Ashe could hear voices. They weren't nearby, and they certainly weren't from Grayson, who hunched like a grizzly bear beside her. She couldn't decipher a single word. The distance between the sound and her must have been hundreds of meters, and the sour, sand-paper smoke only muted it further. She could only assume who spoke them. Atlas and his mother, maybe?

She took a deep breath. Grayson followed suit when she started shuffling forward on the ground again, fingers dragging along the heated skin beneath her.

She had faith that Atlas and his firefighter would meet up with her. Because after all, she was going to take advantage of the smoke to get Arrone freed. Although it left the scabs on her arms stinging and itching like stinging nettle budded beneath her skin, the smoke was convenient.

Metal dogs couldn't smell. She assumed they couldn't see, either. And so far, her intuition seemed right.

They climbed an upward slope that left her breathless and her legs weak, although that wasn't much different than how she felt before. Eventually, she felt confident enough in the trail's stability to crouch a little higher, relieving the strain off of her knees and lifting her fingers from the ground.

Rapid, shallow breaths filled her lungs. Her jacket, pulled over her face and tied behind her head, filtered out just enough of the smoke to keep her from suffocating.

Darkness replaced the smoke.

She staggered forward a few more steps before ripping her jacket off. She gasped in clean air. It was cool, like a gentle, westward breeze lifting with it the scent of seawater, only without the breeze.

Her claw scratches continued to burn, like there truly was salt in the air. She wished she could say she was used to it. But she wasn't. She pulled the jacket back over her arms, hoping the pressure would make it go away, and with it the lurking paranoia like cold fingers in the back of her mind.

"Are you sure you're okay to do this?" Grayson said.

"Yeah."

Hugging her arms to her chest, she continued forward at as brisk of a pace as her body would allow. Grayson sighed, and once again, he followed.

She was all too aware that she knew nothing about him. She could only be thankful that he was there to help.

By this time, the voices were gone. She couldn't hear anything besides their own footsteps. So far, that was a good thing. Because that meant all the dogs were somewhere behind them, and they had more time to figure things out before they had to risk an escape.

The trail was similar to a cavern by the sea. It was as if the nose really were made of rock, here. The skin even eventually turned into slick limestone. More snot dripped from stalactites, their glittering pools briefly lit up the walls of the cave before absorbing into the ground. She'd watch the pools light up the dark like skipping stones, leading deep inside, further than she could really see.

It looked like they would be walking for a long, long time.

But she didn't believe anything she saw here. Even in the short period of time she'd been there, she knew better.

It only took her probably sixty steps before she couldn't go any further. The cavern opened up. Limestone formed a massive maw around what appeared to be a crystalline lake. It glowed the same toxic green as the chaos snot, so bright and so clear that if there was a bottom, she probably could have seen it.

The rock beneath her was slippery now. With a lot of care, she inched to the edge and peered down. Her reflection sunk into the depths and vanished.

"Over here." Grayson's voice echoed through the chamber.

And behold, there was Arrone. She gasped. Patchy fibres held him to the rock wall like a spider's web. White smoke swirled around him, a bright beacon with a hint of red incense and the occasional flash of the auroras thanks to the glow from the groundwater lake. His chin had fallen to his chest and his arms were pinned at the sides like he hung on the cross.

She jogged up to him, and stopped just a couple feet short, her arms clutched to her chest.

Grayson carefully stepped so his foot wouldn't touch anything he didn't recognize. He placed a hand to Arrone's head, and nudged him softly.

Her manager didn't groan, didn't react.

"He's still warm," Grayson said in his gruff voice.

She released her pent up breath. She stepped behind him and peeked around his large frame.

The firefighter held his hand in front of Arrone's nose and mouth. "He's still breathing. He's not dead."

"Thank you."

Ashe hesitated for only a moment before wrapping her jacket around her hand. Then, she touched the fibres. Nothing happened.

Encouraged, she clawed at the strange web-like mass. It pulled away and stuck to her jacket like strings of cheese.

"What is this?"

~

"Where are you taking me?"

Atlas' body thumped against the metal beasts' side with every step, arms and legs still pinned tight against him by sandalwood chains, pressure continuously building on his ribs.

The chaos mother never responded.

They left the endless, smoky room. Cerberus' heavy feet drummed on skin as they reentered the nose. Here, the air cleared. He noticed the luminescent shine twinge as they approached the exit. And he noticed when it faded, too, replaced with the dim lighting inside the jail.

That's what he needed to look for next time.

Although he felt triumphant for the shortest of moments, he knew that was unlikely. His mother led them past the bars. She took them right. Where they took Arrone.

He didn't want to know where it went.

The binds held him firmly, the bruises on his arms and ribs aching under their pressure, but he continued to struggle against them. He ground his teeth. "Yeah, you're some mother! Constantly chaining your son up. And you're surprised I act like this!"

She spun on her boot's heel and pointed right at his face. He flinched back. "You don't have a right to say anything, hon!"

He glared at her. He didn't know why he still bothered. None of his words would change anything, especially now that Chaos had stepped in himself, possessing her like a ghost.

When they continued forward, he continued to kick at Cerberus' iron frame. He couldn't twist his head enough to see where the rust was, and frankly, he didn't think he even had the time to kick it out like he had done to that first metal dog. They lumbered forward, and soon the skin morphed into rock, like they had stepped inside a mountain.

But what else did he have to do?

He jammed his boot into the beast's side until pain shot through his ankle and he was completely winded.

With a grunt, he kicked it one last time. His traction failed him, and his foot slid right off. His head slammed against the metal and his body spun to face the rear.

He groaned, closing his eyes as dark spots flitted before his vision.

Atlas forced his breathing to calm, holding his breath and counting in his head. He had to focus on the sound of liquid plopping onto the ground around him. His eyelids glowed with a faint undertone of toxic green.

Would the snot work the same way on his mother's chains? Was Chaos even offering the tools to get out of his situation?

Whatever he was, he no longer had the childish, curious underlying tone. What he had felt was serious frustration tittering on the edge of pure rage. The chance for him escaping this was slim. He knew that. Chaos wasn't messing around anymore.

He rested his head against the metal, feeling his body jar and swing with each lumbering step.

Damn it. He was in this position again! Just how many times would he go back to square one? Where he was completely helpless.

He kicked the beast one last time for good measure, his body jarring up slightly.

When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but darkness and the occasional green light.

Or, no. He saw movement, too, and it wasn't one of the metal dogs. He held his breath when a drop of toxic green lit up the dark-skinned form of Dizzee, who slunk against the walls like a spy in a kid's movie.

At least he wasn't in this alone.

~

Ashe knew they were running out of time when she heard Atlas' shouting once more. But she quickly found that the skin fibres weren't going to make things easy for them. She tugged at her jacket, but it refused to come loose. The stitches strained and snapped when she passed it to Grayson to try.

He looked at her and shook his head. "This won't work."

"We need to find those first-aid boxes," she said. "They have shears in them."

Even with their noise, Arrone hadn't woken up. He continued to hang with his chin to his chest.

"Or will the, you know, work on this, too?"

She really didn't want to try that again. The last thing she wanted was to get smoked out and lost within the darkness of the nose. "We might get smoked out."

Grayson apologized softly before tearing one of the sleeves off, using his foot to help rip it apart. He handed it to her. "We can handle it."

Ashe could only trust him. She wrapped the sleeve around her lower face, all too aware of the scrapes down her arm and how her muscles ached just with the simple movement. She was exhausted. Mentally and physically. But she could only trust in their methods, because it was all she had right then. This situation happened because of her rashness. It was her responsibility to tough it out.

"Okay. Ready?"

Ashe nodded. As quickly as they could, they grabbed handfuls of the conditioner. She knew it wasn't the grossest thing she's ever had to pick up having a slobbery dog at home, but it still bothered her that she didn't really know what it was.

She didn't dare touch the skin. From a safe distance, she tossed her handfuls, bracing for the soon-coming flash of green and geyser of white smoke.

It was a bust.

Her stomach sunk as she saw the chaos snot slide down Arrone's arms and plop onto the ground.

"We need to go," she said. She glanced behind her. There was still no sight of Atlas or the iron dogs, but that didn't mean they weren't continuing to come closer.

Grayson shook his head at the sight. Without exchanging any more words, they went deeper. The limestone stopped abruptly at the large cavern lake, but along the sides there was just enough space for them to press their back against the walls and balance-beam their way deeper.

She took the lead, knowing her smaller frame was safer if their foot space got too narrow, or the ceiling too low. And, the firefighter could catch her if anything else happened.

She never lost sight of that room. When she paused for breath and balance, she could crane her head and see where they had come from. There was no curvature here anymore. There was no upward or downward slope. Only a foot-width rock hold and a flat, clear sight if the enemies came in.

At least, Cerberus couldn't pursue them with its large, bulky form. And from what Atlas had told her, Grayson would have no trouble kicking the smaller dogs into the water to sink like anchors.

It was the only relief she was going to get.

Up ahead, a green, iridescent stalagmite stuck up from the ground, taller than Ashe herself. She had no problem grasping onto it with a big hug and sliding her body around, and Grayson did the same, carefully touching the toes of his boots down, as the flooring got narrower.

She stopped. Here, the cave finally started curving. It curved to the right, still in direct line of sight of anyone who stood beside Arrone's hanging body, where the rest of her white jacket stood out like a sore thumb. And now, stalagmites lined it like angler fish teeth. Tall, thin, and sharp, and blindingly bright. The limestone around it was slick with glowing chaos snot.

In the back, though, was a black hole in the wall, another cavern tunnel. They could hide there until Atlas' mother and the dogs hunted elsewhere, while they came up with a plan.

The challenge will be getting through there before they're seen.

Ashe had gone bouldering with her family tens of times in the past. She lived and breathed in the mountains for most of her life, living in a rural, landslide-prone town in North Carolina.

That's where her interest in geology came from, her dive into how the Earth formed, in what happened beneath the soil, in how the building of tension beneath the Earth's surface was so similar to all of the tensions and troubles snapping in their society. That's why she moved to Asheville. That's why she worked on this project. Observing and climbing were among two of her only skills.

But she never had to climb through slime.

She never had to search in the depths of some underworldish being's mind. She never had the threat of dropping to the ground with insanity squeezing her brain like rough sisal rope, like she could feel entire mountains collapsing on her, like she was living through her parents fighting again, like she awoke to ringing ears and the scent of gunpowder as her father shot the neighbor boy rummaging through their garage at midnight.

Grayson released a breath behind her. "Are you sure?"

He didn't need to explain for her to know what he meant. "We need to hide," she said.

"We don't know what might be in there."

Ashe didn't answer. That was something she didn't want to bother with, because what else could they do? They already didn't know what they were facing.

She climbed over the first one, and then the next. They made painstakingly slow progress forward. Every once few, she'd glance over her shoulder and across the cavern lake.

Would it be easier to swim?

She thought that multiple times. But once more, Atlas' stories left her wary. She hadn't asked any details, but she remembered he had briefly mentioned the trial he had to go through to get out of the Eye. How the water was water but impossible to swim in. How the two firefighters had to save him. She could only picture herself drowning had she tried to swim instead of climb.

Her boots had good traction, even in the slime, but she still clung to the stalagmites like she'd die if she slipped.

They were about half-way there when Cerberus appeared into the cavern. It was led by the woman in leather and Atlas hanging by red chains, slung over the beast's back, kicking against the metal with all of the vigor in his skinny legs.

Ashe's breath caught in her throat.

She had nowhere to hide. And neither did Grayson.

"Hurry," Grayson whispered.

He didn't have to say it twice, though she wasn't sure she could move any faster than she had been before. The two of them danced around the jaws of the cavern, hugging and swinging the limestone, boots digging into the floor, toes skimming the edge.

The echo brought the woman's voice all the way to them. She had a sweet, motherly voice. Ashe could imagine her being a lovely woman back when she was real and in Atlas' life, years ago. But she couldn't hear the exact words. Her breathing and the blood rushing in her ears drowned out the rest. She could feel the scabs on her arms open with the frantic scrambling.

The next time she looked over her shoulder, she saw the hounds.

They bounded forward, clanging metal echoing through the chamber, and without even a look at the woman who probably summoned them, they beelined for the ledge around the lake. As if the narrow steps didn't bother them at all, they sped forward.

Ashe felt completely vulnerable now.

She gasped in air, feeling her hands shake as she squeezed the next stalagmite, and then the next. Even if they made it to the tunnel, what would they do if it was nothing more than a dead end?

Suddenly, her faith in Grayson's ability to protect them skydived. The distance felt even longer now. Each step forward, the hole only seemed to get further away, and the dogs ever closer.

But she refused to believe that was another trait created by Chaos. It was an illusion. She was getting closer, she told herself.

At this point, she could only press on, anyway.