<h1 style="text-align: justify">Chapter 7 – Voi ch’entrate</h1>


    A sudden chill made me shiver as I stepped into the gloom. I followed the others blindly, guided by their jostling, until my eyes adjusted to the weak light and I could see we’d passed the guards’ desk. They were busy checking the cards of a larger group, who protested loudly about being late for a test. Axel used the distraction to slip behind them and join me.


    ‘Where next?’


    ‘We cross the building to the inner yard to reach the archives’, he said.


    ‘Just like that?’


    ‘Yes, just like that.’


    ‘But what if someone stops us, asks questions?’


    ‘Just act like you belong here, and no one will.’


    I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling tense as my pulse sped up. So far, my life had consisted of avoiding taking risks, mostly by respecting all the rules and fleeing rather than fighting when the slightest conflict arose. The simple idea of doing something I wasn’t supposed to made me nervous. While I was still biting my nails and hesitating, Axel set off nonchalantly, his backpack hanging carelessly from one shoulder, hands in his pockets. I rushed to catch up, doing my best to hide my agitation and look like any other student on a Thursday morning. I felt like a mouse in plain sight, walking through the spacious corridors where I had no right to be. The muscles in my back were stiff with apprehension, and there was an insisting itch between my shoulderblades, as if someone stared at me from behind. I kept glancing back, each time with the certainty that a guard had noticed our intrusion and was about to catch up with us.


    At the same time, however, I was awed by Axel’s self-assurance, the way he walked down the hall and opened doors as if he owned the place. Had I not known him, I would have believed he was a teacher, or even someone in a higher position: he had the attitude of someone who has somewhere to be, and whose time should not be wasted on trivial questions like where he was headed. With each wave of relief that came with every door we passed unhindered, the adrenaline rush became more and more exhilarating. When we stepped into the inner yard, I almost laughed from the unexpected thrill – understanding, for the first time, those who sought it regularly.


    On the steps of the building across the yard, another guard was basking in the morning sun, eyes half closed.


    ‘We have to get there’, Axel pointed to the left, where the sidewalk circled around the corner.


    ‘‘They’re really overdoing things with the Vigipirate plan, don’t you think?’


    He shrugged. ‘Who knows? This school has already been used by the Luftwaffe in the second war, maybe it could still have some strategic importance to an ill-intentioned individual. It makes sense they would continue with the plan. Let’s just wait here until he is distracted. Here they come’, he said, tilting his head towards a raucous group that was just pushing the door.


    Once more, I shivered with anticipation. As soon as they passed us, we joined the left fringe of the group and crossed the yard. Lazily, the guard waved the students in without checking their cards; I couldn’t believe it would be so easy. We sneaked away from the group, in a haste to be around the corner and out of sight.


    ‘Hey, you two!’, he shouted after us. I froze on the spot, blood thumping in my ears. That’s the end of our luck, I thought, panicking, thinking frantically for a way out. My legs itched furiously with the urge to run away, but there was nowhere to go: we were surrounded by buildings with a parking lot in front of us, bordered by a high fence. Even if Axel could easily jump over it, I certainly wasn’t tall nor strong enough to succeed.


    ‘Where are you going?’, the guard asked, frowning. He was a tall and wiry man in his forties, with angular features which didn’t seem to have shown benevolence since his teenage years. His beady eyes surveyed us suspiciously.


    Axel turned around slowly, half-covering me behind him.


    ‘Hello, sir’, he said politely. ‘We were just visiting the museum, when my friend felt weak all of a sudden. We wanted to be here early before going to work, you see, and she hasn’t had breakfast.’ He nudged me discreetly. I leant against him, eyes half closed, doing my best impression of a damsel in distress. ‘I figured she would feel better if she had some fresh air.’


    The guard looked us up and down, his eyes narrowing at the sight of our boots. He raised an eyebrow.


    ‘We have an intervention in the phone utility tunnel’, Axel lied smoothly, waving towards the street. ‘Haven’t you noticed that the internet is down in the neighbourhood?’


    The man kept staring at us for a while, without replying. I clung to Axel’s arm with both hands and pretended I was on the verge of fainting.


    ‘You should sit down against the wall’, the guardian finally said, ‘before your knees give in.’


    I offered him a grateful, although feeble, smile, and did as instructed. Axel knelt by my side, looking concerned.


    ‘I’ll fetch you a glass of water and some sugar, you’ll feel better in no time’, the man added. ‘Stay put until I’m back. It will help.’


    Axel watched him enter the building, and whispered: ‘He’s gone. We have to move quickly.’


    I sprang back on my feet and ran after him through the parking lot. Hidden behind the cars, an unremarkable rectangular hole led to concrete stairs.


    ‘I was expecting something… different’, I said, surprised. ‘Four walls and a roof, at least.’


    ‘It really doesn’t matter. There’s no time to think about the architecture now – let’s go before he comes back’, Axel said, shooting a glance over his shoulder.


    We ran down the steps, and were stopped by a door with a note stuck to it. “Exceptionally, the archives will open at 10 on the 5th of December”, it read.


    ‘Now what?...’


    ‘Now you check that no one is coming’, he whispered tensely.


    ‘Axel, what are you going to…?’


    ‘Just keep watch!’


    The urgency in his voice shut me up. I turned my back to him, fiddling with my gloves as I looked up the steps at the blinding morning light, and wondering what other illicit secrets Axel had. Wrought with anticipation and expecting to hear the guard’s footsteps any time, I jumped when something clicked behind me.


    ‘Quickly, get inside’, Axel whispered.


    With a last glance up the stairs, I slipped in the archives, eager to be out of sight.


    ‘This way.’


    I fumbled about in the shadows, trying to follow Axel.


    ‘Where the hell did they go?!’, came the guardian’s voice, muffled by the earth and the concrete around us. I was hurrying along the corridor when a sharp pain stopped me dead. I cursed under my breath, crouching to hold my knee.


    ‘Ru?...’, called Axel, trying to keep his voice low.


    ‘I’m okay, a damn shelf attacked me.’


    ‘Come on, we’re almost there! You can take a break and look at it when we get underground.’


    I stood up, flinching, and limped over to him.


    ‘In there’, he pointed at the deeper gloom between two shelves. I groped around with my hands outstretched, hoping not to meet other aggressive corners, until my foot bumped into something on the floor. I heard a door close behind me, then a neon bulb flickered to life. I closed my eyes against the aggressive light, and took a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart before I looked around me.


    ‘Uh, I think we have a problem’, I said, staring at the concrete weighing down the hatch.


    Axel opened a closet door, and, after some rummaging, he produced a crowbar and showed it to me with a grin.


    ‘You’ve been before?’


    He nodded.


    ‘I like to be prepared beforehand, as you know so well. Now, we’d better hurry up.’ He wedged the hatch open with a grunt of effort. ‘Give me a hand, please.’


    I stepped next to him and grabbed the rounded edge with both hands. My entire spine protested when I tried to lift it, and my knee sent a sharp pain through my nerves.


    ‘Don’t pull it up, Ru, you’ll hurt yourself’, Axel scolded me. ‘Keep your arms and back straight, and push with your legs to keep it open for me.’


    I shifted my position as instructed, and the hatch suddenly felt much lighter. Axel let go of the crowbar and seized the edge too. ‘Ready? When I say three, push. One, two…’


    Together, we hauled it up easily. The top of the steps, narrowed by another slab of concrete, opened at our feet, spiralling down into the darkness. The now familiar smell drafted up to me: damp stone and clay and old dust.


    I passed my backpack through, then slid in, wriggling in the narrow, coiling space the best I could, then down the first steps until I could stand. Axel propped the hatch open with the crowbar, then followed me. Crouching uncomfortably at the top of the stairs, he supported the heavy cover on his shoulders, kicked the crowbar away, then let the hatch come down slowly.


    ‘Not the easiest one to handle’, he said, panting. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to do it very often.’


    ‘Understandable’, I nodded.


    ‘Ready?’


    ‘As ready as I could be.’ My voice was tight.


    ‘This probably won’t help, but try not to worry yet. We don’t know if this is the right place.’


    ‘I wish I had control over my imagination’, I sighed. ‘Let’s go, I can panic just as well while walking.’


    The stairs swirled monotonously, like an endless descent to the center of the earth. Or hell, my inner voice provided obligingly. I felt my legs go weak; was it the effort, or was it fear? I focused on each step instead, careful not to stagger as my head started to spin and my knee to hurt, and trying not to think about what was to come; and when we reached the bottom, I leaned against the metal door frame that marked the entrance, my legs still unsteady.


    We had arrived in the middle of a gallery, slightly curving away on both sides. Compared to what I’d seen so far, it was ugly. Its limestone blocks contrasted with the rough cement that bound them; bricks lined the inside of the stairs, their colour a dirty crimson, like innards. What a welcoming start, I thought.


    ‘The Germans’ work’, Axel commented, seeing my expression as I looked around. ‘Never cared for aesthetics. Anyway… where do you want to begin?’. He pulled out the map of the area and laid it on the ground at my feet. I crouched down and examined it. The gallery was an irregular oval, crossed by two other intersecting tunnels, marked encouragingly as “low” and “very low”, which delineated three uneven areas.


    ‘I have no idea, to be honest. I don’t know what to look for, or what the passage should be like.’


    Axel pondered. ‘There is no name in this sector that could point us in the right direction, like it happened with the Carrefour des Morts. Hmmm.’


    I lifted the map to my eyes, scrutinizing every millimeter for a clue, but it seemed to be a quite unremarkable part of the underground. Apart from the three galleries, there were only a service shaft towards the surface, a consolidated bell-hole, and a well.


    ‘There’s not much to work with’, I sighed, disheartened.


    ‘I wish I could help… but I know nothing more than you do. Quite the contrary. I hoped you would have a clue, once we get here.’


    I rubbed my temples as if, by doing so, an idea would be prompted into life, but in vain.


    ‘I can see nothing special on the map. I’d say we try to just walk around, check these galleries, and see if something pops out. What do you think?’


    ‘Sure. I guess that is the best we can do, given the circumstances.’


    We collected our backpacks and stood up.


    ‘Which way do you want to go?’


    I took another glance at the map.


    ‘Well, there’s a bell-hole to the South. Might as well start there’, I offered, setting off.


    ‘It’s the other way’, Axel said, suppressing a laugh. I grumbled and turned around as he smiled discreetly.


    After a few steps, the hideous German cement gave way to clean limestone, its warm, pale colour only stained by the dark dust that had settled in its crevices as centuries passed by. Unlike the rest of the quarries I’d seen so far, no tag or graffiti marked the passage of other people since the quarrymen had left, as if time had stopped between these walls. Our steps seemed intrusive and unwelcome, like we were disturbing an old, abandoned house. Was I too sensitive, too impressionable, or was I becoming aware of something that used to be out of reach for me? Was it a clue? I walked warily, trying to pay attention to everything I saw, heard, or felt around me. Axel followed me, only breaking the silence to give me directions when galleries crossed.


    ‘Take a left, the bell-hole is right before the dead-end.’


    The floor angled to a gentle slope towards the fractured ceiling. Wood scaffoldings, cracked with age and weakened by the ever present humidity, buckled worryingly under the weight of the earth, stained with sickly grey mold. Here and there, broken stones matched the fissures above our heads. I became aware that my steps were slower, that I’d been walking with my shoulders hunched, as if expecting for an avalanche of rocks to come down on us. I wanted to lay a hand on the wall, to find reassurance in its solidity, but splits ran along it as well, and limestone dust showered down whenever I accidentally touched something. I felt uneasy and tense in this bowel that twisted its way through, like a trap slowly closing down on us.


    Almost bent in half, I didn’t see the wall of concrete blocks that surged in my way, and almost bumped into it, startled. Behind me, Axel came out of the tunnel and stretched with a grunt, content to be able to stand straight. I looked up at the grey dome, covered in rough mortar.


    ‘That’s it? That’s the bell-hole?’


    ‘I’m afraid so’, he confirmed.


    I examined it, trying to feel something, remembering how I’d almost seen the workers lying down the bricks when I’d touched the plaque in the cemetery. Nothing came, besides the cold that seeped in my limbs in this cul-de-sac.


    ‘I think there’s nothing here’, I said, somewhat disheartened by this unfruitful start.


    Taking a deep breath for courage, I crept back into the cramped tunnel, crouching as not to touch anything, and moved uncomfortably through as quickly as I could. Even breathing that damp air made me queasy at the thought of the mold that reigned on the decaying wood. I sighed with relief when I stood again under a high, solid-looking ceiling. My knee throbbed, and I rubbed it absentmindedly. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Once Axel joined me, we moved on to check the other galleries, sometimes walking, sometimes bent in half or crouching through mud and puddles. The monotonous walls turned round and round, the same rocks piling up to the same ceiling, the same pickaxe marks and the same white dust or muddy water on the floor – and no sign, no clue, not the slightest eerie feeling. I put all my hopes on the well, refusing to think about the possibility that we’d been wrong all along. It has to be there, I kept repeating to myself, believing it with all my strength, wishing it to be the way through, as if I could make it come to existence. It cannot not be there, I thought stubbornly as the same walls kept scrolling past. I was so focused on my aimless prayer that I jumped when Axel spoke.


    ‘I don’t think it is here, either…’


    I stared at the crimson inscription in front of my eyes, the only stain of colour on the blonde limestone. In capital letters, the word “well” stood out, and yet it refused to make sense. There was nothing else.


    ‘I suppose it has been filled and walled up’, Axel said in a tired whisper, leaning heavily against the wall and rubbing his eyes. I let myself slide down and stared at the four red letters, empty and dejected.


    ‘I don’t see what else I can do. I have no idea where to look. I can’t even think anymore.’


    The words left my mouth on their own; my mind was vacant but for the fog of misery that clouded it. My throat tightened, and I gnawed at my lower lip in an attempt to keep down the sobs that were starting to rise to my throat. Frustration and rage, fueled by my own shame for being useless and incapable, swelled in my chest, threatening to burst.


    ‘I don’t know! I don’t know where it is, damn it!’, I yelled, clenching my fingers around a rock and hurling it at the wall. ‘Why am I so fucking useless? Why the hell am I sitting here, crying and feeling sorry for myself like a weakling, instead of doing something for them?’


    ‘Hey, hey, don’t say that.’


    Axel sat next to me and gently pulled my hands away. I realised I’d been clawing my own arm in rage. ‘Don’t be so harsh on yourself’, he murmured, wiping my cheeks with his sleeve. ‘This is an unusual situation; it’s perfectly normal to be nervous, or to have a break-down. I’m here, I’m with you.’  He patted me awkwardly on the back, holding me tight with his other arm, as if to pass on some of his calm. I steadied my breath, fighting down the overwhelming certitude of being worthless.


    He needs me, I told myself, we don’t have any other course of action, no other clue. He needs me. They need me. I have to stop whimpering, and act.


    ‘I’m sorry’, I whispered, ‘I wish I were more reliable…’


    ‘It’s alright.’


    ‘I feel so powerless, so clueless… I’m so angry at myself I’d punch a wall.’


    ‘I know. But I trust you, Ru. I believe you can find it, whatever it is, and I will be here with you as long as I can.’


    I laid my head back against his arm, eyes closed, and tried to think through the haze.


    ‘A school at the end of the world. What are we missing?’, he pondered out loud, switching back to his practical self. I realised how handling yet another of my emotional bursts must have been difficult for him. A new reason for me to feel guilty…


    I tried to push my brooding aside and join Axel’s efforts towards a solution. His words floated around my mind. I tried to remember the map: how far north were we? And where exactly, on the map of Paris, were we? Something nagged me, a clue maybe, hazily. Ecole des Mines… What is it that I didn’t see? I plunged in my memories of the morning, searching for the detail that circled at the edge of my consciousness. I walked back to the Luxembourg garden, back into the streets, along the Saint-Michel boulevard… The hunch became more and more insistent, if only I could put my finger on it. I saw us elbowing our way through the crowd of students, hurrying to class, and I understood.


    ‘I know!’


    Axel glanced at me, startled.


    ‘Pass me the map’, I asked, suddenly excited. He had barely taken it out when I snatched it from his hands, almost ripping it in my haste to check if I was right. I bent over it, searching where we were, and then following the galleries up North.


    ‘Rue Saint-Jacques!’, I pointed. ‘And here, look, rue Royer Collard!’


    Axel raised an eyebrow in confusion.


    ‘Indeed, and…?’


    ‘Don’t you get it? Don’t you see? That’s what we missed!’, I exclaimed, feverishly, as everything fell into place.


    ‘Ru, slow down, I’m afraid I have no idea what you are talking about.’


    ‘I’ve studied at the Sorbonne, Axel. What’s the oldest university in Paris, or even in France?’


    ‘Alright, but… the quarries don’t stretch that far.’


    ‘It doesn’t matter, I’m sure of it! Royer Collard is maybe three streets away from the Sorbonne, and Saint-Jacques runs along it!’


    ‘Ru, calm down and explain this rationally.’


    ‘It was bloody obvious, why didn’t I think of it from the beginning?’ I shook my head in disbelief at myself, then continued:


    ‘Okay, listen to this. Sorbonne has existed since the 1200s, even though since then it has been built on and around, and probably doesn’t keep much of its medieval self. But, the school, as an entity, has been there continuously, for more than eight hundred years. Now, you once told me that everything at the surface mirrors a void underground, remember?’


    ‘Yes, but I meant…’


    ‘I know, I know. But what if, what if the Solomonars took that to the letter? As above, so below, the alchemists used to say. What is higher is like what is lower, if we translate it literally. What if the fact that Sorbonne existed on the same ground for centuries somehow created a mirror of itself underground? Another school? I don’t know how to explain this clearly’, I groaned, rubbing at my temples. ‘But I’m certain that the school of the Solomonars, even if it’s in their realm beyond ours, is there. I think we need to look for the entry in those galeries.’


    Axel mulled over it for a while, then stood up.


    ‘Well, I don’t see why you would not be right. We don’t know what is the logic of this other world, or whatever it is, so… I would do anything that has even the slightest chance to help Lili.’


    I nodded.


    ‘Me too. And I must confess, now that I thought of this possibility, I feel a little better. It cheered me up a bit’, I smiled.


    ‘Good to hear’, he replied, his relief almost palpable. ‘Ready to go, then?’


    ‘Ready.’


    We heaved our backpacks and left at a determined pace, past the cemented walls and the crimson bricks. The farther we got from the stairs, the more the gallery changed, bringing to mind its past as a part of the quarry. The left-hand side seemed to have been the working face; rough edges protruded in almost straight layers, marking the place from which the stone blocks were cut. Strata of limestone ran unbroken on the face of the exposed rock, lining it in shades of pale beige, ochre, and amber. I ran my fingers along it as we walked, its continuous flow almost mesmerizing, and imagined the quarrymen at work: shoving the wedges into the cracks with rhythmic blows, almost musical; heaving the stone away, and sawing it into regular blocks, while others threw the debris behind them, mounting a parapet to hold the backfill, and hoisting the hefty stones into pillars to support the ceiling. Over and over again, the cutting face advanced deeper into the bed of limestone, the layers of backfill and stone walls and pillars following like ranks of mineral soldiers in an underground parade.


    ‘Through there’, Axel interrupted my reverie, pointing at the base of a concrete wall that shut our way. I crouched and peered into the cathole that twisted its way through the stone, around the obstacle. Shoving my backpack first, I got to my hands and knees and wriggled in, crawling on the hard floor. Drops of clear, cold water infiltrated through the cracks in the ceiling and down my back, slowly seeping through my clothes. I tried my best not to startle at the icy touch in the narrow passage with its protruding edges, while also paying attention to the treacherous puddles. Finally, the backpack I’d been pushing ahead of me fell out into the open space beyond, and I dragged myself along on aching knees and elbows until I was able to stand again. Axel’s grumbling progress through the wormhole was slower than mine; being petite had its advantages in some environments, but I sympathised with his toil nonetheless. He came through the opening, and rolled on his back with a tired sigh.


    ‘These holes make me feel like an old man.’


    ‘I feel your pain in my bones, you know’, I replied, extending a hand to help him up, and looked around.


    The gallery was higher and more spacious than the underside of the Ecole des Mines, and much more frequented, judged by the agglomeration of tags. Signs of people’s passage littered the floor and even the holes in the walls: beer cans and bottles, plastic bags, empty sandwich wrappers, tissues…


    ‘This place looks like a garbage dump’, I sighed, disheartened.


    ‘I know’, Axel answered, his face clouding. ‘There’s even a chamber over there’, he pointed down the crossroads ahead, ‘that’s called the Filthy Chamber.’


    ‘Mmmm, that sounds appetizing…’


    ‘I’m glad we don’t need to go that way. This kind of behaviour is infuriating’, he fumed.


    ‘Let’s leave this place behind us, then’, I suggested, noticing his clenching fists. He really felt strongly about everything that was related to the quarries, I understood, as if it were his home – or maybe even more than a home.


    Axel nodded, his expression still dark, and walked away quickly. I followed the best I could without tripping on the uneven floor, while examining the sawed-off metal bars that stuck out from the wall at regular intervals. I didn’t dare to bother Axel with questions, however; I felt he needed to get away from this kind of tunnel as soon as he could. The degradations seemed to upset him deeply, and I wondered how much time he had spent here so far.


    For a while, the gallery continued monotonously, its straight walls pockmarked by the pickaxes that had carved the passage, and smeared with spray paint. Ahead of me, Axel stopped and waited. As I approached, the small metal gate he was holding open came into sight, and I raised an eyebrow.


    ‘What’s a gate doing here?’, I asked, also noticing the concrete steps that went down into the next gallery.


    ‘This tunnel has been used for the phone cables in the past, I’m sure you noticed the remains of the ducts. This gate was usually closed so that workers wouldn’t fall down the steps in case they didn’t see them.’


    ‘Oh, right.’


    ‘And see this shaft right here?’, Axel pointed up when we got in the middle of the adjoining tunnel. ‘That’s where the cables went. You can see the same stairs and gates on both sides.’


    It made me happy to see that the explanations he was giving me kept him distracted from the garbage, so I encouraged him with questions as we moved away from the intersection. With each step, the walls seemed to recover their original creamy whiteness, only spotted here and there by ancient inscriptions in charcoal or ochre. The floor, who had been partly covered in small gravel along the cable ducts, became muddy with pale clay once more. From the distance came the sound of droplets falling rhythmically, like an underground clock counting slower seconds. Gradually, we lowered our voices into whispers, and silence wrapped itself around us. Had we stopped and turned off the lights, I would have believed to be in a cave, deep into the earth.


    ▁▁▁


    The peace insinuates itself into my mind once more as I write this, in spite of what came afterwards. The magic of the old stone is subtle, yet powerful. However grim and tired I might feel in this moment, simply remembering it brings back the calmness I’ve felt in the heart of the earth. I could let go and bathe in it, give in to its pull, and let it take over me. I could remain in this peaceful dream, until I become one with the stone, free from suffering, free from everything. A way to escape reality.


    However, I cannot flee, I must not. Not this time, however tempting it might be. It is not about me anymore. I must fight, this time. For them.


    ▁▁▁


    Splashes. Limpid water flooded the gallery as far as I could see, swirling sleepily around our boots, and embracing our legs possessively, like a jealous lover. It seeped from the ceiling, trailing down along the wounds left by the mining tools, covering their bites in petrified lace in the colour of saffron and fresh blood. The mineral quietude surrounded me, like a cocoon out of time. I watched the mesmerising dance of the white clay at the bottom. Each step we took brought up pale silhouettes that shifted through the water before they dissolved. The steady lapping and the glimmer of our lights on the ripples lulled me close to sleep. I went on as if in a dream, listening to the earth, one hand caressing the wall, its limestone smooth to touch. Having pulled my boots as high as they went, I didn’t pay attention to the level of the water that slowly crept up my thighs. When its cold fingers slithered into my boots, I startled back to reality.


    The dead-end was in sight, a pile of backfill sloping up towards another wall of concrete blocks. The gallery forked to the left; standing on tiptoe to avoid getting even wetter, I peered around the corner. My lamp couldn’t reach the bottom of the water, despite its transparency, and the ceiling seemed to be much closer to it. The floor must be slanted, I supposed, not knowing how to continue.


    ‘I could go see how flooded it is up ahead’, Axel said. ‘Maybe it can be crossed if I carry you.’


    I thanked him with a nod, and climbed on the backfill to sit down while I waited. Head on the knees, I watched the coils and twirls in the water, like the hair of a graceful swimmer. Ripples circled continuously, enthrallingly, beckoning me to give in to the crystalline waves. Their music was an enticing call, awakening a sense of home in the depths of my being, beyond awareness. Glimpses of a river flowing lazily under the summer sky. White light glinting on the waves above my head. The caress of billowing, long leaves rising from the bottom. I leaned forward, dipping my fingers in the cool water, drawing circles of my own, like an answer.


    The sudden reflection of Axel’s lamp dazzled me. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, confused, waiting for my vision to adjust.


    ‘It’s entirely flooded farther down the gallery’, he informed me miserably, slumping down next to me. ‘There’s no way to reach it without diving equipment…’ He hid his face in his hands and went quiet. I stared into the water, thinking furiously, searching for a way, another clue, something I might have missed.


    ‘Axel…’, I whispered after a while, ‘maybe that’s the point. He raised his eyes and looked quizzically at me. ‘It would make sense for the entrance to be hidden, wouldn’t it? Otherwise everyone would stumble through uninvited.’


    ‘I don’t know… Maybe.’ His voice was tired.


    ‘I want to try’, I insisted, ‘before looking for something else. I want to be sure it’s not here, first.’


    ‘The water goes up to the ceiling for several meters. You’re not a trained diver, how could you hold your breath long enough? You won’t be able to come to the surface to breathe. It’s dangerous, Ru.’ Axel leaned in as he spoke, putting his hands on my shoulders and staring into my eyes. ‘It really is dangerous. You could drown.’


    I turned away from him and back to the ripples that called for me. I longed to swim, wondering how smooth the floating clay would feel on my skin, how would the light look below. I wanted to follow the path of the polished pebbles down the tunnel and see where it led.


    ‘I’m going to do it.’


    ‘Rusanda, don’t. I’m serious. Do not go there.’


    This time, it was I who leaned towards him.


    ‘Our friends need me’, I said, sadly. ‘I need to try.’


    Axel looked down and away. I put a hand on his cheek.


    ‘I have to go.’


    Have to swim…


    ‘Think of Lili’, I whispered. He closed his eyes tight, refusing to look at me. ‘It will be alright, I know it will. Because you’ll keep an eye on me.’ I stood and undressed, taking off the heavy, long boots, the jacket and the sweater, and piling them next to my backpack. Axel glanced up at the sound of my clothes, but looked away immediately, finding a most interesting crevice in the wall that required his attention.


    A thought crossed my mind, fighting my increasing urge to be in the water. I unknotted the white handkerchief. In the dancing lights, embroidered patterns appeared briefly, like moonlight on a lake; but when I looked closer, there was nothing. I took the whetstone, and put the rest on top of my clothes.


    ‘Axel, I need you. You have to hold both our lights for me, I can’t take my headlamp underwater’, I insisted.


    ‘And what if I need to come after you?’, he said, still looking away.


    I searched for his gaze until he met my eyes.


    ‘I trust you, Axel. I have to do this, and I need you. Because you’ll make sure I get back safely. Okay?’


    The lapping waves tugged at my naked feet, impatiently.


    ‘Light up your second lamp and leave it here, just in case.’


    ‘Ru, I…’ Axel stopped, seemingly unsure of what to say, then pulled me to his chest. He held me tight, giving me his warmth while the water sent chills up my legs. ‘I’m worried. I… I’m afraid of what might happen. This is reckless. We can come back with equipment, I know people who…’


    ‘And make Lili wait longer?’, I asked bluntly, pulling away, and knowing it would hurt him into persuasion. His jaw clenched.


    ‘I’d rather not lose you too’, he managed to say after a long silence. I was growing restive to dive.


    ‘Axel, I am going. Follow if you want.’


    ▁▁▁


    I should have listened.


    ▁▁▁


    I stomped into the water, shuddering at its icy touch as it reached up my thighs, and steeling myself for what was to come. Feeling around with each foot before taking a step, I headed towards the end of the gallery, and the northest point of the quarries. The edge of this underground world. The chill grew more pleasant as the level rose towards my hips, higher and higher, probing the sensitive skin ahead with glacial brushes. I shivered as if tickled, ready to laugh.


    ‘Come to me…’ A whisper, like the sigh of the wind through willow leaves.


    I plunged.


    Everything went quiet. The silence embraced me, smothering everything else. The muddy water encircled my body like velvet ribbons. I wanted to laugh and swirl and dance in it, the feeling of unhindered freedom exhilarating. I wanted to breathe it in and feel it in my lungs. I opened my eyes, and all I could see was moving whiteness, changing into ivory and cream and alabaster and beige under the dancing lights from afar, growing clearer towards the ceiling. Pulling away from the hypnotizing sight, I dove towards the stone bed with a thrust, and followed the pebbles along the wall, heading for the bottom of the tunnel at the end of the world.


    I groped with one hand through the opaque water in front of me, searching, while my lungs began to tighten. My fingers hit something ahead. I felt around the flat surface for an opening, but the wall sealed the tunnel entirely. Gasping, I fought the urge to open my mouth and breathe in, and, with a kick, I rose towards the surface. My head hit the ceiling before I knew it was there. Dazzled and suffocating, I remembered Axel’s warnings, too late. I needed to get back. Through the throbbing pain and the spasms in my chest, weakness spread through my limbs. I sought the lights ahead through the troubled water, praying I wouldn’t faint before I reached them. I swam awkwardly, half blinded by the headache and struggling to hold my breath, when a flash of movement caught my eye. Axel, I thought with relief. I was going to be safe. I was going to breathe, finally. With the last of my strength, I rushed forward to meet him. A lightning of pain flashed through my right arm.


    A carnivorous grin welcomed me, emaciated arms opening for an embrace.


    Questions for the readers</a>