The elevator groaned as it dropped. Slow, mechanical, reluctant. Every few seconds, the walls shuddered, like the whole system wanted to change its mind.
Karu stood beside me, arms crossed, but her foot tapped against the metal floor. Not fast. Just enough to betray the storm she didn't want me to see.
"You sure you're okay?" I asked.
"I'm fine," she said too quickly.
She stared ahead. "You weren't born down here, were you?"
"That obvious, huh?" I tried to make it a joke.
She didn't answer. The silence was heavier down here. The walls creaked again. A low grinding echoed from above, distant, but heavy, like something ancient waking up in protest.
"There's this scholarship," she said suddenly, like the words had been waiting too long. "If Kairo gets it… he might never have to come back down here again. I don't want him to grow up like this."
She paused. "What's it like up there?"
I thought of spotless windows and smiles stretched too tight. Of families pretending not to fall apart. A skyline that never changed.
"It's clean," I said finally. "And lonely in a way no one talks about."
That was all I could give her. Not a lie. Not a warning. Just the truth.
I remembered what Cayos had asked her back at the shop. Something I hadn't stopped to think about.
"When was the last time you saw the sun?"
Karu hesitated. "Once. When I was five. My grandpa took me."
She didn't smile.
"But I didn't look at it for long. What really caught my attention was the Citadel."
"Of course," I murmured. "You thought it could take you somewhere else."
"I didn't think," she said. "I knew."
The elevator kept dropping. Dust spiralled from the ceiling, caught in a single red strip-light that flickered every few seconds. Somewhere far below, a hiss of steam echoed up the shaft.
"You ever think about leaving everything behind?" I asked. "Just… running?"
"No." Her answer was immediate.
"Everything I have is here. There's nothing out there for me to run toward."
She glanced at me sideways. "Is there anything out there for you?"
I didn't answer.
Because if I wasn't chasing her, I had nothing.
And I think we both knew that.
Karu folded her arms tighter. "People down here lie by staying quiet. That's how you survive."
"People up top lie by talking too much."
That made her laugh. A short, sharp sound. "So which are you?"
I leaned against the railing, watching the walls blur past.
"Still deciding."
The red light turned solid. The elevator slowed. Groaned louder. The air changed.
Heavier, colder, tinged with something chemical and stale, like rust soaked in perfume.
She took a breath but didn't move. Her arms were still crossed, but now I could see it, the tension in her jaw, the tremble in her fingers. Not just fear. Fury that she was afraid.
I moved to touch her hand, and she grabbed mine, not tight, not desperate. Just enough to remind herself she was still here.
I didn't pull away.
Then she stepped forward, hand still in mine, just as the doors slid open.
—
The Hollow Exchange wasn't a market.
It was... indulgence.
The air hit different. Not damp. Not dusty. Clean, but not safe. Violet and static. Metal and the sweet edge of something forbidden.
A central promenade stretched ahead, wide and slick as glass, a vein of polished black stone. It split the cavern like a blade, tiered walkways and spiral balconies curling upward around it, rimmed in gold.
Black stone walls gleamed like oil. Gold-rimmed lounges rose in layered tiers, balconies stacked in spirals, each level watching the one below like a theatre built upside-down. Music played from somewhere, low, bass-heavy, more felt than heard. It throbbed beneath the ribs.
To our right, a booth glowed with cool blue light. A woman in gauze leaned over trays of crushed blue crystal. Her companion dipped a finger in, brushed it along his gums, and leaned back with a sigh that looked like prayer.
"Mirror dust," Karu murmured. "The pure kind. Crushed crystal. Not the pipe stuff."
I thought of the man outside Indigo Smoke. Flame licking glass. A different kind of devotion.
The shopkeeper caught my eye, slate silks, silver jewellery. They gestured like they were unveiling a relic.
"Fresh from the Reverie," they purred. "Not refined. Not stepped on. What you see here was gathered from a live shard yesterday. Only the bold can handle the real thing."
I almost laughed.
Right.
Fresh from the Reverie. In a street stall. In the Gutter.
It was marketing, just dressed up in mysticism.
Everyone down here was selling something. A drug, a dream, a lie.
The Reverie only opened through the Citadel. That was the rule. That was the whole point.
Still… I didn't look too long at the powder. Or the man touching it like it meant something.
Karu's jaw clenched. She didn't speak.
Sensing we didn't belong, the seller went on anyway. "The pipe dust is for the streets. This... this is memory before it's named. Purity you can feel in your bones."
That line stuck like a splinter.
"Memory before it's named"
What was I chasing, if not that?
Karu walked beside me in silence as more of the Exchange unfolded, not ruined, but curated.
The layout reminded me of a mall, but darker, stranger. A wide artery of stone cut down the middle, flanked by storefronts and lounges carved into the walls, some glowing violet, others hidden behind smoked glass.
Minimalist stalls rose like sculptures, black metal frames, floating displays, rare powders and delicacies shimmering in violet mist. The air above some shimmered unnaturally, like heat rising from the skin of a dream.
It wasn't crowded. The lull before nightfall. That made it feel more expensive. More… intentional.
Above us, dreamglass chandeliers shimmered, delicate, looping crystal harvested from the Reverie itself. They caught the light strangely, as if refracting someone else's memory, scattering colour too soft to name.
It was an underground palace of pleasure, masked in restraint.
Karu let go of my hand near a fountain of black stone, its water looping in impossible arcs, defying gravity.
My hand felt cold.
"You know," I said, forcing a crooked smile, "once all this is over, I should take you to the surface."
She gave me a look. Tired. Flat.
"I owe you dessert, don't I?" I winked.
"I'll get you a donut. From a real bakery. Not a vending machine."
That earned a breath of amusement. Not a laugh. But close.
Karu didn't ask to be saved. She never had. Even now, shaking, she just kept walking.
Anya once told me not to bleed for her. Karu didn't say it. She didn't have to.
She turned to me, her eyes far away.
"I hated this place," she said softly. "The first time I saw it."
A pause.
"But now... I think I hate how beautiful it is."
Then she asked, quiet, but sharp as a blade.
"Do you know where you need to go?"
I shook my head.
She sighed.
"It's getting late. I need to get back to the shop."
She looked at me, eyes sharp but not unkind.
"Whatever you're looking for… just don't forget why you came."
Right.
Anya.
I needed to find a way to save her.
And to understand what Cayos had meant…
about who she was before.