I’m spiraling. I don’t have a way to get real answers now. “When I see her, I’m going to ask her, straight up.”

I glance at Bri and she holds tension in her expression, eyes far off. It stings. “I’m sorry, Bri. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s cool,” she says, but I know it’s not.

I sigh. “Zora said one of the two tunnels would take us to the place they’re keeping Bati. We took the wrong one. Let’s get back to the access point, the dark tunnel is the one we should have taken.” We set off back up the blue-lit corridor.

Julius and Bri stick behind me, no questions asked, like they know what’s what. Like they trust where I’m going to lead them. Like whatever happens, they’re here for it, and the guilt over my words to Bri wedges deeper. Whatever her faults, her not giving a shit isn’t one of them. She’s trying. In her own imperfect way. And I get that. I get that a whole lot.

The access point comes into view and the alternate tunnel we didn’t take looms ahead. It’s pitch-black and the hair on my neck stands. I light flames from my fingertips. No one in their right mind would walk down this way unless they needed to. The dirt on the floor is hardly disturbed, no shoe imprints, no dust in the air. I can feel it in my bones, the room where Bati is trapped is down here. We walk for what feels like miles. My thighs ache, and the tunnel twists and turns, deeper into the Web.

We spot a patch of wall that appears disturbed. I wave my hands along the walls and Bri tries her gadget again. It suctions to the wall, and while we wait for the depth reading, I try to meet her eyes, flash a smile, but she won’t look at me; I feel even smaller.

“I think we’ve found it,” she says, smoothing the device farther along the wall. It beeps, flashing a number. “There’s a room here.”

“If Zora’s told me right, it has to be the eurostarum.”

I summon my magic and energy ripples from my hands. Crack. It’s dark, but the split in the rock zigzags to the floor. The faint sound of panting and paper rustling pricks my ears.

“Sssh.” I point at Bri, then at the wall, and she already knows what I need. The sphere rolls through the hole and a hologram floats about her watch. Piles of books stacked on shelves cut into rock line the walls, and in the corner a red-orange blob—a person. Bati.

“Bati,” I breathe.

The shuffling stops.

“Bati,” I mutter again.