The voices came late that night, crawling their way through the tangled roots and fissures in the cavern’s ceiling. They disappeared shortly after. But Pen knew that they would return.

Not all of what the men said made sense. The Tahori they spoke sounded different, twangy, and the few words that came through were pronounced all shades of wrong. There was talk of bugs, of monkeys, even of snakes, worrying her for a breath until she remembered she hadn’t seen any slithering through the jungle so far. They used words she’d only heard in passing on the markets, curses, mixed with other harsh sounds she couldn’t decipher. The conversation then went on to mention a fight, and a search. ’The other unit.’ That was who they were looking for.

After they had left, Pen looked around at the softly heaving bodies of the eight guards that remained, and Wellan keeping watch, and Rannek snoring softly next to her. She wondered if they even fit the description anymore. A unit had purpose. It had control. Meanwhile, even sleep couldn’t calm the exhausted faces around her. They looked restless and troubled, and twitched at whatever dark dreams haunted their minds.

This wasn’t what they had signed up for. All guards were soldiers on paper, but the reputation was a different one; a City Guard was supposed to be more akin to a police force than a troop. A ’vacation’, as the non-guard soldiers despisingly called it. Many, if not most of the men around her had enlisted with Rannek and Wellan to avoid this exact situation: trapped in the jungle, outnumbered, surrounded by an unseen enemy. She wondered if this was what war felt like. What did war feel like, she remembered asking father once. Like uncertainty, he’d said. She hadn’t understood back then; after all, she felt uncertain all the time, and so did he.

To that, he had never replied.

Pen shifted and rolled around, but the shallow sleep she’d found before was now unattainable. She noticed an absence next to her, and rose to look for Ibiko. Thank the gods, there he was, back turned, sitting by the—

The crack.

Pen crouched and tip-toed over Rannek and two of the guards to seize his shoulder. Ibiko’s head shot around in panic. But then his eyes turned to the heavens in relief. “Ha… You s-scared me,“ he whispered.

A brief shushing noise came at them from Wellan. He looked up from the ledger he had somehow kept throughout the escape, and signed them to lie down and sleep.

Pen signed back that there were voices above, and that the others may wish to know about that.

To do what, Wellan signed with a shrug, and returned to his ledger.

She didn’t have an answer to that. They had built somewhat of a blockade, cramming the gap leading into the cavern full of roots, earth, and rubble, but it did more in terms of hiding than it would protect them. Should they be discovered, the fight would be a gruesome one—entering and exiting was only possible in single file, and even then, the adults had to twist and turn to get through. Their only choice was to lay low.

Pen sat down next to Ibiko, albeit a bit further back, and stared at the crack with him. It loomed hidden behind protruding edges of rock, and framed by a pair of twin roots that had died half-way along an attempt to burrow through the cavern’s wall. Even knowing what treachery laid there, she could still fool herself into doubting its capacity to swallow a man whole. She arched her neck to speak quietly in his ear. “Why sit here?“

“I…“ Ibiko paused, and bowed his head. “I’m sick of being afraid.“

“We all are. Staring at holes won’t solve that.“

“It might. Sa-same thing took half my family. Different size, different scope, but in the end, they’re all j-just holes…“ He sighed. “What does it want, I wonder.“

“It?“

He turned with a tired smile. “Sorry, I’m—“

A shush silenced them, and Pen instantly listened for voices from outside. But there weren’t any. Only cicadas. She scooted up closer, and just sat with Ibiko for a while.

He raised his hand and pointed at the slivers of black. “I looked inside,“ he said, his voice hardly more than the faint smacking of his lips and tongue.

“You shouldn’t,“ Pen whispered.

“I saw something.“

She looked at him with growing concern. “Saw what?“

“A light.“ He paused. “The c-candle’s still down there.“

An image came to be in her mind’s eye, a torment. Pen shook her head. “So? We have candles. You shouldn’t be looking down there, you need rest. Come back to sleep.“

But he kept staring, and pointing. “This wasn’t here before. This… hole. It must’ve been the the collapse, there’s no—“

A hand dug into Pen’s shoulder, raising her up from the ground. Wellan leaned in until Ibiko and her were both squirming a finger’s width from his inflated face. He did not say a word. He didn’t need to. They returned to the warmth of their blankets and assumed faux sleep long before he sat down again. Pen heard a page on his ledger turn with a light swish. Sssh, she imagined scolding him. She laid awake long after, unable to sleep, waiting in vain for the lines of light to brighten. The night seemed to go on forever.

Nestled back to back with Ibiko, she imagined telling Yuri about her journey to distract her mind from the tormenting image of a body wrapped in red and beige and pale, jammed in between unmoving walls of rock, lips smacking in a breathless plea.

A dreadful sound banged off the walls, waking up everyone but the prefect in an instant. Their eyes darted around searching for the source, until Wellan stepped into the center with his palms raised reassuringly. Cries of animal nature soon joined the bangs, and when Pen looked up at the ceiling, she noticed puffs of dust and earth shooting from the roots growing there.

“Erues,“ Ibiko whispered in the cover of the noise. He looked less worried than relieved. “Wiry little bastards like to fight in the trees. They’re gonna lose interest soon.“

“Better soon,“ Wellan whispered back. “Noise will attract the enemy. Can we stop them?“

“Not without going outside.“

Wellan grunted and turned toward his guards. »We may as well catch up. Somebody wake the prefect.«

Pen shook Rannek’s shoulder until he emerged with the noise of someone who’d barely dozed off. »What is it?«, he said, putting on his splintered glasses. A look of displeasure flashed across his face as he realized where he was.

Wellan raised his fingertips to his lips, and spoke silently. »We heard voices outside during the night. Most likely Liberation. Pen, did you understand them?«

»… They’re looking for us«, she said.

He pursed his lips. »All the more reason to stay inside. We may have to go out at night to gather food, rations are out. And the radio’s broken for good, is that correct, Kysryn?«

Private Kysryn nodded, and so did Wellan. His announcement ended here, a fact that seemed to surprise even him a bit. As much as she could read him, Pen saw a man at the brink of total exhaustion. He must have kept watch throughout the entire night.

»That would be it«, he said before pointing up at the ceiling where the monkeys’ attack on the grove came to a climax. »And please, Pen, Ibiko, we can’t risk talking without cover. I can give you paper to write on if you promise to be quiet.«

»I’ve got paper«, she said. It was buried in the backpack that made up Ibiko’s and her pillow, along with all the utterly useless items she had packed. Perhaps she would write. Wellan could hardly complain about sounds he made himself.

“Commander Sersynin, sir,“ Ibiko said, or asked; he seemed unsure which path to take.

“Speak.“

“I looked in the crack.“ Not this again. “I could see the candle. I even dropped a pebble. The echoes… I’m telling you, there could be space to hide down there!“

“First you say you fear the ground. Then you wish to go inside,“ Wellan said. “Make up the mind.“

“I…“ Ibiko faltered. “I can go down there. I’ll do it! Make sure everything’s safe.“

Pen put her hand on his back. “Ibiko—“

“It might be worth considering,“ Rannek said with an annoying smile. “We have few options as it is, why not explore each one?“

For that, he earned both Pen’s and Wellan’s glare, though neither of them could object. Their options were indeed limited. Still, the mere thought of having to climb down there made her shoulders tremble. Moreover, Ibiko’s mood swings did not reassure her at all—who knew whether his next swing wouldn’t occur in the midst of his descent? She couldn’t let another man plunge to his death.

As Wellan gave a grudging nod, Pen zipped open the backpack and went diving for her satchel. Inside, she found her pencils and the empty notebook she’d brought, and sat looking at Ibiko as she thought about what to write.

Please, don’t go down there. It’s dangerous.

Other backpacks zipped open and shut around her in the collective search for rope. The monkeys seemed to indeed lose interest, ceasing their banging and fighting, and settling somewhere near the grove. She pulled at Ibiko’s sleeve, and when he didn’t react, she yanked until he sat down next to her and agreed to take her pencil.

i have to were out of optins

You don’t have to prove anything, Pen wrote.

no proving. its not save here we cant stay

You suggested we hide here!

A hint of shame drew his gaze downward. i did im sorry

I didn’t mean it like that. You saved us. But what do you think you’ll find down there besides, she wrote, and paused before adding him?

space for you

There’s hardly gonna be enough space for all of us.

not all. you

Ibiko stood up before she could respond, and sent down a smile so caring it made Pen want to cry. Her mind became a storm of anger and guilt. As ropes were unrolled and instructions given by Ibiko and Wellan to wind it around the bellied spire of rock in the opposite corner of the cavern, Pen bowed down, and wrote on regardless.

How can you say that to someone? Do you know how that feels? I don’t want anyone to die to protect me—I CHOSE TO COME! I have to be sorry! I’m a burden on all of you, and every time you risk your life on my behalf hurts. It hurts, you get that? You should want to live yourself. You should

’Run’, was what she was going to write. That thought had occurred to her before; nimble and quiet as he was, he could probably sneak out of the valley with ease if it weren’t for his tail of huffing, gun-wielding gojas. Even if he got caught, chances were that the Liberation would only take him for an unarmed miner.

He would never take that advice, she knew. But that wasn’t the reason why her hand kept hovering unable to put the word on paper. She didn’t want him to go. Pen closed the notebook and looked up hoping Ibiko hadn’t noticed her frantic scribbling.

She saw two guards in an eerie tilt before her, holding on to a taut rope that went twice around the spire. She saw Wellan’s cautious eyes alternating between the men and the corner of the cavern. She saw Rannek in that corner, near headless as he peeked inside the crack.

She didn’t see Ibiko. Pen shot up and across the cavern to almost crash into Rannek, who took hold of her shoulders trying to calm her. But there was no calm. There the rope ended at the brink of darkness, running into the crack, still but for an occasional tremor. He’d already gone down. “Wait,“ Pen said, and noticed how unstable her voice sounded.

“Shhh,“ Rannek whispered. “Ibiko knows what he’s doing. We have to trust him.“

“He could fall, he could end up like—“

“He won’t, Pen. He won’t.“

She wrangled herself free of his embrace. “You don’t know that!“

“Pen,“ a voice said. It was faint, and multiplied by strange echoes. Ibiko. She stepped closer to the crack and, when Rannek didn’t stop her, carefully reached her head inside. “Pen!“

She immediately noticed the cool air rising from the below. Looking down there, she saw no Ibiko, but instead a faint glow of purple reflected from somewhere beyond the slabs of rock. “Are you okay?,“ she asked back.

“Yeah!“ His voice came from all around her, ghostly, and oddly offset. It sounded like a rather happy ghost, though. “More than that… Pen, there’s space!“

“For how many?“

“All of us!“

Before she could even react, Pen was pulled back from the opening. “How narrow is the way down?“ Rannek asked, ignoring her jabs at his stomach. Pen was denied the other side of their conversation; the crack remained sealed by the bodies of Rannek and Wellan, discussing the ins and outs of the crack with the young miner.

She leaned back against the wall and let her shoulders slump. They would be safe. Hungry, but safe. And not a breath too soon. The erues were gone, or at least their noise was, leaving her with the buzzing and cawing of the jungle’s airborne populace. Having lived under its assault for two days now, it seemed almost like silence to her. She listened for human noises, the voices of the night, but they didn’t return just yet. Perhaps they wouldn’t. Perhaps God’s Army would arrive before the day’s end, and they would be saved. She took stock of her feelings toward the image of colonel Syrkanan’s face emerging from the entrance to usher out Rannek without so much as glancing at her. With unease, she realized how little she would mind.

Before long, Ibiko came crawling out of the crack. As he untied the knot holding the rope around his waist, she noticed her notebook lying face-open on the ground showing her rushed handwriting. I’m a burden. She felt so pitiful that she grabbed the book and her pencil and scrawled a spiraling orb of blackness across her lament.

Ibiko flicked her ear as he sat down, and pointed at the orb.

Nothing. It’s art.

were you afraid

I named it ’Despair’. It’s art.

you were afraid its okay what did you write

I left out a small spot of white and filled it in after you went down to symbolize the death of hope. That makes it art. It’s art. Pen tried to impress her sincerity on him with a stare. But his smile proved impervious.

i know what you wrote

I doubt that.

im sorry. i alredy have a girlfriend

Ahaha gross. There was no reason to blush, she explained to her face. You’re making jokes now?

no joke four years steady shes great

Sure… I think I prefer angsty you over the cocky one.

same guy

I’ll make sure to remind you of that when you go all catatonic again. When he didn’t pick up the pencil, regret seized her. Sorry. I’m even worse at jokes than you.

But Ibiko just flicked her ear again, and smiled, and then stood up. As he went over to the soldiers who congratulated him for his feat with pats on his back, she found it not that hard to picture him with a girl his age, who liked his beard and his friendly eyes and that hint of uncertainty glinting in them even now, with his confidence all but restored. She prayed for the gods to spare him further trouble.

She reckoned her own sparing was well implied in that prayer.

Plans were hatched and sketched in Wellan’s ledger. Pen knew she wouldn’t go first—barring their flight through the jungle the night before, her place was in the center of the column, where danger could neither lash out nor sneak up on her. Where she would be protected. She noticed the black orb in her notebook staring at her, and turned a page. Waiting for the guards to pack their bags and receive their instructions, she picked up the pencil once more, and started to hatch a sketch of her own.

Crooked grids of rock, vines, roots, and small clusters of weeds appeared on the paper, though crudely represented and utterly out of proportion. But the lines of light she managed to capture. Some of the guards found their way into her sketch standing at the edges of the scenery, their boots, their backs, their white hair on heads freed of the blue beret. When the planes of light and dark began to bear likeness to the cavern, she focused on the details. A dent in an otherwise straight edge. A malnourished flower sprouting from a fissure. A trio of bugs in perpetual chase of each other under the ceiling. A family of mushrooms. A sixteen-legged spider. A patch of blacks and browns growing atop the makeshift blockade. A pair of glowing green spots buried inside.

What was that, she wondered, and squinted her eyes.

Pen stumbled and fell, scraping her knee. Private Kysryn’s large hands picked her up by the shoulders. She found her bearings and moved on, perilous corners coming at her from all sides as she clawed and jumped and continued to stumble through the narrow passageway. There was only one color, the color of the Ore, bouncing shakily off the cragged rock as the column descended. Private Dhav slipped ahead of her. But she was of no help, and could only wait until he’d raised himself up again.

It had all happened in a flash. The green-eyed man turning, her pointing, the guards climbing after him. That breath of silence before the first gunshot sounded outside. Ibiko grabbing her from behind, dragging her into the crack. Clinging to his chest as they rappelled down. Her foot touching down on something soft, her eyes spotting a tangled heap of beige and red before he dragged her further. Gralinn commands resonating in the cavern, soon joined by gunshots. Guards sliding down the rope after them, slipping, falling, Staen spraining his ankle. Wellan joining them, Rannek clinging to his back. Ibiko never letting go of her until he did. And disappeared.

It was his voice that now led them, the rest of them, through a split so narrow and uneven she feared it would end at every turn. But it went on, further than she’d anticipated, further than she even thought possible, deep down into the rock. The air grew colder with each step she took. But it wasn’t still. A current sometimes blew in her face, whistling faintly through the rock. Wellan had been the first to notice, just before he had told them to move on, staying behind with his rifle and his Ore candle. She did not know if he intended to ever catch up.

“I-I can see you!“ Ibiko’s voice called out. “You’re a-al-almost there!“ He was far from catatonic, yet his fear was plain to hear. During their rushed descent, he’d again started to mumble to himself. Still, his body hadn’t given out this time. A fact she may well have owed her life to.

The guard ahead of her disappeared around a turn. When she came out on the other side, Pen was surprised to find her feet planted on even ground. Rock made way for cement, and the closeness of the passageway spit her out into a spacious room. Ibiko rushed up and embraced her tightly, mumbling words of gratitude to the gods. Over his shoulder, she glanced Rannek, and private Dhav, and the room stretching further that the candles’ light could reach.

They had found a tunnel. With her senses flared up still, she couldn’t judge that piece of news properly, but something told her that it was a good thing even though none of the faces around her reflected anything but terror. Together, they stared at the exit of the passageway, another crack in another wall, a hole, and watched as private Kysryn emerged into the tunnel, followed by private Staen, limping. And then, there was nothing.

»What is he waiting for?«, Rannek asked.

The enemy, she wanted to say. Yet she wanted to hear it no more than he did. »He told us to move on.«

»We won’t, not without Wellan. We can’t.« When he turned, Pen saw his eyes glistening. He wasn’t just moved by reason. He was pleading.

“L-let me get Penroe into hiding!“ Ibiko said. “She needs to stay safe.“

Pen resisted his pulling hand. “I’m not leaving anyone behind!“

The look Ibiko gave her spoke a harsh truth. We left Mallaslyn’s body behind in the crack. We left five men to die in the cavern. If they didn’t move soon, who knew what came crawling after them. The green-eyed man must have seen the rope. Had he survived? Was the rope still up there? Why had everything gone so silent? No one knew but the enemy.

A noise came through the crack, short and high and sharp. The shattering of glass. Pen wrestled her wrist free of Ibiko’s grip and stepped closer to listen. Rannek raised his hand in objection, but then lowered it, and joined her with his moist eyes closed.

A rumble. A steady one, without any vibration of the ground, its deep thrust filling the air. Tongues of bright violet licked at the walls of the passageway. She tapped Rannek’s shoulder to make him open his eyes.

»A fire«, Rannek said, exilharated. »He used the candle to start a fire! The draft, he must’ve seen—Ha! That might just keep the Liberation out long enough for us to escape!« He made his hands into a cone around his mouth. »Wellan! You beautiful genius!«

Pen stared down the crack unwilling to join in with his cheers. It was a good idea, what Wellan had done. Only a vague fear told her that she shouldn’t assume so quickly which side of the fire he had put himself on.

A body separated from the flickering glow of the fire, pushing on, stumbling through the crack. Wellan’s hand reached out and was grabbed by Kysryn, who pulled him through. He inhaled deeply while throwing a grim look around. »What are you waiting for?«

»You«, Rannek said, wiping his eyes. »You beautiful—«

»I heard«, Wellan grunted. »Keep it down, will you?« He took the candle Dhav was holding and twisted the hilt. A shield rose around the oval covering all but the tip. The light shrunk together into a bright violet beam, and he shone it onto the heaps and hills of rubble scattered across the tunnel. “Ibiko, you know this?“

Ibiko nodded. “I do, but not p-personally. Most likely an abandoned sh-shift of mine three. Should give us—“

“It goes to the mine, still?“

“No,“ Ibiko said. “W-we bar the entrances after the lodes run dry.“

“Good.“ Wellan inspected the roof and walls with the focused candle, discovering an alarming amount of cracks, and tears, and broken concrete. “I heard them took the mines. Not safe anymore.“

Pen looked to Ibiko, finding him in dismay. His shoulders sunk, his eyes went down, his breath picked up, yet still, he remained quiet. She rubbed his back. “What do we do?“

Wellan turned, twisted the candle back to its former faintly-glowing self, and looked at each of them in succession. The last thing that would die in him was his resolve, and there it was in his eyes, still gleaming. Rannek was right. They needed him just as they needed Ibiko.

“Stay moving,“ Wellan said, and started walking.