Ramus lost track of time. The flies hummed around him, drawing light shapes in the air and illuminating his path, and when he stopped, they stopped as well. He did so intermittently, listening for signs of pursuit. Nomi would come after him, her worry about what may be down here hiding the true reason for her descent: fascination. She wanted to see the God as much as he, and if he had suddenly turned around on that massive staircase and gone to leave, she would have continued down. They both wanted to be the first.

But he heard nothing behind him. If Nomi still came, she was keeping incredibly quiet. If the Sentinels had caught up with her . . .

The tunnel became warmer, more clammy, and he passed through thicker clouds of mist. Sometimes it seemed to touch and alter his perception of things, other times it simply dampened his clothes and beaded on his skin.

When the tunnel before him grew wider and taller, its walls splashed with light from beyond, the light-flies left.

He emerged into another cavern, much larger than the first. This one was home to a lake, its shores illuminated by the same curious moss, its surface reflecting the stunning array of stalactites that hung from the high ceiling. Perspective was difficult to make out with no real point of reference, but Ramus thought some of the hanging gallery of stalactites were the width of several men and fifty steps long. Their colors were a mixture of deep purples and a milky white, and all shades in between. Many seemed to strive to touch their reflections, though none broke water, and the only part of the high ceiling bare of them was directly above the island at the lake's center.

Stone cones broke the water's surface here and there, a couple close to the shore and many more farther out. Steam rose gently from some and gushed from others. It condensed on the ceiling high above and sprinkled the cavern with intermittent rain. Some of the rain fell onto the island and gave that place a glimmering sheen.

The surface of the water broke here and there, agitated by shapes Ramus could not quite make out. They did not surface for long. He also saw skimming things, leaving lines of expanding ripples in their wakes. They were small and many-legged, though none were still long enough for him to properly make out. They seemed to avoid the water close to the island, and the spit of land stood in a spread of calm. It almost looked as though it floated in a sea of darkness.

The island . . .

There was a building there, made from the same stone as that tall, pyramidal structure aboveground. This one was much simpler and more functional. A square, each side perhaps twenty steps in length, the flat roof twenty steps aboveground.