Page 101 of Anomalies

A faint red glow cuts through the moonlight, and a single flame zips through my fingers, wild and hot and entirely mine.

“Pax,” I whisper, grinning wildly up at him. “I’ve got fire.”

24

CALLAN

Aflicker of red reflects off the crumbling stone around us, casting shadows over Devon’s sweat-slick face as I hold a steady finger up to my lips.

It took two days to find the mine, then another two to navigate the crumbling rocks and steep slope, but we found our way to the very bottom. It’s hotter than hell down here, now that we’re closer to the saturated core beneath Streatham, and there is no relief from it. Sweat drips down and over my eyes as I glance to the right.

We’re standing in a dark tunnel, illuminated only by the flames Devon has skating across the dagger he holds. The warm light shivers along the crumbling walls and the rotted wood rafters.

We heard something. An echo that sounded from far down the tunnel. Like a stone falling. There’s a chance we’ve just disturbed it; I mean, this tunnel hasn’t been walked in seventy-five years.

The mine was deemed clean, emptied of all ores, so they pulled the miners out and sent them elsewhere. To my knowledge, no one’s been back since, which means there has been no effort to maintain it or reinforce the weight-bearing walls. That was Delia’s main concern.

We’re surrounded by walls that haven’t been reinforced in seventy-five years.

It’s like an iced-over lake; all it takes is one crack. It’d be a quick death, one that wouldn’t get a proper burial, but it would at least be painless.

Another thud echoes down the dark tunnel, and Devon and I go rigid.

There’s a chance that it wasn’t a falling rock. Anything could be dwelling down here. Horrid creatures that don’t need sunlight…beasts that thrive in the pitch dark. Or Rogues.

I step forward, but Devon pushes his way in front. That’s his job, to put himself first, but it never fails to piss me off. We move quietly; each footstep precisely placed into the patches of soft earth between stone.

There is the near-silent crackle of static as magic blooms into my bloodstream. Without sunlight to replenish, we’ve had to conserve power, but the four of us have plenty of experience doing so. Even still, I only have about a day’s worth before I’m empty.

My head whips around when the toe of Phoenix’s boot strikes stone. His arm flails, but Easton snatches it and yanks him back in place. I can’t see anything but their eyes, not with the ventilation masks obstructing most of their faces, but Phoenix stares back at me, pupils wide.

I chastise him with a warning glare, turning back when I’m sure he got the message.

I manage to push my way to the front as we start walking again, timing it with the narrowing of the hall so that Devon can’t force me back.

If the map is accurate, as Pa promised it would be, there should be a corridor at the end of this hall. It was a room for miners to sleep between shifts, and in theory, it should only be a few feet from the palace dungeons. The dungeons themselves are made of solid rock, maybe three to five feet of it. We’ll have to tunnel our way through without disturbing the mine.

My hand hovers, then a spark bursts down the tunnel. It zips past in a silent whistle, illuminating more cracked and crumbling walls, more wooden rafters with thick white webs hanging in the corners, and⁠—

There. A door.

Devon steps between me and my view of it. “I’ll yank you back by your neck if you try to go in there ahead of me,” he dead-pans.

“Our biggest threat right now is the strength of the walls, D.” I shoulder past him and carefully navigate the rocks ahead of us. “If they collapse, it won’t matter who’s in front.”

“We don’t know who could be on the other side of that door,” Easton says sharply, but I keep walking, silently unsheathing the sword at my back in response. I make it to the door and gently push my shoulder against the rusted hinges.

The spark I sent zips past the small opening, illuminating the room for us.

The exposed earth ceiling is supported by more wooden rafters, with empty lanterns hanging from them. I duck under, keeping my head low. The ceiling height has dropped dramatically from what it was in the tunnels. Thin metal frames of collapsible beds lay strewn across the floor, torn pieces of cloth caught between the springs. There are worn leather boots littered about, crushed cans of food, and empty canteens, as if they left this place in a hurry all those years ago.

Phoenix and Easton spread to the corners of the room, sweeping through the back of the space while Devon and I clear the rest. There are paintings on the walls, fake windows with bright green pastures and a burning sun hanging above it, a night sky with a half-moon, a shimmering ocean with cresting waves. There is no telling how long some of these miners were left down here. There is no telling how long they went without seeing the sun. I bet they painted these to keep themselves sane.

I sheath my sword, crossing the room to the far wall⁠—

“Wait!” Easton shouts, and I turn to face him. He raises a finger. “Look.”

I whip my head back around, my eyes narrowing on the few feet left between me and the wall I need to get to. The wall closest to the dungeons. “What? I don’t see—” My entire body stiffens.