Chapter 17 | Part 1

The obsidian caves swallowed sound.

Drusniel counted their assets in the darkness: three people, no supplies, no food, water only if the moisture on the walls could be collected. The smoke behind them had covered their escape. The Coatly wouldn’t find them here—not immediately. Perhaps not at all.

Three people. Zero provisions. Maybe forty-eight hours before the first one weakens.

“We made it.” Srietz’s voice was flat. “Srietz celebrates. Quietly.”

Elion said nothing. He’d collapsed against the cave wall the moment they’d stopped running, his breathing shallow and fast. The partial shifts he’d used during their escape had cost him something. Drusniel didn’t know how much.

The caves stretched deeper into the volcanic rock, black glass reflecting the faint phosphorescent glow of something biological growing on the ceiling. Beautiful, in a way that seemed designed to distract from how thoroughly trapped they were.

“Water,” Drusniel said. “The condensation on these walls—is it drinkable?”

“Srietz has tasted worse.” The goblin ran a finger along the obsidian, brought it to his lips. “Mineral. Not poison. Not pleasant either.”

That was something. Water meant they could survive longer than two days. Maybe four, if they were careful. If nothing else went wrong. If the caves didn’t hold something worse than thirst.

Four days. Then starvation begins.

“The Coatly won’t follow into obsidian formations.” Elion’s voice was strained but certain. “Something about the volcanic glass—interferes with their tracking methods. We’re safe. For now.”

“Safe and starving,” Drusniel said. “We’ve traded one death for another.”

“Slower death,” Srietz corrected. “Srietz has learned: slower is better. Faster is only better when it’s not your death.”

Drusniel moved deeper into the cave, testing each foothold on the glassy surface. The phosphorescence grew brighter as he went, revealing formations that had taken millennia to develop. If circumstances had been different, he might have found it beautiful.

His mind worked through the problem the way it always did, breaking everything into pieces small enough to solve. They needed food. They needed information about the surrounding terrain. They needed to know what dangers waited in the caves themselves and what resources might exist beyond them.

None of which they had. None of which he could see a way to get.

“Elion.” He turned back. “You said you have Sage memories. Knowledge from others who lived here.”

“Fragments.” Elion hadn’t moved from his position against the wall. “Incomplete. The memories I carry are… difficult to access. More difficult after shifting.”

“But they exist. Someone lived in this region before. Someone knew how to survive.”

“Someone knew something. Whether it’s useful—” Elion shook his head. “I’d need time to search. Time and energy I don’t have right now.”

Of course. The shapeshifter was spent. The goblin was pragmatic but had no knowledge of this area. And Drusniel himself was an outsider twice over—exiled from a realm he didn’t understand, trapped in another he understood even less.

Surviving the sea, the caravan, the hunters—all of it meant nothing if they died in a cave.

“Then we rest,” he said. “Collect water. Wait for Elion to recover enough to access what he knows.”

“And if what Srietz knows is ‘nothing useful’?” The goblin’s question was genuine, not mocking.

“Then we find another way. Or we don’t.”

Srietz considered this. “Srietz appreciates honesty. Even bad honesty. Better than false hope.”

They settled into positions that might pass for comfort—Elion already unconscious, Srietz folded himself against a water-beaded section of wall, Drusniel sitting with his back to stone that felt like glass.

The Beacon pulsed against his chest, hot through the fabric, pointing northeast like it always did. Whatever it was calling to hadn’t stopped listening.

Three people. One artifact. Darkness in every direction.

He closed his eyes. Sleep wouldn’t come—it rarely did anymore—but rest might. At least until the next problem arrived.

It would. It always did.

End of Chapter 17.1 —> 17.2: The Second Choice: The Voice Returns