West felt certain now: There was no airflow in his tiny cell. The stale air tasted too thick to be only his imagination. He wondered how much time he had. Would it be wise to change into his Nuralli form? It was smaller, he probably wouldn’t need as much air. But he didn’t know what reaction Roman and Vera might have if the door opened to out him as one of the maligned “Croakers.” He didn’t know what effect it would have on Sunny to discover he was her old companion Pip, either.

How were they doing out there? He wasn’t too worried for Roman and Vera, but Sunny was constantly on his thoughts now. It had been years since they lost her, and her turning up in a place like this twisted his guts. Did she think they’d given up on finding her? Did she even know how many years it had been?

With a grunt, West shifted his positioning on the cold stone floor, then dragged his thoughts away from the anxieties of the present, rehashing older old memories instead. The last time he’d gotten separated from Sunny.

That long-ago night after Sunny had fled from the mountain– the night of Whistler’s first appearance, he supposed. He had started the cold, miserable walk of many hours to reach the river she’d set for their rendezvous if they were separated. He’d been overflowing with questions and had no one to ask them to– but one thing he had had was her journal.

Reading it should have been unthinkable. But he had been worried sick about his friend, and swallowing down his discomfort, had begun deciphering the fluid Mani script.

In the end, it wasn’t the journal that even gave him answers. It was an unexpected letter tucked into its final pages. The folded paper had begun with three words written on its outside in the common script: “Just in case….”

“Honjo and Zilla and Pip and Sungie–

I am writing in the hopes that you will never read this letter. That said, if you are reading this, I probably owe you an apology and explanation that I am unable to give any other way.

Let me begin by saying, I do not think I have underestimated any risk, but I can’t be sure. Telling you what little I know wouldn't make any difference, except to inflict on you senseless dread and grief. I did not give you that choice, though.

For whatever comfort it may give, here is what I know:

Some decades ago, every member of my Illarussë clan was vanished by something which walks on moonless nights.

I don't understand much. All I can do is to tell you what I saw.

I wasn't even thirty– an adolescent. It might surprise you to learn that, even though the Illarussë are traditionally healers, I hadn't any interest in it then. My apprenticeship involved working with our militia.

I truly, truly detested night patrol, and never took it seriously. For all their bluster, my elders didn't care about night patrol either.

I wasn't where I was supposed to be that night. I wasn't anywhere near the mountain camp at all. I'd promised one of the Ilcael clan boys to watch the northern lights together. I couldn't believe it when he didn't show! I waited for him until it was nearly dawn!

I'm sorry, that’s beside the point. The point is that when I returned on that night nearly forty years ago, not a single member of my clan remained.

There was no struggle. There were no bodies. In my wagon where I lived with my parents, my mother–

My mother, you know, she sometimes saw things. She said that the Mother Above would send messages to her, whisper her secrets. We never had many magickers, but she could heal at a touch, and she loved making illusions to tell stories. If anyone in our clan might have found a way to escape– but my mother was gone with the rest of them. She left a note though, and it read simply: THE SLEEPER AWAKES.

That's everything I know as I write this. Please keep in mind, we are speaking of decades where nothing’s ever truly happened. Every moonless night, I remember what happened. While I’ve often felt as though something was there, I’ve never actually seen anything. Lím sometimes says that nothing is there, but other times he is unsure. And it’s simple enough: If he becomes unsure, I run. Whatever it is out there, I can fly faster than it can keep up. If it’s there. If it's real, that is. If it really is what

I cannot afford to doubt that it is real anymore. Because now Lím’s seen it with me, so it must be real. Even after all this time, it follows me. And I worry that there might not be much more time before I join my clan.

What I offer through this letter is only an explanation. There is nothing that could ever have been done, and I did not want you blaming yourself for something outside your control– or worse, attempting to challenge something far too powerful to face. Instead, I made my choice to focus on doing what good I can in the time I have.

I hope that you will keep the good memories that we’ve shared, and forgive me.

Take care of yourselves, friends. I'll miss you terribly.

– Noruiniviani; or, your friend Sunny.”

West had replayed that letter in his head, again and again, in the passing years. He scoured its memory for any hints of what could have happened to Sunny after their search for her had come up empty.

And in the end… he’d stumbled on her through dumb, blind luck. And now his dumb, blind self was locked in a box, hoping she was still somewhere on the other side of the wall. Hopefully her rescue efforts would take less time than his own, because each breath in here was feeling thicker than the last….

***

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Sunny was unsure how many moments passed while she recovered her scrambled senses. The pain thrumming up and down her arm told her it was still attached, though she dreaded moving it. Roman had gotten away with just a scorched hand, but when she felt emboldened enough to look at the damage, she saw red lines of agony going up right to her elbow. Seeing it made it seem to hurt worse, and she hissed, pulling it in against her.

At least when she’d fallen, Sunny had gotten out of the line of fire for the flinging gems. From the way Roman was cursing, at least one of them must have slipped around his shield.

“Wrong one,” Vera murmured; not mockingly, but simply a disappointed sigh.

They had been onto something, though. They had to have been close– in fact….

“Oh,” Sunny breathed. While most had gone shooting off like last time, four gems were still in place on the wall, she realized. There was some feedback for getting things right, after all. Even if it was just blind luck, they’d managed to put four in the right place. Just… twenty-nine more to go.

We need more information. Sunny tested her arm, wincing– it wasn’t unusable, she found, only very uncomfortable to move. She would find a way to make do.

“I n-need you to wake up, Lím,” Sunny murmured to the white bundle tucked under her good arm. The squirrel was already awake– how couldn’t he be, after that rough jolt?– and didn’t complain as Sunny set him up on her shoulder, freeing her better hand for work. Breathing through the protesting nerves jolting in her injured arm, Sunny pulled herself back up to her feet.

They had to be closing in on an answer. Sunny couldn’t imagine what they were missing though, and her anxious heart rattled as she tried examining the altar and walls again.

“Vera, the w-words you couldn’t d-decipher– could they be a clue?” Sunny’s voice sounded pleading, even to her own ears, as desperation crept up on her. “I’ll… I’ll gather the gems again, so could you please t-try again to read…?”

Standing from her shelter behind the partition, the scholar huffed, but nodded and returned to the wall. Hand shaking, Sunny began to collect the gems again, using the nook of her injured arm’s elbow to hold them while she gathered with her good hand.

It’s not just putting the right kind gem in the right place. It has to be the right gem. Twenty-eight gems left. Every time they guessed wrong, all incorrectly placed gems scattered, making it impossible to track which had been placed where. They could keep guessing and guessing, but they had bad odds if they couldn’t distinguish between them. And each consecutive wrong guess would be increasingly damaging, debilitating, maybe even deadly.

But West was waiting behind that stone wall. Sunny knew how slowly every minute there passed. The way that the terror built, the questions of what might be happening, who might be hurt, if they would even come back, or if she was going to run out of air in that damned dark stone coffin where she couldn’t even stretch her arms out, let alone her wings–

“We need to make a decision.” Roman was done sulking, but it wasn’t for the better. He disguised himself with a steel calm, but his frustration was palpable as he stalked back to the central pillar, dropping a gem on the wall as he passed. “How much time are we willing to spend here?”

He answered himself: “Ten minutes. Ten minutes more, and then we cut our losses.”

Sunny whipped around. “A-absolutely not! We are NOT leaving without EVERYONE. We’re m-making progress–”

Roman nodded at her arm. “One more wrong guess as bad as that, and I don’t think you’ll be in any condition to complain at all.” Flummoxed, Sunny tried to think of a retort, but the nobleman just shook his head. “One more try, or ten minutes. Whichever happens first.” Crossing his arms, he settled himself against the corner of one partition to wait it out.

The world felt like it was falling away. Sunny fumbled with the gems, hurrying to collect them faster. “There has to be a w-way. There has to….”

It was happening again– another party was about to fall apart, right in front of her. If Roman and Vera left, did she go with them to try and keep as many safe as possible? There was no way that she could leave West behind though, not after he’d put his trust in them. But with the others gone, would it even matter if she tried to solve the challenge on her own? Would that thing, Whistler, even let her? Unlikely. Whenever it had come down to only her in the past, no matter if she thought she might still save someone, her next moment would be back on that stage, with the corpses of her latest ill-fated companions staring at her.

Staying might just mean they all died, and she’d be to blame, again. No matter what she tried, she always seemed to make the wrong choices, and all she could do was watch as others paid the price….

“Sparks.” Vera, self-satisfied, stepped back from the wall. “We’re missing sparks.”

Sunny dialed in on the sound of an answer, hating herself a moment for how quickly hope flared up, how untempered and wild it was at even a flimsy hint of a possibility. “Sparks?” she echoed, trying not to let her voice crack under the pressure.

“Yes.” Vera pointed at the words on the wall. “See– when the tooth was pulled, sparked the gift of alchemy. Not only sparks as in inspiration, sparks as in–” and Vera made flickering gestures with her fingers. “SPARKS.”

Sunny looked at the crystals again, trying to piece it together. “They spark when we put the wrong one in.”

“Yes, but also. Quartz crystal.” Vera scooped up a crystal and approached the altar. Rather than place it in the basin though, she struck it hard against the steel rim; and from it, a few small sparks, abnormally dark red. “Sparks.”

“... Sparks. SPARKS!” Sunny forgot her pain in her elation, throwing her hands around the precious Glamori and hugging. The raw skin of her arm flared up painfully and she drew back, wincing and clutching her arm, while Vera made a face and wiped at her sleeve. “Sorry, sorry,” Sunny mumbled, but still smiled. “So we test the sparks, and let’s see what we find!”

One gem after another, they struck against the steel rim– even Roman now, drawn by the excitement, began doing his part. They started with the four that were still in place after their last disastrous attempt, and found a pattern. One wall was light, the other was dark; each featured a gradient of reds, lightest on one end, darkest on the other. The gems of the light red wall sparked light shades, the sparks matching hue with the bricks under their appropriate divots; and on the darker brick wall, the same, sparks matching brick hues.

Eager, they sorted through the mystery gems, fussing over the close hues of similar gems and sorting them precisely by gradient of each wall. And then, striking one incisor-styled gem, they got the key answer– a bright gold flare.

“Golden tooth. Vaari’s Tooth,” Vera declared confidently, grinning cheekily as she flipped the gem in one hand.

“You brilliant dear, you figured it out!” Sunny could have melted from relief. Quickly sorting the rest of the gems and putting them into place, the moment of truth came at last.

“Well. Who wants to do the honors, then?” Roman asked, clearly not volunteering for himself.

Vera tested the weight of the gem in her hand, somehow confident but uncertain at the same time. “If there are any other missing clues….”

“There aren’t,” Sunny said firmly, though whether to convince herself or the others was hard to say. “I’ll do it.” She held her hand out for the incisor.

“Mmmmmm no.” The confidence boost was all the scholar needed. Vera nearly danced past her, riding the thrill of a riddle solved. Without checking if the others were prepared, she plopped the gem into place and slapped the glyph.

click.

Both doors behind them slid open. With a powerfully loud inhale of fresh air, West stepped out from his room at last. Aside from his hard breathing, he seemed otherwise composed and undaunted by his time in the dark.

“Welcome back, Investigator,” Roman greeted him. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Were you all right in there?” Sunny asked, brows swept up with concern.

“No worse fer the wear, thank ye,” West answered chipperly, but taking in the state of the group– bruised, bloodied, and battered– his smile faltered. “Which makes fer at least one of us! The hell happened out ‘ere?”

Roman snorted. “Plenty enough. You can thank us later. Profusely.”