The rest of the trip to level seventy-eight was simple in comparison. She staggered out of the stairwell in triumph only to realize that she didn’t know where the guards were patrolling. And in her current blood-stained and bedraggled condition, she would attract unwanted attention. No choice but to go to Orla’s. A groan escaped her lips at the prospect of ascending another thirty-nine levels.

It took forever. A long, painful slog, willing her legs to keep going. Repeating the consequences if she didn’t return to rescue everyone in her mind, she kept to the shadows and the abandoned tunnels. Even through her fatigue, she noted the sound of the city. It had changed. A buzz of tension, sharp voices, and a hum of fear vibrated through the air. The citizens had felt the explosions and were understandably worried.

Once she reached the commune, she was rewarded for her efforts. Every drop of sweat and trickle of blood to get there was worth it because Mojag appeared as if by magic, followed by Gurice, and Zhek. She blinked at them, sensing a trick. All three here and safe was too good to be true. Were they real?

“Son of a sand demon,” Gurice said. “You look like you’ve crawled through all the seven caverns of hell.”

“What happened?” Mojag asked.

Zhek waved them off. “Not now. Fetch her some water. Meet me in the examination room.”

No doubt they were real.

“Scorching sand rats, child. I will not help you re-injure yourself. You should be resting.” Zhek thrust a cup of his healing tea at her again.

Gurice entered Shyla’s room with Mojag right behind her. “Problem?”

“Yes,” Zhek said. “I’ve patched her up, stitched her up, cleaned her up, and she wants to run off and undo everything!”

“Zhek, there might be survivors.” Hopefully Rendor was one of them. “I have to lead a rescue attempt. I need your restorative, but I’ll go without it if I have to.”

He strode from the room, grumbling and muttering under his breath.

“I guess that’s a no,” Gurice said.

“What’s the gossip?” Shyla asked Mojag.

“I’m sorry. So sorry,” he just about sobbed.

“For what?”

“The explosions! I didn’t know what the priestess was planning. I missed it! I—”

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “She surprised us all. No one expected such an attack. Such disregard for life. Such destruction.”

“The priestess was smart to keep her real plans under tight wraps,” Gurice said to her brother. “And it’s done. Nothing to do about it now. What you can do is stop blaming yourself and help. What have you learned?”