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He’s desperate. This is desperation.

We break apart with a gasp. Mine or his, I don’t know.

I stagger back one step, lips swollen, heart ragged. He stares at me like he’s seen a god.

“Rani…” he breathes, hoarse, half-ruined.

I can’t look away.

“I should hate you,” I say again, softer this time. “But all I can feel is the way you look at me, like I’m the last light in a world of ash.”

He steps closer again, more carefully now, his hand brushing against mine.

“Because you are,” he whispers.

I look at his mouth, my pulse wild. I should stop this. I should say something wise. Strategic. Safe. But instead, I lean in and kiss him again.

This time, slower. Not less intense, but different. An acknowledgment. A beginning. We don’t speak after. Not right away. His forehead rests against mine, the fire between us smoldering.

I close my eyes and breathe him in. His heat, his scent, his grief, his longing. I know this changes everything. And I don’t care.

34

ELARA

Waves of heat distort the air. Sweat drenches my body and the air tastes like ash and fire. Every breath scorches the inside of my throat. I stumble and press my hand to the wall, but snatch it back with a hiss. The stone is hot enough to burn. The tremors haven’t stopped since the quake, and now, every surface feels alive, pulsing with some deeper force. Something ancient. Something angry.

The Paluga.

I don’t need the Urr’ki legends to sense this is no ordinary quake. I don’t think the earth is just shifting, I think it’s waking. Stirring beneath our feet is something vast and living. It coils like a heartbeat under skin and we are nothing but the trespassers on its back.

“Careful,” Ryatuv says. “That stone’s unstable.”

I glance ahead, watching him navigate the crumbling ledge we’re traversing. His face is set in stone, lips a thin line of frustration and control. His scales gleam, reflecting the light. His eyes flick past me to Z’leni, who limps along at the rear, favoring the leg he twisted two corridors ago.

“I’m fine,” Z’leni mutters noticing both of us looking. He’s lying. I see the strain in his jaw and the stiffness of his movements. He’s not fine, he’s hurt, and trying to hide it.

“I did not ask if you were fine,” Ryatuv snaps, “I said careful.”

The tension between them is like a live wire stretching taut between them. I flinch as if his words carry weight and I am in their way. We don’t have time for this. The longer we stay underground, the more the walls groan and close in. Steam hisses from cracks that most likely didn’t exist before the latest quake. Even the shadows seem to twist and dance like they’re watching us.

A lizard-like creature the size of a dog darts across the path ahead. It’s glowing, bioluminescent, maybe. It darts across the tunnel, barely glancing in our direction. It’s fleeing, not taking time to consider the meal we might make for it. Everything down here is trying to escape.

“Elara,” Ryatuv calls, low and firm. I stop, forcing my breath into stillness. He waits for me to catch up, towering over me. He’s all calm and cool, almost exuding it into the air, but that somehow makes the sweltering air feel hotter. “You’re limping.”

“Just tired,” I say, shaking my head.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “You are swaying. Are you hurt?”

“I’m not a damsel, Ryatuv.”

“I do not think you are,” he says, voice softening if only slightly. “But if you fall into one of those vents, stubborn pride won’t save you.”

My lips twitch despite the fear clawing at my chest.

“Are you… worried about me?”

His jaw works, like he’s chewing down the words that want to escape. He narrows his eyes, frowning as his tail twitches making a rasping sound. He rustles his wings then shrugs.