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Large as the wide space was, it was only a park and social meeting place down here. Twelve gates, placed right underneath the twelve temples we had on our side of town, led to the largeavenues where the unders actually lived. The sheer scope of the underside was mind-blowing. I guessed it must have been built underneath the ten nearest surrounding mountains. Though I wasn’t sure unders truly was physically underneath the vale. It seemed that way, butgodshad built this town. The underside was the work of Hades himself. For all I knew, we were in another world.

I supposed the ancient families must know the answer, but no one had shared with me. I could ask my mother, if I thought about it the next time we ran across each other in the vast, empty house.

Unders was overwhelming. On a Monday afternoon, the central circle was alive with thousands of people who seemed perfectly content to walk around, chatting, playing some games. It felt like a weekend. Food stands served strange-looking street food, kids ran around laughing. At this time, the park in the vale would be empty, as everyone was either at school or work. If I’d noticed that last time, I’d forgotten in the last year.

I’d only been down here one time, with Stillwater, and that time, I also was visiting Lucian. I shook with anticipation the whole time back then. Today was no different. Did I remember his house well? The red walls? The bright blue facade? The bridge over a magic garden with trees filled with light? It had felt like a dream.

Stillwater had hired one of the rare electric town cars allowed down here to take us to Lucian’s that time. If memory served, the trip took about ten minutes, and I had spent the entire time with my head turned to the window. I would have happily stuck it out like a dog if I had dared. Instead, Gideon set off towards the public train at the edge of the circle. The walk in itself took a good fifteen minutes, and I looked everywhere, at everyone.

I couldn’t help but notice that most people’s eyes were strangely luminous, like a cat’s. The gates and columns were all alive with magic that radiated not only light but also warmth.

It was a struggled to not stop at every stall—I wanted to try the food, check the art sold on the ground, take a look at the crafts, the shawls, the pottery on display—but I kept up with Gideon’s great stride, not wanting to be late. We were here for a reason; we could always take more time on the way back.

In the back of my head, I couldn’t help telling myself that I’d been all high and mighty toward Silver about Lucian in particular, and unders in general, but there was this whole, wide world right underneath mine, and I’d never stepped there, as though walking around could truly be dangerous. After being here, it seemed preposterous. The vale at night was far drearier than this place.

“Got ya! You’re it!” one kid screamed after catching a little girl.

He rushed away as she hissed, her pretty face turning blue, a purple tongue poking out between her teeth. Then she ran after him, both laughing.

I wanted to ask Gideon what she was, but that seemed rude, so I shut up. A shifter of some description, certainly, but her body had remained completely human while only her face changed. I needed to research that.

Feeling a little dumb and ignorant, humbled after mere minutes, I joined my cousin at a tram stop. There was a bench, but we remained on our feet.

Gideon seemed perfectly at ease. “You’ve been here before,” I guessed.

He shrugged. “Not often, but sure. I come for souvlakis whenever I have the time. And I got your last Christmas present from a bookstore through the gate of Persephone, you know. They have unique volumes you can’t find anywhere else.”

That explained how he’d found such a cool rune book I’d never even heard of before. “Would you take me some day?” I asked somewhat shyly.

I should just go alone. But this place just seemed sohuge. I’d likely get lost.

“Anytime,” he replied easily.

We only waited for a couple of minutes until a tram stopped in front of us.

Inside, the tram was spacious, with plenty of open seats in comfortable leather. Clean and cozy, they defied my idea of public transport.

We took the first two available side by side.

“Are you sure it’s the right one?” I whispered, feeling foolish again.

Gideon smiled indulgently. “All of the trams go through the same route, actually. There’s a stop at the right of each gate. The tram will enter the next gate first, then circle back to the center, and take the next stop. It takes six hours for them to finish a whole round trip. This one’s the gate of Khaos, see?”

He pointed to the engraving at the top of the gate the tram slowly entered. It was written χ?ος, but even my schoolroom Greek could read that.

“Kings, love,” said a woman seated to our left. “We call it the gate of Kings.”

“Thanks!” Gideon replied. “I knew they all have unofficial names, but I can’t say I remember them all.”

“No trouble. Persephone’s gate is called the gate of Life,” she added.

It seemed she’d listened in on our chat.

“Khaos, Persephone—they’re easy enough. But try asking a six-year-old to spell Asibikashi or Izanami’s Avenue. It made sense to find nicknames.”

“Smart,” Gideon said.

“Valers, huh?” she guessed.