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Mira doesn’t move. She holds still until the patrol disappears around the corner, then waits for several more heartbeats before leading me in the opposite direction. Her earlier calm has vanished, replaced by the alert wariness of someone who’s done this more than once. Someone who knows what it means to be caught watching the wrong thing in the wrong place.

We take a more circuitous route back to the western district, using alleyways and covered passages I wouldn’t have noticed without her. When we finally cross the bridge, she exhales, not relief exactly, but a careful release of breath held too long.

She leads me to a small eating house tucked away on a side street. The smell of food hits me, simmering spice and slow-cooked meat, and my stomach betrays me with an audible growl. Mira laughs softly, then pushes the door open.

Inside, the space is dim and warm, with rough wooden tables arranged around a central hearth where something savory bubbles in a clay pot. Mira exchanges words with the proprietor, a slender man with a neatly trimmed beard, who greets her with a smile and a kiss to each cheek. They speak briefly before he nods and disappears into the back.

We settle at a corner table. Mira takes the seat facing the main door, and indicates for me to sit opposite, angled toward the back exit. It doesn’t take me long to realize it’s deliberate. A precaution. Even now, even here, Mira treats every space like it might turn hostile.

The proprietor returns with two bowls of thick, savory soup. It’s rich and filling, and comes with the flatbread I’m starting to think is a staple here.

While we eat, she continues our lesson, pointing to objects around us and providing their names. I repeat each word, some easier than others, and she nods or corrects me. By the time we finish eating, my head is swimming with new words, most of which I know I’ll have forgotten by tomorrow.

“Meresh kavir.”She points toward the door and then the position of the sun visible through the small window.

Time to go back.

We make our way through the winding streets, and I try to organize my thoughts. The town is larger than I initially thought, its population diverse despite the obvious Authority presence. The western district seems more independent, less rigidly controlled than the eastern quarter where the outpost stands. People here go abouttheir business with a normalcy that feels surreal, especially now I know what lies beneath their feet.

How many of them know? About the tunnels. The people in the shadows. The quiet hum of planning that must wind beneath these streets. How many secretly support whatever this is, while keeping a facade of compliance? It’s impossible to tell from appearances alone.

We return to the hidden courtyard by a different route than the one we took when we left. Mira carefully checks for anyone watching before unlocking the door. The stone steps welcome us back into shadow after hours in sunlight, and my eyes adjust slowly as we descend.

The light, the color, the noise—all of it falls away as we move deeper.

The underground chamber has changed again. Where this morning it was filled with the voices of a dozen men and bodies, now it holds only a handful of figures. Sacha stands with Varam and two others I don’t recognize, their heads bent over papers spread across the table, voices low and focused.

All conversation stops when we enter, the silence abrupt and complete. Sacha looks up, shadows and lamplight playing across the planes of his face.

Did it go quiet because of me? Or because of what they were saying before I arrived? I can’t tell. But the way their eyes move feels less like curiosity and more like caution.

“Did you find the tour of Ravencross interesting?” His tone is casual, yet I get the distinct impression the question is anything but.

“Yes, very.” I remove my cloak, acutely aware of how deeplywe’re buried beneath the ordinary world I just witnessed. “Mira has been teaching me lots of words.”

“Good. That will be helpful in the days ahead.” His fingers drum against the table’s edge. “We’ve been discussing next steps. Once we’re done here, I’ll speak with you.”

The dismissal is clear. Mira touches my arm, indicating I should follow her. She leads me to a smaller adjoining room, where we continue the lesson for another hour. Her patience and genuine effort to help me communicate independently show care that transcends our language barrier.

Through the doorway, I see newcomers enter the main chamber. Three men and a woman, all wearing travel-stained clothing. They move straight to Sacha, each performing the same gesture of respect I noticed earlier—a fist to the chest with a reverent nod.

Their arrival changes the energy in the room. Whatever meeting was concluding now resumes with renewed intensity. Varam gestures for Mira, who excuses herself and leaves me alone to join the gathering at the main table.

I continue to practice the words Mira has taught me, trying to commit them to memory by repeating them to myself. The voices in the main chamber rise and fall, but I still can’t make out any meaning.

I think about home. Chicago, the noise, the smell of the sidewalk after rain. My apartment. My phone. The fact that no one here even knows what those things are.

How much time has passed there since my disappearance? It’s been days here, but does time even work the same way between worlds?

Uncertainty gnaws at me. The possibility that I might never find my way back, that I might remain forever stranded in this world of shadows and half-truths is more than unsettling.

After what feels like hours, everyone leaves. I stay where I am until Sacha walks into the room. His expression is blank, unreadable, but there’s something about him that suggests decisions have been made, and plans set into motion. He’s composed in that way that’s starting to bother me, like nothing surprises him. Like everything is already accounted for.

“If you’re done here, we have much to discuss.”

I straighten, abandoning my vocabulary practice. “About your plans? Or are those not for outsiders to know?”

The corner of his mouth twitches at my words. “The Veinwardens have an established base here, but we need to move carefully. The Authority’s reach is extensive.”