"This is utterly unacceptable! We must send them back at once!"

Gregor had fallen asleep shortly after they had departed and there was a moment when he wondered if the voice was part of his dream, but upon opening his eyes and noticing the flickering of a torch before him, he understood it was real.

"Oh, you cannot endanger or at least delay the mission by another fourteen hours just to bring us back. It's not worthwhile."

Abruptly, Gregor's eyes shot open, and he discerned Luxa and Howard facing each other, with the torch lighting up the improvised grill that filled the room with a delightful aroma.

"I—" Howard clenched his fists and groaned. "This is . . . We must . . ."

"We must accept that she is right," said a different voice from behind him, and Gregor twitched when someone yanked him up under his arms. "Quit pretending that you are still asleep." The Death Rider hauled him over to Luxa and Howard before putting him back on his feet and patting his back so hard that he nearly toppled over. "For, we must accept that Luxa has indeed planned all of this excellently yet again," said the outcast. "We cannot afford to send them back, as there are not enough of us to escort them and both their fliers."

Gregor wondered if he had imagined that slight tinge of acknowledgment in the Death Rider's voice before his gaze met Ares and Aurora, who huddled together in a corner of the cave, their heads lowered as if in shame. Above them hung Thanatos; although his eyes were closed, his ears were peeked. He seemed almost as if he were guarding them.

Howard glared at both Gregor and Luxa. "Who said anything about their fliers? Take them back with you on Thanatos, meanwhile—"

"Meanwhile you're bound to get hopelessly lost with no guidance!" the outcast shot back.

Throughout the entire argument, Gregor remained silent and kept his eyes lowered. All he wanted was to be far away, either back in Regalia with his mom and Boots, or in New York with his dad and Lizzie. Was it Saturday already? Would he be at Mrs. Cormaci's place now if he wasn't stuck on this stupid rescue mission for someone he didn't even like?

"Gregor!"

His tightly shut eyes snapped open, staring into the Death Rider's strained face. "Gregor, you can take ease now and perhaps volunteer to take first watch, since you're so evidently well-rested."

Overcome with embarrassment, Gregor nodded hastily. Howard sat by the torch with his portion of dried beef and bread, still glaring at Luxa, who was already happily chatting with Aurora as she ate her own portion.

"There."

Gregor accepted the plate the outcast offered him, and only then did he notice the furious growling of his stomach. "Look, I'm sorry," he eventually managed to say. "But—"

"Never mind." The Death Rider waved. "Luxa informed us about what Dalia said." His gaze found the young woman, who seemed to be packing up the cooking utensils. "She is not wrong to have these worries. Nonetheless, your action was extremely irresponsible!" he shouted in Luxa's direction, who threw him a quick, self-important grin. "Sometimes I genuinely wish she were less like this," he mumbled, running a hand through his already messy hair.

Before Gregor could assure him he felt the same way, the Death Rider pivoted on his heel and brandished a loaf of bread. "Would anyone like, with their rations, a sandwich?"

As he watched the Death Rider beckon both Howard and Luxa to sit side by side by his torch and hand each of them a sandwich, Gregor thought the air had already begun to feel less heavy. He cast the outcast a grateful smile, which he returned promptly.

"So . . . where exactly are we now?" asked Luxa, chewing on her sandwich. "Have we reached the Path of Styx yet?"

Gregor leaned back and attempted to inspect their surroundings for the first time. They appeared to be in a large, nearly round cave with two exits, one much narrower than the other.

"Nearly," replied the Death Rider, pointing at the narrow exit. "It lies directly ahead. Just before your arrival, we had decided to set up camp here. We will rest briefly before moving forward."

Gregor nodded as he watched Dalia collect the dirty dishes and carry them out through the larger exit. He pondered whether there was a water body nearby where she intended to wash them. Only then did it strike him that none of the others made any attempt to help, except for the Death Rider, who had stood to collect the scattered supplies and stored them back in the hamper.

Gregor frowned. Was it because Dalia was a servant? He flashed back to the first two quests, where Mareth, as a commoner, had been expected to do chores in a similar manner. His frown deepened as he recalled how Luxa and Henry hadn't moved a muscle—they hadn't even known how to make themselves a sandwich.

Without much thinking, Gregor stood up and nearly bumped into Dalia as she appeared back in the cave with the clean dishes. They hadn't spoken since he and Luxa had arrived, and Gregor couldn't shake the feeling that the purple circles under her eyes had grown since he had last seen her.

Before Gregor could ask if she needed any help, the Death Rider came up beside Dalia and accepted the plates, deftly carrying everything over to the hamper and stashing it away. Gregor immediately sensed his sympathy for the outcast increase. Finally, someone who didn't consider themselves too important for chores or helping a servant.

"Alright, Gregor takes watch." The Death Rider got to his feet again and clapped his hands. "You others, to bed."

"Oh, yeah . . ." Gregor made a face, recalling his first miserably failed attempt at keeping watch, back on that boat, but the outcast hadn't sounded like this was negotiable. Sitting beside Ares, he mused about the possibility of this being his shot at redemption.

"We mustn't stay for long. Wake us in a few hours," ordered the Death Rider and yawned before killing the light and taking his place beside Thanatos.

"Will you be fine?" asked Ares.

Gregor nodded. "I slept through the entire flight."

"I said to bed, you others!" yelled the Death Rider suddenly. "Luxa and Aurora, I am certain that stories about hair-cutting are fascinating, but they may be told another time. And Ares, you are not staying up with Gregor."

"You let him command you, Luxa?" Howard exclaimed from his own corner. "Since when does anyone command the queen? And no less an outcast. Who gave you the authority to command us?"

"Your parents assigned me leadership," replied the outcast, and although Gregor could not see in the dark, he was certain he wore his usual smug grin. "Leadership may be interpreted to mean more than guidance. Anyone unwilling to follow my commands is free to start their return journey right away."

Howard grumbled but evidently lacked any argument to counter that.

"Is he trying to make Howard hate him, or is that just a side effect of the way they are?" Gregor whispered to Ares.

"I have been asking myself that since the waterway," replied his bat so quietly that Gregor barely understood him. "Although I too find his domineering behavior irritating at times, in this case, it cannot be denied that he has a better claim to leadership than any of us."

"I said Ares shall not stay up with Gregor!" yelled the Death Rider and Gregor frowned. How had he even heard them this time?

A few moments later, he shrugged it off. "Good night," he said to Ares.

His bat replied with "Good watch," and then all Gregor heard were the more or less even breaths of his resting party.

With a sigh, Gregor stretched out his legs to keep them from falling asleep. Looking out into the darkness, he almost laughed at the absurdity of his current situation. He had wanted to be back in New York . . . today. He thought of his mom in Regalia and his dad in their apartment and realized that, eventually, he would have to explain this trip after all. And what would he even say? "This rat kidnapped one of Luxa's cousins and insisted that I come to save her."?

Gregor almost burst into laughter, but not from joy. He didn't want to lie to his family, yet he couldn't think of a way to honestly explain or justify this trip. At least so far, he'd had the prophecies—they foretold all of these quests, so he had undertaken them. But there was no prophecy this time.

Anxiously, Gregor wrung his hands. Would his parents once again restrict his visits to the Underland after this episode? Even with his mom still in Regalia, he pictured her convincing his dad that Gregor should reduce his time spent down here. Maybe they would even retract their permission for him to celebrate his upcoming fourteenth birthday in Regalia.

Surprisingly, he felt a twinge of unease at the idea. Memories flooded back of the fun he'd had down here over the past year, with Luxa and Hazard. Sure, the weekly echolocation lessons with Ripred were a pain, particularly because Gregor had long given up on ever making progress in that area. As far as Gregor was convinced, it was impossible to learn anyway. In each lesson, he planned to inform Ripred that he had misjudged the sensory abilities of humans, but he never found the courage to do so.

Even with the looming dread of pointless echolocation lessons, there were lots of other things to do down here, when he wasn't risking his life on some quest. He had celebrated several birthdays and anniversaries, properly toured the city after Ares' release from the hospital, and even let Ares and Luxa teach him to play Airball—the game that the Underlanders had played during his first arrival here. He wasn't particularly great at it, but it had still been . . . fun.

Much to his surprise, Gregor found that, among all the hardships he had faced in the Underland, he had never thought of it as a place where he could just have fun. And yet, that was precisely what it had become.

As he peered into the darkness, Gregor found himself smiling. His eyes refused to close; he was determined not to fall asleep while keeping watch ever again. Well, if he grew really desperate, he could always do what Ripred yelled at him to do on every occasion—try practicing echolocation. The sheer idea almost caused him to burst into laughter.

***

Gregor had no idea how much time had passed when Ares stirred, followed by Aurora. Getting up to wake the others, he noticed the Death Rider rising as well. "No need," said the outcast with a yawn, going to wake Luxa and Howard himself.

The outcast asked Luxa to teach Dalia how to prepare sandwiches, and they worked together to distribute the food. Gregor had firmly committed to helping with the dishes later, but only then did he realize that there were no dishes to be washed. Everyone ate their sandwiches with their hands, and the outcast used his own dagger to cut the bread.

"We have more fliers than accounted for now," concluded the Death Rider after their meal. "At least we may distribute ourselves better now . . . Until the canyon."

"What canyon?" asked Gregor, looking up.

"Has Luxa not told you when she described our route?"

Gregor shook his head.

"Crossing the canyon ahead will save us a day; however, it is quite narrow, so we will have to carry the fliers. Howard and I thought we could take Death easily, but now that Ares and Aurora are here as well . . ." He shook his head. "We shall figure something out when we get there. Mount up!" he commanded, clapping his hands. "We have wasted enough time."

Gregor attempted to not let his worries mount as he approached Ares. He looked back at the Death Rider and realized that it was easier not to be anxious when he was around. There was just something about the outcast that . . . made it easy to trust that he was fully equipped to handle any obstacles they might face.

A veteran, thought Gregor as he mounted up. That was what he had thought, back on the boat. What he had called him in his head. If anything, the outcast now seemed more like a veteran than ever.

Before Ares lifted off, Howard mounted up behind Gregor. Luxa remained with Aurora, and Thanatos led the way with the Death Rider, Dalia, and their supplies.

They had been flying for about an hour when Gregor felt himself dozing off once again. He barely noticed the environment change, and when the Death Rider signaled for them to land, he nearly slipped on the unexpectedly smooth surface.

Gregor quickly fetched his flashlight, and when the strong beam of light illuminated the high cave, his jaw dropped. It's . . . obsidian, he thought, gingerly placing a hand on the smooth, shimmering, black wall. There had to be a volcano nearby. Only then did he recall what Ares had explained about the Firelands and wondered how close they were. If they had already arrived, was there a real volcano nearby?

As captivating as he found the idea, his mood immediately sank upon seeing the opening that the Death Rider now directed them to. "From here on, we must carry the fliers," he announced, and Gregor stared dejectedly at the four-foot-narrow entrance. "Unless you all prefer to waste a day and take the longer way around."

Howard shook his head and frowned as he inspected the party in the light from Gregor's flashlight. "We need to form a line and share the fliers among us. The five of us can take three fliers, and the last person in line will carry the supply hamper."

"Howard and I are the strongest; we must go in the middle and aid with carrying two of the fliers each," said the Death Rider.

"I may go last," volunteered Dalia.

"Very well." The Death Rider handed her the supply hamper. Despite how bony she seemed, Dalia shouldered it with ease. "Between you two, one must take the torch and lead the way," he said to Luxa and Gregor.

"I shall," announced Luxa.

"You walk first with the torch and Aurora's front." The outcast positioned her in front of the entrance. "Howard and I follow suit. Gregor, you follow behind me, and Dalia takes the rear, ensuring that no one is left behind."

It took some hassle to assemble in accordance with the instructions, and as Luxa took the lead into the canyon with the torch, Gregor realized just how tough this part of the trip would be.

Ares wasn't particularly heavy, but the tunnel was incredibly narrow and difficult to traverse. Despite their slow progress, Gregor still found himself panting from exertion almost instantly. The bats seemed even more uncomfortable than the humans; if he had any breath to spare, he would have tried to cheer up his bond, but he was too focused on moving his legs forward.

Gregor had no idea how long they had been walking when he felt a jolt pass through Ares' body, then heard an alarmed scream from the Death Rider.

Instantly, Gregor came to an abrupt stop and let out a cry as Ares' legs escaped his grasp. Only then did he realize that something was not right. Above and around him, he heard the sound of raining gravel. As his hand touched the wall, he had just a moment to wonder why and how he sensed a slight tremor before the Death Rider screamed out the reason: "Brace! Earthquake!"

Gregor had no time to spare for thoughts. He couldn't dwell on how this was the first earthquake of his life or the unfortunate timing of their current location. As he whipped around to reach for his flashlight, which he had stashed back in his backpack before embarking into the canyon, a thunderous rumble echoed from above.

"Against the walls!"

Just as the Death Rider's scream had registered in his brain, a large rock crashed directly in front of him. Gregor screamed and stumbled back, colliding with Dalia, who had been walking directly behind him. Then a sharp jolt of pain pierced his skull.

On the edge of his consciousness, he registered a blur of voices, then felt a pair of hands grab him from behind. Gregor twitched. Something hit his face, but before he could understand it was a drop of water, he drifted into chaotic, unconscious oblivion.

***

Everything was . . . wet, Gregor thought. He writhed, yet the fabric of his soaked clothes stuck to his skin as if it were glued on. His eyes flew open, and he froze in confusion, tentatively lifting his hand to check if he was truly awake. After blinking once, then twice, he widened his eyes.

A surge of overpowering panic engulfed him as he grasped that, despite his eyes being fully open, all he could see was pitch-darkness. His mouth opened, yet out came no sound.

"You awoke."

Gregor jumped, disturbing the ankle-deep water he had been sitting in, and screamed when he jabbed his hand on a sharp rock.

"Forgive me," said the voice. "It is Dalia."

Only then did he recognize her voice and breathed out in relief. A timid hand placed on his shoulder, and despite knowing who it was, Gregor twitched again.

"W-Where are we?" asked Gregor, raising a hand to feel the back of his head where some falling rock seemed to have struck him. "And where are the others?"

Dalia remained silent, and Gregor could only hear the gentle drip of water coming from somewhere behind her.

"I know not," she mumbled at last, and just like that, his panic was back.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Somehow, Gregor managed to haul himself to his feet and stumbled toward the wall. He felt the cold, unyielding surface of the rock beneath his fingertips and cautiously traced it to get a sense of their location. To his horror, moments later, he ended up right back where he had begun. "We're . . . trapped?" he gasped, his nails digging into the stone as he struggled to contain his panic.

Dalia's silence spoke for itself.

Gregor had never been one to give into fear easily. All his life, he had been the eldest, the one expected to keep a clear head when his timid sister Lizzie was overtaken by panic. Gripping the stone tightly, he struggled to control his breathing. They were here, in this pitch-black, cramped hole, miles beneath the surface, isolated from the others, with no way to escape or call for help. It was such a cliche, used in almost every horror title, and he had always brushed it off. But now that he found himself in this situation, he understood the true horror—if he screamed now, nobody would hear.

Suddenly, every square foot of earth above him seemed to bear down on his chest, squeezing out the remaining air from his lungs. Gregor leaned on the wall to steady his spinning head. He knew exactly what this was. Lizzie had described the symptoms countless times. In his mind's eye, he could see her huddled in a corner, trembling with fear. His breathing quickened, and he thought he might throw up at any moment. An image of the stash of paper bags they kept in the kitchen drawer for Lizzie flashed in his mind, but of course he didn't have one.

I have to breathe, he thought, desperately clinging to the wall. I always tell Lizzie to . . . to breathe. Although it helped a little, he still retched, barely managing to keep his last meal down.

As a slender hand rested on his back, he jerked away from the wall. "Even breaths," the voice mumbled, and a second hand placed on his other shoulder. The reminder that another person was here with him caused his head to spin less. "Let's do it together," said Dalia, taking a deep breath. "In, out," she spoke, and despite feeling like his legs might give way any second, Gregor did his best to follow her rhythm. He blocked out everything else and heard only her calming voice as she counted their breaths.

He had no idea how much time had gone by, but eventually, the sick feeling in his stomach faded and his head cleared. After an eternal moment of silence, Gregor finally spoke. "I-I'm okay now." He swallowed and turned slowly, still almost tripping over his own legs. "Thanks, I—"

In the darkness, he couldn't make out Dalia's expression, yet he could still perceive her unease. "Do not mention it."

"Wait a second!" He reached out to grasp her arm as she tried to move away. His mouth opened, but he struggled to articulate his whirling thoughts. Dalia caught on without a word. She stopped moving, and they ended up sinking to the floor together, clinging to each other like a lifeline.

Blinking into the darkness, Gregor felt the return of his awareness, accompanied by a tide of genuine fear. He didn't want to think about what lay ahead, but he couldn't avoid it forever. Maybe it wasn't so bad. It could be worse, he thought. At least they were together. Dalia had the hamper with supplies . . . And then it struck him—he had the flashlight in his backpack!

But as Gregor attempted to grasp the straps, a wave of panic washed over him when he realized they were not there. "My backpack!" he cried out. "And . . . And the supplies, do you—?"

Dalia tugged at his sleeve. "The hamper is . . . lost," she mumbled. "But your bag is here. Is there anything of use in it?"

With a sigh of relief, Gregor fell forward as directed, finally clutching the drenched material of his backpack. He opened it, found the rubber handle of his beloved waterproof flashlight, and struggled to hold back tears of joy. As his finger found the switch, both of them winced at the sudden brightness that illuminated their confinement.

Gregor's hand trembled as he shone the light around and finally hit Dalia's astonished face. She squinted, and he instantly lowered the light. "We have . . . the flashlight." He managed a smile, and in the dimmed beam, he saw her returning it.

Yet the longer Gregor spent looking around, the more his spirits dwindled. As his light beam revealed a steady stream of water gushing out of the wall, his heart sank. It was only then that he realized they were sitting in ankle-deep water.

"There must be a water body nearby." Dalia stepped to his side and attempted to stuff a palm-sized rock into the rift. "Yet, with the light, perhaps we can find a way to climb out?"

Gregor watched the rock she had squeezed into the rift quiver, then fall back out, followed by an even stronger jet of water. His gaze trailed up in search of some opening, yet all he saw was a steep wall. Turning back to Dalia, he nodded with a sense of defeat. "Better than sitting around here."

Free-climbing was never Gregor's strong suit; he could still vividly recall the climbing wall that had been put up in his school's gym two years ago. It had been against the rules to use it without supervision, but that didn't stop most of the kids in his gym class from holding competitions to see who could climb the highest. However, after one of them had fallen and broken his arm, Gregor had chosen to stay as far away from it as possible.

But now, he had no choice. He firmly locked the flashlight between his teeth and stared straight up, inching forward on the steep wall.

"Over here!" Dalia beckoned after a while, and as he turned around, he saw her perched on a ledge, some ten feet above. "There is something up there, but I need your light to see better!"

Gregor cautiously made his way up and pulled himself onto the ledge beside her. Dalia accepted the flashlight from him and directed the beam at a narrow opening, some twenty feet above. Gregor's heart sank. "We can't reach that!" he exclaimed. "And even if we could, it's right in the middle of the ceiling!"

Dalia nodded without making eye contact, and Gregor gritted his teeth. As he dared to peek down, his old fear of heights tightened his chest. The water glistened at what had to be at least fifty feet below. If I fall now, I'm dead instantly, he thought, swallowing hard. Then he suddenly perked up. "Hey! Why isn't the water here glowing? Doesn't all the water down here have those special algae?" He gestured vaguely. "You know, the ones that make it glow in the dark?"

As Dalia looked at him, he finally made out her features beneath her wet strands of hair. She would be quite pretty, yet now looked even more skeletal and haunting than ever. "I know not. Most water is bioluminescent, but perhaps under certain conditions, the algae doesn't thrive."

The two stared out into the darkness for a while. Gregor's gaze soon trailed back up, and he squinted to make out something in the only opening they could see. "Maybe we should point the flashlight beam up," he pondered. "So that if . . ."

"If someone comes, they may see it?"

Gregor nodded and took the flashlight from her, directing the beam at the opening. "If they're even looking for us." He held the flashlight as still as he could, his nails digging into the wet rubber. "If they're not . . ." Or if my batteries die before they get here, he added in his mind, thinking about the single pair of spare batteries he had. When he next eyed the flashlight, he did so with concern.

From this day on, he would always carry a full ten-pack of batteries no matter where he went in the Underland, Gregor thought grimly, attempting to chase the images of the rest of the party. Of Luxa, of Ares, and the other bats, or Howard, and the Death Rider . . . trapped as he and Dalia, or injured. He could not bring himself to picture them dead.

"Was . . . was that an actual earthquake, then?" he finally spoke after realizing he could no longer endure the silence.

Dalia nodded. "They are quite frequent in the Firelands. One of the many reasons that not many come here."

"Well, maybe we shouldn't have come here then."

Dalia tensed and it took Gregor a second to understand. "I . . . I don't blame you for this or anything," he quickly assured. "I mean, it was my decision to come. Mine and Luxa's. Not yours. Please don't blame yourself."

Without uttering a word, Dalia maintained her steady gaze ahead. Gregor could have slapped himself. She had probably saved his life, calmed him during that panic attack, and what was he doing? Making her feel guilty.

He attempted to think of a way to distract her and realized he knew next to nothing about her. "So, you . . . you're, like, a servant for Howard's . . . eh, I mean York's and Susannah's family, right?" he uttered the only piece of information he had on her.

"I work for them," she mumbled yet Gregor heard the unease in her voice.

"Well, I'm sure you picked a nice job there."

Dalia remained silent, her slender hand tightly gripping the seam of her almost dry cape. "I come from a family of miners," she eventually disclosed, leaving Gregor puzzled as he struggled to connect her words to his previous remark. Before he could ask, she continued: "We lived on the outskirts of the city, and it . . . It wasn't a luxurious life, but it was all we needed. But then . . . I was twelve. My parents and two older brothers never returned home from work one day. My two-year-old brother Ian and I waited by the door all night, until the Lighthand came to rouse the city." She looked at Gregor with so much resolve he could barely hold her gaze. "None of them ever returned."

A cold shiver ran down his spine, and not from his still damp clothes.

"Later, I learned that it had been an accident," continued Dalia. "A part of the mine had collapsed and trapped them inside. There had been no mean to rescue them."

"I'm sorry." Gregor placed a hand on her shoulder, suppressing his own fear to contemplate her feelings about being stuck here. "We'll . . . get out of here, okay?" He disregarded the flickering of the flashlight, a sign that the batteries were running low. "I'm sure they are already searching for us."

"From that day forward, I had to care for my brother," Dalia continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "I found work at York's keep, starting off as a mere maid. My superior at the time must have seen potential in me. She arranged for me to meet with the school teacher her children were attending, and so was my life for the next five years—cleaning up after the nobles during the day and studying at night. I graduated two years late, but with excellent grades. When York sought a governess for Stellovet, my former supervisor spoke highly of me." Her eyes were sharp as she turned to him. "So, this job is certainly not something I picked for myself."

Gregor stared at her, remembering his previous remark about her job, and found himself unable to formulate a response. His mind filled with images of himself struggling to balance schoolwork and taking care of his sisters and mother, causing him to tighten his hold on her shoulder.

The following silence wasn't uncomfortable. But Gregor couldn't shake Dalia's story, and eventually it dawned on him that it unnerved him so much because here was an Underlander he could actually . . . relate to.

Most of the people he had met down here were special. Luxa was the future queen, and Vikus, Solovet, Howard, and Nerissa—as her relatives—had grown up with a silver spoon too. For one moment, Gregor thought about Mareth, but even though he was a commoner, he was trusted and regarded highly.

But Dalia . . . His gaze trailed toward her, and a sudden wave of sympathy hit him. Dalia was not like them. She was . . . like Gregor.

Not Gregor the warrior prophesied to save the Underland, but Gregor the stressed, overworked schoolboy who had been compelled to grow up far too quickly in order to fill the void left by his father. And suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to find a way to cheer her up.

"One day, it will get better," he said without much thinking. "You'll see. One day, you will find something or someone that brings you happiness, and then you will be free to do what you love instead of what you have to do."

His grandmother used to tell him this, day in and day out, and along with the words, Gregor offered her his most genuine smile. At least now, it prompted Dalia to return his smile, even though hers seemed somewhat strained.

"What is it they call you?" She finally addressed him after a few minutes of silence. "The . . . warrior?"

Gregor's jaw tightened. "Yeah. There's a bunch of prophecies about me or something." He shrugged. "It's . . . honestly, I don't really like talking about it, if you don't mind."

Dalia's gaze burned on him. "You . . . do not seem like a warrior. You do not . . ." She cut herself off and shook her head. "Never mind; I apologize. I should not diminish your skill before witnessing it."

"Don't worry." He shrugged. "As far as things go, I'm just Gregor, an average thirteen-year-old boy who—"

"Hey!"

Both of them flinched, and Gregor came close to dropping his flashlight as a familiar voice reverberated through the hall from above.

"Here!" he screamed, and an all-consuming wave of relief swept over him when he made out shadowy shapes beyond the hole. He waved his flashlight beam until a face finally appeared in the opening.

"They are down here!" the Death Rider yelled and disappeared out of sight; Gregor faintly heard him speak to someone. He and Dalia exchanged glances, and this time, her smile was sincere.

With caution, Gregor stood and raised his flashlight higher, prepared to call out and ask how they intended to get them out, when the beam flickered and went out. Fantastic, he groaned. What perfect timing!

After spending some five minutes struggling to replace the batteries in the dark, Gregor and Dalia took another five minutes to climb the rope that the Death Rider had lowered through the opening. When the outcast finally hoisted him through the hole onto solid ground, Gregor could have cried tears of joy.

"You two were a real pain to track down!" exclaimed the Death Rider as he pulled Dalia through the opening.

Suddenly, another set of hands grabbed Gregor's shoulders, and he was met with the worried face of Howard. "I know not how he did it, but he found you," said Luxa's cousin, locking Gregor in a hug. "We honestly thought you lost."

As he returned Howard's hug, Gregor let out his first truly relieved sigh since the earthquake. He only let go to ask about the others.

"A rock has torn Thanatos' wing and another injured Aurora's back," said Howard. "We others are all somewhat banged up, yet there are no serious injuries." Gregor gave him a wide smile in response, and Howard patted his back. "Well, we are not. We will immediately perform a medical check-up on both of you by our camp."

Gregor blew out a deep breath without losing his smile. "Honestly, I can't wait."