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A storm of confusing emotions wars inside my head. I want to scream. Or cry. Instead, I keep walking.

The next chamber we come to opens wide. It’s a dome-shaped cavern with a ceiling so high it disappears in shadow. Ancient tracks run through the space, remnants of a transport system, rusted and half-submerged under old lava rock. It’s not safe, but it is space. Air with room to breathe—so we stop.

Z’leni leans against a fractured column. Ryatuv kneels beside one of the rusted rails, his hand splayed against the metal like he can sense something through it. I sit on the edge of a stone outcropping and bury my face in my hands. No one speaks. Then?—

“It’s waking,” Z’leni says, his voice is hollow.

I look up, sweat pouring down my face. The look on his face takes a moment to understand. I’ve seen him look solid, certain, and angry, but nothing like this. His rich green skin is softer in color, paler. There are lines of worry at the corners of his eyes and around his lips. His nostrils quiver. He’s scared.

“The Paluga?” I ask, mouth drier than the hot air should make it, my stomach trembling.

“The murals, the tremors, the heat...it’s all happening again. And no one above us is prepared,” Z’leni nods.

“They have to listen,” I whisper.

“They won’t,” Ryatuv says. “Not until it’s too late.”

Something cracks in my chest. My throat tightens. My fists clench hard on my knees before I surge to my feet.

“Then we make them listen,” I say, loudly. Too loud. My voice echoes back. Z’leni lifts an eyebrow. Ryatuv frowns. “You said it yourselves. We saw the truth. We saw what’s down there… what’s coming. If they won’t believe it, we’ll drag it up into the light and shove it in their faces.”

I don’t know where the courage is coming from.

Maybe it’s desperation. Maybe it’s the heat.

Or maybe it’s them.

Two warriors. So different. So dangerous. So close to my heart it terrifies me.

Z’leni straightens, doubt and concern flickering across his face.

“And what? We march into the Zmaj city? An Urr’ki and a human? They’ll kill us before we cross the threshold.”

“No.” Ryatuv rises, his expression unreadable. “They’ll kill you. She might live.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know.”

The honesty in his voice makes Z’leni hesitate. The two of them look at each other and for at least a moment there is a level of respect that’s not been there before. A shared, grim reality that what we all face may be insurmountable.

“We can’t survive this alone,” I say. “None of us. That’s the whole point. You both keep thinking it’s your people against the other. It’s not. It’s all of us against what’s coming. And if we can’t even talk without snarling or posturing or throwing old hatred at each other, we’re already lost.”

They look at me, then they look at each other. Another pause. Another breathless moment. Z’leni steps forward, his jaw tight.

“You want honesty? Fine. I don’t trust him. He’s everything I was raised to hate. Brutal. Thoughtless. Obsessive.”

“I don’t deny it,” Ryatuv growls. “But you Urr’ki twist truth into lies and call it faith. You let zealots like your Shaman rule your minds.”

“I didn’t choose the Shaman.”

“Didn’t you? What did you do to stop him? We Zmaj would never have let someone like that grab onto power.”

Z’leni’s fist curls as he growls and steps towards Ryatuv.

“Stop!” I shout, throwing myself between them. I slam my hands against their chests, just like before. “This has to stop. Now.”

They freeze, though they glare at one another.