Chapter 7 : The ruined city of Dolmaryth

A fortnight had passed since the formation of the clan.

At least, that's what our watches indicated. At Argemira, six o'clock in the morning presented six o'clock in the evening. We walked until we were exhausted, slept when two of us could still stand guard, and then distributed after sharing the arrangements received in Mistmush.

We had turned back from Kellan, Milo and Silas before the landslide. Beyond their former camp, the galleries divided, joined and sometimes brought us back to a wall already crossed. The map was of no use to us: it located Argemira in relation to point A, but did not show the tunnels or our position in the mine. We relied on Milo's marks, the piles of stones placed at intersections, and a memory that was failing us more and more.

The clan nevertheless began to take shape. Not yet as a perfectly united group, but rather as five people who no longer wondered at every moment if they could turn their backs on the others.

Kellan was almost always in the lead. As soon as a noise worried us, it stopped before we could even determine its origin. He didn't have to turn around to see if anyone was slowing down: as soon as Silas' footsteps parted or Milo's breathing quickened, he slowed down without asking them if they were tired. He had the instinct of the guide. This remark might have been beneficial, since the system had designated me as chief; But more often than not, it was a relief. Being responsible didn't require me to be the best at everything.

Milo studied grooves, elevation variations, and tool marks before logging them. Every time I open the map, he approaches to follow with me the scarce new information, even if none of it tells us about our route. He also asked me about my life before and the memories I had of it. I had only incomplete answers to offer him.

Silas, meanwhile, was adding to his bag at an alarming rate. A shiny stone, a fragment of metal, or a piece of bone caught his attention. At first, I thought he was picking up everything; Then I had seen him compare two minerals before keeping only one, wrapping fragile objects and hiding what he could not carry. He accumulated, but never at random.

When I asked him what he planned to do with all this, he tightened the strap over his shoulder:

"Open a bank account."

His face was impassive, which didn't allow me to tell if he was joking. I didn't insist. As long as he did not sell off a gallery to enrich himself, his possessions were no one's business.

Aria often walked close to me, usually half a step ahead, as if refusing to follow me while insisting on staying close enough to intervene. In the narrow passages, his bow sometimes scraped the rock and our hands brushed against each other. These contacts were brief. And yet, I notice them every time.

At each break, we take turns sleeping. Aria and I always took the same shift. No one had made any remarks on this subject. Kellan had no doubt understood this from the beginning, and his silence was polite.

The name Kaedran kept coming back to me, lurking in a corner of my memory. Ninety-two players. While we were circling underground, others may have perished in uncharted territory. This thought was sometimes enough to leave me speechless for hours. Aria didn't ask me any questions; she simply stayed close to me.

Silas stopped short, his back pressed against the wall.

"Wait... they are the same stones as the other time. The same. I recognize them."

Without giving us time to react, he snatched the pickaxe from Kellan's hands. We had found it earlier in an abandoned gallery, hanging from a rusty ring. Silas immediately began to strike the rock.

"You only know how to use it?" growled Kellan, taking a step back.

Silas did not respond. Shards flew and each impact echoed through the mine like a dull heartbeat. The vibrations rose from the ground while the fine dust particles settled around us. Aria stepped back to avoid the debris. Milo, on the other hand, followed the movements of the iron with a restrained fascination.

I set the ceiling. Hitting so hard in a mine where a landslide had almost killed us was still a bad idea.

"Silas," I said. Slowly. »

He continues, out of breath, concentrated on the mineral vein. His movements betrayed the same urgency as when he was protecting his cargo.

"We are not alone," says Milo.

His voice is enough to stop Silas' arms. Kellan turned around as Aria unhooked her bow. In the newfound silence, a creaking sound was heard between the galleries.

"Don't move."

His voice was cold, composed. No aggressiveness, no anger. Just the calm authority of someone who knew that he didn't need to raise his voice to be obeyed.

Two silhouettes appear in the flickering light. The man towered over the others by a head. A tarnished steel helmet concealed the top of his face, revealing only a square jaw, a dark beard, and a short coat along his neck. Heavy metal gauntlets protected his forearms, covered in scratches. His fingers ended in thick, sharp claws.

At his side stood a young woman, smaller and frailer. Her chestnut hair, cut mid-length, framed a face with delicate features. This same almost unreal dimension was reflected in the shape of her hands and the fine down that appeared near her temples. Her amber eyes slowly moved from one face to the other, then stopped on the light of our watches.

I got closer to Kellan.

"Do you think they're players?" I whispered.

"No, but I feel like I've seen it before," he replied in a low voice.

He kept his body tense, ready to react to the slightest suspicious movement. I look at the unknown again. His face didn't mean anything to me, but if Kellan had ever seen him somewhere in these galleries, I'd rather have known where before he got any closer.

"I am Taron," said the man. "The Guardian of Argemira. Frou. »

This word has become engraved in my mind. Neither a leader nor a king. Guardian. Someone charged with watching over this territory, and who could hardly rejoice to find strangers busy digging its walls.

The young woman, meanwhile, continued to watch us. Her attention lingered a little longer on me than on the others, as if she were trying to verify something. I suppressed the urge to look back.

"Opaline," she says simply.

"I'm Kellan. We apologize for inconveniencing you, but we are lost here. Do you think you could... »

"I know now that you are not who I thought you were, Tzit-tzit," Taron interrupted, bluntly.

A judicial silence followed.

"I was the one who caused the collapse, to prevent you from going any further. Pfff... I wanted to block the gallery in front of you. I didn't expect the whole vault to collapse. Krr."

For a second, I thought I had misheard. Kellan and the others had nearly died buried alive, and he had just told us so with the same calmness as if he had confessed that he had simply taken the wrong path.

Aria shifted slightly, enough to be able to use her bow if the situation escalated. Kellan remains motionless. The pickaxe slipped from Silas' hands and struck the stone with a metallic sound that echoed throughout the gallery. Milo couldn't take his eyes off Taron.

"So you have come back to finish us off?" he demanded, more nervously than defiantly.

"No."

Milo waited a few seconds, probably an explanation that didn't come.

"Very well... he whispers.

Taron didn't seem to notice our confusion.

"My duty is to prevent any intrusion into these galleries. Khhh... When I saw you in the dark, your wrists were emitting a light that I had never seen here before. I thought you were a threat. »

This explained the collapse. Not so much the fact that he was now standing in front of us without trying to stop us.

"And what do you intend to do with us?" I asked.

"Nothing, now."

It took me a few seconds to understand that he was perfectly serious. He had tried to block a gallery to prevent us from moving forward, had almost buried the three of them alive and, after watching us for a while, had simply concluded that we were no longer a problem. I didn't know if this logic should reassure me or on the contrary worry me more.

"I don't understand anything anymore," I whispered.

Opaline ended up intervening.

"He took you for a threat because of your strange bracelets. After the collapse, he watched you long enough to understand that he was wrong. »

"Ah, that's clearer," Milo whispers. "Thank you for the translation, little one."

Her features tensed and she stared at him with surprising severity.

"I'm probably older than you. So don't call me "little girl." »

"My apologies, ma'am," he corrected awkwardly.

Milo didn't have time to back down. Opaline kicked him in the shin. He found himself on the ground, wincing in pain.

"Okay, okay! I promise you, I beg you, spare me! he protested.

"I have been mistaken about your nature," Taron repeated when silence fell. "You are no longer considered a threat. Krr... »

Still on the ground, Milo looked up at him.

"Thank you," he whispered. "It was clearer when she said it."

While the others remained focused on Taron and Opaline, Silas had already turned his attention to the mineral embedded in the rock. Taron, on the other hand, watched us without question.

"Follow us," he says. "You won't find what you're looking for on your own."

I asked Aria for advice. We had no reason to trust them from the outset, but we had been going around in circles in these galleries for two weeks. They knew the mine and knew what had happened there.

"Very well," I decided. "We will follow you. But no one separates. »

Opaline led the way, a torch in her hand. She moved over the rough terrain with the ease of someone who knows every corner. At times, his claws grazed the wall. Taron stayed behind us. His presence behind me was not reassuring, but it made an attack from that direction unlikely.

After several minutes, Opaline repeats the word without slowing down:

"From what I see, you are not from here."

"What does it mean?" asked Aria.

"You come from somewhere else. And I'm not talking about another territory."

I focused all my attention on Opaline. Until then, no one seemed to have considered that we could come from another world.

"How do you know?"

"Since we've been watching you, you seem lost. You discover everything, you ask questions about things that should seem obvious to you... Taron and I have lived in isolation for nearly thirty years, and we have never met strangers like you. Your arrival intrigued us. »

"Almost thirty years... Kellan whispered. "I thought you were younger."

This time, another question has arisen. Thirty years of isolation meant above all that they had to live here with other people before finding themselves alone.

"What about the other inhabitants?" I asked. "Where are they?"

Opaline remains silent for a moment.

"They died in the invasion of Ruberyth and Emerolyth."

These two names meant absolutely nothing to me.

"Who are they?"

"Two golems are blocking the road to the south. They were born from mineral seeds discovered a century ago. According to legend, strangers found a formula and recited it without understanding what it would bring. The seeds are kept dormant for decades before hatching, almost thirty years ago. »

The light of our torches glided over the walls to the rhythm of our steps. Opaline continued her story without slowing down.

"Over time, the story has changed. It has become a children's tale: a greedy stranger is said to have awakened the monsters after looting the city's mineral. It was a way to teach them about the consequences of theft."

For once, Silas couldn't find anything to comment on.

"My parents had gone on an expedition to the castle," continued Opaline. "They had to settle there, then come back to pick us up. Ruberyth and Emerolyth appeared shortly after their departure. My parents are income at the worst possible time. »

"A castle?! Did you hear that, Casimir? She said "castle"! And what exactly is this castle? Aria asked, suddenly much more interested.

"A place that our parents often talked about. They had lived there long before we were born, with people who looked like you. These people come from the world of the great sun. My parents said they were amazing. »

"Players who had settled here?" asked Milo.

"I don't know any more. My mother wrote down what she experienced on a white piece of paper and read it to me every day, but she took it with her and left it there. »

If these players had known Opaline's parents even before she was born, their passage in this world dated back more than thirty years.

"An old road is like an Argemira," she continued. "Finding your way through this labyrinth is difficult enough, and several galleries have become dangerous. But above all, to get there, you have to cross the large gallery occupied by the golems. Taron and I will not leave our city to go in search of the castle. »

I was beginning to understand. They had not stayed here because they could not leave. Leaving Argemira would have meant abandoning their city.

"So you could leave once the passage is clear?" asked Milo.

"In theory, yes. In practice, we first want to retake Dolmaryth and secure the access roads. »

"You have been waiting for almost thirty years to be able to recover your territory... »

Taron answered without slowing down, as if this expectation had long been a part of his life.

"We've been preparing all this time to do it with whoever eventually arrives."

Aria and I exchanged a look. We were always looking for a way to point A, and they knew the galleries better than we did. Helping them could bring us closer to our goal. After what Opaline had just told us, it was no longer the only reason.

The tunnel was gradually widening. Alcoves appeared in the rock, then old rails and blackened supports where lamps must have burned in the past. Luminous stones were still sufficient to illuminate the passage.

Taron stops in front of a cracked arch.

"Dolmaryth. Krr-krr... »

A huge cavity opens up behind him. The city occupied a large part of this space, or at least what was left of it. Buildings had collapsed, dilapidated walkways connected the different levels, and open facades hinted at long-abandoned rooms.

Taron remains focused on the ruins.

"This is where our people lived. Frou. »

Silas, who until then had inspected everything that could still be saved, slowed down too.

"How many of you were there?"

"There were eighty-seven of us. The golems killed the other eighty-five. Pfff... Opaline and I survived because our parents had hidden us. »

Eighty-seven. Then two. I gazed at the city again, and its vastness suddenly seemed much less empty.

"Were you a kid when it started?" asked Aria.

Opaline nodded.

"I was three years old. I have no direct memory of it. Only what Taron taught me. »

I glanced at the Guardian. He must not have been much older than her at the time of the facts. And yet, it was from him that she now got her memories of Dolmaryth.

Milo had stopped by an old cart when I continued:

"Did your mother often speak to you of the castle? Who were these people she had known? »

"I don't know their names. There is one, which she talked about constantly. She said that he had made a difference here, and not just for our people. It is said that he built a structure in the center of the world, a place that was supposed to outlive him. Before leaving, he is said to have protected a multitude of souls. »

"She really admired him," Aria said.

"She cried when she talked about him."

I didn't say anything. Until then, this castle had been for me only one of many leads in a world where we sorely missed them. For Opaline, he remained linked to the memory of his mother.

A dull rumble suddenly ran along the rails. The stone vibrated under our feet and a little dust fell from the most damaged structures.

"They're settling under Dolmaryth," Taron says, looking at the galleries that had sunk beneath the city.

Ruberyth and Emerolyth were therefore somewhere under our feet, still present in the city they had destroyed. With the memory of the eighty-five dead, their existence suddenly seemed much more concrete to me.

"So this is where you live," I whispered.

Opaline caught my gaze.

"It was. And now. »

"Yes," Aria replied in a softer voice. "This is still the case."

Opaline did not answer. Taron also remained silent for a moment before pointing to one of the few structures still standing.

"Come in. You need to rest."

Dolmaryth had its own silence. Not the total absence of sound that I had expected: the rock cracked under the effect of temperature variations, drops fell at regular intervals and, sometimes, a sour rumble made the ground vibrate for several seconds.

The golems moved under our feet.

I stayed awake for a long time listening to these sounds, until I could predict when the next drop would hit the stone. These rumblings were unpredictable. They can disappear for hours before coming back, preventing me from sleeping.

The first days passed in this way. No one was really sleeping. Silas would regularly wake up to check his bag, as if he feared the mine would steal his cargo. Opaline would venture into the secondary galleries and return with books or objects wrapped in fabric. Kellan always kept something with him, hidden in his jacket, that he never took out in front of others.

Even Aria slept less soundly. At the slightest rumble, his fingers would sometimes brush mine in the darkness before withdrawing. Neither she nor I commented on it.

At first, I count the days. Then Argemira ended up gobbling them up. With no sky to distinguish morning from evening, time was reduced to a succession of relit torches, hastily swallowed meals, training sessions, and deep explorations.

During one of our breaks, I noticed that Kellan was still not sleeping. I found him away from the camp, sitting on a block of stone in the middle of the ruins. The luminous stones embedded in the buildings were enough to illuminate the surroundings. With his elbows resting on his knees, he was spinning a small object between his fingers.

"You seem distant these last few days," I began softly. "Is there a problem?"

"Is it that visible?"

"I recognize you now. That's not your style. »

He looked down at what he was holding and remained silent for a few seconds.

"Remember what I said to you the other time? About what I had found in my belongings. »

"Yes. You said you'd tell me about it when we were alone. »

He will slowly extend the hand. A small modern compass rested in his palm. The polished metal caught the cold glow of the luminous stones, while a tiny screen emitted a glow too regular to belong in this world.

"I really examined it after you and Aria rescued us," he continued. "Just before the collapse, I had felt something in my pocket, but I hadn't had time to look at what it was. At first, I didn't know what it was for. Now... I think I understood. And if I'm not mistaken, someone I know is also in the Bloc. »

I remain silent for a moment. In this place, the presence of an object from our world was already disturbing. But Kellan's look at him was even more disturbing. It was not the curiosity of the one who has just solved a riddle. It was the strained attention of someone who fears that the answer is worse than the question.

"Anyone close to you?" I asked.

A dull rumble runs through the city before he can answer. The stones vibrated slightly under our feet and a veil of dust detached itself from the gutted facades that surrounded us. We wait for the noise to go away, motionless. In the silence that returned, Kellan clutched the compass with a force he no longer even tried to conceal.

"My little sister," he finally blurts out.

These three words were enough to throw a new light on his silence of the last days. While we were only looking for a way out of Argemira, he was moving forward with another certainty in mind: his sister was somewhere in the Bloc. Maybe far from us. Maybe alone. Maybe already facing dangers we hadn't even imagined yet.

Kellan then explained to me what he had understood from the device. The compass picked up a signal, weak but constant, and its needle always returned to the northeast, well beyond the galleries we had explored. His voice remained calm, almost too controlled. Still, his crispy fingers on the case betrayed everything his tone tried to hide.

I stared at the needle, motionless, obstinate, as if this simple metal line had just redrawn our route. Until then, the northeast was only an unknown direction. Now he had a face.

"As soon as we find a road to the northeast, we will go and look for it," I promised.

"In that case, I'll go see her myself," Kellan replied. "I can't ask you to follow me."

"I'm not going to let you go alone into the unknown. We'll tell the others, but you won't go alone. »

He looked at me for a moment, as if he was still hesitant to accept this help. Then he nodded without arguing.

Kellan and I train in a secure room. He wielded a spare weapon that Taron had lent him, while I used my dagger, the blade wrapped in a piece of cloth to prevent the slightest wrong move from blessing us. Our weapons rattled regularly and the noise echoed against the walls.

"To think that I rate every episode of the anime I watch," Kellan sighed between shots.

"Same. I had started a series and I was really into it. I also downloaded a lot of old games on a hard drive. There was still one that was filming just before I was here. »

Kellan parried my attack and pushed me away before continuing, as if our exchange of blows was just background noise in the conversation.

"You did that kind of thing too? I had a friend who supplied my sister and me with it. He always had tons of them. I don't even know where he found them. »

Our blades clashed at a still irregular rhythm. Kellan had an instinctive style, almost messy, but difficult to decipher. He didn't really calculate his movements; He reacted. This spontaneity sometimes made him dangerous, sometimes totally vulnerable. Gradually, I began to perceive the precise moment when his right flank opened.

I didn't point that out to him. Some mistakes are more difficult to accept when you experience them yourself.

"I'd like to listen to the conversation! Let me get up! »

Milo's voice makes my head spin. I would have been better off staying focused on Kellan. The scene I discovered defied all rational explanation. Milo was lying face down, his cheek crushed against the stone, while Opaline had settled quite naturally on his back, as if on a public bench.

"Stop moving, you're going to get dirty," she advised him.

"I ALREADY AM!"

Kellan stood by my side, his sword half-raised, obviously as unable as I was to determine when the training had turned out that way. For my part, I had given up looking for a logical explanation from the moment Milo began to serve as a piece of furniture.

"What the hell are you doing on the ground?" asked Kellan.

"It was probably Aria who put the idea in his head," I commented.

In hindsight, involving Aria in this case may not have been my brightest decision of the day. Or even the week.

"SHE LITERALLY THREATENED ME!" Milo protested.

This detail, unfortunately, did not work in his favour. I could imagine Aria teaching her two or three persuasion techniques. I was in a good position to know this: I had myself been one of his first guinea pigs.

"My legs hurt from walking, so he offered to use me as a wheelchair," explains Opaline with disarming seriousness.

"This is absolutely false!"

She looked down at him with the serenity of someone who had no intention of changing her side of the story.

A few steps away, Aria was watching her ordeal with far less compassion than Milo would probably have liked.

"A helpful man," she commented. "That counts."

"I want to make it clear that no one prepared me for this kind of situation," he whispered.

"It will come. With me, you'll learn quickly. »

Aria's tone was so calm that Milo wondered for a moment if he had just received a threat or a promise of training. In either case, he did not seem reassured.

It was only then that I noticed, as did Kellan, that Milo was no longer wearing his usual clothes. A miner's outfit had replaced some of his equipment: a military green t-shirt, brown pants with ample reinforcement at the joints, and boots designed to withstand long walks in the galleries.

"Wait... It's not your usual outfit, is it? Kellan asked.

"Exactly," Opaline replied. "I gave him the one I intended to give to you all. That suits him well, doesn't it? »

Milo hardly turns his head towards us. Even when he was pinned to the ground, he managed to express all the indignation in the world.

"I refuse to let my humiliation also serve as a collective test session."

Silas, who was passing by us with a piece of mineral carefully wrapped in his hands, immediately forgot Milo as soon as he understood that it was a question of equipment.

"Is all this free?"

"Yes. It's for you. »

His interest wanes almost immediately when he examines the padding and the lantern attached to the helmet.

"So it's worth nothing."

He continued on his way as if the case were closed. I watched him walk away, wondering how many steps he would owe him before his scavenging instincts took over.

Few.

Silas came back to us seconds later with all the dignity of a man refusing to admit that he had changed his mind.

"Well... No immediate market value. It would be stupid to waste equipment that is still usable. »

He picked up a helmet with the perfectly neutral look of someone who had not contradicted himself at all.

"Of course," Opaline replied.

"As long as she's not going to give me a shovel and a clown nose with it, I'm fine with it," Kellan added.

"I can't wait to see you all equipped."

Milo, still condemned to serve as a siege, tries once again to straighten up. Opaline didn't move an inch.

"Be careful! This madman wanted to see me naked! »

The remark will immediately catch Aria's attention, but probably not for the reason Milo was hoping for.

"Why? Doesn't Taron have the same qualities as other men? »

I slowly turned my eyes to her. Of all the questions she could have asked, she had of course chosen this one.

Opaline, for her part, did not seem to perceive any problem.

"Among us, the Teronids... »

"Opaline."

Taron's deep voice came to us from the back of the dark room before she could even finish her sentence.

For the first time since the beginning of this conversation, Opaline seems to understand that she may have been about to reveal some information that Taron would have preferred to keep to himself.

"Oops," she whispers.

A cautious silence settles in. It doesn't last long, but long enough for everyone to instinctively find something to keep them busy. Silas walked away with his mineral and helmet, as if he had just made a momentous transaction. Aria sat down a little further away, visibly satisfied that she had witnessed the chaos without taking part in it. Kellan has regained his guard, still distracted enough by the scene to observe Milo as well as his own training.

As for Milo, he tries one last time to get up under Opaline's weight.

"I want to make it clear that I am not a certified furniture manufacturer."

"You are very comfortable," she replied.

He abandoned all resistance on the spot.

The moment might have lasted a long time if Taron hadn't put a notebook on the stone in front of us. The sharp sound of the blanket against the ground is enough to remind us why we were there. Even Milo stopped mumbling.

"Ruberyth is a golem of rubies," Taron says. "At the slightest touch, it inflicts severe burns. Emerolyth, the Emerald Golem, regenerates its limbs at will. They could also be attacks that we have never recorded. You will find the details in this notebook. I've been enriching it for years. Khhh... »

Milo stretched out his arm as much as Opaline would allow, then managed to pull the notebook towards him. He flipped through it intently, pausing on the pages covered with diagrams, angles of attack, and tight annotations. Some notes had been reread several times, as if Taron had insisted on not letting anything pass.

"You've been documenting their techniques all this time?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You're determined."

"We want revenge, tsit," Taron said matter-of-factly.

His answer put an end to all levity. For a few seconds, no one can find anything to add. The notebook was not just a collection of observations. It was the synthesis of several years of patience, defeats and a grudge maintained long enough to become a method.

Opaline then refers to the rest of the material.

"I have prepared your outfits. They belonged to the ancient explorers of the city. They are heat-resistant and make it easier to move around in caves. »

"They put a lantern in the helmet!" exclaimed Silas.

He corrected himself almost immediately, as if he had just realized that his enthusiasm was undermining his dignity.

"It's convenient."

Everyone was equipped. The outfits looked old, but they were surprisingly well preserved. The fabric, thick without being heavy, followed the movements with a suppleness unsuspected for a miner's equipment. The padding strengthened the joints without hindering walking, and the helmets diffused a constant light that outlined the contours of the dark room.

Aria wore a white long-sleeved t-shirt and pants held in place by elastic suspenders. It looked like the clothes had been cut to measure.

"Did you see, Casimir? I love it! »

"Oh... Yes. I love you... I also love your outfit. »

The words tangled up my throat with a perfectly undignified brutality.

"I know you love me. You don't need to hide it. »

Opaline intervened before I could find an answer capable of saving what was left of my honor.

"This is the outfit my mother wore. I knew it would suit you. »

I didn't understand why, as she said those words, she was lingering on my reaction. Her gaze quickly shifted from Aria to me, as if waiting to see how we would interpret this information.

Taron didn't let that sentence go on forever. Perhaps he had guessed that she was opening a door that no one wanted to go through. Or maybe he's just breastfeeding straight to the point, as always.

"We are going to separate into groups to collect equipment. Your present weapons will be useless against them. »

"Not even my arrows?" asked Aria.

"The poison will be ineffective against them. Their bodies will resist it, and small arms may break at the first impact. The best option is a heavy mace or solid blades, forged from Argemira's specific minerals. We have kept a few of them at the northern outpost. »

He listed the routes as if he had mentally walked them dozens of times. Each department responded to a specific need, each group to a well-defined task. His calmness was not at all reassuring; Above all, it gave the impression that everything had been prepared long before we arrived.

"Milo and Aria, come with me to the north. Opaline will go with Casimir to the west. Kellan and... »

He stops in front of Silas.

"'The man in grey will take the Southwest Passage.'

"I have a name, you know!"

Taron looked at him with such perfect seriousness that it became almost impossible to know if he was doing it on purpose.

"My apologies. Tchip. »

Silas opened his mouth, no doubt in protest, and then closed it. His gaze shifted from Taron to us, as if hoping to find support. No one offered him any. Even in a city on the brink of chaos, some injustices still seemed too absurd to defend.

The plan held firm. Taron knows the city, its dangers, the most likely routes, and the places where you could still find something to confront the golems. The idea of separating nevertheless left a bitter taste. In the Bloc, each separation seemed to herald complications.

"Very well," I decided. "We are monitoring this distribution. If one of the groups has a problem, they abandon the equipment and come back here. »

Taron nodded before giving his final instructions: stay alert to traps, chasms, and dead ends, and then leave marks for the return. His words were simple, precise, almost laconic. And yet, they were enough to remind us that, behind Milo's humor, new outfits, and protests, we were preparing to descend into a dead city to face two creatures capable of reducing us to ashes or rebuilding themselves before our eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll bring her back safe and sound," Milo says.

Why Opaline and I together? I understood that Taron had chosen Aria for his bow, but leaving Kellan and Silas without support in case of trouble didn't reassure me either.

"Don't worry about us," Kellan says. "Silas is the strongest of the three. I even think that it is more resistant than we think. »

Kellan had noticed it too. We spent our time observing each other without saying it.

Aria nudged me as she passed by to get my attention.

"This is the first time that we are going to be separated. I'm willing to let Taron play the role of leader during his quest for revenge, but you, be good until I return, okay? »

"I trust Taron. And whatever happens, if you're not at the meeting point, I'll come and get you. »

"I should have bet you'd say that. You really love me, don't you? »

"If it amuses you to believe it."

She left to join the Guardian before I could provide her with more material to laugh at. No sooner had she moved away than the thought of never hearing her voice near me again in that labyrinth crossed my mind. I chased her away.

Once everyone was ready, everyone went in their own direction. Kellan and Silas accompanied us for a while before turning southwest.

"Casimir."

I turned around. Kellan had stopped at the entrance to the gallery, the light of his helmet drawing his face in the darkness.

"Have you seen the two quests that just appeared in the tab?"

I glanced at my watch. Two new missions were displayed on the screen, as if the Bloc had just ratified our decision before we had even really started.

Kellan had already done half a round. Silas followed him, absorbing through the passage that opened before them. The lanterns attached to their helmets lit up the gallery, which meant that we could now do without the fire-starter mushrooms that Bobby had given us, and which were also edible. They had already saved us more than once, and I preferred to keep them as long as possible, in case our dispositions should fail.

Opaline waited a few paces away, motionless under the pale light of the stones.

"Are you ready?"

I thought of Aria, who had gone north, into this labyrinth, with Taron and Milo. The idea of knowing far from me, somewhere between unknown galleries and creatures capable of reducing our weapons to dust, gripped my chest with an unpleasant tension.

"Yes."