An impulse struck me, and I reached out, fingers brushing her hand. She gave me a grateful, fleeting smile.
None of us said anything for a long moment, each measuring loss in our own way—some at the hands of men, some at the hands of nature. The breeze off the sea pressed in, chilly and indifferent, and it was hard to know which kind of disaster was easier to survive.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Rosalie murmured, her voice tight, “but… who are they?”
All of us turned, following her finger toward the rocks Miranda had told us to watch. At first, I saw nothing but shadows and shifting blackness—then the moon slid out from behind a cloud, and I caught the movement: three figures, black from head to foot, picking their way along the jagged outcrop at the cliff base. They carried black boxes, hoisted almost protectively over their heads.
We froze, barely breathing as we watched them reach the cliff’s base. Then, just as suddenly, they vanished, slipping out of sight, as if swallowed by the stone.
“Who are they?” I breathed.
“And where did they just disappear to?” Nico whispered.
Miranda’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “That’s the question. They show up at this spot, same time most nights… though this is the first time I’ve noticed them carrying things. I’ve tried to figure out what they’re doing, but they’re careful. Never a wasted step, always keeping low. It’s like they don’t want to be seen.”
Robert leaned forward, voice hushed. “How did you even spot them in the first place? This can’t be your idea of a fun night.”
Miranda’s lips twitched. “No, but it’s quieter here than Dankworth Isle, where I live. I started walking down here at night. Needed some air, needed to feel like I could breathe. That’s when I noticed them. And look… more are coming.”
Another trio emerged from the shadows, slipping across the rocks with the same silent efficiency. They, too, carried boxes. In moments, they disappeared into the darkness, leaving no trace.
“They must be entering a tunnel or cave system,” Miranda muttered, squinting into the gloom. “I haven’t seen the entrance, but I know it’s there. It’s become… an obsession for me, honestly. I can’t figure out why anyone would creep around like this on some sort of schedule, not unless they had something to hide.”
Jessie’s voice was barely more than a breath. “Have you ever seen anyone come back out?”
Miranda shook her head. “No. I’ve got work, I can’t just camp here all night. But I assume they do eventually.”
The group fell silent, the only sounds the wind whipping off the water and the steady rush of the tide.
“So what now?” I asked. “You want to follow them?”
Miranda’s eyes met mine, steady and intent. “Unless you’ve got a better idea. I doubt it’s illegal to go for a walk on the rocks...”
Jessie exhaled, her hands tight at her sides. “Well? If we’re doing this, let’s do it.”
No one needed to say more. We gathered ourselves, hearts thumping, and picked our way off the path, each footstep drawing us closer to whatever waited among the rocks.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Miranda’s hunchwas dead on. A tunnel did exist, hidden so cleverly in the cliff’s jagged underbelly that you’d miss it unless you were standing right in front of it. It looked less like an entrance and more like the earth had been split by some ancient, indifferent force. We clustered around the gap, the night wind clawing at our backs.
Miranda went first, squeezing into the darkness. I followed, heart pounding, feeling the rough stone scrape my shoulder blades. The passage was so narrow we could only move in single file, shoulders hunched, half-crawling in places. I tried to imagine how the box-carriers had squeezed through—the thought made my skin crawl. It would’ve taken careful maneuvering, and absolute commitment.
Inside, the world shrank to damp stone, the flashlight’s trembling beam, and the echo of our own breaths. Water dripped steadily from somewhere overhead. Our footfalls sounded impossibly loud.
“Thank God I brought this,” Miranda muttered, flicking the beam of her light ahead.
The tunnel bent and twisted, the floor uneven beneath our shoes, slick in places with cold, old water. Nobody spoke. Our nerves were too raw, our senses straining for any hint of movement ahead or behind. The longer we crept, the more the silence pressed in, heavy and absolute.
Robert finally whispered, “What is this place?”
I shook my head, swallowing hard. “Feels like it was dug out by hand, a long time ago. For what, who knows.” It was too rough, too forgotten, yet not abandoned.
We pushed on, the tunnel seeming to go on forever, curving sharply left, then right, doubling back on itself. I lost track of time and distance. Ten, fifteen minutes? Each step deeper eroded any sense of the outside world.
Miranda stopped short so suddenly I nearly collided with her back. Her flashlight dipped.
“Whoa,” she breathed, voice barely audible.
