But the jolt brought a new level of clarity to her brain.

“Nubiti?” she whispered.

“Who else?” the voice—Nubiti—asked.

And she was close enough now that Sophie could feel Nubiti’s breath on her cheeks as if her dwarven bodyguard was leaning in, studying her through the nothingness.

“You should’ve heard me guiding you,” she told Sophie quietly. “But you didn’t. No matter what I tried.”

Stina snorted. “Big surprise, something about Sophie doesn’t go the way it’s supposed to.”

“I guess I should’ve expected her reaction might be atypical,” Nubiti conceded. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re functioning so clearly.” Nubiti’s voice shifted, like she was moving to examine Stina. “How are you awake?”

“No idea,” Stina admitted. “I’m guessing it’s an Empath thing. I felt Sophie’s emotions spiking out everywhere, and they dragged me back—and be glad they did, because you’d be writhing in pain on the floor right now if I hadn’t. We all would. I’m sure your king would love that. And, wait a minute, why is it so much easier to think all of a sudden? I had to fight so hard at first.”

“So did I,” Sophie added, and the thought felt like stretching her mind, waking up muscles she hadn’t been using.

“I’m wearing a piece of magsidian that keeps my head clear so I can guide you down the Path,” Nubiti explained. “You must be benefitting from the proximity to it.”

“So wait… is everyone else still hallucinating right now?” Sophie asked, whipping around when Nubiti told her, “Yes.”

She had to find them—help them.

But it was too dark.

And her body was so tired.

And she didn’t know how to pull all the strings and make everything work yet.

“They’re fine,” Nubiti assured her. “It’s all in their minds.”

“That doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” Sophie snapped back, squeezing her eyes, trying to block any flashbacks of her creepy visions.

She’d have to face them someday—analyze what the hallucinations said about her deepest fears.

But she’d had more than enough of them for the moment.

“This is a horrible thing to do to people!” she told Nubiti. “How can you just stand by, letting them suffer?”

“Because this is how we protect our king! My people are small. And few. Who would ever fear us if we didn’t give them a reason to?”

“I’m pretty sure all you’d have to do is show them that trick you guys do with the stomping-and-opening-up-huge-cracks-in-the-ground thing,” Sophie reminded her.

“That is no trick,” Nubiti huffed, “and it takes far more energy than you think. This is better. And safer. No enemy poses any real danger if they cannot even find King Enki, and if they’re too frightened and weary to resist capture. Besides—the only weapon we’re using is darkness. How is that cruel?”

Sophie wished she had a good answer, because Nubiti’s points were valid.

But the Path was still so incredibly awful.

Nubiti let out a sigh. “Every moment we stand here arguing is another moment the rest of your group must endure their delusions. So why don’t you take my hands and let me lead us out of the maze?”

“So the King’s Path is also a maze?” Stina asked.

“Of course. Between the darkness and the endless twisting corridors, no one can get through unless we want them to. No one,” she emphasized. “That’s the point. To keep our Grand Hall as a safe haven. I know you doubt our security—”

“Don’t you?” Sophie interrupted. “Isn’t that why you told us about the magsidian?”

“I worry about certain places,” Nubiti admitted. “But not about the King’s Path. That’s why I planned your visit to start with the tour of the city, so you would feel the difference. The Path is our masterpiece. Even you, with all your moonlark gifts, couldn’t begin to brave it.”

“Stina kinda did,” Sophie noted.

“Not really,” Stina admitted. “I mean, I did way better than you. You were a disaster. But… if your inflicting hadn’t snapped me out of it, I’d still be thinking I was being chased by kelpies and unicorns. There might’ve been a talking murcat, too, and maybe a flock of boobries? I don’t know—it was super weird and really overwhelming.”

“Exactly,” Nubiti said. “And we need to keep moving. I’m sure King Enki is growing frustrated with our tardiness—and you must not tell him about your strange reactions to the darkness. He will consider it an insult.”

“How is it an insult?” Stina wondered.

“Because he says it is,” Nubiti said, as if that was all that mattered.

And Sophie was ready to argue, but… maybe that’s how it worked for kings.

They weren’t just above the law.

They made the law.

“Time to hurry,” Nubiti said, hooking an arm around Sophie’s and dragging her forward as Stina flailed to keep her grip on Sophie’s other arm.

“What about the rest of our group?” Sophie asked, wishing she could spot some trace of them in the darkness.

But no.

Nubiti’s pendant might’ve cleared her head, but it didn’t lighten the endless, overwhelming black.

“They will follow my voice,” Nubiti assured her, calling out, “THIS WAY!” and Sophie thought she might’ve heard the sound of feet shuffling after them.

The steps were listless.

Loping.

Like zombies hunting flesh.

She shook her head to fight the fresh wave of panic. “This is a bad place to have a vivid imagination.”

“Yes” was all Nubiti told her, then shouted, “KEEP UP!” and increased their pace even more.

Sophie counted their steps, glad her mind could stay focused on the numbers.

One hundred.

Two hundred.

Three.

Four.

Five.

On the five hundred and twenty-third step, there was light.

Blissful, glorious light.

Only a glimmer—and yet it burned and burned and burned.

Searing across Sophie’s corneas.

Scorching into her brain.

And she didn’t care one bit, because her thoughts were clear and her body was hers and she could see the rest of her group around her, stretching and blinking out of their dazes.

She wanted to run around hugging all of them—but that probably would’ve been a bad idea. Because as she settled back into reality, she took a longer look at her surroundings and realized they’d stopped in front of a very large, very fancy, very intimidating door made from thousands of pieces of every possible kind of metal intricately welded together.

The kind of door that surely led to the Grand Hall of a dwarven king.

Still, she couldn’t listen to Nubiti’s final instructions, needing to use those brief moments to make eye contact with everyone to ensure that they were okay.

They definitely looked weary, and haunted. But they gave her small smiles—and she gave them the same so they’d know not to worry about her, either.

And then there was an earth-shaking clang and a cringeworthy scraping, and Nubiti was guiding them into another dim, round room—enormous this time. And far more elegant.