“We don’t even know who your brother is.” She eases her arm from my grasp. “My guess is that he died in the Tunnel.” Her voice is gentle. “I’m so sorry, Cain.” She takes the blindfold from me and ties it around my eyes.

A lump forms in my throat, surprising me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt any sort of gentleness. Gentle touch. It has nothing to do with it being Stranna. But it makes me think of Mom and all the things I’ve lost.

“Thank you.” For telling me. For tying the blindfold. For taking me with her.

Her exhale touches my cheek, and her hand finds mine, leading me to the great phoenix. “The Spores don’t tend to kill people, Cain. I hope you can believe me.”

“That’s not what Luc says. And it’s not what I saw during the attack on the Tunnel cart.”

“Oh, and is the Emperor in the habit of leaving things alive?”

I think of my tiger. Sure he killed it, but he spends every Arena Game reuniting children with their families. He’s not the evil overlord she seems to think he is.

“My brother’s name was Nole Cross. Luc had a ledger with the cause of death next to each deceased citizen’s name. It said he was Spored.”

“I didn’t realize your brother was a citizen.”

I stop. Nole wasn’t a citizen. He would have told me about the coliseum. Only now do I wonder why and how Luc had Nole’s name in that ledger. No one in Tenebra took down my name when I first exited the Tunnels.

If Luc can make a forest or living room from nothing, couldn’t he have done the same with the leger?

Stranna climbs onto the phoenix in front of me. It rises unsteadily, and I grip her around the middle. I barely make out her next words over the increase of flapping before we take off.

“Spores don’t kill. We die.”

The air is cold as we fly. It’s the first time I notice the temperature in Tenebra. And it seems odd since my physical body is likely overheating in the Real World. Or maybe burning with fever. Is that why I’m cold? Is it even daytime up there? I wouldn’t know—I can never keep track of time here in Tenebra.

I think that’s how Luc wants it.

Though why I’m now thinking he can control this place is a testament to how deep I’ve let Stranna’s words take hold. I need to keep my wits—don’t be swayed by Luc. Or Stranna. Draw my own conclusions.

Is this another side effect of being Spored?

We don’t fly for very long, but Stranna directs the phoenix left and right, circles and dives to ensure I’m thoroughly confused. The phoenix doesn’t seem to like it. I feel the creature strain against her direction, and her body strains back.

Then her body loses its tension for a moment. She slides a little to the left. I grip her waist in a sudden panic that she’s about to fall off. My touch seems to wake her up. She straightens, and shoves my hands off her.

But then she slips once more, and I grab her again. “Stranna! Land!”

“I know what I’m doing,” she argues, but in a weak, desperate voice. I manage to haul her back so she is secure against my chest. She squirms away. I grip the phoenix with my legs and the blindfold sends my equilibrium spinning. I release Stranna with one hand and tear off the cloth.

Wind hits my eyes, and they immediately water. I spy the phoenix harness in Stranna’s hands and take it in my own, careful not to pull one way or another. She doesn’t protest. I don’t have to do much—the phoenix seems to know its route. It falls into a dive, and I yell, trying to grip both Stranna and the bird. Just before the ground the phoenix slows, then flaps wildly moments before landing. I topple off its back and land on hard ground.

Goodbye pride, hello Spore base.

Stranna’s body seems to slip in slow motion from the shoulders of the phoenix. She clings to the harness at the last moment and lands on her knees.

I try to help her sit up, but she shrugs me off.

“Sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“Your physical body is in distress,” I tell her. “That’s what’s happening.”

Her gaze lands on me and she frowns. “Where’s your blindfold?”

Really? That’s her first thought. “Can you stand?”

“Of course I can.” Is she so prideful she can’t admit she nearly fell off the phoenix? She takes it slow, pausing between movements. Then gets her feet. “Close your eyes then.”

“Are you serious?”

She mutters something and pulls another wrap of cloth from around her ankle. “Rags aren’t easy to come by here. Don’t lose this one.” She cinches it around my eyes so tight it sends an instant headache to my temple.

I want to say something snarky like, “You’re welcome for saving you again,” but truthfully, I’m mainly relieved she’s functioning enough to guide me. The sooner we get help to our abandoned Jeep the better. I think she gets the urgency now.

Her hand takes mine. “This way.” She tugs me one direction, and I stumble after her. She drops my hand and grips my sleeve instead. It sends all the message I need. A small pang hits me in the chest, and I almost laugh at myself for wanting her hand in mine. For a moment, the brief intimacy felt like it could be forgiveness. I know she bought my cure, and I know it didn’t work for her. She saved me in The Fire Swamp. In return I risked everything—my tiny house, my food, my life—to keep her safe from the idiots at the storage unit and the warehouse.

Hand in hand implies trust. I want to be trusted.

But I’m not sure I’m trustworthy.

Maybe it’s because I miss Nole. Or maybe it’s because life is lonely in the Real World. And in Tenebra. But a part of me cares about Stranna, and I want her safe. Which means she should stay away from me, and I should stay away from her.

Is this the Spore infection talking? Making me care more about her life than mine? I still want a LifeSuPod. Luc’s current terms are to tell him about the Spore base, plus save Galilei, whom the Spores ambushed.

I’m their enemy.

“Watch your head.” Stranna’s voice is gentle, and she leads slower. I duck, but not far enough because my scalp clips what feels like a rough stone frame. Sound changes, and our footsteps turn loud and lonely as they scrape uneven ground.

We take a few turns, and even though Stranna holds only my sleeve, I’ve unintentionally reached out with my other hand to grip her wrist for a more secure lead.

I hear the strike of a match, then smell burning oil.

“Okay.”

She unties the blindfold.

I’m met with darkness. I blink several times, and a small oil lamp comes into focus, held in Stranna’s unsteady hand. An old clay one you might see in a museum. All around me are tunnels, carved-out alcoves in stone, shadows . . .

“Catacombs,” Stranna fills in. “Not what you thought, I imagine.”

My distaste must show on my face. I don’t know what I expected. She defeated nightbeasts with a single match. She has a magic sword. Her phoenix shines with color instead of shadow.

“I guess I expected . . . light.” Maybe it’s my hunger for the sun that’s speaking, but for some reason I thought the Spores would have it. Something more than the 7A sky over the coliseum or the pressing darkness of the abandoned world outside.

Instead . . . they live in catacombs.