't carrying her because he wanted control.
He wasn't deciding where she belonged.
He was watching the ground.
Watching the walls.
Watching the things chasing them.
Trying to keep both of them alive.
Her body understood the difference before she wanted to.
Xheavend frowned against his shoulder.
Annoying.
Q was becoming extremely annoying.
The vines ahead pulsed.
Fast.
Her head snapped up.
"Left!"
Q moved immediately.
No question.
No hesitation.
A wall slammed down where they'd been.
He glanced at her.
"Again?"
"Again."
"You really can read this place."
Xheavend watched the spores.
"Not all of it."
"That's comforting."
"It wasn't supposed to be."
Another click sounded overhead.
Q groaned.
"You and Omen would get along."
Xheavend almost smiled.
Then—
the maze changed.
Everything moved.
Roots erupted from walls.
Stone bridges rotated.
Fungal towers folded inward.
Passages disappeared.
New ones opened.
The ground beneath them twisted.
Xheavend stopped thinking about individual attacks.
She looked at everything.
Vines.
Spores.
Roots.
Moss.
Walls.
Movement.
The maze wasn't trying to crush them.
Not exactly.
It was directing them.
Every safe path closed after they entered it.
Every dangerous path remained open just long enough to force another decision.
They weren't escaping.
They were being herded.
Xheavend's stomach turned.
"Q."
"I know."
"No."
She looked around.
"It's taking us somewhere."
That got his attention.
"What?"
"The maze."
Another corridor closed.
Xheavend pointed.
"It keeps leaving one way open."
Q looked ahead.
Then behind.
"...You're right."
That frightened her more than if he'd disagreed.
A bridge narrowed beneath them.
Q jumped.
Landed hard.
Xheavend's teeth clicked together.
"Ow."
"Sorry."
"Put me down."
"No."
"I can run."
A fungal trunk exploded beside them.
Q ducked.
"Fine!"
He lowered her.
Her boots hit the ground.
Xheavend immediately ran.
Three steps behind him.
Then two.
Good.
Better.
She could move herself.
She could watch her own feet.
She could—
The crimson vines pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Too fast.
Xheavend's eyes widened.
"Q—"
The floor exploded.
Roots thicker than buildings erupted between them.
Xheavend threw herself backward.
One tore through the exact place she'd been standing.
Another followed.
Then another.
A wall of living wood surged upward.
"Q!"
His voice came immediately.
"I'm here!"
Relief hit so hard it almost hurt.
Xheavend scrambled forward.
The roots twisted together.
No opening.
No gap.
Nothing.
SLAM.
Something struck them from the other side.
Q.
Again.
SLAM.
Again.
"Q!"
"I'm here!"
Xheavend raised the coral-edged sword.
She struck.
The blade cut deep.
Black-red sap spilled.
For one heartbeat—
she saw through.
Then the root closed.
The wound vanished.
"No."
She struck again.
Harder.
Nothing.
Again.
"Q!"
"XHEAVEND!"
"I'm here!"
SLAM.
Q was still attacking from the other side.
Xheavend attacked too.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The coralsteel edge carved wounds that disappeared almost before she could pull the sword free.
Then—
the wall moved.
Xheavend stumbled.
"No."
The entire barrier slid sideways.
"Q!"
"I'm here!"
His voice moved with it.
Farther.
Xheavend ran alongside the wall.
"Q!"
Another section rotated between them.
"XHEAVEND!"
His voice was farther away.
"No!"
She ran faster.
The floor tilted.
She nearly fell.
"I'm over—"
The corridor turned.
Not curved.
Turned.
The wall carrying Q's voice folded away.
Stone slid into stone.
Roots sealed.
The glowing mushrooms vanished behind layers of living tissue.
And suddenly—
silence.
Xheavend stopped.
Her sword remained raised.
Her chest rose.
Fell.
Rose again.
Too fast.
"Q?"
Nothing.
She stepped toward the wall.
"Q?"
Her voice came back.
Quiet.
Small.
She pressed one hand against the living surface.
"Q!"
The maze returned her voice.
Q.
Q.
Q.
Each echo weaker than the last.
No answer.
Xheavend hit the wall.
"Q!"
Nothing.
Again.
"Q!"
Nothing.
Her breathing accelerated.
No.
No.
No.
He'd been there.
Three steps away.
Maybe two.
She'd heard him.
He'd said—
I'm here.
Her fingers tightened around the sword.
The coralsteel trembled.
Yesterday came back too easily.
Hands.
Chains.
Blood.
Yzer.
Deepcrest disappearing behind her.
Her brothers nowhere.
No Tavran.
No Varin.
No Rezorin.
No Icardà.
Then Q.
Now—
No Q.
Her breaths became shorter.
She knew this feeling.
She hated this feeling.
The walls seemed closer.
The roots louder.
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
"Q..."
Nothing.
Xheavend squeezed her eyes shut.
She couldn't—
Breathe.
Her eyes opened.
End.
Xheavend swallowed.
I am breathing.
Poorly.
She almost became angry.
Good.
Anger was easier.
Shut up.
Breathe.
Xheavend inhaled.
Too fast.
Again.
She tried.
Slower.
Held it.
Exhaled.
Again.
Her hands were still shaking.
Again.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Her heartbeat stopped trying to escape her chest.
Barely.
Xheavend opened her eyes.
"I'm finding him."
End said nothing.
That meant agreement.
Probably.
Maybe.
She preferred interpreting it that way.
Then—
Click.
Xheavend froze.
One sound.
Somewhere ahead.
Click.
Behind.
Her sword rose.
The enormous mushrooms surrounding her flickered.
Blue light dimmed.
Green disappeared.
White faded.
Xheavend looked up.
"No."
One by one—
every source of light went out.
Darkness swallowed the corridor.
Complete.
Absolute.
Xheavend couldn't see her own hand.
For one heartbeat—
she was six again.
Varin had hidden behind a curtain.
Badly.
He always hid badly when he was playing with her because he thought pretending to lose made the game more fun.
The room had been dark.
Nearly completely.
Xheavend had walked inside.
Stopped.
Looked directly toward the curtain.
Varin's body glowed behind it.
Not really glowing.
Not like fire.
Something else.
Warmth had shape.
His face.
His hands.
The places where his body heated the fabric.
"You know I can see you."
Silence.
Varin slowly leaned around the curtain.
"...What?"
"You're glowing."
He looked down at himself.
Then back at her.
"Can you see me?"
"Yes."
He stepped completely into the room.
"That's cheating."
Xheavend frowned.
"How?"
"Because darkness is supposed to be dark."
She'd looked around.
It wasn't.
Not really.
"Dark isn't dark."
Varin stared at her.
Then grinned.
"Excellent."
He pointed dramatically.
"You're officially the worst person to play hide-and-seek with."
Click.
Xheavend returned to the maze.
Black.
For a moment.
Then—
her pupils widened.
The darkness softened.
There was light.
Almost none.
Tiny scraps.
Weak traces drifting through the cavern.
Light her eyes gathered greedily and made larger.
The world slowly rebuilt itself in strange shades of green and gray.
A root.
Stone.
Moss.
Spores.
The edge of her sword.
The outline of a mushroom.
Better.
Then she reached deeper.
Something inside her eyes changed.
A faint warmth gathered behind them.
Not visible.
Not to ordinary sight.
A thin wash of invisible illumination spread ahead of her.
The corridor sharpened.
More edges appeared.
More distance.
More detail.
Xheavend exhaled.
Then something moved beyond where even that hidden light reached.
Her vision changed again.
Green vanished.
Heat replaced it.
Her hands became bright shapes.
Her breath spilled from her mouth in pale warmth.
The place where her palm had touched the wall remained visible.
A ghostly handprint.
Cooling.
Fading.
Her footprints lingered behind her.
Each one dimmer than the last.
Tiny creatures beneath the moss glimmered like buried sparks.
Blood—
her blood from the scratch on her shoulder—
burned warmer than her clothes.
Xheavend slowly turned.
Darkness wasn't empty anymore.
It was full of heat.
And farther down the corridor—
something enormous moved.
Warm.
Very warm.
Her stomach dropped.
Click.
Another shape appeared.
Then another.
Cold armor.
Warm beneath.
Xheavend lowered her stance.
Her sword suddenly felt small again.
But it was still a sword.
And it was hers.
Sort of.
Three.
End.
Xheavend watched the heat signatures.
I know.
Three.
One ahead.
One left.
One behind the fungal trunk.
Easy.
Then—
Four.
Xheavend froze.
Her eyes moved upward.
Oh.
A fourth creature clung upside down to the ceiling.
Its fungal armor was nearly as cold as the surrounding stone.
She'd missed it.
But beneath that armor—
warm channels moved.
Muscle.
Blood.
Something hotter deep inside the chest.
Its hooked tongue curled inside its mouth.
The muscles controlling it glowed.
Xheavend swallowed.
I knew that too.
No.
She scowled.
End could be extremely rude for something living inside her.
The first creature moved.
Click.
Xheavend watched.
Not the claw.
Shoulder.
Varin had taught her that.
People looked at weapons.
Don't.
Weapons lied.
Bodies didn't.
The shoulder moved before the arm.
The hip before the leg.
The creature lunged.
Xheavend stepped sideways.
The claw passed her face.
Too close.
She stepped inside its reach.
The outer fungal armor was cold.
Thick.
Don't hit armor.
Warmth burned behind its knee.
She cut there.
The blade passed through tendon.
The creature collapsed.
Its mouth opened.
Heat gathered along the tongue muscles.
Xheavend turned.
Slice.
The hooked tongue struck the ground.
The creature convulsed.
Xheavend moved away.
Second.
Above.
She reached instinctively toward her boot.
Dagger.
Nothing.
Right.
One weapon.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
The creature dropped.
Left.
I know.
She threw herself sideways.
The creature sailed past.
Xheavend rolled beneath it.
Warm seam beneath the jaw.
There.
She drove the coral-edged blade upward.
The creature jerked.
Black blood spilled hot across her hand.
She pulled the sword free.
Two.
Click.
Click.
The third came from behind the fungal trunk.
Fast.
Xheavend watched its heat.
Shoulder.
Hip.
Tongue.
Movement became lines.
Not thoughts.
Lines.
Heat.
Movement.
Distance.
Exit.
Threat.
It lunged.
She stepped forward instead of back.
The creature overreached.
Xheavend cut beneath its arm.
Turned.
Cut the inside of the elbow.
Its claw stopped responding.
One leg moved.
She was already there.
Behind the knee.
Cut.
It dropped.
Xheavend stepped behind it.
Blade across the warm seam beneath the fungal bloom.
Pull.
The creature remained upright.
For one heartbeat.
Then—
a black line opened across its neck.
Its head slid sideways.
The body collapsed.
Three.
Xheavend breathed hard.
Where was—
Behind.
I know.
She spun.
Nothing.
Her eyes widened.
Down.
"I KNOW!"
The moss exploded beneath her.
The fourth creature erupted upward.
Xheavend jumped backward.
Too slow.
A claw caught her shoulder.
Pain tore through her.
She hit the ground.
The sword flickered.
No.
The creature towered over her.
Xheavend concentrated.
Deepcrest.
Coralsteel.
Varin's grin.
I picked it.
The sword solidified.
The creature's tongue fired.
Xheavend rolled.
The hook struck the ground where her stomach had been.
She came up on one knee.
The tongue recoiled.
Heat.
Muscle.
Movement.
She saw everything now.
Not because it had become slower.
Because she understood where it had to go.
The creature stepped.
Its weight shifted.
Right leg.
Xheavend moved left.
Claw.
Duck.
Tongue.
Turn.
She caught the hooked tongue against the coral edge.
Pulled.
The creature stumbled forward.
Exactly where she wanted it.
Xheavend stepped in.
One cut.
Behind the knee.
Another.
Inside the elbow.
Turn.
Under the jaw.
She moved away.
The creature remained standing.
Xheavend stopped.
For one strange heartbeat—
nothing happened.
Then a cut opened behind its knee.
Its leg folded.
Another opened beneath its arm.
The claw dropped.
A final black line appeared beneath its fungal head.
The creature collapsed.
Silence.
Xheavend stood among them.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Cooling bodies burned dimly through her altered vision.
Black blood spread across the floor.
Her own shoulder burned.
Her lungs hurt.
Her hands shook.
She stared at what she'd done.
Four creatures.
By herself.
Not because she'd been stronger.
She wasn't.
Not because she'd been faster.
Maybe a little.
She'd watched.
That was all.
She'd seen where they needed to move.
And cut the things they needed in order to move there.
One creature twitched.
Xheavend's sword rose immediately.
It tried to push itself up.
Couldn't.
She stepped closer.
One precise cut.
It stopped.
Silence returned.
Her sword remained raised.
Her hand trembled around the grip.
She looked at the bodies.
Then at herself.
Blood.
Some hers.
Most not.
Her stomach turned.
End spoke.
Good.
Xheavend swallowed.
"That was horrible."
Yes.
"Don't say good."
Silence.
Then—
Alive.
Xheavend looked down.
Her chest rose.
Fell.
Rose again.
Still breathing.
Still standing.
Still here.
"...Fine."
End went quiet.
Xheavend frowned.
She hated when End won arguments with one word.
Xheavend stood very still.
Four bodies surrounded her.
Black blood spread through the moss in slow, glistening rivers.
The fungal creatures were cooling.
She could see it happening.
Through the strange second sight of her eyes, the warmth inside them faded from bright gold-white to dull orange.
Then red.
Then darker.
Soon they would disappear into the cold surrounding everything else.
Xheavend's own body remained painfully bright.
Her heart.
Her face.
The blood running down her shoulder.
Her fingers wrapped around the coral-edged sword.
She could hear herself breathing.
Too loud.
She lowered the blade slightly.
Then stopped.
Something was wrong.
Not with the creatures.
Not with the maze.
Something else.
Xheavend slowly looked around.
Nothing moved.
The walls had stopped shifting.
The roots had stopped crawling.
Even the clicking had disappeared.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Her stomach tightened.
She had fought four of them.
She had shouted.
She had spilled blood.
A lot of blood.
The maze was alive.
She knew that now.
It felt people walking through it.
It moved around them.
Fed from them.
Changed itself because of them.
So surely—
he knew.
Xheavend's fingers tightened around the sword.
Yzer should know.
She touched her arm.
The place where the needle had entered.
Nothing.
No burning.
She waited.
Nothing.
No invisible road forming beneath her feet.
No force pulling her somewhere she didn't want to go.
No voice.
No command.
No—
Come here, pet.
Her stomach twisted.
She hated that word.
She hated him.
She hated his stupid lavender face.
His stupid eyes.
His stupid gloves.
His stupid quiet voice.
She hated everything about him.
So why—
why did she suddenly want to hear him?
Not because she missed him.
Absolutely not.
If Yzer was speaking—
he was watching.
If he was threatening—
he was angry.
If he was ordering her to return—
she was somewhere he didn't want her to be.
But this?
Nothing.
Xheavend stared into the darkness.
She wanted Yzer to threaten her.
Which was a stupid thing to want.
Possibly the stupidest thing she had ever wanted.
But threats meant she knew where he was.
Silence meant she didn't.
Her mouth moved before she could stop it.
"...Where are you?"
The words traveled farther than she wanted.
Soft.
Small.
Echoing through the corridor.
Where are you?
Where are you?
Where are you?
Xheavend immediately regretted it.
Her sword rose.
She waited.
Please don't answer.
Nothing.
Good.
No.
Not good.
End had become still.
Xheavend felt it.
Usually End existed somewhere inside her like a strange pressure she couldn't quite locate.
Watching.
Listening.
Occasionally being annoying.
Now—
nothing.
End?
No answer.
Xheavend's heart beat faster.
End.
Here.
She exhaled.
Then frowned.
Why are you being quiet?
Nothing.
That wasn't an answer.
She touched her arm again.
No heat.
No pain.
No Yzer.
Her eyes moved toward the dead creatures.
Then the walls.
Then the path behind her.
A thought entered her mind.
Xheavend wished it hadn't.
Maybe Yzer wasn't searching for her.
No.
He was.
He had to be.
He'd called her his property.
His pet.
He'd sent creatures after her.
He'd nearly dragged her back with her own blood.
Someone like Yzer didn't simply decide—
Oh well.
Maybe he couldn't find her.
Xheavend dismissed that immediately.
She didn't believe it.
Then why wasn't he coming?
Unless—
Her gaze slowly moved toward the corridor ahead.
Unless he already knew where she was going.
Cold spread through her stomach.
The maze had separated her from Q.
The maze had extinguished the lights.
The maze had sent creatures after her.
And since she'd entered it—
every corridor had been moving.
Closing.
Opening.
Directing.
Herding.
Maybe she'd been thinking about it backward.
Maybe the Living Maze wasn't keeping Yzer away from her.
Maybe—
it was taking her somewhere he wanted her to go.
Xheavend stopped breathing.
"No."
The wall beside her moved.
She jumped backward.
Sword raised.
Roots peeled apart.
Stone groaned.
An entire section of the living corridor folded inward.
Xheavend retreated another step.
The opening widened.
Darkness waited beyond.
Her thermal sight searched it.
Cold stone.
Roots.
Moss.
Then—
warmth.
A body.
Large.
Standing perfectly still.
Xheavend raised her sword with both hands.
The figure stepped forward.
And Xheavend prepared to kill him.
He wasn't another mushroom.
That was the first thing she noticed.
The second—
he was enormous.
Not giant enormous.
But tall enough that Xheavend immediately disliked how far she had to tilt her head.
Amethyst-black scales covered much of his body, shifting faintly beneath the strange light like pieces of a night sky someone had broken and fitted over him.
Ancient golden markings ran across them.
Not painted.
Not carved.
They glowed from underneath.
A thick scaled tail moved once behind him.
His hands ended in claws.
His eyes were worse.
Pitch-black around molten gold.
Vertical pupils.
Predator eyes.
Xheavend adjusted her grip.
She couldn't see a weapon.
That didn't mean anything.
She had learned that lesson already.
The stranger looked at the dead creatures.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Then—
at her.
His expression changed.
Barely.
He saw the blood on her shoulder.
The way she stood.
The sword.
Her feet.
Her position against the wall.
Xheavend had chosen it deliberately.
Nothing could get behind her without crossing her sight first.
He noticed.
She knew he noticed because his gaze flicked once toward the wall behind her.
Then returned to her.
He didn't come closer.
That surprised her.
Most adults did.
They saw a child and immediately decided distance was unnecessary.
Yzer had.
The handlers had.
Even people trying to help sometimes did.
This stranger stopped far enough away that Xheavend would have to move several steps to reach him.
His hands remained where she could see them.
His tail settled against the ground.
No sudden movements.
No magic.
Nothing.
Then he smiled.
Not widely.
Not like Yzer.
Something quieter.
"Hello, Little Lady."
Xheavend pointed the sword directly at his chest.
"Don't call me that."
The stranger paused.
"...Noted."
That was it.
No argument.
No I shall call you whatever I please.
No amusement at the tiny bleeding child trying to tell him what to do.
He simply—
stopped.
His head tilted slightly.
"Would you prefer terrifying armed stranger?"
Xheavend narrowed her eyes.
"You're the stranger."
A pause.
"An excellent point."
She didn't lower the sword.
Neither did he move.
"Who are you?"
"Goro."
Xheavend's eyes sharpened.
Goro.
Her heart jumped.
Q.
The Book.
They'd been looking for—
"You."
Goro raised one brow.
"Me."
"Q's looking for you."
Something warm entered his expression.
"I know."
Xheavend didn't like that answer.
"How?"
"Complicated."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
"Then answer."
Goro considered her for a moment.
Then his mouth twitched.
"I suspect we're going to have many conversations like this."
"We're not."
"That would certainly simplify matters."
She stared at him.
He stared back.
Still no movement.
Still no attempt to get closer.
Then Goro said something considerably worse.
"I have been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time."
Xheavend's sword immediately rose another inch.
Goro blinked.
"How long?"
He seemed to realize something.
"...That was poorly phrased."
"How long?"
"Very."
Her sword rose another inch.
Goro's eyes followed it.
He sighed.
"I am making this worse."
"Yes."
"Excellent. We understand one another."
Xheavend wasn't sure they did.
Actually—
she was almost certain they didn't.
"How do you know me?"
Goro's smile disappeared.
Not entirely.
But enough.
His gaze rested upon her with something Xheavend couldn't understand.
Recognition.
Except that made no sense.
She had never met him.
She would remember the giant scaled man with the tail.
Probably.
"You don't know me."
"No," Goro said softly.
That should have made her feel better.
It didn't.
"Not yet."
Xheavend's grip tightened.
"What does that mean?"
"Unfortunately, exactly what it sounds like."
"That's stupid."
"Time frequently is."
Xheavend stared.
Goro stared.
Then he sighed.
"I've been saying things incorrectly since arriving."
"You've said almost everything incorrectly."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
And despite herself—
the tiniest part of Xheavend wanted to laugh.
She crushed it immediately.
Suspicious people did not laugh at suspicious serpent men.
That was probably a rule somewhere.
Then—
End moved.
Xheavend froze.
Not fear.
Not warning.
Something stranger.
Recognition.
Deep enough that she felt it through her entire body.
Goro felt it too.
His expression changed instantly.
Every trace of humor vanished.
His molten-gold eyes settled upon her.
No.
Not her.
Deeper.
Xheavend knew that look.
Omen had looked at her like that.
As though there was something behind her eyes.
Something ancient enough to be recognized separately from the little girl carrying it.
End became very quiet.
Then—
Serpent.
Xheavend's heart jumped.
You know him?
Silence.
Goro's mouth twitched.
"Apparently."
The coral blade snapped toward his throat.
"I didn't say anything."
"No."
"Then how did you answer me?"
"I didn't."
"You just did."
"I responded to your expression."
"My expression didn't say anything."
"It said quite a lot."
Xheavend narrowed her eyes.
Goro lifted both hands slightly.
"I cannot hear your thoughts."
She didn't believe him.
He seemed to know that.
"I recognized something recognizing me."
That—
somehow—
made more sense.
Barely.
Xheavend glanced inward.
End?
Nothing.
Do we know him?
Nothing.
Have we met him?
Nothing.
Is he dangerous?
A pause.
Goro waited.
Then End answered.
Yes.
Xheavend's sword rose.
Goro sighed.
"I feel I've just been insulted."
Is he dangerous to me?
Longer silence.
Then—
No.
Xheavend's sword lowered.
Not much.
But enough that Goro noticed.
He didn't smile.
That mattered.
He could have treated it like a victory.
Instead he simply accepted the tiny amount of ground she'd given him.
Then his gaze shifted toward her shoulder.
"You are injured."
Xheavend immediately stiffened.
"I'm fine."
"You are bleeding."
"That doesn't mean I'm not fine."
Goro considered that.
"Fair."
She hadn't expected agreement.
He nodded toward her shoulder.
"May I?"
Xheavend didn't even need to think.
"No."
"Very well."
He reached toward his belt.
Xheavend's sword snapped back up.
Goro stopped.
Slowly.
He looked at the sword.
Then at her.
"I am going to remove bandages."
She said nothing.
"And medicine."
Nothing.
"And water."
Xheavend watched his hand.
Goro moved slowly enough that she could track every finger.
He removed a small wrapped bundle.
A narrow container.
A water flask.
Then—
he crouched.
Set all three on the ground.
And backed away.
Several steps.
Xheavend stared.
"You may do it yourself."
She didn't move.
Goro waited.
No impatience.
No reaching.
No don't be ridiculous.
Nothing.
Xheavend looked at the supplies.
Then at him.
Then the supplies.
"What is it?"
"Medicine."
"I know that."
"Then we're making excellent progress."
Her eyes narrowed.
"What's in it?"
Goro named several things.
Xheavend recognized two.
One stopped bleeding.
Another prevented infection.
She didn't recognize the others.
"What do those do?"
He explained.
Xheavend listened carefully.
Then approached.
Not him.
The supplies.
She kept the sword in one hand while crouching.
Awkward.
But possible.
She picked up the medicine.
Smelled it.
Sharp.
Bitter.
Not familiar.
Goro watched.
Xheavend dipped two fingers inside.
Scooped out a large amount.
"Not that much."
She froze.
Looked at him.
"Why?"
"Unless you'd like your arm numb until tomorrow."
Xheavend looked at the medicine.
Then removed most of it.
"...How much?"
"Half of what remains."
She removed half.
Goro nodded.
She applied it.
Cold immediately spread through the claw wound.
Xheavend hissed.
Her sword almost vanished.
She concentrated.
The coralsteel solidified again.
Goro's eyes flicked toward it.
Curious.
He said nothing.
That made her notice him noticing.
Which made her suspicious again.
"You know what this is."
"The sword?"
"How I made it."
Goro's expression became carefully neutral.
"I have theories."
"Tell me."
"No."
Xheavend blinked.
"No?"
"You have enough things frightening you today."
"I'm not frightened."
Goro looked around.
Four dead fungal monsters.
Living walls.
Complete darkness.
A bleeding nine-year-old separated from the people protecting her.
Then back at Xheavend.
"Of course."
She glared.
He didn't challenge her.
Somehow that was worse.
Xheavend wrapped the bandage around her shoulder.
Once.
Twice.
Bad angle.
She tried again.
Goro watched her struggle.
He did not move.
Finally—
"Pull the lower edge first."
Xheavend did.
The wrap tightened correctly.
"Across."
She followed.
"Now beneath."
Again.
"Good."
She tied it.
Not perfectly.
But securely.
Xheavend flexed her arm.
It hurt less.
"...Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She picked up the flask.
Smelled that too.
Goro's mouth twitched.
"Water."
"It could be poisoned."
"It could."
She looked at him.
"Is it?"
"No."
"That's what someone poisoning me would say."
"Correct."
Xheavend frowned.
That was unhelpful.
Goro lowered himself to the ground.
Slowly.
He sat.
Not closer.
Just—
sat.
Cross-legged.
Tail curling beside him.
"I can drink first."
Xheavend stared at him.
"You could be immune."
"Also true."
"You're bad at this."
"I thought honesty was helping."
"It isn't."
"Interesting."
He seemed genuinely thoughtful about that.
Xheavend finally drank.
Only a little.
Nothing happened.
She drank again.
Her throat hurt less.
Goro waited.
Xheavend put the flask down.
"I still don't trust you."
"I should hope not."
She blinked.
"What?"
"You met me several minutes ago."
He gestured toward himself.
"I am considerably larger than you, armed despite appearances, familiar with something living inside you that you don't entirely understand, and apparently know more about you than I am willing to explain."
Xheavend stared.
Goro continued calmly.
"Trusting me immediately would demonstrate alarmingly poor judgment."
"...Oh."
"You should watch me."
"I am."
"I noticed."
"Good."
"Very."
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then—
Q.
The thought struck her so quickly she stood.
"Goro."
His head lifted.
"Q."
She grabbed the sword.
"We have to find Q."
"We will."
"Now."
Goro rose.
"No."
Xheavend stared at him.
The warmth disappeared from his expression.
Not replaced by cruelty.
By certainty.
"We are getting you somewhere safe first."
Her entire body stiffened.
"No."
Goro stopped.
Xheavend's sword came up.
"I said we need to find him."
"And I heard you."
"He protected me."
Goro became very still.
Xheavend didn't care.
"He didn't have to."
Her voice rose.
"He could've left me. He didn't. He kept coming back. He carried me when those things were chasing us even though I told him not to, and when the maze separated us, he tried to break through."
She pointed toward the living walls.
"I heard him."
Again.
Again.
Again.
Q striking the roots.
I'm here.
Her throat tightened.
"He protected me."
Goro's expression softened.
"So I need to help him."
Something passed through Goro's eyes.
Pride?
Sadness?
Recognition?
Xheavend couldn't tell.
"Yes," he said quietly.
"Then let's go."
"No."
She stared at him.
Goro raised one hand before she could explode.
"I will go back for him."
"Then I'm coming."
"No."
"I can fight."
"I know."
"I killed those."
"I noticed."
"I'm not helpless."
"I did not say you were."
"Then why can't I come?"
"Because protecting someone does not require you to throw yourself into every danger they encounter."
Xheavend opened her mouth.
Goro continued.
"And because your friend protected you for a reason."
Friend.
The word hit strangely.
Xheavend looked away.
Goro pretended not to notice.
"If I drag you back through the colony and you are injured again, what exactly do you imagine he will say when I find him?"
Xheavend thought about Q.
Thought about his expression.
You're nine.
Her face soured.
"He'll complain."
"Extensively, I suspect."
"He complains a lot."
"I know."
Xheavend looked sharply at him.
Goro smiled.
"Later."
She hated that answer.
Goro turned toward the newly opened corridor.
"Come."
Xheavend didn't move.
He looked back.
"I will find him."
"Promise?"
Goro's expression changed.
The humor disappeared completely.
Not darkness.
Not severity.
Something older.
He placed one clawed hand over his heart.
"I promise."
Xheavend studied him.
End remained quiet.
But not alarmed.
Not warning her.
For now—
that was enough.
She walked forward.
Not beside Goro.
Several steps behind.
Sword still out.
Goro glanced over his shoulder.
"An excellent position."
"What?"
"Far enough away that I cannot easily grab you."
Xheavend frowned.
"You noticed."
"I notice many things."
"That's creepy."
"I have been told."
"By who?"
"You."
"I've known you for five minutes."
Goro's tail swept lazily behind him.
"Time is complicated."
Xheavend groaned.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"I might."
"That's healthier."
She stared at the back of his head.
Then—
Click.
Something moved in the darkness ahead.
Xheavend's sword came up.
Goro didn't even slow.
A fungal hunter dropped from the ceiling.
Xheavend saw the heat bloom.
Saw the claws extend.
Saw the hooked tongue fire.
"Goro!"
His tail moved.
That was all.
One moment the creature was falling.
The next—
it disappeared sideways.
BOOM.
The wall fifty feet away exploded.
The fungal hunter was embedded inside it.
Xheavend stopped walking.
Goro continued.
"...What?"
Xheavend looked at the crater.
Then him.
Then the crater.
"You hit it with your tail."
"Yes."
"You didn't look."
"No."
"You didn't even stop."
"No."
The creature twitched.
Goro's tail moved again.
CRACK.
It stopped twitching.
Goro glanced back.
"Coming?"
Xheavend stared at him.
Then slowly lowered her sword.
"...Maybe you can find Q."
Goro smiled.
"I was hoping you'd reach that conclusion."
Xheavend hurried after him.
Still several steps behind.
Still watching.
Still not trusting him.
Since the maze had swallowed Q—
she didn't feel entirely alone.
The passage opened without warning.
One moment—
roots.
Stone.
Darkness.
The distant clicking of things Xheavend very much hoped had finally decided to bother someone else.
Then Goro stepped through an arch of black rock—
and the world became enormous.
Xheavend stopped.
Actually stopped.
Her coral-edged sword remained in her hand.
Her breathing did too.
For a second.
Maybe two.
Because this—
this could not be inside the Labyrinth.
It was too large.
Too bright.
Too alive.
The cavern stretched farther than she could see.
Not like a room.
Like a world someone had hidden beneath another world.
Great rivers curved through the darkness below them, some silver, some black, some glowing faintly blue where crystals crowded their banks. Waterfalls dropped from cliffs so high their beginnings disappeared somewhere among colossal roots and hanging stone.
Farther away—
lava spilled down mountains.
Actual mountains.
Inside the ground.
Xheavend stared.
"That's stupid."
Goro looked over.
"Which part?"
She pointed.
"Mountains."
"Mountains offend you?"
"They're underground."
"Ah."
He considered this.
"The mountains have chosen not to apologize."
Xheavend gave him a look.
Goro continued walking.
She followed more slowly.
Below—
forests spread between the rivers.
Trees with emerald leaves.
Others blue.
Others gold.
Some enormous enough that entire buildings had been constructed between their branches.
Crystal formations climbed from cliffs like frozen lightning.
Bridges crossed ravines.
Roads wound around terraces.
Gardens covered rooftops.
And beyond all of it—
a city.
Xheavend forgot the mountains.
The city rose beside a lake so clear it reflected the glowing cavern ceiling like another sky.
Gold.
Obsidian.
Crystal.
Tier after tier of towers and homes built along the water.
Temples climbed above them.
Canals divided districts.
Warm lights filled windows.
For several seconds—
she could only stare.
Because there were no chains.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Not the gold.
Not the giant lake.
Not the impossible architecture.
No chains.
Her eyes searched automatically.
Roads.
Bridges.
Doorways.
Windows.
Hands.
Necks.
Nothing.
No collars.
No handlers.
No Wardens.
No soldiers herding people toward somewhere they didn't want to go.
No cages hanging over streets.
Nobody kneeling because someone had told them to.
Nobody calling anyone—
Pet.
Xheavend's grip tightened around the sword anyway.
Pretty places lied.
She had learned that.
Yzer's home had been beautiful too.
Black roses.
Silver trees.
Violet pools.
Paradise built over screams.
Beauty meant nothing.
So she watched the people.
That was better.
Families crossed one of the bridges carrying baskets.
A horned woman argued cheerfully with a merchant.
Someone watered flowers growing from a balcony.
Two old men sat beneath a crystal tree and seemed to be cheating at some kind of board game.
One accused the other loudly.
The other looked proud.
Normal.
Suspiciously normal.
Then—
a scream rose from below.
Xheavend froze.
Her sword came up.
Goro stopped immediately.
Did not touch her.
Did not ask what was wrong.
Another scream.
Higher.
Then three at once.
Xheavend searched for the source.
And found—
children.
Running through a plaza.
One tiny boy with feathers along his arms was chasing a girl with antlers.
Another child had six tails.
Two more were wielding wooden sticks and screaming at each other with the seriousness of generals defending kingdoms.
One fell.
Xheavend's heart jumped.
Another child grabbed them by the arm.
Pulled them upright.
Then both started laughing.
Loudly.
So loudly their voices bounced across the lake.
Xheavend stared.
Children were screaming.
But—
laughter.
They were screaming because they were playing.
One little girl climbed onto the edge of a fountain.
An adult called something toward her.
Not angry.
Probably telling her not to fall.
The girl ignored them.
Naturally.
Another child ran straight through a group of old women.
Nobody struck him.
One of the women caught him around the middle.
He shrieked.
She kissed the top of his head.
Released him.
He ran away laughing harder.
Xheavend's sword lowered an inch.
Then another.
She waited.
Nobody came.
No guards.
No punishment.
No one barked for silence.
No one told them children should be seen and not heard.
Nobody grabbed anyone by the wrist.
Nobody decided laughter was disrespect.
The plaza remained loud.
Chaotic.
Alive.
Children who were afraid did not make that much noise.
Xheavend knew.
Afraid children listened.
They watched.
They learned footsteps.
Doors.
Voices.
Tempers.
Where adults kept their hands.
Where exits were.
They became quiet because quiet things were harder to notice.
These children—
were terrible at being unnoticed.
One was now standing on a table.
Someone below applauded.
Xheavend slowly lowered her sword.
Goro saw.
He said nothing.
Good.
If he'd said safe, she might have raised it again out of spite.
They continued along the descending path.
The closer they came—
the more Yrtana revealed itself.
Food.
That surprised her.
Not that people ate.
Obviously.
But people ate outside.
Tables stood in plazas.
Families passed plates to one another.
A baker was shouting at someone who had apparently stolen something from a tray.
The thief looked approximately five.
And unapologetic.
A group of hunters sat on a wall drinking from clay cups.
One had removed all their weapons and piled them beside a bench without anyone trying to steal them.
People slept in public.
Actually slept.
One old man had fallen asleep beneath a tree with his mouth open.
Nobody touched him.
Nobody took anything.
Nobody looked at him like weakness had been displayed.
Xheavend did not realize how strange that seemed until she noticed herself noticing.
Goro led her toward a path overlooking the harbor.
People saw him.
Some stopped.
Some smiled.
A few bowed.
Others simply lifted a hand.
Nobody ran away.
That mattered too.
Power usually changed rooms.
People became smaller around it.
Quieter.
Careful.
Goro was probably the most dangerous thing Xheavend had seen since—
No.
Second most dangerous.
End objected.
Fine.
One of the most dangerous.
And people looked happy to see him.
That was harder to fake.
Especially children.
Children were terrible liars.
One little scaled boy spotted Goro from across the road.
His face lit up.
"CAPTAIN!"
He abandoned whatever his mother had been trying to feed him and sprinted directly toward them.
Goro sighed.
The child launched himself at one of Goro's legs.
Actually hugged it.
Xheavend stared.
Goro looked down.
"Hello, Tavik."
"You came back!"
"I frequently do."
"You were gone forever."
"Three weeks."
"FOREVER."
"Naturally."
Another child arrived.
Then another.
One climbed onto Goro's tail.
He looked mildly offended.
Did not remove them.
Xheavend stared harder.
One girl, maybe six, walked directly up to her.
Xheavend's sword rose instinctively.
The girl stopped.
Good survival instincts.
She had blue skin, curly white hair, and eyes like polished bronze.
She looked at the weapon.
Then at Xheavend.
"Is that coral?"
Xheavend blinked.
"...Yes."
"Pretty."
Then the girl ran away.
That was it.
No questions.
Who are you?
Why are you bleeding?
Where are your parents?
Why are you carrying a weapon?
Nothing.
She had simply complimented the sword.
Xheavend looked down at it.
Varin's gift.
Or End's memory of it.
Her throat tightened.
Tomorrow.
No.
Today?
She had lost track.
Her birthday.
The thought hurt enough that she shoved it away.
Not now.
She looked back toward the tunnels behind them.
Nothing.
No familiar figure.
No silver cloak.
No complaint about mushrooms.
Her chest tightened.
Q.
Goro had said he would come.
Goro also said many irritating things with far too much confidence.
Xheavend wasn't sure that made him reliable.
She followed him deeper into Yrtana.
But she kept looking back.
Every few steps.
Tunnel.
Bridge.
Tunnel again.
Nothing.
Goro eventually brought her to a terrace overlooking the harbor.
Not a hidden fortress.
Not a guarded chamber.
Just a wide stone platform beneath flowering vines.
Water moved below them.
The lake glowed faintly blue where enormous fish drifted beneath the surface.
A bench curved around the terrace.
Xheavend did not sit on it.
She sat on the ground near the edge instead.
Back against a pillar.
Sword across her knees.
Facing the tunnel.
Goro disappeared.
Xheavend noticed immediately.
Her spine straightened.
End moved.
Not alarmed.
Watching.
Then Goro returned carrying food.
She relaxed approximately none.
He set a tray several feet away.
Bread.
Fruit.
Something steaming inside a bowl.
Water.
Then backed away.
No instruction.
No eat.
No command.
He sat against the opposite side of the terrace.
Cross-legged.
Hands resting on his knees.
Xheavend stared at the tunnel.
Goro waited.
She waited.
Five minutes.
Maybe ten.
She wasn't sure.
The food smelled good.
She ignored it.
"He'll come."
Xheavend's eyes remained on the passage.
"You said that."
"I did."
"You're taking a long time to be right."
Goro's mouth twitched.
Not quite laughter.
"An unfortunate limitation of being correct about future events."
She glanced at him.
"That sentence made no sense."
"It will eventually."
"I hate when people say that."
"So does Q."
Her gaze snapped back toward the tunnel.
Nothing.
Goro noticed.
Again—
said nothing.
That was becoming irritating too.
Not because she wanted him talking.
Because silence gave her room to think.
And thinking kept returning to the roots closing.
Q shouting—
I'm here!
Then farther.
Then gone.
The ceiling full of clicking creatures.
He had been alone.
No.
Not alone.
Omen.
She could feel the second presence in him.
The ancient one.
That did not mean either was invincible.
Everyone acted like powerful things couldn't die.
Xheavend knew better.
Dead people had taught her otherwise.
She touched the sword.
Still warm from her grip.
Goro's voice came from across the terrace.
"You care about him."
"No."
Immediate.
Goro nodded.
"Naturally."
Xheavend looked over.
"I don't."
"I didn't argue."
"You sounded like you did."
"An unfortunate defect in my voice."
She glared at him.
Goro smiled.
"I've known him for less than a day."
"Time is not always the measure people pretend it is."
"That's another annoying sentence."
"I have many."
"He helped me because he had to."
Goro tilted his head.
"Did he?"
Xheavend hesitated.
He had fought riders.
Followed her.
Entered the Labyrinth.
Put himself between her and Yzer.
Carried her when the maze attacked.
Promised—
No.
He had never promised much.
That was perhaps why she believed him.
She looked back toward the tunnel.
"He said he wouldn't take me back."
"And?"
"He didn't."
Goro's expression softened.
"That seems useful."
"He calls me a child too much."
"You are one."
Xheavend's head snapped toward him.
Goro lifted both hands.
"Observation."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Careful."
"Terrifying armed child."
"Worse."
"Still?"
"Yes."
"I'll continue experimenting."
"You shouldn't."
"Probably not."
She almost smiled.
Refused.
Goro noticed anyway.
Naturally.
Xheavend finally reached for the bread.
Not because she was hungry.
She was.
Very.
But because sitting there starving seemed like something Goro would notice and never stop noticing.
She tore off a piece.
Ate.
Good.
Too good.
She hated that too.
The bowl contained something thick with roots, herbs, and little golden grains.
She smelled it carefully.
Goro watched.
"Poison?"
She asked.
"No."
"Would you tell me if it was?"
"Depends on whether the lesson required poisoning."
Xheavend stopped.
Goro smiled.
"That was a joke."
She stared.
"You need practice."
"So I've been told."
She tasted the soup.
Warm.
Her stomach reacted so violently with hunger that she had to stop herself from eating too fast.
Goro looked away.
Deliberately.
That small kindness almost hurt.
End moved.
Xheavend froze.
Not violently.
A shift.
Four presences gathering close.
Death.
Famine.
War.
Conquest.
Not afraid.
Aware.
She looked toward Goro.
He was already looking at her.
No.
Through her.
Not intrusively.
Recognizing.
His expression changed.
The teasing disappeared.
Something else replaced it.
Gratitude.
Xheavend knew gratitude.
This was deeper.
Grief too.
And affection.
Which made no sense.
They had met less than an hour ago.
Maybe more.
Time had become stupid.
Still.
He looked at her like someone returning something he thought he'd lost.
Xheavend's hand settled around the sword.
Goro noticed.
His gaze moved down.
Then up.
He smiled faintly.
"I have waited a very long time to meet you."
This time—
she didn't immediately point the weapon at him.
Progress.
Probably.
"Why?"
Goro looked toward the lake.
For several seconds, he didn't answer.
End became very still.
Xheavend noticed that more than anything.
You know why.
No response.
Of course.
Secrets.
Always secrets.
She hated secrets.
Goro finally looked back.
"Because one day, Little Lady—"
Xheavend's eyes narrowed.
He stopped.
"Right."
A pause.
He studied her.
Then asked:
"What should I call you?"
That caught her off guard.
Not what is your name?
Not demanding it.
Asking what she wanted.
Xheavend looked toward the tunnels.
Yzer did not know.
That mattered.
Names had become dangerous.
But this place—
children screamed because they were happy.
Goro had put medicine down and backed away.
He had accepted no.
Repeatedly.
End knew him.
And Q knew him.
More importantly—
Q had come here looking for him.
That meant something.
Xheavend swallowed.
"My name..."
The words caught.
For one second she saw Yzer.
Who are you?
Tell me your name.
Command pressing into her throat.
End crushing it.
Her silence had been hers.
Still was.
Which meant giving the name now could be hers too.
Choice.
Xheavend lifted her chin.
"Xheavend."
Goro did not react dramatically.
No surprise.
No triumph.
No finally.
He only bowed his head.
"Xheavend."
Something inside her relaxed.
Barely.
Goro smiled.
"Thank you."
Not—
I knew.
Not—
I was waiting.
Thank you.
Because she'd given him something.
Her choice.
Her name.
Xheavend looked away before he could see how much that mattered.
Unfortunately, he probably saw anyway.
Ancient annoying serpent.
Goro continued.
"One day, Xheavend..."
His voice softened.
"...you will do something for me that I can never repay."
She looked back.
"I haven't done anything."
"Not yet."
"What do I do?"
His smile turned sad.
"Something I hope you never have to understand before its time."
"That doesn't answer me."
"No."
"Then answer."
"I cannot."
"Why?"
"Time."
Xheavend stared.
Goro winced.
"Yes. I know. Terrible answer."
"The worst."
"I agree."
"Tell me anyway."
"No."
"Then why bring it up?"
Goro considered that.
"Because when the time comes, I want you to know that whatever happens afterward..."
He looked directly at her.
"...you will never owe me."
Xheavend frowned.
"I don't understand."
"I know."
End moved again.
A strange ache spread through her chest.
Not hers.
Theirs.
Grief.
Old grief.
And behind it—
something warm.
Goro looked toward End again.
Xheavend saw the recognition.
The history.
Something had happened between them.
Or would.
That was irritating.
She pointed her spoon at him.
"You know them."
"Somewhat."
"That's not an answer."
"It is technically an answer."
"You sound like Wisper."
The name escaped before she meant to say it.
Her chest tightened.
Goro's expression changed.
"Who is Wisper?"
Xheavend looked down.
"Gone."
"Dead?"
"No."
She said it immediately.
Certain.
"He exploded."
Goro blinked.
"Into blood."
Another blink.
"He does that?"
"I don't know."
"Useful."
"It wasn't useful."
"Fair."
"He'll come back."
Goro nodded.
Not dismissively.
Not pretending.
"If you say so."
Xheavend looked at him.
"You believe me?"
"I have no reason not to."
She hated how simple he made things.
Goro rose.
Xheavend's attention immediately sharpened.
"Where are you going?"
"To keep my promise."
Her fingers tightened around the sword.
"You're finding Q."
"Yes."
"How long?"
Goro glanced toward the tunnel.
"As long as it takes."
Xheavend didn't like that answer.
Apparently her face said so.
Goro's mouth twitched.
"I will bring him back."
"You already promised."
"Then I suppose I'd better avoid becoming a liar."
He disappeared into the tunnel.
Xheavend watched until even his tail vanished into the dark.