Kaz led the way from his office, leaving Jashanna behind. They descended a flight of stairs underground. Their footsteps echoed along the stony walls as they crept deeper into the bowels of the earth.

“What is this?” Eric glanced to the side, where the wall fell away into a deeper passageway and a stone angel guarded the path.

“The Crypt of St. Antiphel.” Kaz paused. “A therian burned at the stake after saving a village from a rabid wolf.”

“What?” Eric asked.

“Modern accounts exclude the fact he was therian,” Kaz said grimly, “but there’s a reason he’s buried here in Hoplethian Damadaea instead of the Spiriseo Algapharae.”

Illius’ mind really couldn’t wrap around those words, but Eric asked the question he wanted to. “Hoplethian Damadaea?”

“The Hope of the Damned is it’s rough translation.” Kaz turned and continued through the damp passageway. “It’s an ancient church full of catacombs that serve our purposes. It was supposed to be torn down years ago, but we’re in the process of restoring it. Long ago it was a nunnery, but we’ve turned the living quarters into a medical ward for the poor.

“There’s a school above us, too—the children like to see how far their voices echo along the halls. It’s… noisy sometimes. We’re trying to update it with runes, but over half is still fireplaces and candles.”

Kaz turned to the left, ducking beneath a gargoyle with its wings unfurled in silent warning. There were no lights, candle, or runes here, and Illius tripped over the rough cobblestone. Eric held him upright as Kaz summoned a ball of light that levitated above his hand. The Seratian led them back to a massive, grey crypt and knocked on the door with four quick strikes.

A stone wall slid back, revealing a shriveled old man in the middle of the floor. The damp cold of the catacombs evaporated behind him—it almost resembled a prayer room, with all the small mats of carefully embroidered threads scattered around. There were no other doors or windows, just wood paneling etched with gentle light runes that cast a soft glow.

“A pleasure to see you made it,” the old man said to Kaz as he studied his companions in turn. “The fugitives, no doubt?”

“Two of them, Charlie. The Witch will come in later.”

“Mm,” the old man hummed. “Well, best get that young man below before he falls over. His soul is bleeding.”

“Yeah, we know.” Kaz stepped past Charlie and walked right through the back wall as if it didn’t exist.

“What the hell?” Eric asked.

The old man chuckled. “Welcome to Shimol.”

“Stop spooking them, you old ghost.” Twig stepped to the back wall and put his hand through. “It’s just an illusion, albeit a powerful one. Come on.”

“Old?” Charlie turned to Twig. “I’ll have you know I’m practically a child compared to you, you gnarled old stump!”

Twig harrumphed. “I thought children were respectful of their elders.”

Illius followed as Eric pulled him through the wall. This wasn’t even the weirdest thing he’d been through today. On the other side, he paused. Have we teleported somewhere? They were clearly underground, but rune lights lit everything in a soft glow. Pillars of stone supported the huge cavern. Stretched out before them was a tiny village nestled in the cave. Finely laid cobblestone formed a path underfoot, marked by gently curved rails that kept passersby from falling on the houses below.

“This is Shimol,” Kaz told them. “For most people, it’s the land of ghosts. Maybe it’s real, maybe not—no one knows for sure.”

“Holy shit.” Eric gazed over the houses. “When was this built?”

“The last fifteen years,” Kaz said. “We needed a place for certain people to hide, while also remaining close to the capitol. There’s more room down here than there honestly needs to be, but we built it in case we needed to hide people for months or even years.”

“Did we teleport?” Eric asked as they followed Kaz.

“No.” He shook his head. “This is built below Parthik.”

“How do they not know?” Eric wondered.

Kaz shrugged. “It’s an intricate web of lies I’ve spent years weaving, with some help from key individuals in high places. The government has always been suspicious, but they’ve searched several times and found safe houses above ground, so unless they have a good reason they won’t dig deeper. Not to mention, the catacombs are a labyrinth that make the entrance a pain to find.”

“That’s why you sent us to the library instead?” Eric asked.

“Partially.” Kaz made a face. “Hireth was afraid of her or Illius’ magic going out of control, and… there is a risk of being here. There’s not a lot of people we hide underground here—more exposure means more risk. The ones who are though… I trust them, but anyone could betray you for the right price. We’ll try to limit the fugitives even more, but desperate people… Who knows? Hireth is not easy to hide.”

Illius felt a slow pit of dread open up in his stomach.

“So, she is the Witch of Dotric?” Eric asked.

Twig chuckled behind them.

“Uh…” Kaz paused, then he just rolled his eyes. “You heard what I told Lemuel—the Witch is dead. Anyway, this is where you’ll be staying.”

They came to a little house tucked into the wall of the cave. The entrance jutted out a bit from the side, a dusty blue door with a pale vine growing all around it. Kaz unlocked it and handed Eric the key. They stepped inside and found it much more spacious than it appeared on the outside. Kaz lit the runes in the walls, and they cast gentle light all through the house. The kitchen sat on the right, while a sitting room sprawled off to their left.

“Bedrooms are in the back,” Kaz called. “Let’s get Illius something before he completely falls asleep, though.”

“Like what?” Eric asked. His words had a protective edge that made a little warmth blossom inside Illius.

“A druid cocktail,” Twig announced.

“We’re not calling them that.” Kaz shook his head.

“Fine then.” The druid walked into the kitchen primly and grabbed some juices out of the icebox. They mixed them into a glass, tasting each of them and considering. Finally, they took the mixture—some strange, brown-looking thing—and started to stir it. Twig spoke in an ancient tongue, and Illius saw magic flow through the words as they had with Kaz. The drink turned purple, and foam fizzed up on the top. They handed it to Illius.

“What is this?” the therian asked.

“You strained your core earlier,” Twig explained. “That much magic released all at once… is not recommended. This will help your magic replenish, so you might wake up tomorrow feeling a bit less exhausted.”

“I’m not actually tired?”

“You are,” Kaz said. “Your magic is bleeding, which only happens when you strain your core.”

“Bleeding?”

“It’s not….” Kaz looked to Twig for help.

“Frayed nerves?” Twig tried. “It’s kind of like internal bleeding, but… less dire. If you take off your shirt, you probably have black streaks running from your soul juncture.”

“Okay…” Soul juncture. Whatever that is. The black streaks did sound familiar, though. Illius gently lifted the glass and sipped it. It tasted like earl grey tea with lavender, but it had some kind of fruity aftertaste. Soothing, cool, and silky, it delighted him. “This is really good.”

“Druid elixirs.” Twig sniffed at Kaz.

“Alright.” The Seratian laughed. “Call them what you want.” He turned to Eric. “Do you want one of us to stay with you until Hireth returns?”

Eric shook his head. “Nah, you’re good. I imagine we’re just going to sleep anyway.”

“If you need anything…” Kaz walked out into the hall and showed them a green rune lighting up. “That will let someone know. Don’t be shy.”

“Thank you.” Eric nodded.

“I think the rest is self-explanatory,” Kaz said. “I’ll let Hireth know where you are as soon as she comes back.”

Twig and Kaz left and Illius just sipped on his drink. He knew it couldn’t be that late in the day, but all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Come on.” Eric led the way down the hall. The first room had a bed with a big, red bedspread on it. “That’s clearly a Hireth room.” They continued along. The second room was all accented in blues, and that’s where Eric tugged him.

“Are you tired?” Illius said as he inched toward Eric. “I don’t know why… but I’m exhausted.”

“I know,” Eric told him. “That drink looks really good.”

“You want some?” He held it out.

“One sip.” Eric tasted it and handed it back. “Oh, that is good.”

“Druid used magic spells.”

“Mmhmm.” Eric shoved him gently toward the bed. “You want to change or anything? I don’t know where there are clothes or anything, but I could rummage.”

“I don’t care.” He sank onto the fluffy pillows. “This is heaven.”

Eric chuckled at him. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yeah, don’t leave me,” he mumbled, fading out of consciousness. “Good night, love you.”