Chapter 317: The Way to Seven

The conduit was narrower than Kael remembered.

That was impossible. He had never been inside it before.

Still, with stone pressing against both shoulders and stale heat trapped around his face, the passage seemed to shrink every time he dragged himself forward. His knees scraped over rough volcanic rock. His injured ribs protested each time he twisted around a bend. Somewhere ahead, Mara whispered directions while Rask answered with grunts whenever the conduit tightened badly enough that conversation became a luxury.

Behind Kael, someone coughed.

Not the ordinary cough of dust.

Wet.

Deep.

The sound crawled through the tunnel.

Kael stopped himself from looking back. There was barely enough room to move forward, much less turn.

"Milo?"

"I’m alive."

The answer came several bodies behind him.

Too quickly.

Kael knew Milo well enough now to distrust answers given that quickly.

"And him?"

A longer pause followed.

Then Milo said, "Also alive."

The badly burned survivor floated only inches above the stone on a thin Force cradle that Milo was maintaining while crawling through the conduit himself. It was exactly the kind of absurdly precise spell Milo could perform when healthy.

Milo was not healthy.

Kael shifted forward another foot.

"How much farther?"

Mara’s voice came from ahead. "Stop asking."

"That isn’t a distance."

"It’s the only answer you’re getting."

Rask muttered, "About thirty feet."

Mara immediately said, "You’re not helping."

"I answered the prince."

"He’ll ask again in ten feet."

"I heard that," Kael said.

"That was the point."

Behind him, Sera whispered, "Move."

Kael moved.

The conduit dropped slightly.

Hot air brushed his face from somewhere ahead.

Good.

Airflow.

The survivor behind them groaned.

Milo’s breathing changed.

Kael heard the difference instantly.

Not louder.

Shorter.

He pulled himself forward faster.

Stone scraped against his shoulder plate.

Pain flashed through the bruising underneath.

He ignored it.

Ahead, something metallic clanged twice.

Then Mara said, "Opening."

Relief hit too early.

Kael knew better than to trust relief in the Caldera.

He reached the eastern grate and found it already torn outward from the opposite side. Davin crouched beyond it with a lantern in one hand while Eron knelt beside the opening, clearing broken pieces of iron and stone.

Davin saw Kael.

"About time."

Kael dragged himself through.

"Good to see you too."

Davin offered one arm.

Kael took it.

The pull sent pain through Kael’s ribs hard enough that his vision whitened for half a second.

Davin noticed.

"You all right?"

"Yes."

"Bad lie."

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"Because you keep doing it."

Kael stepped aside before the next person came through.

The eastern cut was barely a chamber. More of a widened service passage where old mining routes intersected. Two iron rails ran through the floor before vanishing beneath collapsed stone. Davin and Eron had cleared enough space for bodies to be placed safely against the wall.

Mara emerged next.

Then the first survivor.

Rask guided him through.

Davin caught him.

"Easy."

The man’s legs failed the moment he stood.

Davin lowered him rather than letting him drop.

"You’re safe."

The survivor laughed once.

It sounded terrible.

"Where?"

Davin looked around the underground chamber.

"Fair question."

Eron took over.

The second survivor came through.

Then Darius.

He emerged without complaint, though the narrow conduit had forced his wounded shoulder against stone for most of the crawl.

Kael looked at him.

Darius looked back.

Neither asked.

They already knew the answer.

Sera appeared next.

Bow strapped along her back.

Quiver protected beneath one arm while she crawled.

Nine arrows.

Still nine.

She slipped through the opening and immediately turned.

"Milo?"

"Working on it."

That voice was worse.

Veyra came through before him.

Then Galahad.

Then Vance.

Kael looked toward the opening.

"Why are you ahead of Milo?"

Vance’s expression hardened.

"He refused help."

From inside the conduit came Milo’s voice.

"I did not refuse help. I said nobody can fit beside me."

Sera dropped to her knees.

"Milo."

"Hello."

"Push him through."

"Trying."

The burned survivor appeared first.

Not floating now.

Sliding.

Only barely above the stone.

The Force cradle beneath him flickered visibly as faint distortions in the air.

Sera reached through the opening.

"Give him."

Milo coughed.

"You want the injured man or the magic?"

"The man."

"Good choice."

The survivor came through.

Darius caught his shoulders.

Vance took the legs.

Together they moved him clear.

Then Milo’s hand appeared.

Sera grabbed his wrist.

Milo said, "Romantic."

She pulled.

He came through badly.

Not crawling.

Falling.

Sera twisted sideways and caught enough of him that his head missed the floor, but the rest of his body hit hard.

Milo gasped.

Then rolled onto his back.

Kael crouched.

"Milo."

Milo stared at the ceiling.

"I would like to revise my earlier statement."

"What statement?"

"Functional."

Sera sat beside him.

"You’re an idiot."

"Yes."

"That wasn’t praise."

"I know."

Kael opened the System.

Not on the Ash-King.

Milo.

[Milo Renwick]

Mana reserves: critically depleted

Physical exhaustion: severe

Mental focus: degraded

Immediate spellcasting recommendation: minimal

High-output casting risk: extreme

Kael dismissed it.

Milo watched his face.

"How bad?"

"You don’t want to know."

"I already know."

Sera handed Milo a waterskin.

He drank once.

Stopped himself.

Drank again more slowly.

Good.

Galahad crouched beside him.

"No magic until I say."

Milo lowered the waterskin.

"That seems authoritarian."

"Yes."

"You’re becoming Rask."

Rask, twenty feet away, said, "Insulting."

Kel would have appreciated that.

Kael almost smiled.

Then the burned survivor screamed.

Everyone turned.

The Force cradle had been the only thing preventing his back from touching anything.

Now the healers were not here.

No proper healer.

Only field supplies.

Mara dropped beside him.

"Roll him."

Vance stopped her.

"Not onto his back."

"I know."

"Side."

"I know."

Rask moved.

Kael did too.

Vance pointed.

"You take shoulders. Rask, hips."

Kael hesitated.

Vance looked at him.

"You want to help?"

"Yes."

"Then listen."

Kael did.

They rolled the man slowly onto his uninjured side while Mara packed folded cloth around him. The burns looked worse in proper light.

Not fresh.

That made them uglier.

Skin pulled tight in some places.

Raw in others.

Ash embedded around old bandages.

Kael reached instinctively toward Blood Manipulation.

Stopped.

Blood would not restore burned flesh.

Not at his level.

Not without cost.

Not without risking more problems.

Mara looked toward him.

"You can do anything?"

Kael hated the question.

"No."

The answer felt heavier than it should have.

Mara nodded.

No disappointment.

Just information.

"Then hold this."

She handed him a folded cloth.

Kael pressed it where she indicated.

Work.

Something he could do.

The man’s breathing slowly steadied.

Vance remained kneeling beside him.

The survivor opened his eyes.

Saw him.

"Boss."

Vance’s face shifted slightly.

"You look terrible."

The injured man actually laughed.

It turned into a cough.

"Learned from you."

Vance reached for the man’s unburned shoulder.

"Who was at the station when the lower route broke?"

The survivor’s humor disappeared.

"Four of us."

"I know."

"No."

The man swallowed.

"Before."

Everyone nearby went still.

Vance leaned closer.

"How many?"

"Seven came through."

Mara’s head snapped toward him.

"What?"

"Seven."

"Where are the other three?"

The man closed his eyes.

"Left."

Kael felt something tighten.

"Left where?"

The survivor turned his head slightly.

"Transfer cut."

Vance stared.

"Why?"

"Ash came through the north vent."

He breathed shallowly.

"Couldn’t stay."

Galahad moved closer.

"Three went for the old transfer cut?"

"Yes."

"The same three we lost?"

The man nodded.

There.

The uncertain three.

Not certainty they were alive.

But a route.

A decision.

Something.

Kael looked toward the old rail line running beneath collapsed stone.

"Where does the transfer cut connect?"

Mara stood.

"Lower east."

Vance shook his head.

"Not anymore."

Mara turned.

"You don’t know that."

"I know the lower east collapsed."

"Main passage."

"Yes."

"The transfer cut runs above it."

Vance stared.

Mara pointed toward the wall.

"Old ore line."

Rask looked between them.

"Can someone explain like I didn’t spend my childhood memorizing dead mines?"

Mara drew her knife.

Not threatening.

Mapping.

She scratched a quick line into the dust on the floor.

"Main lower route here."

Second line.

"Transfer cut above it."

Third.

"Vent station here."

Then another angled line.

"When the main route collapsed, the transfer cut might have stayed open because it sits in older basalt."

Vance crouched beside the crude map.

"Might."

"Yes."

Kael looked toward the survivor.

"Did the three know it?"

"Yes."

"Could they reach the seven?"

The man hesitated.

"Maybe."

Everyone hated that word now.

Still useful.

Galahad asked, "Last contact?"

The survivor shook his head.

"No signal."

Mara looked toward Vance.

"The ore line."

Vance’s eyes sharpened.

Rask said, "What?"

Mara was already standing.

"There’s an old hammer line."

Vance shook his head.

"No."

"Yes."

"It was dead."

"At the forward hold."

"Exactly."

Mara looked toward the rail.

"Not necessarily at the transfer cut."

Kael stood.

"What is a hammer line?"

"Mechanical signal."

Mara pointed along the old rail.

"Workers used to strike the rail in coded patterns. The sound carries farther through connected iron than through stone."

Milo raised one hand from the floor.

"I support any technology that does not require me."

Sera pushed the hand back down.

Mara continued.

"If the transfer cut rail is still connected to this section..."

Kael understood.

"They could signal."

"Maybe."

Vance looked at Eron.

"Find a hammer."

Eron ran.

No debate.

No title.

No request.

He returned less than a minute later carrying an old iron mallet from a tool rack.

Mara took it.

She knelt beside the rail.

"What pattern?"

Rask asked.

Mara looked at Vance.

Vance answered.

"Three. Two. Three."

"What does that mean?"

"Identify."

Mara struck.

CLANG.

CLANG.

CLANG.

Pause.

CLANG.

CLANG.

Pause.

CLANG.

CLANG.

CLANG.

The sound traveled down the old rail.

Not loud.

Sharp.

Metallic.

Then disappeared into stone.

Everyone waited.

Nothing.

Mara struck again.

Three.

Two.

Three.

Silence.

Kael realized he had stopped breathing.

Milo spoke quietly.

"Again."

Mara looked at him.

Milo stared toward the rail.

"Do it again."

She did.

Three.

Two.

Three.

The last strike faded.

Nothing.

Vance stood.

His face became unreadable.

"We move."

Then—

CLANG.

Everyone froze.

One.

Pause.

CLANG.

Pause.

CLANG.

One.

One.

One.

Mara’s eyes widened.

Rask whispered, "What does that mean?"

She did not answer.

Another strike came.

CLANG.

Pause.

CLANG.

Pause.

CLANG.

Mara turned toward Vance.

"Alive."

Kael felt the word through his whole body.

Not all three.

Not yet.

But someone.

The survivor on the floor laughed weakly.

Vance crouched beside the rail.

"How many?"

Mara struck a different pattern.

Two.

Pause.

Two.

Then waited.

The answering strikes came slowly.

CLANG.

CLANG.

Pause.

CLANG.

CLANG.

Mara frowned.

"Repeat."

She sent it again.

Same response.

Two.

Two.

Rask’s face changed.

"Two alive?"

Mara nodded.

Nobody spoke.

Three had entered the transfer cut.

Two were answering.

The third—

Unknown.

Still unknown.

Kael refused to decide more than that.

Galahad knelt beside the dust map.

"Can they reach us?"

Mara sent another pattern.

Waited.

The answer came.

Long.

Short.

Long.

She grimaced.

"No."

"Blocked?"

Another signal.

Yes.

Kael looked toward Vance.

"Then we reach them."

Vance did not answer immediately.

His eyes stayed on the rail.

Then he looked at the four rescued survivors.

Milo.

Darius’s shoulder.

Kael’s damaged armor.

The forward hold beyond.

"There are still seven behind the lower gallery."

"Yes."

"And now two at the transfer cut."

"At least two."

Vance looked at him.

"You want to divide again."

Kael did.

He also knew what Darius would say.

Darius said it anyway.

"No."

Kael turned.

"We know where they are."

"That does not make us able to reach both groups simultaneously."

"Then which one?"

"That is Galahad’s decision."

Kael looked toward Galahad.

The Guild leader did not appear pleased to own that responsibility.

Good.

Leaders who enjoyed choosing between trapped people probably should not lead.

Galahad stood.

"We return the four to the hold."

Vance’s jaw tightened.

Galahad kept speaking.

"Milo does not cast. The burned man needs better treatment. We confirm the transfer-cut route from this side while Mara maintains rail contact. Iris scouts the approach to the seven. We do not split the main combat group until we know both routes."

Vance stared at him.

"That costs time."

"Yes."

"Time kills people."

"So does ignorance."

Vance stepped closer.

Galahad did not move.

Kael watched.

This was not the first time the two men had disagreed.

It would not be the last.

Vance said, "I have buried people because we waited for perfect plans."

Galahad’s expression changed.

Not anger.

Recognition.

"I have buried them because we moved without enough of one."

Silence settled.

Rask looked down.

Darius’s eyes remained on Vance.

Kael remembered Galahad’s flooded gorge.

Double pay.

A shortcut.

One man dead because the company wanted to save a day.

Command is not keeping everyone alive.

Making sure every death bought something worth the cost.

Galahad spoke again.

"Twenty minutes."

Vance’s eyes narrowed.

"For what?"

"For you to prove the transfer route is open enough to matter."

"And the seven?"

"Iris and Rask scout their access while you do it."

Rask looked up.

Galahad pointed toward him.

"You know Vance’s previous routes?"

"Yes."

"Iris knows how not to die using them."

Iris tilted her head.

"That sounded almost complimentary."

"Do not get used to it."

Rask looked toward Vance.

Vance nodded once.

Done.

No argument after the decision.

Interesting.

Kael looked at Galahad.

"What about me?"

"You stay here."

Kael frowned.

"Why?"

"Because you have the System."

"That seems like a reason to scout."

"No."

Galahad pointed toward the rescued survivors.

"You identify what we can learn from the ash exposure, then you rest for fifteen minutes."

Kael stared.

"Rest."

"Yes."

"There are people trapped."

"Yes."

"And you want me sitting."

"I want you able to fight when sitting is no longer an option."

Kael opened his mouth.

Darius said, "He is correct."

Kael looked at him.

"You are not helping."

"I am."

Milo raised his waterskin.

"Welcome to the oppressed."

Sera sat beside him.

"You volunteered to carry a burned man through a rock tube with magic."

"That does not invalidate my politics."

Kael gave up.

Temporarily.

The four rescued survivors returned to the forward hold under Davin, Eron, Veyra, and two Vanguard fighters.

Vance personally carried the survivor with the fractured leg.

Kael noticed.

The man was not light.

Vance did not complain.

He simply crouched, pulled the survivor onto his back, and stood.

One of his people immediately tried to take the weight.

Vance shook his head.

"I have him."

No performance.

No speech.

The fighter stepped back.

Kael watched the way people moved around Vance.

Not like soldiers afraid of punishment.

Not entirely.

There was confidence there.

Expectation.

The belief that when something became difficult enough, Vance would be somewhere near the center of it.

Kael understood why that kind of loyalty became dangerous.

It also explained why it existed.

They reached the forward hold without seeing the Ash-King again.

That made everyone more nervous than seeing it would have.

The enormous creature was somewhere beyond stone.

Maybe feeding.

Maybe flying.

Maybe walking across dead ground on those skeletal limbs while smoke escaped from the vents along its spine.

Not knowing where it was changed the sound of everything.

A falling tool became a claw.

A tremor became a landing.

A distant rush of air became wings.

The four rescued survivors were placed in the treatment area.

No healer waited there.

Only people who had learned enough emergency care through necessity to keep each other alive.

Veyra moved toward the burned man.

Kael watched.

She did not use the focus.

Instead she inspected the burn patterns.

Her face tightened.

"What?"

Kael asked.

"Nothing."

"That is my line."

She looked at him.

"Then you know how useful it is."

Kael crouched opposite her.

"What do you see?"

Veyra hesitated.

Then pointed near the edge of the burns.

"Particulate embedding."

"Ash?"

"Yes."

"From the Ash-King?"

"Likely."

Kael opened the System.

[Foreign particulate detected]

Thermal tissue damage: severe

Toxic contamination: probable

Magical residue: trace

Kael’s attention sharpened.

"Magical."

Veyra looked at him.

"The ash?"

"Trace."

She swore quietly.

Kael looked toward the survivor.

"Is that normal?"

"For volcanic ash?"

"No."

"For something produced by a high-density draconic creature?"

She hesitated.

"I don’t know."

Good.

Honest.

Kael looked at her.

"You’ve worked with unstable magical residue."

"Yes."

"Does this look like the material in Tovin?"

"No."

Immediate.

Important.

"Certain?"

"No."

Veyra’s eyes narrowed at the wound.

"But not the same concentration. Not the same behavior."

Kael let that sit.

The Ash-King’s ash was magically altered.

That did not make it responsible for Tovin.

Do not force connections because they were convenient.

Kael stood.

The System expanded.

[Ash-King Particulate — Preliminary]

Composition: unresolved

Thermal retention: abnormal

Mana saturation: trace

Respiratory risk: severe

Extended exposure risk: high

Recommendation: limit inhalation / protect eyes / avoid low-airflow accumulation

Milo would love that.

No.

He would complain about it.

Then use it.

Kael looked toward Sera.

She sat near one of the walls.

Her bow lay across her knees.

One arrow in her hand.

She was cleaning ash from the shaft.

Not counting.

Cleaning.

That distinction mattered.

Kael walked over.

Sera glanced up.

"You’re supposed to be resting."

"I am walking toward rest."

"That is not a thing."

"It can be."

Milo lay on the floor two yards away with his cloak folded beneath his head.

Eyes closed.

He spoke anyway.

"It is not."

Kael looked down.

"You’re awake?"

"No."

"Then stop participating."

"Conversation carries."

Sera turned the arrow.

Fine gray ash had collected around the fletching.

She carefully wiped it away.

"Problem?"

Kael asked.

"Maybe."

There it was again.

"What?"

"Ash gets into the feather base."

She showed him.

"Changes drag."

"How much?"

"Enough."

Kael studied the arrow.

"You can compensate?"

"Yes."

"Every shot?"

Sera looked toward the ceiling.

"If I can see."

Fair.

She slid the arrow back into the quiver.

Kael looked at the bowstring.

Sera noticed.

"Waxed."

"I didn’t ask."

"You were going to."

Apparently Iris had been right.

His face was a problem.

Sera’s hand rested over the quiver.

Nine arrows.

The cracked emergency shaft remained wrapped separately.

She looked toward Milo.

"You said the ash moves strangely."

His eyes stayed closed.

"Very scientific."

"Answer."

"Thermals."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you can aim correctly and still have the air decide you’re arrogant."

She stared.

Milo sighed.

"Hot currents rise hard around vents. Ash makes them visible sometimes, which helps. Until the creature fills everything with more ash and then visibility means nothing."

Sera looked at her bow.

"If you clear a lane?"

"I can give you seconds."

"How many?"

"Still asking that."

"Yes."

Milo opened one eye.

"For you?"

Sera waited.

"Three."

Kael frowned.

"Seconds?"

"Maybe four if she buys dinner."

Sera did not smile.

"Enough."

Milo’s eye closed again.

Kael looked between them.

This was how Sera fought.

Not with hope.

With windows.

Three seconds could be a shot.

One shot could matter.

Kael left them and sat against the opposite wall.

He intended to think.

His body chose otherwise.

His head touched stone.

His eyes closed.

The next thing he knew, someone kicked his boot.

Kael’s hand went to his sword.

Darius stood over him.

"Fifteen minutes."

Kael blinked.

"You kicked me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You were sleeping."

"That usually argues against kicking someone."

Darius turned away.

Kael pushed himself upright.

His body felt worse.

Then slightly better.

Annoying.

"How long?"

"Seventeen."

"You let me have two extra?"

"No. You did not wake."

Kael looked toward Milo.

Still asleep.

Sera beside him.

Still awake.

Of course.

Across the hold, Vance had returned.

His clothes were dustier.

One hand bleeding.

Mara stood beside him with the hammer line mallet.

Galahad was already listening.

Kael walked over.

"Route?"

Vance pointed toward the map.

"Transfer cut is reachable."

Mara added, "Not easy."

"Define not easy."

"Vertical split. Twenty feet. Old ladder gone."

Kael looked at Milo.

"No."

Mara nodded.

"Rope."

Good.

"What else?"

Vance’s jaw tightened.

"Something crossed the route after the three entered."

Darius stepped closer.

"Ash-King?"

"No."

"Drake?"

"Probably."

Kael hated probably.

Vance showed them his bleeding hand.

Three shallow cuts.

Not claw marks.

Stone.

"Fresh scrape along the wall. Scale fragment."

He placed something on the table.

Black.

Small.

Iris had not returned yet.

Kael scanned.

[Draconic scale fragment]

Estimated source size: medium

Foreign magical residue: none detected

Normal drake.

Good.

Bad.

Both.

Galahad looked toward the map.

"Can the two trapped people defend themselves?"

Mara had maintained contact.

"For now."

"Third?"

"No response."

Nobody spoke.

Kael looked toward the route to the seven.

"Iris?"

As if summoned, she appeared at the edge of the hold with Rask behind her.

Rask looked worse than when he left.

Blood darkened one sleeve.

Vance stepped toward him.

"What happened?"

"Drake."

Everyone moved.

Rask raised a hand.

"Not mine."

Vance stopped.

Blood on someone else.

Iris reached the table.

"We found one of the three."

Silence.

Kael’s heart dropped.

"Alive?"

Iris nodded.

"Yes."

The room changed.

Rask leaned against the wall.

"He made it farther than we thought."

"Where?"

Iris pointed to the map.

"Service pocket above the lower gallery."

Kael frowned.

"Then why didn’t he answer the rail?"

"Wrong branch."

Mara looked down.

"Of course."

Galahad asked, "Condition?"

"Bad."

Rask answered.

"Can walk with help."

Vance looked at the blood on his sleeve.

"And the drake?"

"Dead."

Darius’s eyes sharpened.

"How?"

Rask looked at Iris.

Iris shrugged.

"Poor judgment."

Kael waited.

Rask laughed despite himself.

"It tried to come through a gap too narrow for its shoulders."

Darius understood immediately.

"You attacked the head."

"Eyes."

Iris nodded.

"Then throat."

Rask looked at her.

"You make that sound easy."

"It wasn’t."

Good.

No summary pretending it had been.

Kael looked at the map.

Three uncertain.

One found alive.

Two answering from the transfer cut.

That meant—

"All three?"

Mara understood.

"If the rail response is both people."

"Yes."

All three uncertain might still be alive.

Not confirmed.

Close.

Kael felt something inside his chest loosen.

Galahad did not let relief become stupidity.

"We have one injured survivor at the service pocket, two trapped in the transfer cut, seven beyond the lower gallery."

He looked at Vance.

"Now we choose."

Vance’s answer came immediately.

"Transfer two first."

Kael expected him to say seven.

That surprised him.

"Why?"

"Because their route has a drake sign and no room to fight."

He pointed at the map.

"The seven have a defensible chamber."

"Food?"

"Some."

"Water?"

"Yes."

"Air?"

"For now."

Galahad nodded slowly.

"Agreed."

Then Vance looked toward Kael.

"You expected something else."

Kael considered lying.

Didn’t.

"Yes."

"What?"

"That you would choose the larger group."

Vance’s face hardened.

"Numbers do not decide who gets abandoned."

The words landed.

Kael stared.

Vance continued.

"The two have the worse position. We take them first."

No speech.

No philosophy.

Just decision.

Kael nodded.

"Good."

Vance’s eyes narrowed.

"Do not sound surprised."

Kael almost laughed.

Rolan had said the same thing.

Different man.

Different road.

Same irritation.

They moved again.

Milo did not.

That argument was brief.

"No," Galahad said.

Milo sat up.

"I can walk."

"Yes."

"Then—"

"No."

"I have useful magic."

"Yes."

"Excellent. We agree."

"No."

Milo stared.

Galahad pointed toward the floor.

"You remain at the hold."

Sera looked between them.

Milo glanced at her.

She said, "Stay."

Betrayal.

Deep and personal.

Milo looked toward Kael.

Kael shook his head.

"I enjoy this side."

"You are all terrible."

Mara would maintain rail contact from the hold.

Milo would help protect the treatment area if something reached them, but only with minimal magic.

Davin and Eron stayed.

Veyra stayed too.

That surprised Kael.

"My teacher could be below."

She looked toward her damaged focus.

"And if I use this on a drake in a tunnel, everyone dies with it."

Reasonable.

The transfer rescue group became smaller.

Kael.

Darius.

Galahad.

Iris.

Sera.

Vance.

Rask.

One Vanguard fighter who knew the vertical split.

No more.

The route descended east.

For the first ten minutes, nothing moved except them.

Then the smell changed.

Less sulfur.

More ash.

Iris stopped.

Everyone behind her stopped.

She pointed toward the ground.

Gray.

A thin layer.

Rask whispered, "It hasn’t been here before."

Vance crouched.

Touched the edge.

Pulled back.

"Warm."

Kael opened the System.

[Ash contamination: recent]

Primary source direction: uncertain

Sera looked upward.

No visible sky.

Only stone.

"That came through the vents?"

Vance nodded.

"Probably."

Kael whispered, "You say that a lot."

"So do you."

Fair.

They reached the vertical split.

Mara had understated it.

Twenty feet was generous.

The fracture dropped closer to thirty, with a narrow stone lip halfway down and an old iron support beam crossing above.

Rask tied the rope.

Darius tested the anchor.

Rejected it.

Vance frowned.

"It held me."

Darius pointed to a crack near the base.

"It will not hold eight."

Vance looked.

Then stepped back.

No pride.

No argument.

They found another anchor.

That mattered too.

Kael descended third.

His ribs hated the rope.

He reached the lower ledge sweating hard.

Sera came after him.

Halfway down, the stone beneath her right boot broke.

Her foot slipped.

The rope caught.

Sera slammed against the wall.

Kael heard the impact.

She sucked in air.

Did not scream.

Kael grabbed the rope beneath her.

"I have you."

"I know."

"Can you move?"

"Yes."

She found the wall again.

Descended.

When she reached the bottom, Kael looked at her side.

"You’re hurt."

"Bruised."

"That sounded worse."

"You want to trade ribs?"

Kael stopped.

"No."

"Then move."

Fair.

They continued.

The transfer cut became narrower.

The old rail appeared again.

Mara’s signal came through it.

Three.

Two.

Three.

Identify.

Rask took the mallet.

Answered.

The response came immediately.

Alive.

Closer now.

Galahad looked toward the bend ahead.

"How far?"

The Vanguard guide whispered, "Less than five minutes."

Then something moved beyond the corner.

Not large.

Fast.

Iris raised a fist.

Everyone froze.

Sera already had an arrow nocked.

One of nine.

Darius drew his sword.

Slowly.

No scrape.

Kael’s hand settled on his own.

Vance whispered, "Drake."

Kael heard claws.

Stone.

Pause.

Claws.

Closer.

The passage was too narrow for a mature one.

This was smaller.

Still large enough to kill someone.

Iris pointed upward.

A broken support shelf ran along the right wall.

Darius looked.

Understood.

Galahad moved everyone.

No spoken plan.

Rask took left.

Vance right.

Kael behind Darius.

Sera stepped back until she had twelve feet of shooting distance.

Not enough.

Better than six.

The drake’s head appeared around the bend.

Gray scales.

Long jaw.

One eye damaged.

Not altered.

Normal.

Hungry.

It smelled them.

The head came higher.

Sera drew.

Darius whispered, "Wait."

The drake entered.

One shoulder.

Then the other.

Too wide for comfort.

Its claws scraped stone.

Rask held.

Vance held.

Kael felt ice gathering along his fingers.

Not yet.

The drake saw Darius.

Lunged.

Everything happened at once.

Darius stepped left.

Not back.

His sword struck the jaw sideways.

Not to cut.

To turn.

The drake’s head slammed into the wall.

Rask drove his blade into the damaged eye.

The creature jerked.

Vance hit the opposite foreleg with a brutal downward strike.

Bone did not break.

The leg folded anyway.

"Kael!"

Kael moved.

Cold snapped through his palm.

"Ice Wedge."

The floor erupted beneath the drake’s chest.

Not large.

Precise.

Its weight shifted.

Head lowered.

Sera fired.

The arrow entered beneath the jaw.

Deep.

The drake convulsed.

Tail slammed against stone.

Rask took the hit.

His body flew sideways.

He struck the wall.

Vance shouted his name.

Darius stepped inside the drake’s reach.

Sword reversed.

One thrust.

Through the throat where Sera’s arrow had opened the line.

Blood hit black stone.

The drake thrashed.

Kael nearly lost his footing.

Darius ripped the blade free.

"Back."

Everyone moved.

The drake collapsed.

Not dramatically.

Heavy.

Its body blocked most of the passage.

Rask groaned from the wall.

Kael reached him.

"Broken?"

Rask breathed once.

Twice.

"Pride."

Vance crouched.

"Ribs?"

"Probably."

Kael almost laughed.

"Join the club."

Rask looked at him.

"I hate your club."

Sera approached the drake.

Her arrow.

She looked at it.

Buried too deep.

Gone.

Nine became eight.

Her face changed.

Only slightly.

Kael saw.

Milo was not here.

No one said anything.

Sera put another arrow in her hand.

Eight.

Still enough.

For now.

Galahad pointed toward the corpse.

"Can we move it?"

Darius shook his head.

"Not quickly."

Vance looked up.

"Over."

The support shelf.

One by one.

They climbed.

Rask cursed through the entire process.

Sera did not.

That concerned Kael more.

The passage beyond the drake smelled worse.

Human sweat.

Old blood.

Ash.

Then someone coughed.

Rask struck the rail.

Three.

Two.

Three.

The response came from around the corner.

Loud.

Fast.

Two figures appeared behind a collapsed brace.

One held a broken spear.

The other held a hammer.

Both looked prepared to kill whoever came through.

Then the first saw Vance.

His weapon dropped.

"Boss."

Vance crossed the distance.

The man with the hammer nearly fell.

Vance caught him.

"You’re late," the survivor whispered.

Vance looked at the collapsed passage behind them.

"You’re alive."

"Barely."

The second survivor stared past him.

At Kael.

At Darius.

At Sera.

"What is happening?"

Rask leaned against the wall.

"Long story."

The survivor looked at Kael’s face.

"You brought a prince."

Rask sighed.

"Everyone says that."

For the first time that day, Kael laughed.

It hurt.

He did not care.

The two transfer-cut survivors were alive.

The third uncertain survivor was alive at the service pocket.

Four had already been rescued from the ventilation station.

That left seven.

Seven confirmed people still trapped beyond the lower gallery.

And between those seven and everyone trying to reach them waited the Ash-King.

Kael looked toward Vance.

Theron was helping one of his people sit.

His hand remained on the man’s shoulder until the shaking stopped.

For a moment, he did not look like a man hiding anything.

He looked like a leader who had found two people he expected to bury.

Kael knew better than to confuse one truth with every truth.

Vance could care about these people.

Vance could have built something they loved.

Vance could still be responsible for terrible things.

People were allowed to be complicated enough to make judgment difficult.

Darius stepped beside Kael.

Quietly.

"Do not decide yet."

Kael looked at him.

"I wasn’t."

"You were beginning to."

Kael hated that he was right.

Ahead, Vance stood.

His expression hardened as he looked toward the deeper passage.

"Seven."

Kael followed his gaze.

"Yes."

Galahad came beside them.

"No more side routes."

Vance nodded.

"No."

"The lower gallery next."

"Yes."

Sera pulled the remaining arrows free enough to see their fletching.

Eight.

She stopped.

Her fingers remained on the shafts.

Then she slid them back without counting again.

Kael noticed.

Sera caught him noticing.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She stared.

Kael corrected himself.

"You good?"

"No."

Better question.

Sera adjusted the bow over her shoulder.

"But I’m going."

Nobody argued.

The rail beneath their feet vibrated.

Once.

Not a signal.

A tremor.

Dust fell from the ceiling.

Then came a distant sound.

Not the Ash-King’s breath.

Not a roar.

Something heavier.

Stone breaking somewhere deep beneath the mountain.

Vance looked down.

The survivor beside him went pale.

"That’s new."

No one needed another reason to move.

Kael looked toward the darkness beyond the transfer cut.

Seven people were still waiting.

The Ash-King was still between them.

And the Caldera itself was beginning to sound less like a mountain and more like something coming apart.

This time, Kael did not say what he intended to do later.

He tightened his hand around his sword and followed the others forward.

The work in front of them was not finished.

So neither were they.