Page 10 of The Edge of Darkness

“Good luck,” Zofia said.

Morah stepped onto the top rung of the wooden ladder leading down into the tunnel, and let out a nervous laugh. “Hope everyone’s okay with tight spaces.”

Roirdan and Remic were less than okay with tight spaces. The poor males were practically crawling through the first tunnel. Roirdan’s grunts of aggravation filled what little space was between us, while Remic suffered in silence.

The air smelled of stale earth, and there were no lights, except for the flickering fire Maeson held in her palm to guide us with. I had offered to use my light, but everyone quickly shot that down and reminded me of all the reasons why it was best I reserved my power.

“This is only temporary, until we intersect the main tunnels,” Morah assured us.

The cramped corridor descended a bit further, then wound back and forth, sometimes at such sharp angles that we bumped into each other when Maeson’s firelight disappeared around the corner, casting the rest of us into temporary darkness.

All of our swords kept catching on the walls as we continued our slow, hunched pace.

“Damn it,” Roirdan hissed as his blade caught on the same spot twice.

Behind him, Remic exhaled harshly through his nose.

“You two are the biggest whiners I’ve ever met,” Morah said.

“I didn’t even say anything,” Remic pointed out in a less than pleasant tone.

“Why can’t we just port to the dome or whatever the fuck it’s called?” Roirdan asked, swatting his sword back again.

“Because none of us have ever been there, you idiot!” Morah snapped.

“Fuck you!” Roirdan spat.

I tried not to laugh. “Play nice, you two.”

“Fuck you, kindly,” Roirdan amended with a growl.

“No, thank you,” Morah muttered over her shoulder.

I rolled my eyes, and Maeson flat-out laughed.

The connecting tunnel enabled us to stand somewhat upright, but its width still only allowed for one of us to move at a time—which was good if you were being chased, otherwise, it was a nuisance.

“Red leads north,” I said, noting the entrance that branched off to the left.

Maeson led the way, lighting the path as much as she could, followed by Morah, then me. Roirdan and Remic took up the rear.

Roirdan leaned around me to speak to Morah. “The least your friend could have done was offer us torches or orbs. What would we have done if Maeson didn’t have the power to harness fire?”

“You should be thankful,” Morah said sharply. “Zofia is putting her entire family and the revolution at stake by aiding us. Besides, not everyone in this territory is well-off enough to acquire small luxuries like orbs.”

The commander remained quiet after that.

We continued in silence, going off of Aremis’s sketch and following the marked halls for what felt like more than half a mile.

Despite the chilled air of the underground, a thick layer of sweat had coated my body, and my back was now barking in protest—begging me to stand up straight. Just when I seriously considered asking how much further we had to go, a wooden door brought us to an abrupt halt.

“Is this it?” I whispered, afraid that someone on the other side might hear.

Morah leaned around Maeson. “I think so.”

Aremis had marked an intersection in the tunnels with a smudge of ink, but there was no way to tell for certain if this was the correct access point to the catacombs. And we definitely weren’t sure what we would face once we opened the door.

Would there be guards? Would there be poison or traps? Was it warded?