Nomi screamed. A hand clasped across her mouth and pressed hard, and when she struck out, another hand grabbed her arm. She was pulled back onto the flat surface and pushed down, struggling, kicking at empty air.

“Nomi.” The voice spoke again, as quiet as before yet filling the darkness. “It's me.”

Nomi stopped struggling. The hand lifted from her mouth, though she could still sense it just above her face, ready to push down again should she scream.

“Ramus,” she whispered. “The Sentinels are coming.”

“Sentinels? That makes sense. I can hear them. Slow. They're scared. They know what's down here, and they're scared.”

“Do you know what's down here?” she asked.

For a beat the darkness did not answer. She sensed Ramus move away from her, and only then did he speak. “I'm a Voyager. I'm here to find out. We found somewhere, didn't we, Nomi? Didn't we find somewhere?”

We're not the first, she wanted to say. There was so much to tell him, but here and now was not the place.

“You're pregnant,” he said.

“How . . . ?”

“You gave me the gift of your nightmares, remember?”

“I'm sorry,” she said, and two simple words spoken into endless darkness made her feel so much better.

Ramus snorted softly but did not reply.

“Ramus, we can't wake this thing. We know nothing about it. We don't know—”

“I know,” he said. “It's here with me, and it will guide me down. Do you see?”

“No, I don't understand.”

“I mean, do you see, Nomi? I see. I see you huddled there, staring into a darkness deeper than you've ever imagined, wondering whether the next step will drop you into an abyss. But the Sleeping God gives me sight, and I can see the way.”

“It's a Fallen God, Ramus.”

“And who judges what falls and what does not?”

Nomi did not understand the question and could offer no answer. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

Ramus laughed then, a soft sound that whispered away below them. She wondered what his laughter found down there, and whether it was ready.

“No,” he said. “You've said you're sorry. And I think, really, you gave me more than you could know.”

Nomi leaned forward, reaching for where she thought Ramus sat. She touched clothing and held on, pulling him closer, laying her hand on his face and trying not to let go. “Ramus, you don't know what's in your head.”

“I do know,” he said. “It is in my head, and it got there through the sickness it knows so well. Mind-worms, you told me, Nomi? I think you were lied to. I think you breathed something of a Sleeping God, back there in Ventgoria.”

“No . . .”

“Yes! Maybe the final breath of an old God dying. Maybe something more.”

“But if you wake the Fallen God . . . have you thought about that? Have you really thought about what it might do?”