Is that hope knocking?!

The arguments over which tunnel to take died in their throats, choked off by the reality of what they had just witnessed. Remy Valois lay in a broken heap, his dull, lifeless eyes staring up at the hole in the ceiling, a dark pool of blood slowly spreading out from under him like a grotesque halo on an altar for human sacrifice to the gods. He was a testament, a message delivered unto them of the brutality of their fates that will be.

"Morning after the live execution! Wasn't that a show, Humanity?" The Great I commented, my voice a low, satisfied purr. "The traitor gets his just desserts, and our little freaks get a front-row seat to the depths of military 'honor.' Ah, it just warms my black heart to see humanity reveling once again in public executions. Look at them, all traumatized and weepy! As if they didn't just witness a perfectly logical, if a bit theatrical, termination of a compromised asset. So very, very sensitive."

No one moved. Their monstrous forms silhouetted against the pulsing crystal light. The two factions, so recently at each other's throats, were united now in a shared, silent terror.

Ms. Linz, her face dripping with grief, took a stumbling step toward the body. "We can't... we can't just leave him there," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"Stay back, Linz!" Coach Roberts's voice was a low, urgent command. "They're watching. They're waiting for one of us to step into the light. Those sick, sadist monsters."

The reality of his words was a cold slap. To retrieve Remy's body would mean stepping directly into the line of fire of the soldiers positioned above. But the thought of leaving him there like a discarded piece of refuse was leaving a piercing throb of agony in many of their hearts and consciences.

"Oh, the poor babies. Doesn't it just bring a tear to the eye, Humanity?" The Great I said, laughing at the sight below. "To all lives, a moment of sorrow must pass; otherwise, happiness can't be known. What's more wonderful is that with the greater on experiences the joys and finer things in life, the greater their despair and sorrow will be, much like a fine wine or a forgotten landmine found by circumstance. Both are going off with a bang!"

It was Silas Blackwood who decided to act. "They won't be able to see a thread in this light," he stated. Without waiting for permission, Silas moved to the edge of the shadows near the light from above. With a flick of his wrist, a thin, almost invisible strand of his silk shot out, arcing through the dim cavern towards Remy's body. It was a perfect shot, the sticky end landing squarely on the boy's tattered shirt.

A collective, hopeful gasp went through the students. For a heart-stopping second, it seemed like it might work as if some master of a crane game had stepped forward and had the hard-won plush well in hand. Silas began to pull gently, to draw the body back into the shadows.

Phwump. Phwump.

Two silent, almost imperceptible sounds came from above. Two bolts of blue energy, thin as needles, lanced down from above and into the darkness. They punched through Silas’s outstretched arm and leg, leaving only a sizzling of meat to fill the air. He cried out, a sharp, choked hiss of pure agony, and collapsed, those limbs instantly useless as the energy cauterized flesh and nerve. The silk line went slack and was cut with a simple knife made of the magic stone.

"Silas!" Steve Birk screamed. Several students scrambled forward.  Silas was fumbling back and twitching from the pain invading his body. They quickly grabbed at his multiple twitching limbs and dragged the wounded spider-hybrid back into the deeper shadows, away from the deadly sight lines of the soldiers above.

Ann King was already there, forcing a paste with crushed crystal and moss into his mouth, his own pained hisses mixing with the terrified whimpers of those around him as the miraculous healing began its slow, agonizing work as the wound started to close right before their eyes.

The attempt was over. The message from the soldiers was unequivocally clear: even their dead were not their own. They extinguished the last ember of defiance, leaving only the frustrating certainty that their only path forward led towards death.

Ann's grief seemed to open the floodgates. Peter Frost, the Rabbit-hybrid, let out a long, keening wail while gripping the ground. Jessie Viano, the Baya Weaver hybrid, simply sank to the ground, wrapping her feathered arms around herself. Her nimble fingers, usually so busy weaving grass and silk into useful things, were now just clenched tightly against her scaled legs, as if trying to hold a crumbling snowman together that is melting under the sun. Her delicate wings trembled as she muttered to herself.

A hot, savage anger followed the wave of grief. Carlos Alfonsi, the Wolf, stared up at the hole, his amber eyes burning with hatred. They won't even let us bury him, he thought, a low growl vibrating in his chest. "They're not soldiers. They're just heartless monsters in human skin suits." He whispered to himself. The desire to howl, charge, rip, and tear at the armored monsters above was a near-overwhelming urge. But he crushed it down, forcing the hot rage to cool. He looked at Remy's body, then at the wounded Silas, and a pragmatic clarity cut through his anger.

He turned his back on the dead, his grief and frustration fueling a new, cold purpose. The adults were frozen, paralyzed by the horror. Ms. Linz stared at Remy’s body, her face shadowed in shock, her mind clearly gone. Coach Roberts stood beside her, his massive hand on her shoulder, trying to shake her back to the present gently. "Olivia," he rumbled, his voice low and urgent. "Olivia, snap out of it. We need you."

Even Mrs. Weiss was still for once, her iridescent carapace unmoving, her antennae lowered as her sharp gaze flicked from the hole above to their own newly wounded. A cold, calculating assessment of their new, even more desperate situation ran through her mind.

Carlos’s purposeful stride cut through and stood before them to force a reaction. He stopped before the three of them, his amber eyes burning with a new, hard light. "That's enough," he said, his voice a low, controlled growl that cut through the whimpering. "We can't get to him. And sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves is what they want. We need to get stronger. We need to start mining the crystals. Now."

Carlos’s words, sharp and pragmatic, cut through the fog of Ms. Linz’s shock. She flinched, her gaze snapping from Remy’s body to the wolf-hybrid's intense, determined face. For a moment, she looked lost, but then a flicker of her old self, the teacher, the protector, returned to her eyes.

"The boy is right," Mrs. Weiss stated as a matter of fact. She had already processed her grief and moved on to strategize. "Wallowing in despair is a luxury. Those stones are our only tangible asset. They heal us. They’ll strengthen us. And they are the reason those monsters are up there. We need to understand them and how we can use them or how they affect our bodies more."

Ms. Linz took a deep, shuddering breath, Coach Roberts’s steadying hand on her shoulder as her silent anchor of storming emotions began to calm like the ocean in the eye of a storm. Her tear-soaked face lifted back up and looked at the wounded Silas, at the terrified students, and finally, at Carlos. The gravity of their situation washed over her, extinguishing the last embers of her grief and igniting a new resolve from those ashes. "You're right," she said, her voice quiet but now steady, acknowledging both Carlos and Winifred with a slight nod. "Grieving won't get us out of this hole. We need a better plan than just hoping for the best of the good in mankind. We need an advantage. And those crystals are the only ones we have, along with the need to train our bodies and abilities we all now have."

She turned, her air of authority and confidence returning as she straightened herself once more. Her voice gained strength as she addressed all those in the entire cavern. "Alright, everyone, listen up! The plan has changed. The digging continues; that is our primary escape. But we are forming a new team, effective immediately. A Crystal Research Team. Their job will be to study these stones, to figure out how they work, and to begin mining them carefully. We will use them to heal our wounded, to strengthen our diggers, and if it comes to it," her gaze drifted up towards the hole in the ceiling, a cold light flashing over her eyes, "we will use them to defend ourselves."

"A predictable outcome," a voice hissed from the shadows. It was Conrad Castillo, observing the scene with a cold detachment. "Sentiment is a liability. An emotional gesture was made, and the cost was another wounded student. It was a foolish decision, but now, like a child who put his hand in a fire, he will think with his head first next time."

"You’re not wrong," Barry Jenkins added, his voice made several students flinch. He shrugged his shoulders in indifference. "He just gave the soldiers free target practice. Hey, what did they think was going to happen? You can't get mad at a trap for working. Especially if the cycle of life is moving along."

"Shut up, both of you!" Katy snapped her eyes, blazing with a grief-stricken fury that was now directed at them. "Silas just got shot trying to do something decent for a friend! And Remy is dead! And all you can do is talk about 'efficiency' and 'traps'? We're not machines, morons!"

Near the center of the new cavern, a council convened, a circle of monstrous forms illuminated by the cold, pulsing light of the crystals. Ms. Linz, Coach Roberts, Mr. Decker, the Weiss couple, and a reluctant Shirou — now the de facto leader of the newly formed Crystal Research Team — stood in a tense circle.

"The strategic geniuses convene! Conclusion: They're trapped," The Great I commented with a delighted, condescending chuckle. "Surrounded. No escape via the front door. Shocking! It's almost as if the heavily armed soldiers want to keep them contained! Who could have guessed their brilliant plan to hide in a hole had a single, glaring flaw? Oh, the suspense of watching them state the painfully obvious is just exquisite. The type where you just palm your face on reflex."

"Okay," Coach Roberts began. "We have a plan. A two-pronged form of attack. We continue to dig and mine, conducting regular explorations to understand our environment better and determine if adjustments are needed in our digging direction. Let's talk logistics. Decker, how long can our food and water last if we're rationing for a long haul?"

Mr. Decker’s dolphin-like features were grim. "The water from the stream is clean, but the fish and moss aren't a sustainable food source for this many people. No more than a few days, maybe a week if we're lucky and stretch it. We need to continue hunting the creatures in the new cavern system, but as we know, that carries its own risks."

"Risks we'll have to take," Mrs. Weiss stated, her voice sharp. "Which brings us to the more pressing issue." She gestured with a chitinous hand towards the gaping hole in the ceiling. "That is our primary vulnerability. They know we're here. We are officially under siege."

The feeling of being trapped had become a tragic reality. They were sealed in. The cavern, their sanctuary, was now just an expansion of the cage. The claustrophobia seemed to press in on them as they were in a compressed-air chamber.

Ms. Linz turned to Shirou, her expression weary but resolute. "Shirou, you're leading the Crystal Research Team. What's your first assessment? What do you need?"

Shirou looked at the faces of the adults, feeling the crushing weight of responsibility thrust upon him. A cold knot tightened in his stomach, and he wished for the first time in his young life for a nonexistent stomach medicine to take as candy for the pain that was building into knots. He forced himself to think, to be the leader they needed him to be in this moment. "We need to know what we're working with first, as we already have been informed with firsthand accounts, and to see the extent of these resources for us," he said, his voice quiet but clear as his eyes slowly lowered to the floor. "We need our team to test the crystals — their hardness, how to break them, understand how they shatter, we need to see how they can affect us and the life around us as well. It's a risk, but we have to know for sure if it's to our advantage. We'll start a stockpile. The dust gets rationed to the diggers to keep their strength up and to the injured to get them back on their feet. This stuff is our best medicine and our best fuel. We need to treat it that way. We will also need to look into what Mrs. Weiss has suggested and see what safe perimeters we have to work with. So, I am sorry to say this, Mr. Decker, could you secure a monster for us along with a fish as a test subject?"

Mr. Decker stared at Shirou, his academic approval instantly curdling into something more complex and horrified. "A... a test subject?" he repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He ran his hands over his sleek shoulders as if a cold wind passed by, his scientific mind warring at the reality and effort needed for the request. Then he quickly rationalized it with direction and study of aquatic life that he had done many times in the past when he was a student himself, to quickly dispel the rising nausea as if nothing had happened, and all was right with the world.

He looked at Ms. Linz, whose own face was pale with shock, then back at Shirou's steady, determined gaze. A slow, weary sigh escaped him. "The logic is... sound," he finally admitted, his voice heavy. "Horrifying, but sound. It's a shame to waste any potential food supply, but it is a valid point. We can't continue to risk testing on one of our own, not until we know the effects on different biological specimens." His resolve hardened. "Alright, Shirou. You're right. We need the data. I'll... I'll get your team their specimens. But let's be clear, this is not going to be a frequent request that we can help or support with, as this will also eat into our potential food supplies, so remember that. Plus, the possibility of harming others while trying to take the subjects in question alive."

As the council broke up, the digging operation resumed. Shifts were reorganized to be shorter but more frequent, keeping the diggers as fresh as possible. The sound of chipping and scraping once again filled the cavern, a rhythmic counterpoint to the tense silence from the besieged entrance above. The work was agonizingly slow, the rock was hard, and their progress was measured in inches, not feet, as of late.

Meanwhile, the strain on their meager resources was already beginning to show. The blind cave fish were proving difficult to catch in large numbers, and the glowing moss, while plentiful, was not particularly filling. Hunger began to bite hard again, a constant, cramping itch and nagging companion that fueled short tempers and dark thoughts.

"The food is running out," The Great I observed, my voice a flat, clinical statement of fact. "The fish are now few, and the moss provides no real energy. Over a hundred mouths and only scraps to fill them. The hunger returns. It is a simple calculation. Soon, they will have to risk the river again, or they will begin to look at each other differently. This is how it always begins. No?"

The confinement and the constant, grinding labor began to take their psychological toll. In the dark corners of the cavern, away from the watchful eyes of the teachers, the whispers began. Lisa Hart, the Snapping Turtle hybrid, sat slumped against the wall, the heavy shell on her back feeling less like armor and more like a tombstone she was forced to carry.

One that she could still feel with all her senses as if it were skin. Lisa was still in disbelief about how she expected it to be more like when dealing with her fingernails, but no. Lisa watched the hauler team pass by, another pathetic basket of rock chips being carried from the tunnel.

"What's the point?" she muttered to Jerome Hearth, who was nervously scratching at the cave floor nearby. "We dig, we haul, we eat moss and a little fish, then we sleep. We then do it again, as if it becomes a habit by the next day, and for what? To make a tunnel that's a hundred feet too short when they finally decide to come down here and finish us off?"

Jerome, the Scrub Turkey, flinched, his head darting up to look at the hole in the ceiling. "Don't say that," he whispered, his voice a panicked squawk. "They're just waiting. Did you see the way they looked at us? Like we're just bugs. They're waiting for us to get weaker. Softer. Easier to get rid of, much like my counterpart's cousin on the farm."

Lisa could only stare off into the distance before closing her eyes and leaning back into a rock wall, letting her mind push aside all other issues, and taking a quick nap.

It was late on the second day of the siege when a new, unsettling development shattered the monotony. Pat Duvall, who had been resting near the back of the cavern, sat up abruptly, his long ears twitching, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, his voice a low growl that cut through the quiet.

Shirou, who was nearby trying to organize the next shift in his research, strained his own fox ears. At first, he heard nothing but the familiar drip of water and the distant, rhythmic chipping from the tunnel. Then he caught it: a faint, intermittent tapping sound. It wasn't random, like falling rocks. It was rhythmic. And it wasn't coming from their tunnel, or from the surface. It was coming from deep within the cavern walls, from a direction they hadn't explored.

"Oh, goody, a new sound! I was getting so bored with the whimpering!" The Great I's voice suddenly boomed with a manic, joyous energy. "Is that hope knocking? Or is it something big and mean that wants to wear their entrails as a jaunty scarf? Please let it be the second one! Oh, please, please, please! This anticipation is giving me a fever, and I want to raise the mast for the ship to set sail to waters unknown. But don't worry, my little morsels," The Grea I purred, my voice unadulterated with glee, "I'm sure whatever it is, it's just going to make your time on this mud ball all the more eventful and brief.”