The rope bridge swayed like a drunk thing, but it held.
Halfway across, the wind rose and the ravine below exhaled a breath that smelled of old blood and old snow. Lira didn't look down. She kept her eyes on Kazeal's back, on the way his silver braid flicked with every step, and told herself the creaking was only wood.
They stepped off the far side into a narrow cleft lit by veins of pale blue fungus climbing the rock. Seraphin was waiting, arms folded, hip cocked, looking far too pleased with herself.
"Took you long enough," she said. "I was starting to think the bridge would eat you out of sheer boredom."
Kazeal ignored her. He pressed his palm to a patch of stone that looked no different from the rest. A low thrumming answered; the wall slid aside with the sigh of long-disused hinges, revealing a tunnel glowing soft aquamarine.
"Welcome," Seraphin said, sweeping an ironic bow, "to Silvervein Hollow. Try not to bleed on the carpets."
They stepped inside,
The tunnel opened into a cavern so large its ceiling vanished into darkness, Bioluminescent vines draped from stalactites like frozen waterfalls; their light turned everything underwater colours. Below, terraced ledges had been carved into the rock: living quarters, forges, a small market of stalls shuttered for the night. A dozen elves moved between them, silent, watchful, armed. None wore the colours of the Moonlit Glade.
Exiles, every one;
A tall, scarred ranger with a bow across her back intercepted them before they'd gone ten paces.
"Seraphin," she said, voice flat. "You brought strangers."
"I brought the girl the pool showed us," Seraphin answered. "And, unfortunately, him."
The ranger's gaze flicked to Kazeal.Recognition and something colder passed over her face. "The Queen's nephew. Still breathing, I see."
Kazeal met her stare without flinching. "Still breathing."
The ranger spat to one side. "Maerwyn will want to see them. Now."
She turned on her heel. They followed,
They descended three more levels via spiral stairs cut into the living stone. The air grew warmer, heavy with mineral steam. At the bottom lay a natural hot spring fed by an underground river, its surface shimmering with reflected starlight that had no business being underground. Around it, low benches of polished basalt. In the centre, on a dais of black glass, sat an old woman wrapped in silver fox fur.
Maerwyn.
Her eyes were milk-white, yet they fixed on lira with unnerving precision.
"So," the seer rasped, voice like dry leaves. "The last daughter of the First Fire walks into my hall smelling of ash and grief. Come closer, child."
Lira stepped forward. The heat from the spring kissed her cold skin.
Maerwyn reached out gnarled fingers knotted with age and old burns and took lira's hand. The moment skin touched skin, the cavern lights flared gold. Lira gasped; every vein in her arm lit up like molten metal under the surface.
Maerwyn smiled, showing too many teeth.
"Yes," she crooned. "There is still enough god left in your blood to burn the world down, Or save it. We shall see."
She released lira and turned those blind eyes on kazeal.
"And you, broken prince. Still carrying her pendant, I wager."
Kazeal hand went instinctively to his throat, where something small and hard rested beneath his tunic,His face went very still.
Maerwyn cackled. "Thought you'd hidden it from the stars, did you? Nothing is hidden here."
She leaned back. "You want the scrying pool,"Fine, Dawn.After you've eaten and bled the road off yourselves. But first, one rule: no blades drawn inside the Hollow. Break it and the stone itself will drink you."
She waved a dismissive hand, The scarred ranger reappeared to lead them away.
They were given a small chamber high on the second terrace: a cave with two narrow cots, a bronze brazier already lit, and a curtain of woven vines for a door. A basin of steaming water waited, scented with pine and something sharper.
Seraphin lingered in the entrance.
"Bath's big enough for three," she said, eyes dancing, "But I'll be good, Mostly."
She left with a wink.
Kazeal shut the vine curtain with more force than necessary.
Lira peeled off her ruined outer tunic and sank her arms into the basin up to the elbows. The heat was almost pain, then bliss. She hadn't realised how cold she'd been.
Kazeal stood with his back to her, unlacing his own shirt slowly, as if every motion cost him.
"You knew her," Lirael said quietly. "Maerwyn."
She was the Queen's oracle before she spoke a prophecy my aunt didn't like." He let the shirt drop. The exile rune stood out angry red against his ribs, raised and shining. "They took her eyes for it."
He turned ,The brazier painted gold across the scars on his chest and the sharp lines of his collarbones. For a moment they just looked at each other, the air between them suddenly too small, Lira's mouth went dry.
Kazeal cleared his throat and looked away first. "I'll take first watch."
He moved to the doorway.
"Kazeal".He paused.
"You don't have to stand guard every night," she said. "Not here."
He gave a short, humourless laugh. "Old habits."
Then softer: "I'm not used to walls that don't want me dead."
He slipped out.
Lira stared at the empty space he'd left, heart beating too fast. She finished washing, changed into the soft wool tunic someone had left folded on the cot, and lay down.
Sleep didn't come.
Hours later the vine curtain moved again. Kazeal stepped inside, silent. Moonlight from a high vent striped his face. He looked like he'd been arguing with ghosts.
He saw she was awake and hesitated.
"I can't—" he started, then stopped.
Lira pulled the blanket aside in silent invitation.
He crossed the small space in three strides and sank onto the edge of her cot. Not touching. Just close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him.
"I keep thinking I'll wake up," he said, voice barely a whisper, "and you'll be gone. Or I will."
She reached out and laid her hand over his heart. It hammered beneath her palm like something trying to break free.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said.
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again they were bright with things he still couldn't say.
Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers.
They stayed like that until the brazier burned low and the Hollow's distant bells called the hour before dawn.
Neither of them slept,But for the first time since the world caught fire, lira wasn't cold.