The others.
My sister’s face flashed before my eyes, and my heart broke. My twin would be in so much pain when we didn’t come back. The mere thought of her grief was enough to send a surge of agony through me.
Rejoining the others would be the top priority, then.
Laying Ryllae on the ground, I ran my hands over her carefully, taking stock of her injuries. Though she sported several cuts and lacerations on her face and arms, she had no broken bones.
Now that I was certain she wouldn’t bleed out, I looked around.
We had my pack—thank the gods; it had been on my back when we fell—and my sword, but nothing else to bring with us. Eyeing the faint, glowing mushrooms up above, I tried to estimate the distance we had fallen. It had to be several hundred feet from the city. Even if I could make it up the smooth black rocks, there was no way I could climb and carry Ryllae in her current state.
If going up wasn’t an option, that left moving forward through the darkness. Standing, I ran my hands over the wall. The tunnel stretched in two directions, which was less than ideal. Unfortunately, it was our only hope.
I had to decide.
Hoisting my pack on my back, I gathered Ryllae in my arms.
Which path was the way to freedom? Exhaling slowly, I looked down right, then left. Again and again, as if doing so would force the paths to reveal their secrets to me.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said out loud.
For a long moment, there was no answer. Of course not. We were alone.
But then, a brisk wind came from the tunnel on my right. My brows furrowed, and I took a step in that direction. The breeze continued to brush up against me.
“Interesting,” I mused.
Turning around, I walked five paces down the other path. The wind stopped immediately. When I turned, going the other way, the wind picked up again.
Goosebumps erupted on my flesh as the prophetic words on the map came back to me.
When the stars are aligned and the balance is broken, what has long since been forgotten shall be remembered. The Chosen Six must follow the paths of wind and flame, uncovering the resting place of the Ancient Ones.
Praying to all the gods that I wasn’t following a foolish notion, I set off down the path to the right. The breeze brushed up against me, a constant companion, and I shivered as I walked through the darkness.
Ryllae never opened her eyes.
* * *
Keepingtrack of time in the tunnel was next to impossible. After a while, I gave up trying. Instead of worrying about trivial matters such as day and night, I kept track of my breaks. Each time I took a break, I gave Ryllae water to drink from the jug in my pack. Her aura grew stronger, and her heartbeat steadied, but she did not wake.
Whenever I came to a crossroads, that same strange wind blew by. Eventually, the breeze led me down a path lit by sporadic clusters of glowing green mushrooms.
The fungi were the only presence of life. Like the empty city, the tunnels were eerily quiet. There weren’t any insects here. No mice or rats. Not even any dust or cobwebs. My skin crawled, and I couldn’t shake the thought that this entire mountain was wholly unnatural.
Whoever had built this place was long gone, leaving no trace of themselves behind. As I walked, carrying Ryllae, I prayed to the gods. Not to any one god in particular, but to any who was listening. I prayed for strength. For wisdom. And most frequently of all, I prayed for my mate.
I needed her to wake up, so I could tell her how I felt.
Pray and walk.
That was all I could do as I carried my entire world in my arms. Hopeful that these passageways would lead us out of this cursed mountain, I continued.
Eventually, when my feet were dragging and my arms were so sore that it was a miracle they remained attached to my body. I knew I had to sleep. Ryllae had yet to wake, but her breathing was steady. I took solace in that.
She was alive. That was all I needed. As long as she lived, I could do this. I could survive for us both until she woke.
I would do anything for her.