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“We’re going anywhere but here,” Z’leni growls.

Something thuds behind us. The sound of a body hitting the floor. Then the skitter of claws.

“Go!” Ryatuv bellows.

Z’leni pushes me toward the opening. I scramble forward, heart in my throat, twisting my body sideways to wedge into the shaft. It’s so tight my shoulders scrape the walls. My feet slip against the slick stone.

And then gravity grabs me and I’m sliding.

I scream as I fall, the shaft angling sharply. My limbs slam against the walls, the torchlight bobbing wildly as I slip, twist, and turn through wet darkness, barely able to breathe, until the chute levels out and spits me into a small stone chamber.

I land hard and fresh pain explodes through my hip and already damaged ribs. I scramble upright, sucking in sharp, shallow breaths.

Z’leni lands next, expertly rolling and stopping in a ready crouch. Ryatuv crashes in after him, far less gracefully, wings flaring wide as he slams to a halt beside me. A beat later, the wall behind us collapses. The shaft seals itself with a grinding shudder of ancient stone. We’re sealed in. Enclosed. Trapped. Again.

“Damn it,” I curse. “Can we stop going from one trap to the next?”

The torch flickers. The flame dances weakly, casting dim gold light across the small chamber. I pace the small space but there are no exits. Just rough stone walls, jagged and close. I can reach out and touch either side without stretching.

My heart pounds. Claustrophobia claws at the edges of my mind.

This isn’t a tunnel. It’s a tomb.

Stone presses in.

My breath scrapes my throat.

“We can’t stay here,” I gasp, struggling to not give into this overwhelming sense that we’re trapped and the walls are closing in.

Ryatuv scans the chamber, his chest heaving, his tail lashing.

“There has to be another way,” Ryatuv says.

“There isn’t,” Z’leni mutters. He’s slowly circling, dragging one hand along the wall and searching for seams. “This wasn’t built as part of the undercity. It’s older. Maybe natural.”

“You brought us into a dead end,” Ryatuv snarls.

“I saved her life,” Z’leni snaps, whirling on him. “And yours, lizard. You think she’d have made it past that floor collapse without me?”

“You don’t know what would’ve happened?—”

“I know you’re too proud to admit when someone else is right?—”

“Stop,” I snap. They both freeze. I’m shaking, barely upright, adrenaline crashing hard. I press my back against the cold wall and slide down, hugging my knees to my chest. “Just stop,” I whisper. “Please.”

Thankfully, they listen. Z’leni exhales, slow and long, then sits cross-legged across from me. Ryatuv stays standing, pacing like a caged predator. The walls press closer with every breath. The air is heavy. Wet. Dripping water echoes somewhere behind the stone. Or… is that water?

“Do you hear that?” I whisper.

They both still and we all hear it. Dripping, yes. But beneath that… breathing.Low. Raspy. Inside the walls.

“No,” Z’leni murmurs. “No, that’s not possible.” He rises fast, starts circling the chamber again. “This isn’t a room. It’s a nest.”

My blood runs cold. Ryatuv’s claws extend.

“We’re not alone,” I say, barely breathing.

“No,” Z’leni agrees. “We’re not.”