The fluorescent lights of the Motel 6 hummed with a low, irritating buzz that seemed to drill directly into Raina's temples, but she barely noticed it. Her entire world had narrowed down to the illuminated screen of her laptop and the sprawling sheets of drafting paper she had taped over the cheap hotel art on the wall.
Raina paced the small room, her socks sliding over the industrial carpet. In her hand, she held a digital stylus, tapping it rhythmically against her thigh. She was an engineer, a creature of physics and calculus, but what she had seen in that cavern defied every textbook she had ever studied at KU.
The rock had pulsed. It had defended itself.
"Standard shoring is out," she muttered to herself, stopping in front of a schematic of the tunnel system. "Hydraulic bracing puts too much point-load pressure on the rock face. If that granite is reactive, metal teeth will just agitate it again."
She sketched a mental line through the idea of steel I-beams. Steel was aggressive. Steel was invasive. If the cavern was indeed a biological or pseudo-biological entity, driving steel into it would be like stabbing a sleeping bear with a needle. It would wake up, and it would be angry.
She needed something passive. Something that could exert tremendous force without sharp edges.
She sat down at the small desk, pulling up a catalogue of heavy-duty mining and rescue equipment. Her eyes scanned the specifications for inflatable structural support systems.
"Pneumatic shoring," she whispered, the idea taking root.
She clicked on an image of a high-pressure lifting bag used by firefighters to lift overturned semi-trucks. The principle was sound, but she needed it on a larger scale. She navigated to a supplier of temporary architectural structures, specifically the kind used in extreme weather environments.
"Kevlar-reinforced polymer bladders," she noted, typing the specs into her simulation software. "We do not prop the roof up. We fill the space."
She closed her eyes, visualizing the solution. It would look like those pressurized domes used for winter tennis courts or the inflatable tunnels used to protect walkways during construction, but on steroids. She would insert a series of deflated, tubular bladders into the tunnel and the cavern entrance. Once in position, she would hook them up to a high-capacity air compressor.
As the balloons inflated, they would expand to fill the void, pressing gently but firmly against every square inch of the rock face. The pressure would be uniform. There would be no stress points, no biting metal. It would be a soft, pressurized hug holding the mountain together.
"Uniform distribution of force," she said, nodding. "We can dial the PSI up or down to test the rock's reaction. If the wall starts to pulse, we lower the pressure. If it holds, we increase it."
It was brilliant. It was essentially angioplasty for a mountain.
But as the engineering problem settled in her mind, another variable rose to the surface, one that couldn't be solved with math.
Pearl.
Raina stopped typing. She leaned back in the uncomfortable desk chair and stared at the ceiling. She replayed the memory of the cavern for the hundredth time.
She saw the spiral carving. She felt the magnetic pull of it. She saw her own hand reaching out, compelled by a curiosity that felt almost external.
And then she heard the voice.
Don't touch it!
Pearl had screamed the warning a full two seconds before Raina made contact.
Raina sat up straighter, her brow furrowing. Pearl was in the back. Pearl couldn't see Raina's hand clearly from that angle, and even if she could, the warning had been preemptive. Pearl hadn't reacted to the action; she had reacted to the intent. Or perhaps, she had reacted to the energy building up in the stone itself.
"How did she know?" Raina whispered.
It wasn't just intuition. It was specific knowledge. Pearl had known that touching the spiral would trigger a defense mechanism. She had known the rock was dangerous in a way that Marcus and even Nix seemed to only guess at.
Raina thought about the way Pearl walked, the odd grace of her movements, the fact that she refused to wear shoes until forced. She thought about the strange, almost melodic quality of her voice.
Pearl was the key. Raina was sure of it. And if she was going to risk her life going back down into that hole, she needed to know exactly who—or what—she was working with.
While Raina ran simulations in the sterile safety of the hotel, the atmosphere in the Slipgate Diner was thick with a very different kind of tension. The "Closed" sign was flipped outward, but the kitchen was a hive of hushed, urgent conversation.
Marcus leaned against the prep table, his arms crossed over his chest, his face grim. Eira sat on a stool, sharpening a long, wicked-looking filet knife with a rhythmic shick-shick-shick that set everyone's teeth on edge. Liri was pacing near the window, her hands fluttering like nervous birds. Pearl sat on the counter, her legs dangling, looking uncharacteristically solemn.
"The seal is thin," Liri said, her voice trembling. "The Old Builders left those wards for a reason. That cavern... it is a suppression chamber. We nearly broke it."
"We did not break it," Nix corrected from the shadows near the refrigerator. He was eating an apple, slicing pieces off with a pocket knife. "The Engineer provoked it. There is a difference."
"It does not matter who poked the bear," Eira snapped, testing the edge of her knife against her thumb. "The point is that the bear is awake. That masonry is older than the First Era. If the barrier falls, the Shadow Weald will bleed through."
"And if the Weald bleeds through," Pearl added quietly, "the pigs come with it."
A heavy silence descended on the room. They all knew the stories. The Glimmucks and the High Elves shared a history of conflict with the Shadow Weald, a dimension of rot and hunger. The primary foot soldiers of that dark place were the Pigmen—massive, tusked brutes with thick hide and an insatiable appetite for flesh.
"We cannot let that happen," Marcus said, his voice dropping an octave. "If the government gets wind of what is really down there... if Raina makes that call..."
"They will bring drills," Liri whispered, horrified. "They will bring explosives. They will try to take core samples."
"And they will crack the world open like an egg," Eira finished. "They will breach the containment. The Slipgate will widen, and this entire county will be overrun by a legion of squealing, armored nightmares before the National Guard can even load their rifles."
"Then we agree," Nix said, tossing his apple core into the trash with a perfect arc. "The Engineer must be managed. She is smart. Too smart. She suspects Pearl already."
Pearl nodded slowly. "She heard me. I was too slow to stop her, but too loud in my warning. She is calculating the variables right now. She knows I knew."
Marcus rubbed his temples. "We are running out of runway. We can't keep the truth from her much longer. She's part of the team now, whether we like it or not. She's tasted the food. She's felt the vibration. She's sleeping with the acquisition specialist."
Nix smirked, though he didn't comment.
"But we still have a business to run," Marcus said, straightening up and clapping his hands together, shifting back into Chef Mode. "The world might be ending in the basement, but upstairs, people still need coffee and eggs. We can't look suspicious. If we close down, people will talk. The Sheriff will come by to check on us."
"The duality of existence," Liri sighed. "Saving the realm and serving hash browns."
"Exactly," Marcus said. "We need a schedule. Two of us need to be on the floor at all times during business hours. The other three can be down below assisting Raina. Nix, you're better underground. You and Pearl are on the excavation team. Eira, Liri, you're with me on the grill and service until the lunch rush dies down, then we swap."
"I am a warrior of the High Vale," Eira grumbled, sliding her knife into its sheath. "Not a waitress."
"You are a warrior who makes excellent tips," Marcus reminded her. "And right now, our war chest needs funding. Inflatables aren't cheap."
The bell above the front door chimed, cutting through the strategy session.
Marcus glanced at the clock. It wasn't opening time yet. He walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room, wiping his hands on his apron.
Raina stood in the doorway. She held a roll of blueprints under one arm and her laptop bag over the other. She looked tired, but her eyes were burning with a manic, focused intensity.
"I have a plan," she announced, marching past Marcus and dropping her gear onto the nearest booth table.
The crew filtered out of the kitchen, gathering around her like soldiers reporting for a briefing. Raina unrolled the large sheet of paper, weighing down the corners with a sugar dispenser and a bottle of hot sauce.
"We stop trying to fight the rock," Raina said, pointing to a diagram she had sketched. "We support it. Air pressure."
"Balloons?" Eira asked, raising an eyebrow.
"High-pressure pneumatic tunnel liners," Raina corrected. "Think of them as structural balloons. We insert them into the unstable sections and inflate them. They conform to the shape of the tunnel. They exert equal pressure in all directions. It stabilizes the ceiling and the walls without drilling, without vibration, and without metal."
She looked at Pearl. "And most importantly, it's soft. If the rock is... sensitive... this shouldn't trigger a defensive reaction."
Pearl met her gaze. The two women stared at each other for a long moment. There was a silent conversation passing between them, a negotiation of secrets. Raina was telling her: I know you know something. Pearl was replying: I know you know I know.
"That sounds... wise," Pearl said carefully. "A gentle touch is better than a hard strike."
"Exactly," Raina said, breaking eye contact to look at Marcus. "I can source the equipment from a supplier in Houston. I can have it here by tomorrow afternoon. But I need help installing it. It's heavy work."
"We can help," Marcus said.
"I know you can," Raina said, biting her lip. "But this is a twenty-four-hour operation. We need to monitor the pressure gauges constantly once they are inflated. If the rock pushes back, we need to know instantly."
She paused, looking around the group. "I have people back East. Good engineers. People I trust."
"No," Eira said immediately.
Raina looked at her. "Eira, I can't do this alone. And you guys have a diner to run. You can't be in the hole all day."
"No outsiders," Eira repeated, crossing her arms. "You trust them? Fine. But do they know how to keep their mouths shut when the earth starts screaming? Do they know what to do when..." She stopped herself, glancing at Marcus.
"When what?" Raina asked, her voice sharp. "When the ghosts come out? When the hallucinations start?"
"Raina," Marcus interceded, placing a calming hand on the table. "Eira is right to be cautious. We found something historically significant down there. If you bring in a crew from D.C., word gets out. One beer too many at the local bar, and suddenly we have CNN trucks in the parking lot. And then the Army comes. And then we lose everything."
Raina sighed, rubbing her face. She knew he was right. She had seen it happen before. A simple survey turns up an artifact, and suddenly the site is locked down for a decade.
"Okay," Raina conceded. "No outsiders. Not yet. But that means I need you guys. All of you."
"We have a plan for that," Marcus said. "We're splitting shifts. Nix and Pearl are yours for the heavy lifting. Liri and Eira will cover the diner with me. We'll rotate. We keep the lights on upstairs, and we keep the roof up downstairs."
Raina looked at Nix. He was leaning against the booth, watching her with that familiar, predatory smirk.
"I am at your disposal, Engineer," Nix said softly. "I am very good at... inflation."
Raina ignored the innuendo, though a slight flush rose to her cheeks. She turned back to the blueprints.
"Okay," she said. "The air bladders are similar to the ones they use for those pop-up ice rinks or sports domes. We walk inside them. It will be like being inside a lung. We can inspect the walls through the transparent sections of the polymer."
"A lung," Liri murmured. "Breathing life into the stone."
"Or keeping it from suffocating us," Raina muttered.
She looked up at Pearl again. "Pearl, can I talk to you for a second? In the back?"
The room went still. Eira's hand twitched toward her belt where her knife was hidden under her apron. Nix straightened up.
Pearl didn't flinch. She just nodded, her expression serene. "Of course, Raina."
Raina walked toward the kitchen. Pearl hopped off the counter and followed her. The heavy swinging door shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the diner.
They stood in the prep area. The smell of sanitizer and onions was strong. Raina turned to face the smaller woman.
"You knew," Raina stated. It wasn't a question.
Pearl tilted her head. "I know many things."
"Don't give me the cryptic act," Raina said, crossing her arms. "In the cave. Yesterday. You screamed at me to stop. You screamed before I touched the wall. You knew exactly what was going to happen."
Pearl remained silent, her large, seawater eyes fixing Raina with an unblinking stare.
"I am an engineer, Pearl," Raina continued, stepping closer. "I deal in cause and effect. I deal in data. And the data says that you have information about that site that you aren't sharing. You aren't just a waitress. You aren't just a local girl with a weird family."
Raina lowered her voice, leaning in. "What are you? And don't tell me you're just 'sensitive.' I saw the way you moved on that roof. I saw the way you climbed down here."
Pearl looked at her for a long moment. She saw the intelligence in Raina's eyes, the stubborn refusal to accept half-truths. Marcus was right. The time for masks was ending. But it wasn't time for the full reveal. Not yet. The shock needed to be administered in doses, like the air pressure in Raina's balloons.
"You are right," Pearl said softly. "I am not just a waitress. And the things down there... they are not just rocks."
Pearl took a step forward, closing the distance until she was looking up at Raina.
"That spiral," Pearl whispered. "It is a lock, Raina. A very old, very dangerous lock. And my... people... we are the ones who were left behind to make sure it stays shut."
"Your people?" Raina asked, her breath catching.
"The caretakers," Pearl said. "The tunnel isn't just a mine. It is a cage. And if we aren't careful with your balloons, if we push too hard... the prisoner will wake up."
Raina stared at her. A chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning swept down her spine. "What prisoner?"
Pearl smiled, but it was a sad, weary thing. "Let's get your equipment installed first. If the walls hold, I will tell you a story about the Shadow Weald. But until then... trust me. And trust Nix. We are the only thing standing between this diner and the dark."
Raina held her gaze for a second longer, searching for a lie, for a crack in the facade. She found none.
"Okay," Raina breathed. "Okay. We install the liners. We secure the breach. And then... we talk. Really talk."
"Agreed," Pearl said. "Now, let's go. Marcus gets cranky if we linger in his kitchen without cooking."
Pearl turned and walked back toward the dining room. Raina watched her go, noticing for the first time the slight webbing between her fingers as her hand pushed the door open. No, wait. She blinked. It was just a shadow.
Or was it?
Raina shook her head and followed her out. She had work to do. And she had a sinking feeling that the engineering problems were going to be the easy part of this job.