Eydis was a sneaky genius.

Not only did she have a top-secret private prose-shaft entrance hidden at the back of her nest cove, but she promised to cover for Daphne, Runar, and Bjarni with the Lore Council when dawn came.

“I shall meet Mynna and Vyth at the Eastern Gate,” the dark brown griffin assured Daphne. “They will come to ensure thy banishment is carried out. I shall tell them thou departed early, duly chastened, and that Runar and Bjarni insisted on accompanying thee.”

“No lies there,” Daphne said.

Eydis smiled. “Indeed. I shall merely omit the exact point of thy departure, and thy route. Unless they press me, I shall have no need of deceit.”

Then she gave the trio a final inspection, clucking and fussing over their satchels like a very regal mother hen. Since they were following a more unconventional route through the tunnels, it would be a while before they would reach a dalamelle where they could replenish supplies. Thankfully, Eydis had several storage chests in her nest cove, which she quietly and carefully kept stocked with extra packets of preserved letter-fruit and bottle-pendants full of Eloquent Water.

At first, all of this had been a shock to Daphne. A secret tunnel? Extra supplies squirreled away, hidden even from the rest of the Lore Council? Eydis was the most rules-conscious being Daphne had ever encountered, in or out of a story. The dark brown griffin gave off serious ‘by the book or else’ vibes.

But then again, Eydis was also the most suspicious being Daphne had ever met. If someone expected the worst from the world, what could be more reasonable than to be prepared for when things went wrong? Taken in that light, the doomsday bunker actually made perfect sense.

After checking and rechecking their two satchels apiece and counting the four bottle-pendants they each wore, Eydis couldn’t resist a pep talk before sending them off on a historic quest.

“Thou must be wary,” she warned in what Daphne considered an excessively ominous tone. “This prose-shaft leads to an old section of the tunnels. Thou must journey far before thy road will rejoin the Lorist Way. Always follow the straight path, never turning aside down any crossway. Be as silent as thou are able, lest thee rouse any nearby foes. I have not taken this road myself in many moons, so I know not what dangers may await thee now. But be assured: danger there shall be, and of a kind thou hast not seen before, nor imagined.”

Gee, thanks, said Daphne’s brain, fully recovered and back in high snark-mode.

Out loud, Daphne gave a very genuine, “Thank you.” She bowed formally. Then, unable to stop herself, she threw her arms around the dark brown griffin. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled by feathers.

“Whatever for?” Eydis squawked.

Daphne pulled back, unsure how to explain. “I just… I wish I’d gotten to know you better. That I’d met you before, when I was — when I used to visit Euloban. I would’ve loved to spend more time with you.”

Eydis ruffled her head plumage, obviously embarrassed and just as obviously pleased.

“I am glad to know thee now, Loresmith, for however short a time. And time…”

Her amber eyes were still bright with the rekindled wonder Daphne had noticed the day before. They shone softly as Eydis went on, “If my knowledge of lore hath taught me anything, it is that true communion cannot always be measured by time. We have shared deep fellowship, thou and I. Our bond is not diminished because it was brief.” Then she turned to Runar and Bjarni, bowing formally to each of them. “Fare thee well. Take care of each other. Move with silent care. Listen for the wisdom of the ancient ways. Bjarni, heed thy brother’s experience. Runar, heed thy brother’s strength. And, all of thee, follow the straight path.” Her eyes narrowed. For a moment, she was the hard, squinty party pooper Daphne had first met. “Do. Not. Turn. Aside.”

Runar and Bjarni bowed their assent. Bjarni was shaking with contained excitement, the air around him buzzing even more violently than the reawakened Prism in Daphne’s pocket.

Eydis nodded sharply, then turned to the prose-shaft. In a tone that was suddenly both rich and stirring, she spoke the entrance words:

“Though it be lonely Following the ancient ways Watch for the Lore-light.”

She stood aside, allowing Runar to proceed into the narrow, downward-sloping tunnel. Bjarni followed his brother, with Daphne bringing up the rear. As Daphne passed Eydis, the dark brown griffin winked at her.

Eydis… winked at her.

Despite the fact that she was heading into exile from the Lorist tribes, following a dark tunnel full of unknown dangers, Daphne was starting to have a pretty good feeling about this day.

That was the thing about days. They had a nasty way of changing on someone.

It didn’t start out so badly, of course. The first few hours were rather boring in a refreshing sort of way. The trio continued in single file through the narrow space. The prose-shaft, which Daphne had decided to call ‘The Eydis Way,’ dove steeply down for what felt like a mile before leveling out into a gentler downward slope. Only then did they encounter their first crossroads, with another tunnel cutting straight across their path. It seemed nearly identical to their prose-shaft. Not even the griffins’ keen senses could detect any evil smells or sounds to the right or the left. But with Eydis’s instructions ringing in their ears, the trio hurried through the intersection, continuing to follow the straight path.

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After a while, though, something about the journey began to weigh on Daphne. Maybe it was the darkness. Despite the fact that they had twelve bottle-pendants among them, all filled with glowing Eloquent Water and emitting a silvery blue light, this prose-shaft still felt murkier than the Lorist Way. The darkness felt entrenched, like it had taken root in this tunnel and resented the intrusion of any light.

Or maybe it was the lack of carvings. The walls and ceiling of the prose-shaft were rough stone, unadorned and unwelcoming. It was exactly the sort of tunnel Daphne had pictured when originally writing the books, but this didn’t make up for the loss of the beautiful designs adorning the Lorist Way.

Maybe it was just the cumulative effect of the past few days catching up with her. Since opening the door of her apartment and finding herself in Euloban, Daphne had been on a nonstop rollercoaster. Fighting monsters, forging word-chains, losing Mark… and, of course, participating in the destruction of the griffins’ most sacred site.

Even the day after the battle in the Hall of Parables, which she had spent entirely in the Nest Cove with Runar and Bjarni, she hadn’t really been able to rest. Sleep just wouldn’t come easily. On top of guilt over the ruined hall, dread about what was happening back in the ‘real’ world, and anxiety for the upcoming journey, there was also the nagging fear of falling into another Amelia dream. It had been a relief when the time came to depart for Eydis’s cove.

But departure did not mean escape. The further they traveled, the clearer it became to Daphne that she was just carrying all the unresolved issues with her. Doubts swirled through her mind like heavy clouds, turning her mental landscape into its own murky tunnel.

What are you doing, really?

How are you going to help Mark?

How do you expect to help anyone?

She had no clear answers to these or any of the questions bombarding her brain and hadn’t made any headway when Runar suggested a brief halt.

“We have kept a good pace.” Runar’s voice was barely above a whisper as they each pulled a packet of letter-fruits from their satchels, eating as stealthily as the chewy food allowed. “I believe we are nearly out of the mountains. The tunnel should join with the Lorist Way soon after reaching the Silent Plains.”

Daphne just nodded. Keeping to Eydis’s instructions, they had all made great efforts to move silently. Even her emotional link with Runar had stayed fairly quiet. She knew he could sense her distress, and she was aware of the worries consuming his mind, mostly to do with Bjarni’s safety. But neither of them felt the need to send more than a steady flow of understanding and concern along their Phrase-gift bond. Best to conserve all their energy, including psychological, for whatever might lay ahead.

Bjarni was a different story. The young griffin was obviously having a difficult time. He moved as deftly and cautiously as his brother, making barely any noise with talons or claws, but Daphne could feel how much the effort was costing him. He was his own sort of living fireball, really, and all that pent-up energy was clearly burning him up from the inside.

“You’re doing great,” Daphne whispered to him encouragingly. “Can’t be long now till the Lorist Way.”

The flame-colored griffin somehow managed to speak quietly around a mouthful of preserved ‘E’-fruit. “Can we speak on the Lorist Way?”

“Well… not really.” Seeing Bjarni’s face fall, Daphne hastened to add, “But you’re doing so great. Really. I bet you level up just for this.”

Bjarni raised his eyebrows. “Thou only leveled once yesterday, after all thy heroic labor,” he said in a loud whisper. “Why would I level simply for walking?”

Daphne sighed. That had been the other factor preventing her from resting the day before. As soon as they had reached their family cove, Bjarni insisted they all pull out their status-books and compare the results. As he had said, he was now a Level 3, though still without a unique skill. Runar had leveled twice and gained a new skill: Into the Fray, honoring his willingness to leap in and help wherever and however he was needed.

They had both turned to Daphne, eager to celebrate with her. She had been excited herself. She’d gone into that fight as a Level 7. Surely, the battle had been a power-leveling experience if there ever was one. After all her forging and work with the Lore-light, she fully expected to have jumped all the way to Level 10, with maybe a new skill as a bonus.

But Euloban had stiffed her yet again. Only one level, with a slight boost to her Loresmith skill from using Lore-light to resurrect Eydis. Daphne had been forced to hand over her status book before Bjarni would believe her.

Now, in the cramped super-dark of the prose-shaft, she tried to shrug it off.

“Euloban sets a high bar,” she whispered. “But I think it’s impressed with how you’re handling your first quest so far. I know I am.” Runar cuffed his younger brother with one wing in silent agreement.

Bjarni didn’t seem satisfied. He stared down at his half-eaten vowel for a few silent moments. Then, suddenly, he looked up at Daphne with a bright smile.

“It is because thou art a Loresmith,” he said, his eyes once more shining with hope. “Thou wieldest the Lore-light. Of course thy leveling would be different! We tend the fire. Thou hast the fire in thyself.” He stuffed the rest of the ‘E’-fruit into his mouth and chewed happily, still beaming.

Daphne was not nearly so confident. But if Bjarni had found a parade in this murky labyrinth of a situation, she wasn’t going to rain on it.

“Sure.” She forced her face into a smile as Runar repacked his satchel, preparing to set off again. “Maybe that’s it. I’m glad —” She broke off sharply, peering into the darkness ahead. She could have sworn she heard…

“Daphne?” Runar, too, stared down the tunnel. “What is it?”

She listened hard, holding her breath. One heartbeat… two… three…

There it was again — faint, and distant, but unmistakable.

Mark.

Mark’s voice.

Mark was in this tunnel, and he was calling her name.

“Mark!” She pushed past Runar, trusting him to grasp the wild mixture of joy and terror surging along their emotional link. All thought escaped her mind. “It’s Mark! He’s here!”

Daphne ran down the tunnel. Runar and Bjarni were whispering loudly for her to stop, but she ignored them. Mark kept calling. Was his voice getting further away? She ran faster, stumbling over loose pebbles and straining all her senses to follow the distant cry.

Then the left wall opened up beside her, and she skidded to a stop.

This wasn’t a crossroads. There was no opening on the right wall to match this opening on the left. It was small, barely seven feet high and five feet wide. Maybe it was a cave? The dim light of her bottle-pendants illuminated nothing beyond the first few feet. The prose-shaft continued on, straight ahead.

“Daphne!” Mark called. It sounded like he was being carried away. His voice was definitely getting fainter.

It was also definitely coming from the opening on the left.

“Daphne!”

Her heart leapt in the direction of the sound, pulling the rest of her with it.

“Mark!” she screamed. “I’m coming!”

She sprang forward into the left-hand opening, running as fast as she could, away from the main prose-shaft.

Running towards Mark.