34. Elara
34
ELARA
W aves 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.
“You’re important...,” he says, pausing, his eyes darting from me to Z’leni then back. “To the mission.”
“Right,” I say, trying to ignore how much that stings. Why is he retreating now? He said he came for me. We shared a moment. A kiss, but now I’m a mission? This doesn’t make any sense. “The mission.”
When I step forward, his hand brushes the small of my back. Guiding me and steadying me, but his touch burns through the thin fabric of my shirt. I don’t pull away. I should. I don’t. Behind us, Z’leni chuckles. It’s a low rumbling sound and I can’t decide if it’s actual amusement or something else.
“You two going to flirt the whole way, or are we escaping certain fiery death today?”
I glance over my shoulder to glare at him, but he just grins through the pain. There’s a smear of soot on his temple, and one of his braids has come loose, hanging low over one eye. He looks infuriatingly relaxed for someone hobbling through an active deathtrap.
“You okay?” I ask, ignoring his comment.
He snorts, shaking his head. He glares at Ryatuv over my head.
“Yes. Great,” he says. “Walking on a twisted leg through boiling tunnels with a glorified brute who looks at me like I’m one wrong move from being a liability.”
“You are a liability,” Ryatuv says.
“You’re jealous because I’m prettier.”
“Shut up and walk,” Ryatuv snaps.
Z’leni smirks but obeys. My heartbeat is racing as I roll my eyes, but the truth is this bickering is keeping us grounded. Keeping us sane. And as much as I hate to admit it, I need that right now. Because if I think too hard about what’s ahead of us, or worst what’s beneath, I’ll spiral. I’ll break.
Another tremor rattles the stone beneath our feet. It’s sharper this time, more like a pulse than a quake. I grab for Ryatuv’s arm because he’s closest. He’s solid, unyielding muscle beneath my fingers. He steadies me without hesitation. His hand covers mine, tight and grounding. Z’leni stumbles behind us with a grunt, grabbing the wall for balance.
“I think we’re getting close to more of the magma veins,” I whisper. “The air is... thicker.”
“No,” Z’leni says. “That’s the Paluga. It’s rising.”
A chill creeps down my spine despite the heat.
“Then we need to be faster,” I urge, hating the way my voice cracks but desperation fills my thoughts.
He nods, and we press on. The tunnel narrows, forcing us single file. My shoulder brushes rough stone, and every step is an effort now. The heat is suffocating. I can’t tell if the dizziness is from dehydration or fear. I think it’s both.
A faint glow appears up ahead. A trickle of light seeping in from looks like a collapsed vent. I climb over debris to reach it so I can peer into the hole. Beyond it, I can just make out another tunnel, wider and sloping upward. Hope sparks in my chest.
“I think there’s a way out,” I say over my shoulder.
Z’leni and Ryatuv are at the bottom of the debris. They’re standing side-by-side, close enough that their shoulders almost touch. both stare with narrowed eyes. They look at each other and for a moment it’s as if they only then realize how close together they are because they both startle and take a step away from each other.
“Heh,” Z’leni grunts.
He comes first, climbing up onto the debris with Ryatuv right behind him. They’re partway up the pile when another tremor, stronger this time, slams into us like a wave. I’m thrown forward, hitting my head against the wall then falling down the pile. I bounce off the hard ground scraping my hands and arms against stone. Behind me, I hear a sharp cry.
“Elara!” Z’leni.
I whip around. Dust clouds the tunnel. Z’leni is on the ground, pinned beneath a jagged slab of rock. His green face is pale, lips clenched tight. Blood trickles from his shoulder.
Ryatuv is already moving. He lifts the rock with a roar, muscles straining, and shoves it aside. Then he crouches and grips Z’leni’s arm.
“You idiot,” Ryatuv growls. “You dove for her.”
“She’s smaller,” Z’leni grits out. “Easier to crush.”
“You dove for her.”
“I repeat, prettier,” he growls, face twisting in pain.
“Shut up.”
But Ryatuv’s grip is gentler now, his hand bracing Z’leni with more care than I’ve ever seen from him. He runs his hands over Z’leni, inspecting his leg. Z’leni hisses when Ryatuv touches his calf. I rise slowly, my body aching.
“Is he?—?”
“He’ll live,” Ryatuv says, rising to his feet. “But he’s not walking the rest of the way.”
“Don’t you dare—” Z’leni groans.
Too late. Ryatuv dips and slings Z’leni’s arm over his shoulder. Z’leni winces but doesn’t protest further. Not out loud, anyway. I stare at the two of them stuck between a mix of shock and something deeper that makes my guts coil low in my stomach.
The three of us begin to move, slower now, but somehow it feels like we’re closer to each other, somehow more tethered or maybe more tangled.
Ryatuv adjusts Z’leni against his side, gripping his waist like this is nothing new and like the weight of the Urr’ki means nothing to him. But I can tell from the tightness in his jaw and the way his muscles flex beneath his skin that it’s not easy. Z’leni isn’t light. And Ryatuv is pushing the limits of his strength. As we travel steam curls around his body like smoke clinging to a flame.
“Don’t you dare drop me,” Z’leni mutters, breath shallow.
Ryatuv snorts. “I’ll throw you before I drop you.”
“Touching.”
But he doesn’t shift away. If anything, he leans a little more into Ryatuv’s hold, his expression grim beneath the soot and blood. And Ryatuv… doesn’t pull away. It’s like watching fire and lightning find common ground. Violent, unwilling, but inevitable.
I take the lead, making our way through the narrowing tunnel. Ducking beneath hanging stalactites and stepping around bubbling pools of molten rock. Some of the walls glow, casting red-orange light over our path. Shadows dance across the stone, and for a moment, I think I see something moving, a long, serpentine form undulating just beneath the surface. I freeze.
“Elara?” Ryatuv’s voice is close, rough with concern.
“I thought I saw…” I shake my head. “Never mind. Keep moving.”
But the feeling doesn’t fade. The air hums with tension, like the tunnels themselves are aware of us. Like the Paluga is watching. Waiting. And still we keep walking.
Ryatuv’s breathing grows heavier, his steps slowing only a fraction, but enough. I glance back. His arms are trembling, shoulders straining beneath Z’leni’s weight.
“Let me help—” I move to take some of the burden.
“No,” Ryatuv snaps. “We need to keep moving. You’re the only one not injured.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re not hurt as bad as he is.”
His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, something raw and dark glimmers beneath his scowl. Something like… fear. Not for himself. For me. My heart stutters. Z’leni groans softly, resting his head against Ryatuv’s shoulder.
“This is weirdly intimate,” he mutters, “but you smell like fire and bad decisions.”
“You smell like blood and arrogance,” Ryatuv growls back, but there’s no venom in it.
“I think I like this version of you. All soft and caring and carrying me.”
“Say one more word and I’ll feed you to the lava.”
“I knew you liked me.”
“Stars help me.”
Their banter has become familiar, almost comforting. But it’s also something else. Something I can’t quite name. There’s heat in their words, but not just from the tunnels. And when Ryatuv shifts Z’leni higher, his hands linger at his waist longer than necessary. Z’leni’s eyes flick up, catching Ryatuv’s gaze and hold it.
The air between them sparks. And suddenly, I’m not sure who I’m more envious of. That realization slams into me like a second quake. I’m jealous of Z’leni… for being in Ryatuv’s arms. And I’m jealous of Ryatuv… for having Z’leni so close.
Gods. What is this?
I’m already a tangled knot of exhaustion, fear, and adrenaline. I don’t need to add attraction to both of them on top of it. But I do. I feel it.
The steady, unwavering presence of Ryatuv, solid, stubborn, and infuriatingly noble. The way he never lets himself show weakness, except in these rare moments, when the weight of everything presses too close.
And Z’leni, all smirking defiance and sharp grace, his mind always spinning, his eyes always reading more than he says. Even now, bleeding and limping, he finds time to flirt and distract and see me.
No one has ever looked at me the way they do. Different, but… the same. Like I’m something important. Something worth fighting for. Something worth dying for. I inhale shakily, pressing one hand against my cheeks to steady myself. We round a bend in the tunnel and the heat grows suddenly unbearable, like we’ve stepped into a furnace.
A wide chamber opens before us, glowing red-hot. A river of magma snakes through the center, slow and roiling, lighting the cavern from below. The air warps with it, thick and shimmering. Across the chamber, I see an opening. Another tunnel sloping up, faint sunlight bleeding through a crack at the top.
“There,” I breathe.
Ryatuv doesn’t answer. I turn and find him frozen, eyes locked on the magma river. I follow his gaze.
And there—coiled on the far side of the chamber—is a creature I can barely comprehend. Long as a transport, thick as a shuttle hull, its scaled body glows with internal fire. Eyes molten orange open slowly, blinking at us from across the flames.
The Paluga. Or something close to it. We go still. The creature watches. Then… it moves.
Not toward us. Not yet. But the heat intensifies, as if its presence alone commands the temperature. Rocks crumble from the ceiling. Lava bubbles violently, splashing up the banks.
“We run,” I whisper. “Now.”
Ryatuv nods. “Don’t look back.”
He tightens his grip on Z’leni and we bolt across a narrow stone bridge spanning the magma flow, up the far slope, into the tunnel. Behind us, the creature lifts its head, hissing low and long, like the growl of a volcano.
I don’t look back. But my spine crawls as every hair on the back of my neck rises. I swear I feel it watching.
We don’t stop running until the tunnel cools again, and light spills down from an opening above. A vent, wide enough to crawl through. A way out. Ryatuv sets Z’leni down gently, breathing hard.
“We’re close,” I whisper, chest heaving.
Z’leni grins weakly. “I hate to admit it, but… I think I might owe Ryatuv my life.”
“You do,” Ryatuv grunts.
“And I hate you a little less for it.”
They share a look. Not warm. Not forgiving. But… less sharp. Less full of knives. Progress. And then both their eyes are on me. And the silence grows thick.
The heat between us has nothing to do with the tunnels now. I should say something. I should break the tension. But I don’t want to.
My heart pounds in my ears. My skin feels electric. I see them, truly see them. Both of them, battle-worn and scarred and beautiful in their own ways. And something in my chest twists.
I want them both. Not just for now. Not just because of what we’ve survived. But because somehow, impossibly, they’ve become mine. All I have to do now… is claim it.
The tunnel narrows before opening into a jagged tear in the stone. A break in the stone left by the quake. Bioluminescent light peeks through from the other side in stark contrast to the red-glow of the superheated stones. I blink, my lungs tight from the shift in air, from the hope that fills my chest like something fragile.
Z’leni groans and hobbles over to lean against the wall. His hair’s stuck to his forehead in sweaty, bloodied strands, but he still manages a smirk when he sees the light.
“Well, well. I thought death would be less dramatic.”
“You’re not dead yet,” Ryatuv says gruffly. “Though you did slow us down enough to make it a close call.”
“I’ll take that as a love confession.”
Ryatuv rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t look away. He stares at Z’leni longer than necessary. His expression is unreadable, but something passes between them. Some silent acknowledgment of survival, of how close they both came to not making it.
“This has to lead up, back to the compound, right?”
Ryatuv pokes his head through the crack then pulls back and shrugs.
“It looks like it might,” he says with a heavy sigh. He shakes his head and shrugs, looking at Z’leni. “We have traveled a long ways. I am not familiar with these tunnels.”
“I am not sure,” Z’leni says, grimacing when he tries to stand and puts pressure on his leg. “Gada.”
I rush to his side, trying to help, but his weight is more than I can handle. My knees buckle before I can lock them. Ryatuv doesn’t run, he leaps, wings open and lands in a half-crouch next to us with a hiss.
“Here,” Ryatuv says, taking Z’leni’s weight off of me. He lowers Z’leni back to the ground. “Fool.”
“When one looks in a reflective pool,” Z’leni mutters.
“What does that mean?” I ask and Z’leni grins.
“You see what you know,” Z’leni says.
I frown, shaking my head in confusion. “Huh?”
“He means that I am a fool,” Ryatuv huffs, dropping Z’leni that last couple of inches to the floor and stepping back. Z’leni huffs, shakes his head and then he laughs. Ryatuv frowns, shakes his head, then he laughs too. “I must be.”
I blink, not understanding either one of them. A cool breeze brushes over my face, pulling my attention back to the crack in the wall. Something flickers on the other side.
“What?” I mutter, carefully making my way back to it.
The flicker happens again. It looks like… firelight. But not the magma type, like a torch.
“Stay back,” Z’leni barks.
“What is that?” Ryatuv asks, then he is at my side. He looks down as he puts his arm across my chest, blocking me from going forward. “Let me look. Please.”
He adds the last as my face turns sour. I frown then shrug. He’s being protective and though it irks me the way he went about it, I also understand and a part of me kind of likes it.
Ryatuv goes to the crack. He turns sideways and forces his way inside until only his tail remains on our side of it. My heart beats faster and faster, wondering if he’s stuck or what it is he sees, but he says nothing.
“Ha!” he yells and I jump.
“What?” I yelp.
Z’leni is on his feet and at my side, despite his injured leg. He stands a step in front of me, both hands balled into fists, ready to fight.
“Brothers!” Ryatuv yells.
“Gada,” Z’leni curses, then he looks over his shoulder to me.
His face pales as he frowns so deep his tusks turn in and touch the sides of his nose. He drops to the ground with a defeated look on his face. He lowers his head and stares at the ground.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He looks up and gives me a half-smile with a shrug.
“That’s Zmaj,” he says, shaking his head. “I know what comes next.”
I lower myself to my knees in front of him. The defeat in his voice is as clear as anything I’ve ever heard. I reach out and touch his face, trailing my fingers over his cheek.
“I won’t let them hurt you,” I say.
“Thank you,” he says but the sadness remains. “But you won’t have a choice. It is fine.” He inhales deeply then his smile becomes more genuine. “I have done many things wrong in my life, but know this Elara…”
“No,” I choke. “Don’t.”
He cups my cheek in his hand.
“I don’t regret any of it,” he says softly. “Not a single moment.”
“Z’leni, stop?—”
“All those moments, all those mistakes,” he says, cutting me off. “I had to make them so that I could be here, now, with you.”
“Gods damn it all to every hell any human ever dreamed up,” I snap, tears filling my eyes. “No. This isn’t over. You don’t get to quit. Not now.”
He smiles.
“Fighter. You have iron in your soul, Elara.”
Footsteps approach so I look over my shoulder. Three new Zmaj walk alongside Ryatuv. I don’t know them, but two are clearly Cavern and one is a surface. You can always tell by their claws.
“Leave him alone,” I snap. “He’s hurt.”
“I accept my fate, Elara,” Z’leni says, climbing to his feet. “But I will do so as a warrior.”
“Shut up, fool,” Ryatuv says.
“Ryatuv you can’t let this happen!” I shout, whirling on him.
The three new Zmaj look from me to Ryatuv who also looks confused. The look at each other then back to me. Z’leni raises his fists, ready to fight, but I step into the middle blocking any combat happening unless they want to risk hitting me.
“Elara—” Ryatuv begins but I cut him off.
“No!” I shout. “After all we’ve been through you can’t let them hurt him. I won’t stand for it. He’s a good man. You are too, but not if you do this. I swear I will never forgive you if you let this happen.” Ryatuv frowns, shaking his head. The surface Zmaj laughs. “You think this is funny? Wait till I tell Rosalind what you do here. She’ll tell that Zmaj she’s mated to. The one that’s like a leader or something. You think they will stand for this?”
The laughing Zmaj shrugs covering his mouth with his hand. He looks over at Ryatuv waiting for him to say something while I glare at the entire group of them. Ryatuv motions with one hand. The two Cavern Zmaj step around me and I move in front of one, shouting again for them to stop. He pauses, looking down at me then back to Ryatuv.
“Elara, they’re going to help,” he says.
“I thought there was some—” I continue but then his words sink in and I stumble to a stop. “What?”
“He’s injured. They’re going to help.”
I look from him to them then to Z’leni who seems every bit as confused as I am.
“Oh,” I say.
I don’t know if it’s relief or what that hits next but my knees go weak and I suddenly remember the damage to my ribs and every bruise flares. Tears fill my eyes as I watch the two Zmaj pick Z’leni up between them. He grunts, shakes his head, then relaxes.
“We’re going home,” Ryatuv says, coming to my side.
He puts his arm around my shoulders and now I know for sure that it’s relief I’m feeling. I slip my arm around his waist and fall in behind the others. At long last I’m going home. I had no idea where this journey would take me and I never could have predicted, in my wildest dreams, it ending like this. But here I am.
The Paluga and the Shaman are still a problem, but I can push those off for the moment at least. Right now, we’re going to be okay.
As if to contrast the thought the ground rumbles and dust falls from the ceiling. My stomach twists, churning, and I lean a little harder into Ryatuv.
Home.
The word evokes a storm of emotions. I left what feels like a lifetime ago and I was a different person then. The future is uncertain but for now, home first. We’ll figure out what’s next after that.