The darkness swallowed everything.
Kira could not see her own hand in front of her face. She could not see Eva, though she heard the soft scrape of her boots on stone a few paces ahead. The only light was the small, hooded lantern in Eva's hand, and it pushed back the dark just enough to show the next few feet of tunnel. Beyond that, nothing.
The walls were close. Kira's shoulders almost brushed them on both sides. The ceiling was low enough that Eva had to duck in places, and Kira was shorter but still felt the weight of stone pressing down from above. Water dripped and echoed off the wet rock.
The cold seeped through Kira's coat. Eva did not speak. She had not spoken since they climbed down the ladder and pulled the grate shut behind them. That had been hours ago or maybe minutes. Kira had lost track. Time moved strangely in the dark.
She focused on her feet. The stone was uneven, slick in places, and she had to watch where she placed her boots. One wrong step and she would twist an ankle. One wrong step and she would fall, and in this darkness, falling meant losing the light and losing Eva.
She tried to hold her mana wall.
The leather-tight feeling. The seal around the warmth in her chest. She had been holding it since they left the guild, and her mind was tired. The wall was thinner now, stretched like old cloth, but it held. Every shadow that jumped out from the edge of the lantern light looked like a hand reaching for her.
Her legs ached, her back ached, her eyes ached from straining to see what came next.
"How much farther?" she whispered.
Eva did not turn around. "Until we are out."
That was not an answer. Kira had learned that Eva gave answers like that sometimes. Precise, unhelpful, and final. She stopped asking.
They walked on.
The tunnel sloped downward for a while, then leveled out, then sloped up again. Kira's breath came in white puffs. The air was cold enough to hurt, but not as cold as it had been. Maybe they were getting closer to the surface, then she heard something new.
Many squeaking noises coming from ahead.
Kira's hand went to her dagger, "What is that?"
Eva stopped. She raised the lantern higher, and the light pushed farther down the tunnel. It caught dozens of small shapes. Gray fur, long tails, red eyes that reflected the flame like tiny mirrors.
Rats. Not one or two, a whole pack of them blocking the tunnel from wall to wall. They squirmed over each other, a living carpet of fur and claws and squeaking. Some were as big as kittens. Kira had seen rats before, in the village, in the cave, but never like this and never this many.
Her stomach turned. Her hand tightened on the dagger.
Eva did not draw a weapon. She did not even tense. She just looked at the rats, then looked at Kira.
"Your turn," she said.
Kira stared at her, "What?"
"Scare them off." Eva stepped back, giving Kira room, " Use your flames. You need the practice."
Kira looked at the rats. They had not noticed them yet, or maybe they did not care. They kept scrabbling, kept squeaking, and kept blocking the way.
"You want me to use magic," Kira said. "In a tunnel, where a fireball could bring the ceiling down."
"Do not make a blast." Eva's voice was flat and patient, "Make it like a stream, you can do this."
Kira wanted to argue. She wanted to say no, but Eva was not going to do it for her. That much was clear. If Kira wanted to get past the rats, she had to be the one to move them.
She let go of the dagger.
She closed her eyes and reached for the warmth.
The mana wall was there. She held it in place with one part of her mind then she reached deeper and shaped the intention.
Kira held out her hand, palm up. A tiny flame sparked to life, no bigger than a coin at first, then it grew. It swelled until it was the size of a small fruit. The fire settled into a soft, glowing orange, calm and completely under her control.
Kira opened her eyes.
The rats saw the light. They heard the soft crackle of the flame. Their red eyes fixed on her hand, and for one terrible moment, Kira thought they would charge.
Then the nearest rat squealed and bolted.
The others followed. They flooded into cracks in the walls, disappearing into holes Kira had not noticed. They poured over each other to get away, tails whipping, claws scrabbling on stone. Within seconds, the tunnel was empty.
Kira let the flame die.
Her hand trembled. The mana wall in her flexed but did not break. She was shaking, she realized. From the cold, from the fear, from the effort of holding everything together.
She looked at Eva.
Eva said nothing. She just nodded once, a small, sharp movement, and turned back to the tunnel. She started walking again, the lantern bobbing ahead.
Kira followed.
The silence returned, but it was different now. Less heavy. Kira's heart was still pounding, but her breathing had slowed. She had done it. She had used the flame on purpose, in a small space, and nothing had gone wrong.
The wall held.
They walked on into the dark.
They walked for what felt like hours.
The tunnel sloped upward. Kira felt it in her calves, the steady climb. She just put one foot in front of the other and focused on the lantern light.
Her legs ached. Her back ached. The wall was still there, but it had thinned to something like old paper. She held it together by sheer stubbornness, the way she used to hold her breath underwater when she was small, daring herself to stay under just one more second.
Eva did not seem tired, Eva never seemed tired. She walked with the same steady pace she had started with, her shoulders straight, her breathing even. Kira hated her a little for that.
Then Eva spoke, "What do you regret the most?"
The question came out of nowhere. Kira almost stumbled. She caught herself against the tunnel wall, her palm scraping on wet stone.
"What?"
"From that night, the alley. Any of it." Eva did not turn around. Her voice was flat, the same tone she used for giving instructions or stating facts. "What do you regret most?"
Kira thought about lying. She thought about saying something safe, like not saying goodbye to her father, or not grabbing more supplies from the village. But Eva would know. Eva always knew.
The answer came too easily.
"The bandit," Kira said. Her voice was quiet, barely louder than the drip of water. "The one I burned. Not the one you stopped. The first one."
She had to stop. Her throat had closed up.
Eva kept walking. The lantern light bobbed ahead.
"I didn't mean to," Kira continued. She was talking to the back of Eva's head, to the shadows, to no one. "It just happened. One second he was on top of me, and the next he was flying backward with his chest caved in. I didn't even think. I just pushed and then he was on the ground and he wasn't moving and I kept stabbing him because I didn't know he was already dead."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
"I regret that," she said. "I regret that I couldn't stop, that I didn't even try to stop, that I just kept going until there was nothing left to stab."
Eva walked in silence for a dozen paces.
Then she said, very quietly, "Good."
She did not explain. She did not offer comfort. She just kept walking.
Kira did not ask what Eva's answer was. She was not sure she wanted to know.
The tunnel began to lighten.
It was subtle at first. A shift from absolute black to deep gray. Kira thought she was imagining it, that her eyes were playing tricks on her after so long in the dark, but then the gray grew lighter and she could see the shape of Eva's shoulders and hips ahead, not just the lantern.
"Look," Kira said.
Eva did not respond, but she slowed. The tunnel ceiling rose, the walls widened, the air changed, losing its wet, heavy smell. Fresh air.
The gray turned to pale blue. The lantern's glow seemed weaker now, washed out by the growing light from ahead. Kira could see the end of the tunnel. A circle of pale pink and gold.
Dawn.
They reached the grate. Rusted iron bars set into a stone frame covered in dead vines and years of grime. Beyond it, Kira could see weeds, a ditch, and the open sky.
Eva handed her the lantern, "Hold this."
Eva grabbed the grate with both hands and pulled. The rusted bars groaned, metal screeched against stone. The grate shifted, scraping outward, and Eva pushed it up and out of the way. It fell against the ditch wall with a clang that echoed back into the tunnel.
Eva climbed out first then she reached down for Kira.
Kira took her hand and pulled herself up.
The ditch was shallow, overgrown with weeds and early spring grass. The sky stretched above them, wide and pale and endless. No walls. No guards. No city. Just open country and the mountains in the distance, blue-gray against the rising sun.
Kira stood there, breathing.
The air was cold and sharp and clean. It did not smell like stone or old water or fear. It smelled like dirt and grass and something growing. She filled her lungs with it and let it out slowly.
Her legs shook. Her hands were numb. The wall was still there, barely, a thin membrane holding back the warmth in her chest.
Eva stood beside her, looking east.
The mountains rose on the horizon, jagged and patient. Kira had spent her whole life looking at mountains. These were not her mountains, the ones that had watched her grow, but they were close enough. They did not care who she was or what she had done. They just were.
"Fallow's End is three days," Eva said. "Let's go. We don't stop unless we have to."
Kira nodded. She did not have words. She did not need them.
She looked at the mountains, then at the road ahead, then at Eva.
Eva was already walking.
Kira followed.