I pulled Lyra to the side, my back pressing against the cold stone as I cradled her close. Once again, I was hiding in a tight dent in the wall, praying nothing would approach. I didn’t want to start walking yet. Her body felt too fragile, her trembling breaths weak against my chest. The gem would do its work, but it wasn't instant.

  I rested my chin on her head, trying to steady my breathing. My head still throbbed from the echoes of the death-screeches, but that was it.

  Incidentally, I checked my Checklist. It counted the leeches as “one” Shadow Beast. But I made progress on a few tasks, regardless.

  A minute passed, then another. The only sound was the occasional sharp intake of breath from Lyra, the hiccup of a sob trying to hold itself in. I ran my cool metal hand gently down her back, hoping it helped, though I doubted anything could right now.

  I kept going over everything in my head. How fast it happened. How I kept catching glimpses of her just ahead, only to lose her to the curve. How the Shadow Beast had already wrapped her in those things before I could even reach her. That’s how quickly things can end here. We can’t stop being cautious…

  And it all unraveled from a single moment of carelessness. I could apologize one hundred times, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

  “I’m sorry, Lyra.”

  “At least you saved me,” she replied, surprising me.

  “Lyra?”

  “It’s okay. The wounds are healing. I can stand–”

  Then came a sound.

  Lyra stiffened in my arms. I felt her fingers twitch against my chest. She was staring with full intention into the darkness. She sucked in a sharp breath and pushed against me.

  I tightened my hold instinctively. “Lyra, wait—”

  She slipped free faster than I expected. The crystal was already working. She wasn’t fully healed, but she had enough strength to move. Enough to lurch forward, stepping away from me, her eyes wide and staring into the darkness of the tunnel ahead.

  “You can hear that too, right?” she asked, standing on wobbly legs.

  I got up and stood behind her. I recognized the way her shoulders shook, the way her mouth was hanging open. She was looking for hope in the worst place.

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  We both stared into the darkness of one of the passages. We had both heard it–the soft voice.

  “That can’t be real, right?” Lyra stammered.

  “I… I don’t think it was a trick of the ears.”

  “Were you able to make out what it said?”

  “No, I was too focused on you.”

  And then it came again–

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  My heart raced as my mouth went dry. I looked over to Lyra and saw light returning to her eyes. Lyra–I wished she wouldn’t have had that reaction. I was already reaching for her, ready to weather a storm.

  “It’s a person,” she whispered.

  “Lyra, wait–”

  She tugged on my arm and looked at me with hope returning to her eyes.

  “Lyra, no–”

  “Set, there’s someone else! Someone else survived!”

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  Lyra took her first step toward the darkness. “Hey, we’re over here! Follow my voice–ugh–oww! Set! What are you doing!?”

  I had pulled Lyra back. “Lyra, no. We have to go.”

  “Huh?” Her eyes darted around, looking for an answer on my face. “B-But there’s someone down there.”

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  I pulled Lyra. “No, Lyra, that’s not a person.”

  “What? They’re talking! It sounds like a child!”

  “Lyra, stop and listen,” I said, wrapping my right arm around her to pull her back gently.

  “No! Let me go, Set!”

  She turned toward me, eyes glassy and wide, and before I could say another word, she gripped my arm and bit me.

  Pain lanced through my forearm as her teeth sank in deep, clamping down with a desperation I hadn't expected. Her eyes too–she looked so feral in that moment.

  I clenched my jaw and held on, knowing my HP would fix the insignificant bite.

  “Stop, Lyra!”

  The light of sensibility returned to her eyes. She screamed while still biting. “It’s someone! Someone’s there!”

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  I jerked my arm free, stunning her with the sheer force I was willing to put in. “No, Lyra! It’s a Husk.”

  Lyra stared into my eyes as her head slowly shook. “No, you’re crazy. That’s someone.”

  She tried to move, but I gripped her with New Arm and pulled her back.

  “Set, stop. Let me go,” she warned.

  “No, Lyra,” I firmly replied, dragging her back.

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  Her body twisted against my hold. “Set, come on. That might be a child. They might be hurt.” She tried to break free, but I had the ultimate grip on her. “Set, they might be hurt!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

  I pulled her back despite her digging her feet in.

  “Set!” she shouted. “We have to help them!”

  “No, Lyra!’ My right arm locked around her waist. “That’s not a person!”

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  “Set! I might know them! That might be someone from my village!”

  “It’s not, Lyra!” I yelled back.

  “Set!” she cried, her voice shriller.

  “No, Lyra!”

  “I need to help them!” she screamed, her words warping into a raw, agonized sound.

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  “Lyra! Listen to the words! That’s not what someone would say!”

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  “No, no,” she shouted into the dark. “Hey! Say something else! Do you need help?”

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  Her voice faltered for a moment. I saw her shake her head, like she was trying to deny reality itself. “H-Hey! Don’t joke around. Do you need help?”

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  I clenched my jaw and kept pulling her back. Had she noticed that she was weakening?

  “Hey!” Lyra yelled, her voice breaking so much it sounded like she was moments from sobbing. “Please! Please say anything else!”

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  “Please!”

  “Exploring is the greatest joy.”

  Lyra growled. I could hear her teeth grinding. Her body shook and then she let it all out–

  “No! Exploring is not anything great! It’s terrible! It’s scary! Stop being a stupid brat! Just say anything else! Please!” she screamed.

  “Exploring… “

  Lyra’s shoulders fell slack. “No,” she whimpered.

  “...is the greatest joy.”

  “Bastard,” I muttered.

  Why did it have to break its reply up like that?

  My eyes went back to Lyra. Damage was done regardless. All the stubborn strength she had evaporated. Taking her by the arm, I quickly escorted her away, following the trail I had created while chasing after her.

  “Set,” she whispered, her head still down as we retreated.

  “Yeah?”

  “That was… a Husk?”

  I kept my eyes focused forward. “It had to be,” I replied. “There’s nothing else it could be.”

  And so, we retreated back to the relative safety of the lit passage without incident. Lyra was quiet throughout.

  The passage was just as we left it–purple and quiet.

  “Alright,” I said, letting Lyra go to pick up my pack. “We shouldn’t stay in the purple light. We should keep moving–”

  I stopped when I noticed something on my right arm. Tilting my head, I brought my right arm closer. Taking two metal fingers, I wiped off a substance and rubbed it between my fingers.

  “Silver?” I whispered.

  It reminded me of the silver of the Shadow Beast's eyes. Did that make sense? When did I get that on me? I looked at the spot where I wiped it from. I was certain that was where Lyra had bitten me.

  A shiver ran down my spine. Did she leave that liquid behind?

  I turned, ready to ask Lyra about the silver residue, come what may.

  “Hey, Lyra–”

  But the words died in my throat.

  She had slumped against the wall, her legs sprawled out, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Her face was pale, her expression distant. Her left hand trembled as it pressed against her cheek, fingers twitching, like she wasn’t sure whether to touch or tear at whatever was happening.

  “My eye,” she mumbled. “Feels… weird.”

  I took a step closer and gulped.

  Her left eye was swelling.

  It pushed out against her eyelid, distorting the shape of her face. The skin around it strained, engorged veins threading out across her temple like dark roots. A shudder wracked through her, and she sucked in a wet, gasping breath, her fingers digging into her cheek.

  The eye kept growing. It was like a disfigured pink balloon squeezing itself through the socket, throbbing and expanding.

  “Lyra,” I rasped. “Stay with me.”

  “So dizzy…”

  She winced—then lurched forward, her hands gripping her head.

  “Oww, oww, oww,” she cried.

  With a grotesque, wet pop, the swollen eye burst.

  But instead of blood, instead of ruptured flesh, something bloomed amidst a shower of clear, goo.

  A flower.

  No, not a flower. Not really. It was a mess of shadowy petals, shifting and writhing, slick with some kind of fluid. It unfurled in slow, unnatural motions, its petals twitching, curling, moving like muscle rather than plant.

  And then—

  It looked at me.

  A single silver eye, embedded in the center of the bloom, its pupil shifting with slow, deliberate awareness.

  I immediately recalled the thing stuck to her eyeball earlier. It caused this.

  Lyra let out a choked noise—half gasp, half sob—and reached up, gripping at the base of the flower like she could somehow push it back inside.

  “Set,” she whimpered, voice small, fragile. “I don’t think I’m okay… Is there something on my face?”

  I dropped to my knees beside her, my heart hammering against my ribs.

  “Lyra, I need you to stay still.”

  “Set? What is it?” she asked, startled, but still weak.

  “I think it’s a Shadow Beast.”

  “N-No–”

  Taking the knife from Lyra, I grabbed the base of the flower and began to saw.

  The petals recoiled, spasming, fighting against the blade. Lyra screamed, body arching as I carved through the twisted flesh.

  “Lyra, stop!” I yelled. I grabbed her flailing arms and pinned her on the floor.

  “No, no!” she cried. “Let me go!”

  Her yells echoed through the passage as her legs flailed.

  “I’m sorry,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

  I pinned her arms beneath my knees, punched her in the diaphragm, and quickly resumed.

  Gripping the flower, I pulled, ignoring the sound of fibers stretching. Dark fluid seeped from the the parts I damaged, a sickly mixture of black and red, running down her cheek like thickened tears.

  I winced when I saw them–the shadowy threads winding from flower to skull. They pulsed, stretching deeper into the cranial cavity. The eye was nowhere to be seen. It made sense on second thought. It had really popped.

  I hesitated.

  Lyra whimpered. “Cut it off.”

  I looked at her. She had her good eye closed, but she still said–

  “I can see the face you’re making… I don’t want a Shadow Beast growing on me…”

  “I’m sorry, Lyra.”

  “Cut it off, Set.”

  I shook my head. I doubted everything. She was able to see out of the growth. Those roots were too tangled. If I tried to remove the roots, I might take brain matter too.

  I did the only thing I could.

  I severed the bloom, leaving the roots where they were.

  The moment the last petal fell, Lyra went slack against me, breath shuddering, body trembling.

  “I’m feeling better already,” she said with a grunt.

  And though the flower was gone—

  “My vision,” she said, clarity and focus returning to her voice. “Out of my left eye. It’s all fragmented.”

  I resisted the urge to throw up. She was somehow seeing through the roots. Sure enough, tiny dots of silver tipped each root.