Despite his fatigue, Henry was the first to rise. He approached Howard, who had taken the last watch, and asked him to wake the others while he prepared sandwiches like they'd had for dinner to save time.

"Are you well?" asked Thanatos after Henry had served the food to the assembled group around the re-lit torch, all while yawning repeatedly.

"I am," said Henry. "But my torch is not. You lot are wasting my fuel."

Within seconds, Luxa extinguished the torch, and Gregor replaced it with one of his artificial ones—"flashlight", Henry could have sworn it was called. He leaned it against the wall, and though the beam was less pleasant, it allowed them to see.

"Are you certain?"

Henry glared. "I am as well as I can be, under the given circumstances."

"It will be alright," replied his bond quietly. "You will fear less if you guide them than if you allow them to venture into Hades Hall by themselves."

Henry made a face, unable to argue with that. "My fear is not greater than my love for them," he admitted after a while.

"What you lack is belief in their trust in you."

Henry surveyed them, wondering for the hundredth time whether what they had said yesterday would hold true if they knew who he really was. What Gregor had said . . . It's not about absolution or belonging to a society. It's about belonging with us. None of that matters because you're our friend. Knowing your name or . . . what you did to become an outcast doesn't change that. Henry found him beside Luxa, sharing food. Would he say such words to Henry's face too?

He didn't need their approval or their absolution, Henry told himself over and over. And yet, he craved it all the same. Not because he needed their city or their protection to survive, but because he did not want to lose them—any of them. He hadn't been ready to let them go two years ago, and he still wasn't now.

Henry scowled, attempting to replace the dire fantasies of their reactions, their rejections, should they ever find out, with Gregor's crimson face when he called him out for his crush on Luxa. Of joking and laughing with them. Of their open, adoring faces that pleaded with him to guide and protect them.

I want you to take me back.

Did he want to go back? For one fleeting moment, Henry imagined that their pledges of loyalty would hold true if they found out his identity. That they would not reject him, that they would invite him back. Was a chance to return even worth longing for? Even if there would be no rejection, did he even . . . want to go back? If he did, would he still be free?

"There are pressing matters at hand," mumbled Thanatos after a while.

Henry nodded. "Matters far more important than petty fears." He rose to his feet to gather the questers, feeling the concerned gaze of his bond behind him. "Let us waste no more time and prepare for travel," announced Henry.

Everyone immediately sprung into action. Luxa and Gregor gathered their supplies and gear, and Howard expressed concern for Hazard. Eventually, he settled him on Aurora's back, giving Luxa specific instructions for his care. Gregor took Boots and Temp on Ares, Howard rode on Nike, Henry himself remained with Thanatos, and they all relied on Thalia being able to keep up without a rider.

Within five minutes, they were airborne. They flew for hours without any complications, and Henry stayed optimistic. Hades Hall was a massive tunnel; his echolocation measured its width at over fifty feet at times. He had heard his fair share of dreadful tales about this tunnel, yet none confirmed themselves. Several clean streams filled with fish crossed their path, so they would not dehydrate or starve. The floor was rocky and uneven, yet upon their fliers, this bothered no one. The further they progressed, the more Henry became convinced that it might be a decent enough trip.

However, as time passed, the tunnel started to slope so dramatically that the fliers were practically free-falling, only occasionally opening their wings to guide themselves. Henry was in the saddle, and for as much fun as he had at first, hanging upside down while Thanatos plummeted, they did not progress very fast.

Henry's impatience mounted with each passing minute, heightened by the need to stop every ten minutes for something more or less trivial: Boots had to use a non-existent relief room, Hazard's bandage had to be changed, then Thalia needed a break. Instead of interrupting their trek, Henry adjusted her to ride on Ares while directing Gregor onto Nike with Howard.

Soon after, Nike noticed a promising stream and proposed that they refill their water bags. Henry gave his reluctant permission, watching bemusedly as she dragged Thanatos along with her, chattering excitedly.

For a time, he entertained himself by recounting stories from the uncharted lands to Thalia and Ares, then a few of Kismet's Greek myths, all the while growing increasingly astounded by their lack of curiosity about his saddle contraption. Henry was nearly bursting with the desire to exhibit it, but it wouldn't be as satisfying if he did it without being prompted.

In this manner, they carried on for about six hours until Howard decided it was time to set up camp for the night, as it was unwise for Hazard to continue. Hades Hall still sloped sharply downward, but Thanatos found a large ledge on the tunnel wall for them to camp on, and so Henry signaled the fliers to land.

The questers swiftly gathered around Gregor's flashlight beam. Boots was the first to request food, and the others looked just as eager, so Henry finally took the time to dig through the questers' substantial picnic hampers and divide up the food he unearthed.

Once they had finished eating and Howard had tended to all bandages, Hazard and the fliers went to sleep. In spite of himself, Henry couldn't help but feel thankful that Howard was there. While life as an outcast necessitated some medical knowledge, his own paled in comparison to Howard's. Hadn't he been there to resuscitate Hazard . . . Henry took the resting boy in and made a silent vow to ask about how he was faring in Regalia. They hadn't spoken much yet, and Henry felt it was time to change that.

After a while of playing with Temp, Boots also drifted off to sleep while the rest of them huddled around the flashlight. Henry meant to order them to sleep too, but then noticed Gregor fearfully staring out into the darkness.

"Are you well?" asked Henry, sitting beside him.

"Oh, yeah." Gregor shrugged. "Howard said this trip was more dangerous than other routes. Do you know what he meant by that? Is there anything . . . we should be watching out for?"

On Gregor's other side, Luxa scooted closer. "I was wondering as well. Aurora mentioned hearing that this tunnel was avoided not only because of its depth."

"The depth is one thing," Henry began hesitantly. "It is difficult to navigate, as you witnessed. The air becomes foul as we near the Firelands."

"There are also creatures living here who would rather not be disturbed," added Howard, coming up behind him with one of the hampers. The two inadvertently exchanged glances.

"Dangerous creatures?" asked Gregor.

"Some. Most will simply avoid us," Howard said. "Of those who would seek to do us harm, many do not fly, so we can evade them. And then there are others who are not hostile but must be acknowledged."

"Like who?" asked Gregor.

It was as if the creature in the darkness had only been waiting for an opportunity to break in. And when he then spoke, Henry doubted if his exceptionally sharp ears were deceiving him: "Greetings, all! I am he called Photos Glow-Glow . . . and she is Zap."

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In the darkness, Henry sat vigilant, his ears attuned for any sound. The rest of the questers—including the shiners—were all asleep. How intriguing it was—here was something he and Howard had actually seen eye to eye on . . . at least upon hearing about their betrayal in the Tankard.

Everyone except the children had been alert in seconds. With remarkable speed, Howard had been up on his feet and drawn his sword, his voice uncharacteristically icy as he demanded to know what they sought here. Meanwhile, Luxa had filled Henry, Thanatos, and Nike in on the shiner's deed during the quest to slay the Bane, all without releasing the hilt of her own sword.

Then something remarkable had happened: Luxa had not ordered to attack them, not even to chase them away. She had stared them down for a few heartbeats and then pointed out that they might be an invaluable light source.

"We need no light that will diminish our provisions, which we actually require to survive, as opposed to light," Henry had retorted.

"That, and Gregor has ample light," Howard had concurred. "Light which we can trust."

But to their all's astonishment, Luxa had remained steadfast in her decision: the shiners should accompany them through Hades Hall. She had invited Photos Glow-Glow and Zap to eat with them, but not before Henry had managed to make it clear that he tolerated no whining. Now, whenever he so much as touched Mys' handle, the shiners grew silent. So, at least they had that going for them.

Howard had retreated into a corner, and although Nike had been appalled to hear about the shiners' deed during the quest across the waterway, she had not joined him. She had uncertainly glanced back and forth between Howard and Thanatos—who was entirely unconcerned by the shiner's presence—and gone to lay by the latter's side instead, eliciting a scoff from Howard.

It was only after the shiners had received their share of food—first and foremost, cake—that Henry had understood Luxa's true motive for keeping them around. Throughout the meal, she had questioned them . . . and uncovered that they had seen in Hades Hall gnawers.

Immediately, all of Henry's apprehension had dissipated, and he had joined them, inquiring what exactly they had seen. They came past our lands, Zap had informed them, after the nibblers.

Hundreds . . . Henry shuddered. The wretched fireflies had seen hundreds of nibblers chased down this way by the gnawers. Apparently, they had all stemmed from the Fount. The ones from the jungle they had seen too, but the rats seemed to have taken that colony straight to the Firelands. Whether Teslas had been among them, the shiners hadn't recalled, and Henry had been on edge ever since. He hadn't been watchful for any additional traces of him recently and had grown increasingly paranoid that, in his neglect, he might have overlooked something.

Luxa had looked equally grim, and he had to restrain himself from embracing her. "We will uncover the truth. Yet we must also cling to hope more than ever now," he had urged, not only her but them all, before sending them to bed properly.

They would . . . uncover the truth, Henry promised himself. For whatever it would take, they would. And then they would put a stop to it . . . Whatever the gnawers' plan was. A sickening sensation in Henry's gut lingered.

Perhaps it was that he saw too much blood in his dreams since embarking on this quest. Rivers upon rivers of blood and mangled corpses lined his path, which became more and more difficult to tread with each step.

Henry shook his head, brushing off the nightmarish visions. He couldn't allow a dream to scare him ever again. Yet why were the gnawers transporting the nibblers here, into the Firelands? There was nothing here . . . If they intended to forcefully relocate them here, they couldn't let that happen. They wouldn't, thought Henry, and then his gaze met the soundly sleeping Thanatos. Close by lay Luxa and Gregor, and on his other side, Nike and Howard. There were Aurora, Ares, and Thalia . . . Temp with Hazard and Boots.

Henry blew out an exasperated breath. Even discounting the nibblers, his most recent . . . quest already had ample potential for disaster.

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Despite feeling uneasy, Henry woke Thanatos after a few hours to take over and keep watch for another few hours, adding up to a total of five or six. When they finally readied themselves for departure, he noticed that Luxa had eaten almost no breakfast.

"You must care for yourself." He approached her, holding out a sandwich. "You cannot help anyone if you collapse from weakness."

Luxa made a face. "I have no appetite."

"Eat anyway." He compelled her to take the sandwich, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he placed an arm around her shoulder to guide her toward Aurora. "You chose right with the shiners," he added after another moment. "Let Howard not get to you."

She gave him something like an actual smile. "I need them," she mumbled. "Although they have betrayed me, I will risk it because I care more about the outcome of this mission than I care about being betrayed again."

"Since when have you become so wise?" He gave her a crooked smile, trying his hardest not to let the melancholy he felt in his heart show on his face.

"I have been betrayed many times," she said without looking at him, and Henry's arm around her stiffened. "Perhaps if it happens again, it will not hurt so much."

"No," said Henry urgently, stepping in front of her and taking both her shoulders. "Luxa, you must not condition yourself to tolerate pain. Trust me when I say that it is not a good thing to be impervious to it. Through feeling pain, we know that we are still alive and not dead inside."

She looked up at him, and briefly, an uncertain expression darted over her face. "Trust you . . . I have been told something like this before," she suddenly whispered. "That . . . life is about cherishing each moment instead of spending it in fear of what may come next."

Henry bit down on his tongue before he could have exclaimed, "It was I who told you this!" Warmth rose in him at the realization that, despite everything, she had remembered his words.

"Didn't you say something about conditioning yourself to not fear death at some point?" Gregor chimed in, approaching with his backpack already shouldered.

"I did," replied Luxa. "What I did not tell you was that—" What Henry presumed to be his own name lodged in her throat. "That . . . I was told . . . urged to reconsider. To not spend my life in fear. Back then, I could not be swain."

"You will be swain now," said Henry adamantly. "I will not allow you to live in fear. It is alright to feel fear, yet we must never let it rule us. If we let ourselves be ruled by fear, we would not even be here," he said louder. "We would be hiding in fear of repercussions from the gnawers for our interference. We would have turned back at the first signs of trouble. We would have long quit, deeming this undertaking improbable. Have we done any of those things? Plan we on doing any of them shortly?"

"Never!" exclaimed Luxa.

"Then tell me, what ruled you when you made this choice?" asked Henry. "Would you not, in fact, despise for today to be the day you die?"

Luxa stared at him, mouth agape.

"If you die today, you will never uncover the truth," said Henry with a half-smile. "And so is the way in which you must think. Expect not to die. Expect to live. To succeed."

"But if we expect success, we are more disappointed if we fail," interjected Gregor.

"Perhaps," admitted Henry, "and yet success will find you easier if you have hope. One who has hope tries harder. One who has hope is far less easily deterred. This trade-off I find quite worth it."

Gregor made a face. "But if we expect to live and then—"

"—and then die, you die unexpectedly," Henry cut him off. "Which is still the most preferable way to die of them all . . . So I've heard a grand ruler from the Overland once said."

They all stared at him with wide eyes for a few moments. "Is optimism really warranted in our current situation?" asked Howard, over by Nike.

"Optimism is always warranted," retorted Henry.

"Belief is most needed when things are dire, belief is," said Temp.

"See, the crawler gets it!" exclaimed Henry, draping one arm around Gregor's and the other around Luxa's shoulders. "You're quite alright," he said to Temp after a pause.

"The Wielder of Light believes in me, he does," Temp mumbled, his antennas quivering. "At first I knew not if I should believe, but the Wielder of Light is wise and mighty, he is."

"I believe in all those who believe in themselves!" exclaimed Henry. "And you bet I am."

"I have my doubts," said Howard sourly, "that now is the time to be optimistic."

"I know, right?" Zap whined. "Is he always like this?"

"Always," Thanatos confirmed, glancing around. "And . . . I have mentioned this before, and I will say it again: It would serve you all well to cease struggling against his optimism. A number who were far more cynical than you have tried to persist against it—among them, I myself—and we all had to concede in the end."

"You have battled his optimism?" asked Nike incredulously. "But why? A positive mindset is so powerful."

"Quite exhausting," mumbled Ares.

"It is exhausting," said Thanatos. "And yet it is also powerful . . . So I have painstakingly learned."

"You mean prone to disappointments," added Howard.

"Fine then." Henry crossed his arms. "All who are too lazy to have hope that our mission may succeed may as well cease pursuing it. Is it not so? Is the essence of this undertaking not that we have hope to still make a difference?"

No one had a reply to that. Even Howard averted his gaze, as did Ares.

"I will not allow any of you to give up before we have even ascertained what is happening!" called Henry.

"If you must already give lengthy speeches, you must at least not yell so," interjected Photos Glow-Glow from where he and Zap had gauged themselves on the food Luxa had delegated to them.

"Yes, Fofo. No yelling," Boots chimed in, riding toward them on Temp's back. "Yelling no-no." She raised and waved her little pointer finger in Henry's face.

"My name is not—"

"But Boots, some yelling is good." Henry kneeled in front of her. "Would you not yell to warn someone of danger?"

Boots' eyes widened. "Oh . . ."

"Only angry yelling is bad," said Gregor, scooping her up.

"He sounded pretty angry to me," whined Photos Glow-Glow.

"Shut it, Fofo," snickered Henry. "And if you are all but done despairing, we might depart." He clapped his hands, ignoring the offended hissing that came from Photos Glow-Glow. "We have a long way ahead of us. And Death is right." He gave them all his widest grin. "Struggling against my belief is utterly pointless. I shall see to it that you find out on your own terms if I must."

When they departed, Henry thought they at least did so with more vigor than the day before. They hadn't flown for five minutes when they passed the shiners' habitat—an enormous cave that emitted a continuous whiny buzz. Multicolored lights flashed from the inhabitants' backsides, and a few voices demanded to know what Photos Glow-Glow and Zap were doing, but none of the other shiners could be bothered to find out. Apparently, Photos Glow-Glow and Zap were exceptionally motivated individuals within their species.

Hades Hall continued to veer downward at an alarming pace, carrying them deeper into the earth with every passing moment. Thanatos led the way, with Henry and Zap, while Thalia rode on Ares again. The rest followed close behind, with Photos Glow-Glow in the rear. Henry estimated they would soon reach the bottom of the tunnel, and when he informed the others, he did so with a smile. "The trek will get much easier from here on."

"We should make camp then," suggested Howard, casting worried glances at Hazard on Aurora.

Henry opened his mouth to give the signal when Thanatos beneath him grew rigid. Instinctively, Henry tuned into his senses for danger. His ears registered nothing, but then he caught the smell.

Instantly, he knew what it was, and a rush of repressed and unwanted memories engulfed him, together with the dreadful odor. "No." He struggled to speak, his throat filled with panic. "Not here."

"Oh, at least he gets it." Zap glanced back at the others dismissively. "Are your noses of no use at all?"

Henry shoved aside the images of his recent nightmares and forced himself to look as if he hadn't long perceived the image that unfolded below with his ears. He had perceived it, and yet Henry still recoiled when the shiners' lights came within reach of the bottom.

Clenching his jaw, Henry stared down at where—twisted and motionless—lay at least a hundred nibblers.