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The city under the world had no sky.
It had a ceiling of black stone ribbed with glowing blue veins, so high above them that it still felt like night if you squinted. Buildings had been carved into the cavern walls in layers: balconies of brass and moss, bridges made from old mine rails, tiny windows lit with amber lamps. Somewhere below the guest tunnels, water ran through pipes with a hollow, endless sound.
Wemmbu hated it.
He hated being underground. He hated the stale taste of the air. He hated that every exit had been sealed after the cave-in, and he hated most of all that Eggchan had said, calmly, that blasting their way out could “destabilize the surrounding infrastructure.”
As though that was a reason.
As though infrastructure had ever beaten an orbital strike cannon.
Their temporary room was an abandoned observation alcove off one of the lower transit tunnels. Someone had left a rusted fire bowl in the center, and Loppezz had somehow acquired enough scavenged wood, dried mushroom stalks, and one suspiciously fragrant chair leg to get it going.
Now the fire burned low and orange.
Rejoice was lying on his stomach in front of it, chin in his hands, staring into the flames with the soft concentration of someone receiving divine wisdom from a particularly pretty candle. The little sunflower charm tied to his wrist caught the firelight whenever he moved.
Loppezz had claimed the only actual chair, though “claimed” was generous. She was upside down in it, back on the seat and legs dangling over the top, tail swishing toward the floor.
Eggchan sat against the wall beside the fire, knees drawn up, his wings folded carefully around himself to keep their pale feathers away from stray sparks. In the dimness, the gold at the edges of his halo-like crown flickered faintly.
Wemmbu stood near the doorway with his arms crossed.
Because someone had to stand watch.
Not because the fire was warm.
Not because the room had become unbearably quiet in that way it only did when people had run out of energy to pretend they were fine.
Definitely not because Egg had shifted half an inch closer to the fire and looked cold.
“You know,” Loppezz said, swinging slightly in the chair, “I think this is kind of fun.”
Wemmbu turned his head slowly.
Loppezz grinned at him.
“We’re trapped in an underground civilization full of mysterious tunnel people, we have limited food, the ceiling might collapse again, and nobody knows if the maintenance shafts are haunted. It’s like a sleepover with consequences.”
“It’s not a sleepover,” Wemmbu said.
“Everything is a sleepover if you’re stuck in one room long enough.”
“It’s a tactical holding position.”
“Mm-hm.”
“It is.”
Rejoice looked over his shoulder. “Can a tactical holding position have a fire?”
“Yes.”
“Can it have snacks?”
“No.”
Loppezz lifted one finger. “Counterpoint: I found snacks.”
Eggchan’s eyes opened a little wider. “You found food?”
“Technically.”
“That is not a comforting qualifier,” Egg said.
Loppezz produced a wrapped bundle from somewhere behind her back. She tossed it onto the floor between them. It landed with a soft, dense thud.
Rejoice stared at it. “What is it?”
“A local delicacy! I think.”
Wemmbu narrowed his eyes. “It looks like a brick.”
“It is a bread brick,” Loppezz said proudly. “The nice tunnel lady said it was made of root flour, cave salt, and—”
She paused.
“—something translated as ‘deep-fat.’”
Nobody moved.
“Deep-fat?” Eggchan repeated.
“Maybe it means butter.”
“Maybe it means the remains of whatever lived in the deepest part of the cave,” Wemmbu said.
Rejoice looked distressed. “Would that be rude to eat?”
“That’s not the problem,” Egg said gently.
“It’s absolutely the problem,” Wemmbu said.
Loppezz sat upright with the dramatic offense of a queen accused of treason. “Fine. Nobody has to eat the potentially haunted bread. More for me.”
She tore off a piece and bit into it.
The entire room watched.
Loppezz chewed.
Her face did something complicated.
Then she swallowed and gave them a solemn thumbs-up.
“It tastes,” she said, “like if a potato had unfinished business.”
Rejoice brightened. “I want some.”
Egg reached out to stop him. “Rejoice—”
“It’s okay,” Rejoice said. “I’ve eaten worse.”
Wemmbu stared at him. “Why would you say that like it’s a normal thing to say?”
Rejoice accepted a piece from Loppezz. “When you’re alone for a long time, you get creative.”
The words landed quietly.
The fire crackled.
Loppezz’s expression softened first. It was small, almost invisible beneath all her usual performance, but Wemmbu saw it. Her ears dipped. Egg’s gaze lowered.
Rejoice seemed to realize what he’d said only after he said it. He looked at the bread in his hand.
“Oh,” he added, trying for cheerful. “But I didn’t mind it much. I had sunflowers.”
Wemmbu’s chest did something irritating.
A tight, sharp thing. Not concern. Certainly not guilt.
Just anger, probably. At the world. At caves. At bread. At whatever kind of universe left someone like Rejoice alone long enough to make that sentence sound ordinary.
He turned away before anyone could read his face.
“The tunnels are quiet,” he announced.
Egg looked at him. “You’ve been standing in the same doorway for twenty minutes.”
“I can hear things.”
“I know. I’m saying you should sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re limping.”
Wemmbu immediately stopped limping.
Then, realizing that was not how injuries worked, he scowled harder.
“I’m not.”
Eggchan did not argue. He rarely argued directly when Wemmbu was being impossible, which was somehow worse. Instead, he reached into the small supply satchel at his side, took out a strip of clean cloth, and held it out.
Wemmbu looked at it as if it had personally insulted his ancestors.
“No.”
“You have a cut on your leg.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I’m an End Dragon.”
“And also part cat,” Loppezz said brightly. “Cats clean their wounds.”
Wemmbu’s head snapped toward her. “I will throw you into the river.”
“There’s no river in here.”
“I’ll find one.”
Egg was still holding out the cloth.
Wemmbu could have refused. He should have refused. The correct response to people fussing over him was to become so unbearable that they stopped doing it.
Instead, Egg’s fingers trembled just slightly from cold.
That was all.
Wemmbu snatched the bandage from him.
“Fine,” he muttered. “But only because I don’t want you wasting supplies.”
Egg’s mouth tipped into a soft smile. “Of course.”
Wemmbu sat down on the opposite side of the fire, as far from everybody as the small alcove allowed.
Which was not very far.
The warmth soaked into him almost immediately. Treacherous. He had survived void storms, dragon hunts, and one extremely personal dispute involving a castle wall. But sit him near a fire after a day of fighting and suddenly his body decided it had opinions about rest.
Pathetic.
He wrapped the cloth around the cut on his calf with quick, efficient movements.
Egg watched for a moment, then said, “You tied that too tightly.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s turning purple.”
“That’s a normal color.”
“Not for your leg.”
Wemmbu tightened his jaw.
Egg quietly leaned across the fire, took the end of the cloth, and loosened it with careful fingers.
Wemmbu froze.
It was stupid. Completely stupid. Egg had patched him up before. Egg had stitched his shoulder in a ruined watchtower while Wemmbu swore loudly enough to frighten birds off the mountain. Egg had held his hand once after a battle neither of them talked about.
It was still stupid.
Egg’s touch was light. Certain. No fear in it.
That was the thing about Eggchan. He wasn’t fearless. Wemmbu knew that better than anyone. Egg was afraid all the time, sometimes. He just kept choosing to reach out anyway.
Wemmbu looked at the fire.
“Don’t get used to it,” he said.
Egg’s smile went warmer. “I won’t.”
Loppezz, who had absolutely been listening, made a sound like she was physically restraining herself from yelling.
Rejoice leaned toward her and whispered, not quietly enough, “Why are you making that face?”
“Because,” Loppezz whispered back, “they are emotionally constipated and it’s my burden to witness it.”
“I heard that,” Wemmbu said.
“Good.”
Eggchan covered his face with one hand.
For a while, they ate the bread brick.
It was bad.
Not poisonous, though, which Loppezz took as a personal victory.
Rejoice ate two pieces and said it reminded him of soil after rain. Egg ate a careful amount because he was practical and probably feared the deep-fat. Wemmbu insisted he didn’t want any, then took a piece when Rejoice offered it to him.
He only did it because Rejoice looked hopeful.
That was different.
Eventually, the conversation thinned into the kind that belonged to late hours.
Loppezz told them about a time she had tried to impress a village by catching a fish with her bare hands and instead had been dragged into a pond by a carp “with the eyes of a criminal.” Rejoice confessed he had once named every sunflower in a field. Egg asked if he remembered all the names.
“Most of them,” Rejoice said. “One was named Helen.”
“Why Helen?”
“She looked like a Helen.”
“That explains nothing,” Egg said.
“It explained everything to Helen.”
Wemmbu made a noise that may have been a laugh.
Everyone went silent.
Wemmbu stared at them.
“What?”
Loppezz’s grin appeared slowly. “Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“I was just thinking the underground cave air is doing wonders for your personality.”
“Loppezz.”
“You laughed.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did. I heard it. Egg heard it. Rejoice, did you hear it?”
Rejoice nodded earnestly. “It was nice.”
Wemmbu considered setting the bread brick on fire.
Instead he pulled his wings closer around himself, the dark, ragged-edged membranes making a shield between him and the rest of the room.
Loppezz’s tail curled around the chair leg. “Aww.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re doing the dragon blanket thing.”
“I am not doing a dragon blanket thing.”
“You are literally wrapping yourself in your wings.”
“It’s cold.”
“Oh, so now you admit you get cold?”
Wemmbu’s eyes flashed violet. “You are one sentence away from becoming a cautionary tale.”
Eggchan’s shoulder bumped lightly against his.
Not a shove. Barely a touch.
Wemmbu went still again.
Egg looked tired. The glowing gold around him had dimmed, his feathers a little messy from dust and travel. There was a shadow beneath his eyes that no amount of celestial dignity could hide.
“You should sleep,” Egg said.
Wemmbu scoffed. “I’m on watch.”
“We can take turns.”
“No.”
“Wemmbu.”
“No.”
“You haven’t slept since we got down here.”
“I closed my eyes for seven minutes.”
“That isn’t sleeping.”
“It’s basically sleeping.”
“That is not how biology works.”
“Works for me.”
Eggchan gave him a look.
Wemmbu hated that look.
It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t disappointed. It just carried that quiet, awful faith that Wemmbu could make a better choice if he tried.
Like Egg expected him to be worth something beyond being useful in a fight.
Wemmbu looked away.
“Fine,” he said. “Twenty minutes.”
“An hour,” Egg said.
“Thirty.”
“Forty-five.”
“Thirty-five.”
Egg sighed. “Forty.”
“Deal.”
Loppezz leaned forward. “Wow. Negotiation. Growth. Should I write this down?”
“No,” three voices said at once.
Rejoice laughed, soft and sleepy.
Then he yawned.
It was huge. His whole star-speckled body seemed to fold in around it, faint points of light blinking along his arms and neck. He looked embarrassed afterward, though nobody had any idea why.
“I can stay awake,” he said.
“You absolutely cannot,” Egg said.
“I can.”
Rejoice blinked slowly at the fire.
Loppezz got out of the chair. “Okay, Starguy. Floor. Before you faceplant into the flames and become a constellation.”
“I don’t think I’d become one.”
“You’re right. You’d become a cautionary smell.”
Rejoice settled down near the fire with his cloak bunched beneath his head. His sunflower charm rested against his wrist. Within minutes, his breathing went quiet and even.
Loppezz lasted maybe ten more.
She tried.
She really did.
She sat cross-legged and announced that she would be taking “the first shift because I am the only one here with true survival instincts.”
Then she leaned against the wall.
Then against Egg’s folded wings.
Then, after approximately four seconds, she slipped sideways until her shoulder rested against Rejoice’s.
Her tail twitched once.
Twice.
Then went still.
Egg watched them with something soft in his eyes.
“Your turn,” he murmured to Wemmbu.
Wemmbu glared at the darkness beyond the doorway. “I said forty minutes.”
“You’ve been sitting there for forty-two.”
Wemmbu looked at him.
Egg raised his eyebrows.
Traitor.
Wemmbu exhaled through his nose, long and slow.
The cavern beyond them remained silent. No pursuing enemies. No scraping claws in the tunnel. No cave alarms. Just pipes humming, the tiny pops of the fire, and the breathing of people who trusted each other enough to sleep.
Trusted him enough to sleep.
That was worse than any monster.
He could fight monsters.
He did not know what to do with being trusted.
Egg shifted down onto the floor, leaving a small space beside him. Not close enough to make it obvious. Just close enough that Wemmbu would not have to cross the whole room.
“I’m not sleeping,” Wemmbu warned.
“Of course not.”
“I’m just sitting.”
“Obviously.”
Wemmbu sat.
Egg’s wing settled partly over both of them, a pale curve of feathers keeping out the draft.
Wemmbu stiffened on instinct.
Then his body, traitorous and exhausted, leaned into the warmth before he could stop it.
Egg did not comment.
That was probably why Wemmbu let him live.
A few moments passed.
Then Rejoice shifted in his sleep, murmuring something about sunflowers. Loppezz, still asleep, scooted closer without waking. Her tail slid over Wemmbu’s boot.
Wemmbu stared down at it.
He could move.
He should move.
Instead, he stayed exactly where he was.
Egg’s shoulder rested against his. The fire painted gold across Egg’s face. Across Rejoice’s scattered star-light. Across Loppezz’s ears, tilted forward even in sleep as if she might wake up ready to start a fight with a cave.
Wemmbu’s wings loosened.
Slowly, carefully, he let one settle behind Eggchan’s back, shielding him from the cold stone wall.
Egg’s eyes were already closed.
“You’re doing the dragon blanket thing,” he whispered.
Wemmbu scowled at the fire. “Go to sleep.”
Egg smiled without opening his eyes.
A minute later, Wemmbu heard him breathe, “Okay.”
It was ridiculous.
All of it.
The underground city. The cave-in. The terrible bread. The fact that they were stuck in a forgotten alcove with no real plan and no certainty they would get out by morning.
Wemmbu had always believed survival meant standing alone.
You stayed sharp. You stayed dangerous. You never gave anyone enough of you to use against you.
But Egg was warm against his side.
Rejoice was alive, breathing steadily near the fire.
Loppezz was drooling onto somebody’s cloak. Probably hers. Hopefully hers.
And for the first time since the stone had come down and sealed the tunnel behind them, Wemmbu let himself think:
We’ll get out.
Not I’ll get us out.
Not I’ll destroy whatever tries to stop us.
Just—
We.
The thought was terrifying.
He kept it anyway.
By the time the fire had burned down to red coals, all four of them had become a tangled, accidental heap on the floor: Rejoice curled near the warmth, Loppezz half draped across his side, Eggchan tucked between them and Wemmbu, wings spread as much as he could manage.
And Wemmbu—who was supposedly on watch, who was definitely not tired, who did not need anyone—had curled around the edge of them like a dark, scaled barricade.
His tail lay across the entrance.
His wing covered Egg.
One clawed hand rested near Rejoice’s sunflower charm, not touching it, just close enough.
Outside, the underground city kept humming in the dark.
Inside, beneath the stone and the stars they couldn’t see, nobody had to be alone.