39. Elara
39
ELARA
I t feels as if we’re being swallowed whole by the tunnel.
The air grows thicker, hotter, heavy with the metallic tang of sulfur that coats the back of my throat and makes every breath claw like sandpaper.
Sweat beads along my spine and collects in the hollow of my throat. Even wrapped in Ryatuv’s protective cloak, the heat presses down on me like the breath of a living furnace.
Ryatuv leads, moving in silence, his broad back framed by the faint orange glow of molten rock from the crevasse in the floor beside us. Z’leni is behind me, a shadow at my heels. The silence between them is deafening. I feel it like pressure in my ears. It’s full of unspoken things, sharp and crackling, just waiting to combust.
Ryatuv glances back and murmurs, “Keep left,” his voice cutting through the sulfur-choked air like a blade. “I found a side path last recon. Should still be stable.”
Should. I don’t like that word down here.
The ground shudders. It’s a subtle tremor, at first. Just enough to remind us this place is alive. That the mountain above and the fire below are having a personal disagreement and we’re intruding on their argument.
My foot slips and I catch myself against the wall. The stone is slick with condensation and heat. Ryatuv glances back, briefly, but no words. Only a nod that says he’s watching.
We press on and the tunnel narrows. The walls closing in like the throat of an enormous beast. The further we go the higher the heat climbs. My vision is blurred by sweat that trickles into my eyes, and then?—
Crack.
The sound is immediately followed by a groan and a thunderous shift in the stone to my right. I whip my head toward the sound. Too late.
The wall beside me fractures.
There is a roaring sound.
The crack explodes without warning. A gout of fire-laced air blasts out. Instinctively, I throw up my arm—and pain slams into me, raw and searing.
It’s so fast, so sudden I don’t even scream.
My knees buckle. I stumble into Z’leni, who catches me with one hand. His sword is in his other hand, ready in case anything emerges.
“It’s sealed,” Ryatuv says a moment later, scanning the crack. “Keep moving.”
He sees me clutching my arm and stops. He strides back and catches my wrist with a gentleness that makes my throat ache.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, trying to pull away. “We don’t have time?—”
“You’re burned,” he says, firm but quiet, already peeling back the singed edge of the cloak. “Let me see.”
I grit my teeth, but I don’t fight. I was pointedly ignoring the burn and even now I only dare a quick glance. The skin is red and angry, blistering along the edges. It stings like hell, but thankfully it was only steam that caught me. Steeling my nerves I look again and decide that I’ve had worse.
Ryatuv’s hands are rough from battle, but he handles me as if I might shatter. His touch is a contradiction—strength wrapped in reverence. At odds with the fire in his eyes when he speaks to Z’leni. He pulls a small tin from his belt, flips it open with one hand, and dips two fingers into a slick blue-green salve.
When he touches my skin, I flinch—more from the cold of the salve than from pain. It bubbles against my burn, instantly cooling, leaving behind a numbing tingle. His fingers are strong but deft. Tender. Like I’m breakable.
“Stubborn human,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “You’d rather hurt than ask for help.”
I open my mouth to argue, but his fingers are on my skin. Still smoothing the salve with slow, circling strokes. And I can’t look away from his face. There’s something raw there. Unspoken. Uncertain. My breath hitches.
Behind us, Z’leni shifts. I glance at him and his gaze is locked on us. On me. His jaw is clenched so tightly I expect to hear a crack, but his eyes are unreadable. Not angry. Not jealous. Just… haunted.
Ryatuv finishes without a word. His fingers linger a second longer than necessary, then he drops my arm.
“Thank you,” I whisper. It comes out smaller than I intend. Like I’m handing him something fragile.
He gives a brief nod, then turns without another word. The moment splinters into silence and we resume moving.
The tunnel grows wider as we descend, emerging into a chamber cut deep into the crust of the world. It feels like we’re standing inside the bones of a forgotten god. The heat eases slightly, but there is an eerie stillness. The air shifts. No more tremors. No more molten bursts. Just silence.
And in that silence, the earth pulses.
I see it through a crack in the far stone—dim and red. Flickering like the rhythm of a slowing heart. Or maybe not slowing. Maybe angry. Waiting.
“We’re close,” Z’leni says, voice low.
We crouch behind a jagged rock. The arch of an opening is on the other side and it looks out over the Urr’ki city from a ways above the ground level. I press my back to the stone, ready to move again, but Z’leni doesn’t rise. His voice, when it comes, is rough. Broken.
“I know this path,” he says. “I helped carve it.”
I freeze. Slowly turning to look at him. Z’leni’s eyes aren’t on us. They’re somewhere else. Somewhere far beneath the surface of his thoughts.
“I was a believer once,” he says. “I followed the Shaman’s every word.” He shakes his head, his eyes full of regrets. “I…” he trails off, silent for a long, pregnant moment before he finishes, “I helped lay the foundation of the Infernal Machine.”
My stomach drops.
“The device that holds power over all my people. That feeds the Paluga. That instilled fear so deeply into my people that they gave up. The thing that choked hope out of us.” His voice shakes, just a little. “I didn’t know what it was. Not then. I thought… I thought it was holy. Sacred. A conduit to something greater.” He swallows hard and looks at me for the first time. “I helped build the thing… now I must destroy it.”
The silence that follows feels heavy enough to crush me. I reach out before I think better of it, brushing my fingers over the back of his hand.
“We’ve all believed in the wrong people,” I say, thinking back to my own history.
I once believed in Gershom’s lies, too. In protecting humans at the cost of compassion. His no aliens policy made sense. There were so few humans left after the wreck of the ship that I thought it was stupid to not think of ourselves. I was wrong then, but hearing Z’leni speak breaks my heart, because I get it.
Mistakes don’t make us monsters. They make us... survivors.
“That doesn’t make you unworthy. It makes you… human… or… I don’t know. I mean, you’re Urr’ki, sure, but that doesn’t matter. We all make mistakes. We get fooled. We believe in the wrong person. You made a mistake, it happens, but we can’t change the past. We can only change what we do in the future,” I say, taking his hand in mine and squeezing.
A breath escapes him. Shaky, like I’ve knocked something loose. Ryatuv watches, silent, but not judging which I’m thankful for. He could use this as fuel in his rivalry, but he doesn’t. Instead he watches the two of us with an unreadable expression.
We don’t say more. There’s no time, but the air between us has changed. We move forward. Wordless, but not untouched.
Creeping out from behind the boulder we move in low crouches towards the edge.
We’re above the city, looking out over it. There is a glow, brighter than it was when I last saw the city, spilling across the stones like veins of blood. Small rivers of lava run through several portions of the city, creating a constant glow and light. The walls around us hum, low and distant.
We move again, hugging the curve of the stone wall. Every step feels heavier. Not from exhaustion, though that’s there too, clinging to my limbs like a second skin, but from what’s ahead.
Mazabuta. Annalise. And the machine…
I don’t know what I expect. I don’t even know what I’ll say. What if I’m too late?
Z’leni leads us to a side corridor, narrow and partially collapsed. The air shifts—cooler here. Still dry, but now it carries the faint scent of something long-forgotten. Dust and ash, time and rot. A few more turns and Z’leni slows, crouching to inspect a barely visible seam in the rock. His hand presses against it and the stone gives way with a soft grind, revealing a hidden passage.
Z’leni ducks inside first, silent. I follow, heart pounding.
The space beyond is a low, wide chamber. It looks like it was a storage cache in the past. Shelving units, long since decayed, crates half-crushed under falling rock. The ceiling droops where part of it has caved in. There are piles of ash in the corners, but it’s dry. Hidden. A temporary haven.
“We will rest here,” Z’leni says. “I’ll go into the city alone, the two of you would stand out like a flaring torch.”
“You can’t go out there alone,” I protest, stepping towards him.
To my surprise Ryatuv is at my side. His tail slaps the floor with a smack.
“You are a fool,” Ryatuv snarls.
“What bright idea do you have?” Z’leni barks at Ryatuv. “This was how it had to be from the beginning.”
“You fought their forces. You think they won’t know you?” Ryatuv asks, his voice low and dangerous. “No. This is foolish. There must be another way.”
“Must?” Z’leni says. “Of course. I’ll wait while you figure that out, because clearly the lizard knows my people better than I do.”
Ryatuv hisses, his wings popping open with a snap as his hands curl into fists. Their anger crackles, but I wedge between them, shoving them apart with a glare.
“Stop,” I say, my voice cracking with frustration. “Just… stop. We’ve come too far. We’re better than this.”
They growl and huff, puffing their chests out. I lock eyes with Z’leni then Ryatuv and almost in unison they stop. Their chests deflate and they each take a half-step back. Ryatuv even mutters something that resembles an apology.
“We didn’t think this part through,” Z’leni says, walking over to the far wall and peering through a crack.
He runs his hands over the unbroken portion of the wall and then I hear a click. Silently a portion of the wall swings partway open. Z’leni grunts, looks quickly back then sticks his head through the opening.
“I know the resistance is on the outskirts,” Z’leni says, pulling back inside.
“Do you know how to find them?” Ryatuv asks.
The frown on Z’leni’s face is more than answer enough. He stares at the ground then rubs the back of his head.
“I’ll have to ask,” Z’leni says.
The door swings open behind him. My eyes widen and a yelp slides out of my mouth because I can’t form words. Ryatuv leaps forward, grabbing Z’leni by the shoulder and jerking him away from the opening.
Z’leni stumbles towards me, drawing his blade as he does. I stumble back, both to get space and to keep from being crushed if Z’leni falls. Ryatuv is a blur. His arm thrusts through the opening and jerks someone inside. His other hand curls into a tight fist, already swinging?—
“Stop!” Z’leni barks.
Ryatuv, in an impressive display of control, stops his fist right before it lands on the Urr’ki’s face. The Urr’ki in his grip growls and smacks his arm aside.
“Mazabuta?” Z’leni asks, stepping past Ryatuv.
The Urr’ki nods, his eyes shifting from Z’leni to Ryatuv.
“It’s true then,” Mazabuta says.
He ignores Ryatuv who lets him go. Mazabuta turns back to the door, stretches his arm into the opening and a dirty human female walks in. Her hands cradle her swollen belly. Her eyes meet mine and everything else falls away.
“Hello,” she says, a little breathless, but with a bright smile.
Tears fill my eyes, unbidden. All the pain, the fear, and the stress culminates in this moment. I haven’t seen Annalise in what feels like forever and even then it was from a distance in the marketplace before things got worse in the Urr’ki city. And now, she’s pregnant. Very pregnant.
Her eyes meet mine—and the world narrows to just us. Hope swells in my chest, raw and aching. She smiles, one hand resting over her swollen belly, and for the first time in what feels like forever... I believe we might survive.
There is hope of a future, one I haven’t had even a moment to contemplate. My past weeks have been nothing but surviving, one crisis to the next. No chance to consider what comes next or what might be.
She represents all of that and more. I want to run to her. Wrap my arms around her, but the tension in the room is thick as smoke, stopping me. I’m caught between reunion and a rupturing of the fragile alliance.
“Z’leni,” he growls. “You brought him here?”
“It’s not what you think,” I say quickly. “He helped me, now he’s helping us.”
Mazabuta doesn’t answer. His gaze shifts between the two males. Z’leni cool and still; Ryatuv tense and coiled. The distrust radiates off the three of them like heat off the lava-soaked walls.
“You’re lucky you’re with her,” Mazabuta growls to Ryatuv. “Otherwise, I’d slit your throat.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Ryatuv replies, stone-cold.
Z’leni snorts, but doesn’t add fuel. I glance at him, surprised.
“We found a tunnel,” I say, cutting through the tension. “A lava route Ryatuv knew about. It’s dangerous, but unguarded. You and Annalise can use it.”
“There’s no way out,” Mazabuta says, shaking his head. “We’ve tried everything. Every exit’s either collapsed or crawling with Maulavi. The Shaman’s tightened the noose. We’re trapped.”
“You’re not,” I say firmly. “We made it through. You can too.”
He’s shaking his head before I finish. “She’s pregnant. I’m not risking her.”
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think you could make it. Ryatuv, Z’leni, and I will draw attention in the city. If you go now, quickly, you can make it.”
Mazabuta’s jaw tightens. His fingers flex on the hilt of his blade. He doesn’t want to believe me, but Annalise does. Her hand finds his.
“I trust her,” she says, soft but steady. “If Elara says it’s safe enough, then we go.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. Then he exhales, long and slow, and nods once.
“Alright,” he says. “But if anything happens?—”
“I know,” I say. “Nothing will. I promise.”
Mazabuta grumbles as he pulls Annalise gently toward the edge of the chamber where the stone wall still offers a bit of cover. He rummages through the few surviving supplies and ties them into a cloth bundle.
Annalise and I stare at each other while he works. I try to think of the right thing to say, but I’ve got nothing. Every idea I come up with sounds stupid or crass. I blink, shake my head, then shrug. Annalise seems to feel the same, but after a few moments she comes over and wraps her arms around me.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For coming back.”
“You knew I escaped?” I ask.
“The Resistance knew, they told us,” she says. “Mazabuta had to take me into hiding to get away from the Maulavi. The Shaman is out of control.”
“Yeah,” I say, jaw tensing. “Well that’s about to come to an end.”
“It’s true then? The Zmaj are coming?” she asks.
“It is,” I say.
“Good!” she says, excitement in her voice. “Then you can come with us.”
“No, not yet,” I say. “We have one more mission to accomplish first.”
“Elara, you don’t know how dangerous it is out there,” she says.
“I do,” I say, swallowing my own fear. “But this has to be done.”
She grips my shoulders, staring into my eyes with a long searching look. She frowns and her lower lip trembles.
“Don’t die,” she whispers. “Not now.”
“I won’t,” I whisper back. “I swear.”
Mazabuta talks rapidly with Z’leni in their language. Ryatuv comes closer to Annalise and I. He is also staring at her belly with an expression I can’t really read. Surprise, excitement? Something.
“Go in peace,” Z’leni says.
“She could return with us,” Mazabuta says, staring at me.
Ryatuv hisses, his tail twitching.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m staying.”
Ryatuv places his hand on the small of my back, silently supportive. Z’leni looks conflicted. His eyes dart between me and Mazabuta. Finally he shakes his head and growls.
“As she wills it,” Z’leni says at last.
“Dragoste?” Mazabuta asks, looking at Z’leni.
I’ve heard this word before and it makes my heart skip, almost painfully. Z’leni doesn’t look away, his eyes boring into mine.
“Dragoste,” he says, not a shadow of a doubt in his voice or on his face.
My mouth is dry, my heart racing, and my pussy is soaked. I swallow. Hard. Ryatuv presses his hand into the small of my back, silently possessive.
Mazabuta offers his hand to Z’leni who takes it and they shake. Then he walks over to Ryatuv. The two men stare at each other for a long moment then Mazabuta extends his hand. The tension builds so high it’s hard to breathe but Ryatuv takes the offered hand, clasping on the wrist. They shake with a sharp gesture then part.
Annalise smiles tightly, her eyes full of worry as Mazabuta takes her hand then they disappear into the tunnel.