Little White stared into the endless dark. “Tell me I’m dreaming. This is still a cave, right?”
“In my dreams I wouldn’t even dare build something like this,” Bit said. “If a human saw it, they’d probably drop dead on the spot.”
“Don’t underestimate humans,” Merc said, nodding back at the cavern-airport. “They’re the ones who built it.”
For a while the three of them didn’t know what to do with the sight. They began combing the area for clues.
A steel guardrail ran along the edge. Beyond it was a sheer drop—an abyssal cliff. The runway itself jutted out past the cliff like a diving board, stretching twenty meters into darkness.
They stepped onto the overhang and looked back into the cavern. Bit sent a hovering light to trace the mouth of the opening. Near the rim, the rock was oddly smooth—as if it had once been cut. But the hole was enormous, and the weak light didn’t travel far before it dissolved into black. As it drifted farther away, the hovering light shrank into a tiny “star” suspended in the void.
When the drone dipped lower, it revealed the runway’s massive angled support beams. Below that was more rock wall—like looking over a ship’s rail into deep ocean.
“Is it possible,” Merc said suddenly, “that the space under the Aurora Plateau is hollow?”
“That’s… not likely,” Little White said. “Can stone even hold up something that big?”
“It has to be some version of that,” Bit said. “And it wouldn’t need to be all hollow. The Aurora Plateau is absurdly huge. Even if only half—hell, even a quarter—was open space, it could still hold every island inside the Wreath Archipelago.”
(Note: The Wreath Archipelago is a chain of 126 major islands in the southern hemisphere, near Dragon Cedar Island. In the human era, roughly half the Tower Clan’s population lived there.)
“It’s not impossible,” Merc said. “The Arctic plateau was formed over billions of years by tectonic pressure—between the Silent Ocean Plate and the Starvast Ocean Plate. It might not be as vast as Bit’s imagining, but voids forming inside wouldn’t be strange.”
“Then why doesn’t Lord Julian know?” Little White asked.
“Because the Aurora Plateau is cold and barren,” Merc said. “In the human era it was a no-man’s-land. And later it became Phantom Forge territory. Lord Julian’s mission is to oppose Phantom Forge. If we weren’t searching for Edean, we’d never be mapping this place in detail.”
Bit frowned. “So you’re saying Edean is somewhere down in that abyss?”
“It has to be,” Merc said. “Look at the temperature, the humidity, the air. What about this isn’t suitable for humans? This is a natural shelter.”
“But why would there be oxygen at all?” Bit started. “As far as I know, oxygen formation needs—”
“Wait!” Little White suddenly pointed down and to one side. “Bit—shine a light over there!”
Bit guided a hovering light toward the spot she indicated. About ten meters below the cliff line, something metallic glinted from the rock face—a bolt driven into stone. And beside it ran a vertical black streak.
The drone followed the streak downward. More bolts appeared at thirty meters, then forty-five, spaced like a ladder. Farther down, the light couldn’t reach, but the reflections suggested the metal continued in even intervals.
“A hovering light won’t cut it,” Bit said. “We need to get Lord Julian to send a few Observers.”
Little White traced the black streak upward with her eyes and spotted something on the guardrail. She ran over. Bit and Merc hurried after her.
A short length of square-rung material hung over the edge, barely a meter long. She hauled it up. Two parallel ropes. Wooden rungs lashed between them.
The rungs were so old they crumbled like burned charcoal at a touch.
“What is that?” Bit asked.
“A crude rope ladder,” Merc said. “Someone climbed up here. Or climbed down.”
“It was burned,” Little White said, pointing at the end. “So that black mark on the rock… that’s fire damage.”
“Then where did the ladder lead?” Bit rubbed his head. “Great. More mysteries. My processors are overheating.”
“This part isn’t hard to guess,” Little White said, thinking fast. “Let’s line it up with what we saw in the Polar Whale camp.”
“Those civilians came from down there,” she continued, gesturing at the abyss. “They built a ladder, climbed up into the cavern, and tried to find a way out. But someone—someone who didn’t want them leaving—stopped them.”
“Killed them,” Merc said, nodding. “Sealed the tunnel. Burned the ladder. That fits.”
“But this place is obviously better for humans,” Bit said, baffled. “Sure, it’s dark, but… why would they leave? Don’t they know that if they walk out the Polar Whale gate, they’re dead?”
“And the side that did the killing,” Little White said quietly. “What were they?”
“You want to know what happened?” she asked.
“Obviously. So tell me,” Bit snapped.
“You’re the one talking nonsense. How would I know?” Little White shot back, eyes wide.
Bit went quiet for a beat… then muttered, “Stop being cute.”
“Go to hell. I’m not being cute,” Little White said, and kicked his shin. “I mean: if we want answers, we keep investigating. Dummy.”
“How?” Bit spread an arm toward the void. “Where? With just the three of us? My night-vision optics can’t see anything. This place is the size of space. We should go back, report to Lord Julian, and have him bring a whole legion.”
“That would waste at least ten days,” Little White said. “No thanks. When I split from my master, we agreed he’d come for me in three days. In that time, we should gather as much as we can. Then he can go notify Lord Julian, and Lord Julian’s next move will be a lot more precise.”
“Agreed,” Merc said. “And since there are aircraft here, flight has to be possible. The two of us will take a sweep first.”
Bit sighed. “Fine. Then you wait here.”
“No,” Little White said. She pointed to the charred rope ladder stub. “I’ll go down. I brought climbing gloves. Give me two hovering lights—I’ll climb and see what’s below. If there’s anything to find, it’ll be along the ladder line.”
“Climb down from here?” Bit said, startled. “You don’t even know how deep it’s. If something goes wrong, we won’t reach you in time.”
“Who said I need you to rescue me?” Little White snapped. “Don’t underestimate people.”
Bit lifted both hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Do whatever you want. I never win with you.”
Little White found a stone and tossed it over the edge.
A few seconds later, a faint clack echoed back.
“Three hundred forty-seven meters,” Bit said.
“Three hundred fifty-three,” Merc said at the same time.
“I’ll split the difference—three-fifty,” Little White said, relaxing into a grin. “See? Not that high.”
Bit finally handed over two of the hovering lights, left one behind as a marker, and kept one with him. Little White checked her gear out of habit—twin blades, arrow quiver, throwing knives, dagger, sidearm—then clipped on her headset. The three of them tested comms.
Everything was clean.
“All right,” Little White said. “I’m going.”
She pulled on her climbing gloves, set the two hovering lights to flank her, and swung down over the cliff where the rope ladder had once hung.
“Stay on the channel,” Merc warned. “If anything looks off, say it immediately.”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it!”
Her voice drifted up from below, already ten meters down. Bit and Merc stepped onto the runway overhang.
Bit said, “If we’re doing this, we split. You take left, I take right. Fly the rim and map the shape and scale first.”
“Good idea,” Merc said.
From the open channel came Little White’s laughter. “Wow. Bit’s brain suddenly started working?”
“Trash talk,” Bit shot back. “My brain’s always worked.”
Then the two of them leapt together—left and right—gliding along the cavern wall into the abyss.