Chapter Twenty-Three: Dungeons & Yellowmen

  I couldn't help but think about Eve as we walked.

  I met her at an outdoor movie night during our second week of college, one of those mandatory social events where the organizers, with their painfully outgoing personalities, wouldn't let me skip just because I was blind. They'd even gotten an audio description track, bless their aggressively cheerful hearts.

  I'd arrived late, cane tapping across pavement, trying to figure out where crowd ended and grass began. The movie had already started. Explosions boomed. Dialogue I couldn't catch. My cane found grass, then someone's shoe.

  "Sorry," I had muttered, angling away.

  It never really mattered where I sat for movie nights or events. As I couldn't see, I usually sat with someone I knew or took the first seat available. The former wasn't available for me since I was new to this school, so I decided to choose the latter. I had just enrolled in college and had moved out of the foster home I had lived in until I graduated High School. I can still remember my foster Mother waving goodbye to me when she dropped me off earlier that day. She cried and then pretended she had allergies, which felt about right for both of us. She was the only family I knew after my parents died. I had foster siblings, but we were never close.

  "Hey," someone called. "There's space here if you want."

  I reached out with my cane, trying to locate the voice against the noise. I found someone's leg instead.

  "Ouch, hey, no need to hit me." The voice said with a soft laugh.

  "Oh, sorry!"

  "Oh you're blind! Sorry, I should have known, the cane, right."

  "It's okay," I said, shifting awkwardly.

  "I'm Eve, by the way. Want help finding a spot?"

  "I'm Fey," I said. Something in my chest loosened. "Yeah, that would be great."

  What I didn't know then was that a year later we'd be inseparable. Only forced apart by dimensional nonsense and, apparently, magic being real.

  Eve's going to lose her mind when I tell her. She always loved fantasy stories.

  Like the one I'm apparently living in. I'm currently sneaking through the lower floors of a magical academy with three fantasy creatures so I can talk to an actual human. A few days ago, I would've been fine not speaking to another person for weeks. Now I'd commit a felony just to talk to someone who understands how amazing cheesecake is. I've tried several times to explain the wonders of cheesecake, but they don't get it.

  The halls down here are different. If the upper floors say 'prestigious institution,' these ones say 'we absolutely have secrets and mold.' No windows. No courtyard views. Just featureless stone stretching into darkness, broken occasionally by lanterns that create pockets of sight surrounded by stretches of nothing. We're underground, descending past a guard Mira somehow convinced to look the other way. Students aren't supposed to be down here. Mira said that this is where the guards and professors live, where the Academy hides things it doesn't want seen.

  I've shifted into mana-blizzard vision a few times. The darkness is real, the mana decreases underground, which means we're functionally useless without lanterns and mana spreaders.

  Lyra moves ahead, one hand trailing the wall. Mira walks behind, hand on her sword hilt. Kaela stays close, reaching for my hand every few steps until I finally give in because her sad noises are physically painful to ignore. At this point Kaela has figured out my greatest weakness is being emotionally blackmailed by sad noises. When I take her hand, she beams. She really is a giant cupcake of a person. Eve would love her. She’d also absolutely try to adopt her, which feels rude considering Kaela is a full person and not a pet.

  Footsteps echo ahead, boots on stone, steady and unhurried.

  My heart hammers. The mana inside me stirs, responding to panic, and I clamp down mentally. I'm our escape plan if we get caught, assuming portals work better than my track record suggests. Mira made that very clear after I asked Lyra if training was done for the day. I'd been holding mana since before breakfast when Mira announced that I needed to hold it longer. Now I have a near constant stomach ache and the temperament of a territorial goose.

  The footsteps grow louder, and now there are voices, two people, maybe three, their tones casual and unhurried. We press into the darkness between lanterns, holding our breath as the sound reaches the intersection ahead. For a moment I think they'll turn our way, but they don't. They turn and keep walking, voices fading into the stone.

  Lyra exhales and gestures forward. The corridor opens into a junction where several hallways meet, and across it sits a door.

  "There," Lyra breathes.

  Mira's hand shoots out, stopping us.

  We press against the wall as voices echo down the corridor.

  A group emerges from the dungeon entrance, eight people, guards in Academy armor, a few professors in robes, and several exhausted-looking students still gripping weapons.

  "We'll need the translation relic from the vault." One of the professors said, his gruff voice filling the echoing hallways.

  "We don't have it anymore. Nurse Runa gave it to that weird new student." A guard says.

  "Then we ask the Headmaster," a woman replies firmly. "This is beyond our authority. We can't interrogate it if we can't understand those strange sounds. It's a wonder the empire haven't beaten these invaders, they can't even speak."

  "This one was injured when we found it," a student says. "It was more concerned with fixing its armor than fighting. It only surrendered when you pinned it and tried to remove its helmet."

  "Aren't you curious what these invaders look like? No horns. Strange weapons." The woman says. "The creature kept trying to do something with it but nothing happened."

  "Maybe whatever mana powered it ran out?" Another student said.

  "In any case, drop your armor at the armory. It's almost second bell. You're all late for class." The woman said, walking towards a hallway to our left.

  The students groan but follow.

  We wait until they're gone before moving or speaking.

  "We don't have long," Lyra finally says, turning to us. "Those guards will be back soon."

  "We have class too," Mira says, tail thumping as she raises an eyebrow.

  "It's just combat training," I say, grinning. "Pretty sure we passed when we fought off a monster."

  "I don't think they'll reward us for sneaking off campus," Kaela says.

  Mira clears her throat. "Didn't someone say we don't have long?"

  "Right. Yes."

  "We need a lookout," Lyra says. "Someone to warn us if anyone comes back."

  Mira sighs. "I'll do it."

  Mira saying “I’ll do it” in that tone somehow sounds like she’s accepting a mission and a personal insult.

  Lyra blinks. "You?"

  "I go on patrols. I'm down here often enough that if someone sees me, they won't question it. You three are suspicious."

  It's actually a good point.

  Kaela nods quickly. "Fey is pretty suspicious."

  "Am not. . . I open one portal and suddenly I’m ‘suspicious’ forever." I say, sighing.

  "You're literally a creature from another world," Kaela says.

  "Okay. . . Fair."

  Lyra looks like she wants to argue but doesn't.

  Mira stays in the hallway while Lyra, Kaela, and I slip into the dungeon. Lyra takes the left side of the corridor, Kaela stays glued to my shoulder.

  Cells line both sides of the dungeon, most empty with doors hanging open or missing entirely. The whole section has this abandoned vibe, like the Academy built newer dungeons somewhere else and left this one to rot. Somewhere there’s probably a nice new dungeon with better lighting and less tetanus energy. Which makes sense. If you're holding a prisoner the entire academy wants to see, you hide him in the creepy forgotten basement, not the nice new one with proper lighting.

  We find him near the end. Sitting on the floor, back against the wall, knees bent like he's waiting for a bus that's never coming. There's a backpack on a table opposite the cell, confiscated but not searched, like the guards took one look at Earth technology and went "nope, too weird, not my problem."

  The lantern nearest his cell hangs crooked, throwing more shadow than light, which somehow makes the bars look thicker.

  His head snaps up as we approach.

  "Who's there?" Sharp. Hostile. "Stay back!"

  He scrambles to his feet, pressing against the far wall like he's trying to become part of the stone. His whole body goes rigid.

  "I'm warning you," he shouts, voice muffled through the helmet. "You come near me again and I won't hold back!"

  His voice sounds normal. Rough. A little nasal. American.

  I step closer to the bars.

  "Hello?"

  He freezes.

  "Wait." His voice changes completely. "English?"

  "Yeah."

  "Oh my God." The relief is so thick it's almost painful. Like someone drowning who just broke the surface. "Oh my God. Are you, are you captured too?"

  "I. . ." I start.

  He barrels over me. Words pouring out like he's been holding them for days. "Okay, listen, you need to stay calm. They can't take your suit off, okay? Whatever you do, don't let them. If you're out of your cell, you need to. . ."

  "I'm not. . ." I try again.

  "And where's your flashlight? You have a light, right? It's in your pack. You have to keep it on. These things, they look like people, but they're not. They're monsters. They'll trick you. . ."

  Lyra leans in, whispering sharp. "What is he saying?"

  "He thinks I'm a prisoner," I whisper back.

  The soldier's head snaps toward me.

  "Hello? Do you hear me, girl? I need my flashlight. It's in my pack. You can feel around for it. It's clipped to the top strap. Just find it and turn it on. We need light if we're going to get out of here. I can't see a thing. Maybe we can even kill a few of these monsters on our way out."

  I stare at him, mouth slightly open.

  Lyra whispers again, impatient. "Fey. What does he want?"

  The man's shoulders tense. "Are you going to help me or not, girl?"

  Something in me snaps.

  I grab the backpack from the table and yank it toward me. The flashlight's exactly where he said, compact, modern, black plastic with a handle.

  I pull it out and flick the switch.

  Nothing happens. At least, not for me.

  The soldier flinches like I've slapped him, shielding his eyes.

  Then his eyes focus. Find me.

  I watch his entire worldview crack.

  His body goes rigid.

  "What the..." he breathes.

  I'm standing right there. No hazmat suit. Just me. Messy hair. Academy clothes. Face showing every emotion because I've never been good at hiding. Human. Undeniably, obviously human.

  His breathing quickens. I can hear it through the helmet.

  "You're..." He starts. Stops. Starts again. "Where's your suit?"

  The question sounds lost. Like he's asking the universe, not me.

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  I don't answer.

  He steps closer to the bars. Hands come up, gripping iron like he needs something solid. His head tilts, studying me like I'm a puzzle missing half its pieces. His jaw clenches as he sees Kaela and Lyra beside me. His eyes go wide.

  His voice rises, sharp with panic and anger. "Why are you with them?" I can hear him trying to force the world back into the shape he understands, and I’m not fitting anywhere in it.

  Lyra speaks again, demanding. "Fey. What is happening?"

  "He's asking about suits," I say.

  The soldier's head jerks toward Lyra's voice. His whole body goes rigid. "Are you... talking to it?"

  Lyra's brows knit. "What is he saying?"

  "He's asking why I'm talking to you."

  The soldier's voice goes hard. Accusatory. "Are you even a. . ."

  "No," I snap, cutting him off. Frustration rising. "I'm not a prisoner. I go to school here. I have friends. I live here."

  Silence.

  Then his voice drops into something ugly. Something that makes my skin crawl. "So you're a deserter."

  My stomach twists. "What?"

  "A traitor." He spits the word. Hot with certainty. With disgust. "You're siding with them. With these monsters. You're helping them." Which is a wild thing to hear from a man currently imprisoned in a fantasy dungeon.

  "I didn't choose this," I snap. "I'm trying to get home."

  He lets out a short, bitter sound. "Home? You mean the United States? Yeah, sure. You look real eager to go back."

  He shifts. For a second I can see my own reflection in the visor. Pale. Tense. Eyes too bright with anger. A girl in a strange uniform, standing next to a 'monster,' holding a flashlight that doesn't work for her.

  It's a horrible mirror.

  Lyra leans closer, urgent. "Fey. This is not working."

  "I know," I whisper. "I know."

  The soldier's voice changes suddenly. Less contempt. More confusion. "Wait."

  I look up.

  He's staring at my eyes. I can feel it even through the visor.

  His posture goes rigid, like he's seen something that breaks his entire worldview. "You're... you're no hero."

  My throat tightens. "What?"

  He shakes his head like he's trying to force reality back into shape. "Heroes have... you know. The eyes." He gestures vaguely at his helmet like the concept is obvious. "How did you even get here?"

  He leans forward, pressing against the bars. His voice drops, urgent and confused. "Wait. How did you get past the checkpoint? How did you get through the gate?"

  My heart stops.

  "The gate?" I repeat, stepping closer without thinking.

  "Yeah, the gate," he says, like I'm being deliberately stupid. "The one we came through. How did you..." He stops. Stares harder.

  "You know how to get back?" The words tumble out. "How do I get through? Where is it? How do I go home?"

  He stares at me like I've just asked him where God parks his car.

  "There's no way," he mutters, more to himself. "There's no way a civilian gets through. They don't let civilians..." His voice rises, confused and angry. "If you didn't go through the checkpoint, how did you get here!"

  I take another step towards the bars, I'm so close now that I can feel the cold iron. "I didn't. There was a portal, and. . ."

  He moves fast. I realize too late that I stepped close enough for him to reach me.

  His hand shoots between the bars, grabs my sweater, yanks me forward hard enough that my teeth click. Before I can gasp, his other hand clamps around my throat.

  The world narrows to that grip. The iron bars dig into my sweater and my skin at the same time, cold and useless.

  His glove is rough. The pressure immediate. Pain blooming under my jaw. Breath catching. My hands fly to his wrist, trying to pry it off, but he's stronger than he looks. He pulls me closer until my face is inches from the bars. Until I can see my own terrified reflection in his visor.

  Lyra shouts.

  Kaela screams..

  The soldier snarls, "Let me out or I kill her!"

  Lyra's eyes go wide, she doesn't understand the words, but she understands my strangled gasp, the way my fingers claw at his wrist. Her expression goes from confusion to murder in one heartbeat. She steps forward, hands half-raised like she's ready to carve him open with runes.

  He squeezes.

  Stars burst at the edges of my vision. My lungs burn. The mana in my ribs flares, hot and panicked, trying to escape.

  "Fey!" Lyra demands, frantic.

  His hand tightens. My panic spikes. The mana surges, fluttering like it's trying to claw out. I clamp down mentally, desperate not to leak. Not now. Not like this.

  "Translate," he hisses. "Tell it to open the door!"

  I cough, vision swimming. "He wants you... to open... the cell..."

  Lyra's gaze flicks between me and the bars. Fury rises in her eyes.

  The soldier jerks me once, like shaking a rag doll. "Now!"

  Lyra's jaw tightens. She takes a key from a hook near the door. She unlocks the cell.

  The door clicks open. It’s such a tiny sound for such a catastrophic decision.

  The soldier lunges out, still gripping my throat.

  He drags me with him. Uses me like a human shield. His other hand snatches the flashlight, swings it in a quick arc, bathing the dungeon in harsh white light. He goes for his pack, slinging it up with practiced efficiency, never loosening his grip on my neck.

  "If you make a sound," he growls, voice low and close, "I crush your neck."

  I wheeze. Nod. Nodding is all I can do. My vision grays at the edges. My lungs scream.

  Lyra and Kaela stand frozen. Kaela is shaking.

  "Kaela," I rasp, forcing sound around his grip. "Please stay calm."

  He hits me.

  Not hard enough to knock me out. Hard enough to make my cheek sting and my eyes water. The world tilts. "Don't speak unless spoken to, traitor!"

  I choke back a noise. Fury flares bright and hot. The mana in my ribs trembles with it.

  He reaches into his pack and pulls out a radio. It looks stupidly normal in his gloved hand. Black plastic. Antenna. Buttons.

  Lyra's eyes flick to it, confused.

  I panic so sharply it feels like my ribs might split.

  Because a radio means connection. Other soldiers. If he calls in, they'll come. More guns. More people. I think of Lyra. Of Kaela. Of Mira.

  "Don't," I gasp, voice strained. "Please... don't."

  He ignores me. Thumb already moving toward the button.

  Static crackles.

  "Stop," I beg. It comes out ugly. Desperate.

  Lyra moves. Steps forward. Hands lifting. Eyes burning.

  He jerks me closer, using me as a barrier. "Back! Back, monster!"

  Lyra freezes. Teeth bared. I can see the fury in her eyes. The helplessness.

  My vision swims. My throat aches. The mana inside me pulses in time with my panic, like it's trying to claw out.

  Then my brain does the thing it always does when I'm terrified: it finds the most reckless solution possible and calls it courage.

  I open a portal.

  The mana surges out of my ribs like a dam breaking.

  The air splits.

  A jagged oval forms beside us, shimmering, sharp at the edges like torn fabric. Mira comes through like she's been yanked by the collar.

  She stumbles forward, sword already half-drawn, eyes wide with immediate battle readiness.

  The soldier recoils so hard he nearly drops me.

  "A... small gate?" he whispers, horror-struck.

  His hand loosens on my throat just enough for me to suck in a real breath.

  It feels like being born.

  Mira grabs my arm and yanks me out of his grip completely. Pulls me tight against her side like she's claiming me as a person, not a hostage. Her sword comes up, point aimed at his chest. For one dizzy second I almost collapse into her just because she’s there and I can breathe again.

  "Step back," Mira orders. Voice cold.

  The soldier stares at her like she's a nightmare wearing a face.

  Static hisses louder from the radio.

  "Lieutenant," a voice crackles, faint and distant. "Lieutenant, report..."

  The soldier shakes himself like he's waking up. Terror snaps into action. His hand dives for his gun.

  Mira moves first.

  She lunges. Sword flashing.

  The soldier brings the rifle up, blocks with the stock. The impact rings off stone. Mira's sword doesn't cut through, whatever the rifle's made of, it's strong. And the soldier's arms are stronger. He shoves. Mira staggers back half a step, boots scraping.

  Kaela snaps out of her daze, eyes huge. "Fey...!"

  "Get a professor!" I shout. "Now!"

  Kaela hesitates, then nods hard and bolts.

  Lyra's already moving. Chalk in hand. Eyes darting to the floor. She starts drawing runes fast, furious, lines snapping into place like she's writing a spell out of pure anger.

  Mira swings again. The soldier blocks again. He's trying to angle the rifle. Trying to get space. Trying to aim.

  Mira's breathing starts to roughen. She's strong, but he's built like a soldier. He shoves her back toward the wall.

  "Mira!" I choke out. Useless.

  "Help!" Mira yells without looking.

  I dive for the soldier's arm.

  It's a terrible plan. The kind that gets you killed in movies and mocked in the afterlife. But my body moves on pure panic and stubbornness. I clamp both hands around his forearm, trying to wrench the rifle away, trying to keep the muzzle from pointing at Mira.

  The soldier roars. Twists. His strength is absurd. He shakes me off like I'm a loose coat. I hang on anyway. Nails digging into his suit. Teeth clenched.

  Mira swings, trying to strike around me, trying not to hit me.

  The soldier jerks the rifle upward and cracks it into Mira's face. The sound is sickening. Metal on bone. Everything in me goes hot with panic so fast it almost blanks my vision.

  Mira stumbles back. Hand flying to her forehead. Blood immediately beads between her fingers, bright and red.

  The soldier wrenches hard. Throws me off his arm completely. I hit the stone floor on my side. Pain flares through my hip and shoulder. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. For half a second, the world is just stone and cold and the taste of dust.

  Then I look up.

  Mira is on the floor, waving her sword upward as the man steps back. He aims his rifle.

  Time slows.

  Lyra shouts something and slams her palm against the rune she's drawn.

  The floor erupts.

  Earth surges up from the stone like a beast waking. Thick slabs rising in a wall between the soldier and us. The rifle fires.

  A bang explodes.

  The sound is deafening. Dust shakes loose. My ears ring.

  The soldier swears, slamming the rifle stock against the new wall, frantic.

  The bullet hits stone instead of Mira.

  In the chaos, something small falls onto the floor on our side of the wall. It skids through dust and stops against my boot like the dungeon itself handed it to me. For half a second I just stare at it, stupidly, because of all the impossible things in this room, a radio still feels the most unreal.

  Static crackles from the speaker.

  "Lieutenant?" the voice insists, distant and sharp. "Lieutenant, come in..."

  My hands shake so hard I almost drop it.

  Mira staggers toward me. Blood running down her forehead in a thin line that looks too bright against her skin. I scramble up and grab her elbow, supporting her.

  "Are you okay?" I blurt, panicked.

  Mira sucks in a breath through her teeth. "I'm fine."

  She's lying. It's Mira's second favorite hobby after violence.

  "I'm sorry," I say, words tumbling out. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. . ."

  "Don't," she snaps, even as she leans into me slightly. "You couldn't have known."

  The wall shakes again as the soldier pounds on it. Another bang. More dust. He's firing blind, furious.

  Lyra stands with chalk dust smeared across her fingers. Chest heaving. Eyes blazing. She looks like she wants to turn the whole dungeon into a grave.

  Footsteps thunder down the corridor.

  Kaela bursts back in with two guards and Professor Willias.

  Professor Willias looks from the earth wall to my face to Mira's bleeding forehead to Lyra's chalk-covered hands.

  "What," he says, very softly, "did you do."

  "I can explain," I start automatically. In my defense, that question covers a lot of events.

  The radio static cuts out.

  A voice fills the dungeon. Suddenly clear. Suddenly too loud in the stone chamber.

  "Lieutenant! Are you there? Why do we hear natives? Who is that girl?"

  My heart stops.

  Professor Willias's head turns sharply. "That voice. Where is that coming from?"

  Lyra speaks at the same time, furious and confused. "What is that?"

  I stare at the radio like it's a live grenade. "It's... it's a radio. It's..."

  "Lieutenant!" the voice barks again, urgent now. "Lieutenant, respond! We have interference. Who is the girl? Identify..."

  I lift the radio toward my mouth without thinking. Shout into it. Because my brain has fully abandoned subtlety.

  "Hello?" I yell. "Hi! Stop! Please stop! We..."

  The voice keeps going like it can't hear me at all.

  "Lieutenant! Lieutenant, if you can hear me, respond immediately!"

  I blink. Realization slices through my panic.

  They can't hear me.

  Of course they can't. I'm not pressing the right button.

  The professor's eyes narrow. "Fey."

  Behind the earth wall, the prisoner screams. The wall shudders as he slams into it. Another gunshot cracks. Dust rains down. The guards flinch, weapons raising.

  Professor Willias steps forward sharply. "Everyone out. Now."

  "But..." I begin.

  "Out," he snaps. "This is not your fight."

  "It is our. . ." Lyra starts, voice shaking with fury.

  "Out," he repeats. This time the guards move, shepherding us back.

  The radio crackles again. "Lieutenant! Lieutenant! If you are compromised. . ."

  The radio goes silent.

  The sudden quiet is worse than the noise. The dungeon feels like it's holding its breath.

  Lyra and Professor Willias speak at the same time.

  "What was that?" Lyra demands.

  "What was that device?" Professor Willias snaps.

  I swallow hard. Look down at the silent radio in my shaking hands like it's proof I'm not insane. "It's a radio," I say again, hoarse. "It lets people talk to each other from far away."

  Professor Willias's gaze is sharp enough to cut. "And it belongs to him."

  "Yes," I say. "But..."

  He holds out his hand. "Give it to me."

  My fingers tighten reflexively.

  "I. . ." I start.

  Professor Willias's expression hardens. "Fey."

  Mira sways slightly beside me. Kaela's face is pale. Lyra looks like barely contained fury and grief.

  I force my fingers to loosen and place the radio in the professor's palm.

  "Thank you," he says.

  It somehow sounds like a threat.

  Behind the wall, the prisoner slams again. The stone trembles. Another gunshot thuds, muffled now, but still terrifying in a place that shouldn't have guns.

  "Nurse," Professor Willias says curtly.

  Kaela nods immediately, already reaching for Mira's arm. "Come on, Mira."

  Mira grimaces. "I'm fine."

  Kaela's eyes narrow in a way I didn't know Kaela's eyes could narrow. "You're bleeding."

  "It's decorative."

  Kaela doesn't laugh. "Nurse."

  Mira sighs dramatically. Like she's the victim here.

  Professor Willias looks at the three of us... me, Lyra, Kaela... and the disappointment in his eyes is so palpable it could be a physical object.

  "What were you four thinking? These invaders are dangerous. You could have been killed." Professor Willias sighs, looking at Mira in particular. "You needed to think."

  I open my mouth to argue. Immediately remember I'm still covered in dust, still shaking, still holding the bruised echo of a hand around my throat.

  And I think about Eve. About how she saw me standing alone and decided I was worth sitting next to. How she didn't ask permission or make it weird. She just... chose me. And I chose her back.

  That's what I did here. I chose Lyra. I chose Kaela. I chose Mira.

  And they chose me.

  Even when it meant breaking rules. Even when it meant bleeding on stone floors and facing down a man with a gun and standing in front of a professor whose disappointment feels heavier than any punishment.

  They chose me.

  So I look at Professor Willias, at the radio in his hand, at the dust still settling in the dungeon behind him, and I say, "I'd do it again."

  It's not defiant. It's just true.

  His expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes shifts. Like he's seeing something he didn't expect to find.

  "I know," he says quietly. "That's what worries me."