A thin, frantic reply answered Sena’s call through the rubble.

  Rhalir cracked the stone with a well-placed strike from the head of his pick. Sena caught the falling pieces, pulling them aside. When the gap widened enough for air to flow, three faces stared back at them.

  They were acolytes, two barely more than children, their white robes gray with ash. Between them, a boy lay with his head propped against his broken chest. Blood clotted darkly along his side. His breaths were shallow.

  Hellen reached into the opening first. “Serpent save us,” she breathed. “Michael. Hold on.”

  Sena met the eyes of the smallest acolyte, a girl with dirt-streaked cheeks. She looked terrified and fiercely alert, one arm wrapped around the injured boy as though to shield him.

  “The railing came down on him,” the girl said. “We tried to bind it. We couldn’t see in the dark – it hasn’t stopped bleeding.”

  Sena was the only one small enough to fit in the gap they’d made. Without thinking she wedged herself into the space to get a better view of Michael’s wound. The other acolytes flinched back, one yelping in fear.

  “Please don’t hurt us,” the girl cried.

  “They’re here to help,” Hellen said, giving a reassuring nod of the head. “I know everything is strange. But you must trust her.”

  “We need him out,” Sena said. “Rhalir, brace the left side. Eric, Callahan, we need cloth, clean as you can find.”

  The officer used his belt knife to tear strips from the least damaged section of his undershirt and handed them over. Eric paused to watch before doing the same.

  Sena reached through the gap again. The stone scraped her shoulders, but she managed to slide her hands beneath Michael’s torso. His skin was clammy with cold, and he muttered, eyes opening to stare at her. She could feel the tremor in his pulse, rapid and weak and threatening to quit.

  “I know it hurts,” she said softly. “My name is Sena. I’m here to help you. Stay with me, alright?”

  Michael’s lips parted. “I don’t want to die,” he whispered.

  “You’re not dying today,” Sena said. She turned. “We need more space.”

  Rhalir had already begun widening the opening, and as he did so Eric leapt in to assist. Each strike was precise, aimed to break only the fragile edge while preserving the cavity around it. Mary continued to hold the beam, sweat gathering along her brow. Callahan steadied the bracing post in case her grip failed.

  Piece by piece, the stone gave way.

  When the gap was wide enough, Sena slipped inside. The acolytes shifted to make room, their eyes wide with exhaustion. Sena checked Michael’s pulse once more.

  “I’m going to hold you under the arms,” she said. “Rhalir, you’ll have to drag us both out. Slowly.” Then, to Michael, “I’ll try not to jostle your ribs, okay?”

  Rhalir took her by the shanks. “At your word,” he said.

  Sena tightened her grip under Michael’s shoulders. “I’m ready.”

  Rhalir pulled them backward, inch by inch, as Sena maneuvered his body through the narrow opening. He gasped with pain but he tensed around it, steadying himself. Once he was far enough through the gap that Sena could release him, Callahan and Mary reached in and lifted him out. The other acolytes followed, pulled free into the open air with Sena’s hand pressed to each of their backs.

  “I think there’s someone else down there,” one of the Sisters said. “We could hear him for a time – but he’s gone quiet.”

  Sena nodded. The interior chamber groaned as more stone shifted above them. Sena paused, listening again for voices. Hellen crawled closer to the opening.

  “There’s another space beyond this,” Hellen said. “I think I can hear someone breathing hard. It’s faint.”

  Rhalir crouched beside her. “This pocket may continue farther than we thought.”

  Sena lowered herself, pressing her cheek to the cold stone so she could hear into the narrow vent. The air flowing out was warmer than it ought to be.

  “Hello?” Sena called softly. “We hear you. Tap twice if you can hear us.”

  Two sharp taps answered, followed by a frightened cry.

  Sena’s heart clenched. “Good. Hold on. We’re coming.”

  “You’ll never fit down there, Kelthi,” Callahan said. “You’ll break your neck.”

  Sena ignored him. She wedged herself into the space once more, examining the chamber where they’d found the children. With careful hands she felt for a breeze; there it was, air moving between rocks. Carefully she pulled stones aside. There it was, another hole. It was small enough that she had to turn her head sideways to enter, and it careened downward into blackness. She was grateful she was not in Heat, her head free of antlers. She had to know how far down it went. She hooked one hoof around a rock. Sharp edged tiles dig into her sides as she slid into the darkness. The air was denser here, heavy in her lungs, but it was far too dark to continue forward.

  She pushed herself backward again.

  “There’s not much room,” she called back. “Give me light.”

  Hellen passed down a scalelight, its glow faint but steady. Sena held it between her teeth as she crawled deeper. The chamber widened unexpectedly after a few feet. A collapsed arch had created a low triangular space barely high enough for her to kneel. The air was stale, tinged with blood.

  In the scale light emerged a boy whose lower body disappeared beneath a slab of stone. He turned his gray face to her, his eyes wild with fear, tinged yellow. Sweat clung to his hair. His breaths came sharp and high, dragged through clenched teeth.

  Sena set the light down gently. “I’m here,” she said. “I’m going to help you.”

  The boy’s eyes flew to hers. She touched his arm. His skin was cold, too cold. “Tell me your name.”

  “Benji,” he gasped.

  “Benji,” she repeated. “I’m Sena. I’m going to get you out. But I need to see your leg.”

  The stone pinning him was enormous, far too heavy to lift in these confines. She could not even get her shoulder under it. She couldn’t see anything beyond the beam; it was buried completely in rubble.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Can you move your foot at all?” she asked.

  His face twisted with agony. He shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t feel anything.”

  Sena leaned closer. Blood had soaked the tiles beneath the stone, drifting toward lower ground in a thin, steady ribbon. His knee seemed intact but his tibia was crushed, bone protruding from torn flesh, and she had to swallow a rush of nausea at the sight of it. The entire space seemed to tighten around her. The ceiling groaned again above the boy’s head.

  Benji reached for her hand. His fingers closed weakly around hers. “Don’t leave me,” he said again, voice breaking.

  “I have to, but only for a moment,” Sena said. Sena turned to the narrow passage. The boy reached for her.

  “Don’t leave,” he choked. “Please. Don’t – don’t leave me here.”

  “Benji, I’ll be right back,” she reassured him.

  “No,” he said, and struggled weakly, sitting up enough to push against the boulder. “No, no –”

  “I’m leaving the light here,” she said. “I’m coming back for you. I promise.”

  She turned away from him, knowing she could not waste a single moment, and clambered up the tunnel, shocked by her own claustrophobia as the darkness closed in. But finally she emerged into the wider first tunnel and saw light. They pulled her out the other side.

  “There’s a boy down there,” she said. “His name is Benji.”

  She glanced at the acolytes, who watched her with wide eyes.

  She pulled Rhalir and Callahan aside.

  “His leg is crushed,” she said quietly. “He’s trapped under a stone. It can’t be lifted.”

  “What’s to be done?” Callahan asked.

  “I need cloth,” she said. “Rope. A belt.” She swallowed again, tasting powdered rock. “And a blade.”

  They fell silent.

  Then Rhalir asked, “How large a blade?”

  What she could really use was a saw, but she knew there wasn’t time to fetch one.

  “Small,” Sena said. “Sharp.”

  There was no hesitation after that. Callahan removed his belt, which also held a small dagger. Rhalir removed his cloak and sliced into the inner lining, pulling out as many clean strips as he could. They found rope, something that might once have held a chandelier in place above them.

  When they reached the tunnel again, they could hear Benji sobbing.

  “Please,” he called up. His panic was rising. “Please.”

  “I’m coming, Benji,” she called down, and scrambled back into the darkness.

  Sena reached him as he scrabbled at the dirt. She put a hand on his arm and he flinched with a cry.

  “I’m right here,” she said. She laid out her materials: clean cloth, a short, narrow knife, some rope, a leather belt.

  She met Benji’s eyes. They were wet with fear but fixed on her, trusting her.

  “Listen to me,” Sena said softly. “Your leg is crushed. The stone is too heavy to lift. If we try to free it, the ceiling will come down on top of you.”

  Benji’s breath hitched. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “I don’t want to die here,” he whispered.

  “You won’t,” Sena said.

  She brought the belt around his leg, just above the knee. “This is going to hurt, but I’m here. I’m right here.”

  She tightened until he gasped out a cry. His hand flew to hers, gripping weakly. “Please – please don’t –”

  “Hey. Benji. Look at me.”

  He looked, and only then did she let herself see how young he was. He could not have been older than ten. But she didn’t let her expression falter.

  “This will hurt,” she said again. “But it will save your life. You’ve been very brave, Benji. Can you be brave just a little longer?”

  He nodded once, tears making tracks down the dust on his face. “You won’t leave me?”

  “No,” she said.

  “You’re taking the leg.”

  She nodded. No use lying to him.

  He glanced at the injury, then his eyes clenched shut. “I’ve been praying,” he said.

  “That’s good.”

  “Should I keep praying?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I think that’s a very good idea.”

  He nodded. She reached for the rope, doubling it over. “I want you to bite down on this when the pain is bad. Okay?” She held it to his mouth and he took it with his teeth, nodding once.

  Sena positioned the knife. The chamber was so narrow she had to brace her shoulder against the stone to find an angle. The scalelight flickered faintly. Dust drifted down into her hair.

  She whispered. “I’m going to move as fast as I can. Breathe, Benji.”

  She found the place below his knee where the bone was already breaking through the flesh of his leg, where the fracture was beyond repair. She steadied the knife.

  Then she cut.

  Benji screamed, raw and terrified through the rope, the sound scraping along the stone and echoing back on itself. Sena worked as fast as she could. The blade was sharp, but the angle was poor and the space limited. Her fingers slipped once on blood, and she steadied herself with a deep breath, forcing down the memory of the harbor wreckage, the water rising, the beam she had clung to. This was not then. This was now. And this boy would not die if she could help it.

  The blade caught on bone and she sawed furiously, finally getting through, then the next bit of flesh beneath, and then the final cut gave way to the rock below.

  Sean caught him as he sagged backward, pulling him into her arms, pressing him tightly against her chest so he would feel the warmth of another body and not the gaping space where his leg had been. She wrapped the cloth quickly, securing the tourniquet. With one hand she elevated his leg with the belt; with the other she bound the rope under his arms.

  “Rhalir,” she called. Her voice cracked. “We’re coming out.” Then, to Benji, “I need you to hold this.” She guided his hand to the belt. “I’m going to run the rope out and I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t leave me –”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  She took the rope in her mouth, furious with herself that she hadn’t thought to do this first, and crawled through the narrow opening. She passed the end to Rhalir, who glanced at her bloody hands before taking it.

  She backed up to guide Benji out. His breathing was shallow but steadying. She maneuvered him toward the opening. Blood loss had taken him to the edge, but the warmth of her body and her voice tethered him to consciousness.

  “You’re alright,” she murmured. “You’re alright. Stay with me.”

  Rhalir tugged on the rope. Sena shifted Benji upward, inch by inch, until Rhalir’s arms closed securely around the boy’s shoulders and lifted him free. Mary and Callahan took his weight next, laying him gently on a blanket.

  When Sena crawled out behind them, the sudden rush of open air nearly buckled her knees. She blinked against the brightness. Mary lifted Benji’s leg. Callahan pressed cloth to the open wound. Hellen knelt beside him, tears slipping silently down her cheeks as she murmured reassurances to the children.

  The work crew gathered, dirty, exhausted, trembling with the enormity of what they had witnessed. Mary wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. Eric stood rigid, staring at Sena as though she’d altered the ground beneath them.

  One by one, without speaking, they knelt or crouched or leaned closer, forming a loose circle around the boy and the Kelthi girl who had saved him.

  “We need to bind this properly,” she said. “And get him to warmth.”

  Hellen knelt beside her. “We can take him to the east cloister. There’s shelter still standing there. And blankets.”

  Sena nodded. “Good. Mary and Eric can carry him. Rhalir, help me move the others. Callahan, send two Brighthand for supplies – rope, blankets, water, and find any doctors or surgeons. Let’s set up a shelter for the injured at the east cloister.”

  Callahan didn’t hesitate. He went at once.

  Mary and Eric lifted the blanket, and together they walked him and the other children out of the Spire and toward the cloister.

  Rhalir’s voice broke the silence first. Quiet, roughened at the edges.

  “I’ve never seen anyone do what you just did.”

  Hellen nodded, pressing her sleeve into her eyes. “You saved him,” she whispered. “You saved all of them.”

  “We’re not done,” she said, resolute. “There are more down there.”

  No one argued. In the quiet that followed, among the cracked pillars and drifting marble dust, a wordless dedication passed through the searchers, and as they carried on throughout the day, finding the injured and the dead, none questioned Sena as she directed them. They did not know how many would live, but each minute spent searching brought them closer to another life saved.