Menna returned to the same archive room at Umbryss where she'd always done her research. The melody from the Song of the Shy, and its unsettling undercurrents, still lingered in the back of her mind.

She reached for the latch, only to find it didn't give. No warding rune glowed, no notice posted, just the vexing click of a lock.

As she looked around for help and answers, a junior archivist walked into the hallway. He paused by Menna and tapped her shoulder to move aside before unlocking and opening the door.

"Sorry. These collections are currently reserved for internal review," he said, slipping inside and closing the door halfway behind him before Menna could react. "Temporarily."

"How temporary?" she pressed, wedging her foot in while trying to peek inside.

"Unspecified duration," he replied, nudging Menna's foot away with his own, locking her out with a decisive click of the latch.

She rushed over to Kaeloris' office, ready to protest. However, when she looked into his receiving area from the hallway, she caught sight of Master Lethar calmly speaking with the envoy over steaming cups of tea.

Menna sighed and turned away, already done with this place.

Escaping the standoff at the academy for the more welcoming library, Menna slipped through a side corridor behind the lower levels of the Stalactite. She found Auren hunched in a cramped scribing nook overflowing with reference charts. Ink stained his fingers as he meticulously recorded old footnotes and appendices, moving with the same unhurried rhythm he used for steeping tea.

"They sealed the archives," she said.

"I expected they would. I just wasn't sure when it would come to that," he replied, not looking up. "I've got something to take your mind off Umbryss though."

Auren slid his copied pages aside and offered his seat to Menna. "After your last visit, I started checking the request logs. Who was requesting what. Who else was sniffing around the same corners."

He reached under the desk and withdrew a bundled stack of old borrowing slips, requisition logs, and return tags—a messy package of faded ink, smudged fingerprints and a sprinkling of dust.

"You weren't the first to ask about atypical arclith sources and activity. But your angle was different—charging properties, shard behavior, historical accounts."

Auren's fingers tightened around the bundle before setting it gently on the desk.

"There was one other researcher whose trail overlapped with yours. But he came at it from an unusual direction. Logistics and transport. Storage records. Waypod logs."

Menna stared at him with a mix of awe and trepidation. "Who in the depths would wade through all that mind-numbing sludge?"

The librarian gave a dry little laugh. "Exactly. No one reads them, especially not that far back. It's some of the driest material in all the archives."

He tapped a slip near the top of the bundle. "But this person found them fascinating for some reason. He was methodical, focused, traced the pods and routes back to the earliest tunnels, before the Deepways were even fully established. That's how he found these."

Menna leaned over the table, flipping through brittle pages that referenced strange route designations—Veil Runoff, Reserve Vaults, Subcorridor Outlets. Most were marked with outdated names and no return manifests. Many of them described arclith being moved below the surface, from one end of the caldera to the other—criss-crossing beneath the Silverthread.

"So, this predates the main system?"

"Apparently," Auren nodded. "Maybe some were repurposed. Others may have been buried or collapsed. But the system seemed to be very active for a certain window of time—moving shards under the river."

Menna studied one manifest that mentioned sealed cargo warded with locked runes. Another listed a delivery with site names entirely redacted.

"Who was he? The researcher," she asked.

Auren hesitated, looking seriously into Menna's eyes. "I asked around. Deepshy. Came alone. Reserved a study chamber for three days straight. Very polite, if rather smug. That's how they all described him. His name was Veyran," Auren revealed.

That name made her hands freeze mid-page-turn. She sat back, making the connection. Veyran—she knew the name only in passing—Vazko's brother, the dissident, the cautionary tale, the one who walked away from the Masters, from the Deep.

"He's the only one who ever pulled these out?" she asked.

Auren nodded. "Until now."

She turned her eyes back to the fragments, heart ticking faster as verses from The Song of the Shy crept into her thoughts, now with heightened meaning. She whispered the words as she leafed through the bundle:

But shattered now, its voices run In fractured paths, in fading gleam. Some veins lie sealed in ashen vaults, Some carved by streams where waters rushed

"So, you believe it isn't just a metaphor?" Auren asked.

"More. I think… it leads to a trail we can follow," she supposed.

Her thoughts snagged on another verse:

In narrow halls where heat held sway, The two clashed hard for breath and space Till our folk chose the deeper way, And crossed the rift to yield their place

"This isn't just about transport or shuttling supplies," she murmured, her finger tracing an arc on a diagram that clearly matched the familiar curves of the Silverthread.

Auren raised an eyebrow, his chair creaking as he leaned forward.

"The clashes with the kobolds?" she clarified. "It wasn't a single, big war. But more like a series of escalations. Kobolds pushed the Shy away from their territory around the Cradle Caverns and Ember Foothills, and the Shy were cut off from their old shard quarries. These routes were a workaround, moving arclith beneath lands ceded to the kobolds once the surface got too risky."

She tapped one record near a faded glyph: Rift closure: repeat breaches, minor tunnel loss. Last successful run: 17th cycle.

"They didn't abandon everything," she said. "They rerouted. Like these routes under the Silverthread—they were a workaround. A way to supply the new Deep colonies without triggering more clashes."

Auren looked a little pale now. "You think these ancient, abandoned tunnels could still be accessible? Where would they even lead at this point?"

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"Maybe Veyran was tracking them. There could still be some functioning lines from that era," she surmised. "Buried beneath all our history, among other things."

Auren watched her gather the bundle into her satchel. "He left after reading and returning those," he pointed out. "Then word came back that he'd taken a waypass to the surface. From that point, no one I spoke to ever saw him again."

Menna tightened the satchel flap. "I know one person he may have touched base with."

"Just… be careful," Auren advised. "Even if you won't let the masters stop you, if you do plan to go down those crumbling old holes, you could be burying yourself."

The librarian's words followed her back to her quarters, so Menna distracted herself by spreading the salvaged documents across her desk. The arclights dimmed slightly as the hourbell hummed through the deep corridors. She couldn't rest from her reading, not with the knowledge that Veyran had already perceived a pattern. She just had to retrace it. But every note only prompted more questions and connections the more she studied them.

She was trying to match the unfamiliar, forgotten placenames with physical landmarks when she heard a knock. She turned over the pages on her desk before tentatively walking up, partially opening the door, and peeking out through the crack.

It was the Commander, standing in the hallway, all tense and travel stained. Vazko's boots and armor lacked their usual polished sheen and his posture its stiff formality. He said nothing, just looked at her and waited to be let in. As he stepped inside, his entire bearing suggested that he'd come straight from learning bad news.

"I take it that wasn't a pleasant trip to the surface?" Menna noted, her voice sounding too casual as she tried to hide her own anxiety.

"Not quite," he grumbled, peeling off his gloves in a practiced motion. "But the Sunbraves have been sharing their latest discoveries. Soon after we left for Obsidara, a scout team thoroughly scoured the southeastern rim of the caldera. They found a rucksack near the edge. Looked like it had been ripped up and partly buried by animals.… They say it belonged to your friend, Sylven."

Menna's expression darkened. "But… no blood? No… body?" She hated how her mind immediately went to calculating odds of survival, compartmentalizing her grief before she had to face it.

"No. Just scuff marks and tears. They doubled back and found a few old pika prints and droppings too. But no signs of an attack. There were some broad tracks leading all the way to the rim, which could mean they were dragged somewhere, or down," Vazko paused to catch his breath before continuing, gauging Menna's reaction.

"The interesting thing was that the rucksack was weighed down by a giant metal arrowhead, larger than anything the Sunshy would use, unless maybe they got their hands on an arc-cannon from us Deepguard. It's what kept the rucksack from being towed away too far. That's why they believe it accurately marks the spot where Sylven was… removed."

Menna frowned, still wrapping her head around the mental image the evidence presented. "But couldn't this all mean they were taken outside the caldera? The signs seem to indicate it's a possibility. Are the scouts sending an expedition beyond the Sunveil?"

Vazko shook his head. "The Sunbraves are still discussing that, but they've already taken it up with the Sunshy leaders. The complication is that according to Shy law, there needs to be a Concord with the Middleshy and the Deepshy, before any Shy can be officially allowed to venture beyond the Sunveil."

Menna's jaw tightened. "Of course."

"But the Sunshy scouts didn't stop there," he went on. "They've been crisscrossing the upper paths ever since. And the more they search, the more they've found."

"Like what?"

"Scattered traces of other missing Shy. Tools, bags, tracks. Some dating back more than a year. Most near the rim, from around Sunstone Rise to Goldenfalls. One team even found discarded arclith shards. The search efforts for those missing had long gone cold, and they'd already been given up for dead, eaten by predators or other likely causes. But now, the Sunbraves aren't so sure anymore."

He hesitated, then added quietly. "Where they found some of these old traces… A few matched the paths my brother Veyran crossed on the surface."

That stilled her. "You think he was abducted from the caldera as well?"

"I think whatever he was looking for, his search took him where he was at risk of coming across whoever or whatever has been dragging Shy away."

Menna absorbed and digested all the fresh information. Then she stepped toward her satchel and pulled out one of the old manifests she got from Auren.

"Look at this. Records of ancient routes crossing beneath the Silverthread," she said, holding up her haul. "Veyran studied them too, according to Auren's contacts. These routes are older than the Deepways. And from what I can tell, no one ever recorded them being shut down or collapsed. They just… stopped being mentioned."

"And now we've got a missing Deepshy, a series of missing Sunshy, and a list of fading trails."

"Standard protocol calls for AllShy Council approval for any official search beyond the rim," Vazko stated, his formal Deepguard cadence beginning to falter. "Three council votes, three signatures. I could try rallying a Deepshy councilor or two. And I believe Sylven's family can lean on the Sunshy council. But there haven't been any reports of missing Middleshy yet, which doesn't help us."

Menna sighed, setting the pages down. She rubbed her temples, trying to squeeze out some ideas before a headache set in.

"What about an unofficial search?" she proposed. "We can request passage to the surface. A research expedition to repeat and re-validate my experiments. I'll even admit to Master Lethar that my findings may be flawed or inaccurate, if that's what it takes."

Vazko studied her a beat longer, then nodded once.

"I'll back your request… And I'm coming with you. As guard escort, field support—whatever title gets us approval."

"Then… when we don't check back in time, there'll finally be one missing Middleshy, to make up the necessary trifecta."

They exchanged a glance, but Vazko broke eye contact and hung his head.

"Menna, I admit to admiring your remarkable bravery. But in this situation, your disregard for your own safety is… deeply disturbing."

Menna caught his gaze, her smile as sharp as a shard. "That's why I'm deeply grateful that you're coming with me."

Vazko sighed and finally found himself sitting in the extra study chair, defeated.

"I'll need to send a note to my family about what's going on," Menna schemed. "I could ask Auren to get it to them, discreetly."

Menna stood in Master Lethar's receiving suite, her fabricated proposal gripped in one hand. The language was dry and technical—full of non-specific phrasing about "surface-charged shard resonance," and "geo-lithic decay acceleration."

Vazko waited just by the door, keeping his hands behind his back and his eyes steady. His presence helped bolster the legitimacy of the request, but they were hoping it wouldn't seem out of the ordinary.

Kaeloris accepted the scroll with a pleased hum. Lethar lingered nearby, his hands clasped in the singularly unreadable, condescending way of his.

"An ambitious outline," Kaeloris said, scanning the top page. "And just in time. You're catching the last open cycle for fieldwork before the weather shifts on the surface."

Menna nodded, working to keep her composure. "I'll keep to peripheral sites and low-impact methodologies as much as possible."

"Very wise," Lethar said. "And quite cautious for a young scholar."

She offered a tight smile. "Caution ensures results."

"And Commander Vazko?" Kaeloris asked.

"Full escort detail, as assigned," Vazko said evenly.

Menna waited for the questions. About the supporting literature and counter-references. About their shard budget. About why she hadn't plotted out their itinerary in more detail. But none came. She kept her expression carefully neutral, but doubt gnawed at her. Was this too easy?

Lethar gave his blessing with a nod, followed by nonchalant strokes of ink on the paperwork. As Kaeloris stamped the approval rune onto the scroll, the master's eyes darted between the commander and the envoy, a knowing glint in their depths.

"You're free to depart on the next cycle," Lethar said.

"Best of luck," Kaeloris added. "We look forward to your findings."

Menna and Vazko exited into the hallway, neither speaking until the heavy doors latched shut behind them.

Vazko's voice was incredulous. "They didn't even blink at the list. Didn't ask why we needed all those shards or gear."

Menna shook her head. "Doesn't matter to them. They just want to get me out of the way."

Vazko gave her a sidelong glance. "You do have a plan?"

She nodded. "Yes. But we'll need a guide. Someone who knows the bones of the Deep better than either of us."

"I can ask my contacts."

"I already have someone in mind," she grinned. "She's got a lizard who can smell arclith and keeps calling me 'surface girl'."

Vazko raised an eyebrow and flashed a rare wide smile. "I remember her."

"Samy, the miner," Menna said. "She knows the underways. She could get us through whatever's been buried or covered up."

The academy's hallways had dimmed for the evening. Vazko paced along Umbryss' perimeter wall, cloak drawn, heading for the exit.

He'd almost reached the outer vestibule when a figure emerged from a shadowed alcove, casually keeping step like he'd been biding his time.

Vazko turned. "Good evening, Master Lethar."

"Commander." Lethar stopped in his tracks, smiling as if pleased to be acknowledged.

"Your habitual presence here hasn't gone unnoticed," he continued, under his breath. "And your company even less so."

The Deepguard nodded. "I've strived to provide a steadying influence on our charge."

"Very good, Commander. You're a dependable man," Lethar maintained his grin. He took a few steps closer to whisper into Vazko's ear. "But we need to amend our stance on her supervision. I would like to impart to you that, should she decide to wander into certain… precarious situations, you have our blessing to allow the natural order of things to... make a correction."

"Understood." Vazko's expression stood fast. "If she strays, I shouldn't save her."

Lethar offered the faintest of smiles.

"You'll be doing all Deepshy a great service. As you always have, Commander."

Without waiting for Vazko's response or leave-taking, the Master turned back onto the path, robes sweeping the stones at their feet.

Vazko drew his cloak tighter against himself as he stepped out into the city.

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