Chapter 153
The path is grueling. My crutch clicks rhythmically against the stone floor, a sharp counterpoint to the dull ache radiating from my splinted leg.
The air is cooler now, mercifully less stifling than in the lower caverns, but the oppressive silence remains, broken only by the occasional distant drip of water or the soft echo of our labored breaths. The walls feel close, as though the earth is watching, waiting for another chance to swallow us whole.
Finally, the tunnel widens into a spacious cavern, its dome-like ceiling arching high overhead. The stone here is smoother, almost polished, and as my eyes adjust, I spot something glimmering in the dim light. A narrow stream cuts through the chamber, its clear water shimmering faintly as it flows over pebbles. The sound of the gentle current is a balm to my frayed nerves.
“Water!” Cora gasps, her voice tinged with a rare note of unrestrained relief. She moves with surprising speed, dropping to her knees beside the stream. “We must have finally made our way into a part of the products that wasn’t affected by the eruption.”
I limp after her, my crutch slipping slightly on the damp ground, and lower myself down carefully beside her. The sight of the water feels like a miracle. Scooping it up in my trembling hands, I bring it to my lips, the cold shock of it washing away the dry, metallic taste that’s lingered in my mouth for hours. It’s so clean, so pure, that I don’t care how much my stomach protests as I drink deeply, greedily.
Cora is no different. She gulps down handfuls of water with equal fervor, her usual composure stripped away by sheer desperation. We drink until we can’t anymore until the ache in our bellies forces us to stop. Sitting back, I let the stream’s soft gurgle wash over me, closing my eyes and savoring the coolness on my overheated skin.
The air here is lighter, less oppressive, and for the first time since we fell, I feel like I can breathe.
“We’re alive,” I murmur, more to myself than to Cora.
“For now,” she replies dryly, though there’s no bite to her words. She leans back on her hands, tilting her head up toward the ceiling. Her face is a mask of exhaustion, lines etched deeper than I’ve ever seen them. Even Cora’s fire has limits, it seems.
After a moment, I break the silence. “So… what do you think we saw down there? In the lower caverns?”
Cora exhales sharply, her gaze distant. “It wasn’t random, that’s for certain. Those creatures were coordinated, moving with intent. Like a factory… or an ant colony.”
“Or a mine,” I say softly.
Her expression tightens, and she nods. “Exactly. I believe whatever that glowing substance is, they’re harvesting it. And their activity… I’m beginning to suspect it may be the cause of these earthquakes we’ve been tracking.”
I frown, letting her words sink in. “Do you think they’ve always done this?”
She shakes her head, her brow furrowing. “The earthquakes only started within the last year. It’s possible their species has been burrowing and collecting for centuries, but perhaps they’ve only recently disturbed an unstable fault.”
That doesn’t sit right with me. “Animals usually have an instinct for their surroundings. Burrowing creatures know when the ground above them is unstable, and they avoid those areas. If these things were relying on instinct, they’d stop digging.”
Cora’s eyes sharpen as she looks at me. “Unless they’re not following their own instincts.”
Her words land like a punch to the gut. “You think they’re following orders?”
Cora doesn’t answer immediately. Her gaze flickers with an intensity I can’t read, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s a possibility,” she says at last, though the words seem to cost her. “But it sounds far-fetched, even to me. And honestly…” She trails off, her voice dropping to a weary whisper. “I don’t know if I have it in me to chase down another mystery right now. I’m so tired of being at a disadvantage.”
The defeat in her tone takes me by surprise. Cora is always the one with answers and a plan, even when things seem impossible. Seeing her like this—vulnerable and uncertain—feels wrong. It stirs something in me, a need to lighten her load for once.
“There’s something you should know,” I say carefully, choosing my words with uncharacteristic caution. “I didn’t tell you before because I thought it might make things harder. But… you deserve to know.”
She turns to me, her piercing blue eyes narrowing. “What is it?”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding as I prepare to say the words. “Delphinium. She’s alive.”
The stillness that follows is deafening. Cora freezes, her breath catching audibly. Then her hands clench into fists, and when she speaks, her voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade. “How?”
I take a deep breath and tell her everything. About how Delphinium—Marina—was captured by Enigma and held in cryosleep for decades. About how she was meant to be used as a genetic experiment, a breeder for Wake. About how she risked everything to help me and Wake escape, giving us the key to unlocking Enkian transmutation.
Cora listens without interrupting, but her expression shifts with every word. Disbelief gives way to rage, then to something raw and aching that I’ve never seen before. By the time I finish, she’s on her feet, pacing the cavern floor like a restless predator.
“You should have told me immediately,” she snaps, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “How could you keep something like that from me?”
“I didn’t want you to feel guilty,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been through so much already—”
“Guilty?” She laughs bitterly, the sound cold and hollow. “I’ve felt guilty every day for eighty years, Phoebe. But this isn’t just about feelings. We need her.”
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