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The first spider appeared at the tunnel mouth, its abdomen gleaming in the faint light. Then another. And another. They moved with terrible purpose, their legs clicking against the stone in an awful rhythm that made her want to scream. But the sound stuck in her throat as more emerged from the shadows.

Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. They formed a living wall across the tunnel entrance, blocking any hope of escape.

She pressed back against the cold stone, feeling the rough surface bite into her palms. Kal’s arm shot out, keeping her firmly behind him as the spiders began to advance. The sound of their movement was like falling gravel now, a cascade of clicks and scrapes that made her teeth ache.

This was how they were going to die. Trapped in the dark, frozen and terrified, with only the gleam of spider eyes to light their final moments.

“Stop.”

A familiar voice cut through the darkness like a blade. The spiders froze mid-step, their clicking falling silent. Her knees nearly buckled with relief, but Kal’s arm kept her upright, his fingers digging into her shoulder.

A figure emerged from between the spiders’ motionless bodies. Even in the dim crystal light, she could see how different Tor looked. Black material covered more of him now, spreading across his chest and down one arm like spilled ink. It caught the light strangely, almost seeming to absorb it.

“Tor?” Kal’s voice cracked. “Is that you?”

The sound shattered something in all of them. They crashed together in a tangle of limbs and desperate embraces. She found herself crushed between them, her face pressed against Tor’s chest while Kal’s arms wrapped around them both. The black substance covering Tor felt strange against her cheek—harder than skin, almost like armor, but radiating an impossible warmth.

Tears burned her eyes, hot against her cold cheeks. She couldn’t tell whose shoulders were shaking, whose breathing came in ragged gasps. Maybe all of theirs. Tor’s heart thundered under her ear while Kal’s arms tightened until it was almost hard to breathe, but she didn’t care.

“We thought—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to.

“I know.” The words scraped out of Tor’s throat like gravel over stone, his already damaged voice even more ravaged than usual. His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, surprisingly gentle. “I know.”

Kal madea sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. “Don’t ever?—”

He broke off, pressing his forehead against Tor’s shoulder. “We looked everywhere.”

“I couldn’t answer.” Tor’s chest rumbled against her cheek as he spoke. “I was busy… not dying.”

She pulled back enough to look at him properly. The black substance covered nearly half his torso now, creeping up his neck like vines. In the crystal light, she could see the texture of it—overlapping plates that shifted with his breathing, almost like the spiders’ exoskeletons.

Kal noticed too, and his hand hovered over the armor-like coating. “What happened?”

“The rockfall.” Tor’s expression tightened. “Would have been crushed, but…” He glanced at the spiders. “They saved me. Three of them. Made a shield with their bodies. They… didn’t survive.”

The words hung in the air between them. She shivered, and both boys tightened their hold around her. She could feel the difference between them now—Kal’s familiar heat and Tor’s new warmth, which was somehow deeper, steadier.

A drop of water fell from her hair, sliding down her neck. Tor’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her wet clothing and then Kal’s. Releasing them, he stepped back and stripped off his top layer, the movement making the black areas on his skin gleam. “Here.” He draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingering to tug it closed.

The fabric was warm from his body and chased away some of the bone-deep chill that had plagued her since their fall. She clutched it closer, breathing in his familiar scent.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, reaching out to touch the edge where black met skin. The armor felt smooth under her fingertips, warmer than she expected.

His expression softened. “I’ll heal.” His hand covered hers where it rested against the black plates.

One of the larger spiders chittered at them and then led them through the winding tunnels, its legs making a softer clicking now, almost gentle. The sound no longer sent shivers down her spine—maybe because of how Tor walked beside the creature, his hand occasionally brushing its back like one might pet a cat.

The tunnel widened into a cave that made her catch her breath. Luminescent moss carpeted the floor and crept up the walls, casting everything in a soft, blue-green glow. The light caught in the moisture beading on the ceiling, creating a false star field above them. The air felt different here—warmer, somehow alive.

“It’s safe,” Tor rasped, his damaged voice echoing in the space. “The spiders… they showed me. Nothing else comes here.”

She took a tentative step onto the moss. It gave slightly under her foot, springy and impossibly soft after the hard stone of the tunnels. The texture reminded her of thick carpet but warmer, almost like it was alive. Maybe it was.

Kal moved past her, dropping to his knees to examine the moss more closely.

“We can use this.” He pulled up a small handful, and a sweet, earthy scent filled the air. “I’ve seen something like it in the forest. It burns slowly, gives off heat without much smoke.”

He was already gathering more, forming a small pile in a natural depression in the stone floor.

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