For one moment, Gregor stared into the darkness. Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes—he could do this. It was possible. He clicked his tongue, recalling Henry and doing his best to empty his mind like he had told him, focusing only on the sensory input. The sound.

Click. Click.

"There is some trick to make it more complicated. Some sort of substitution."

Gregor frowned when his ears picked up the voice from outside the little, separated area designated for humans in the code room.

"Found it not, have we, found it not," replied a different voice.

Gregor sighed. The problem with focusing on sensory input only was that he got sensory input he didn't want. Irritated, he opened his eyes again. There was really no quiet place in this entire palace anymore, was there? For a moment, Gregor contemplated asking Ripred if he knew one, then decided he didn't really want to ask Ripred anything to do with echolocation anymore. The rat would just mock him for "coming crawling back" or something.

At least Gregor thought Lizzie seemed to be doing well. Yesterday, when Ripred had addressed her as "Princess" for the first time, the entire code team had rejoiced. They had instantly accepted her into their rows, and although Gregor had been apprehensive about the idea of her staying here at first . . . her being the princess from the prophecy just made so much more sense than it being Boots. If anyone in his family might be destined to break some code, it would definitely be her.

And yet, Gregor had still tossed and turned last night, wrestling with his own feelings about this whole thing—on the one hand, he was still gripped by anxiety for Lizzie. He feared that they might pressure her too much or overwhelm her. Once they had hammered it into her head that she had to break this code, she would stress herself over it, fearing to disappoint. But on the other hand . . . Ripred's tender look flashed before his inner eye, and then the grateful, appreciative gazes of the code team. Ironic as it was, he had never seen Lizzie, who liked staying by herself and became overwhelmed when she was forced to be around others for too long, enjoy the company of others as much as she did here. And . . . it was what she wanted.

I'm not leaving. He pressed his lips together. They need me. They actually need me, Gregor. But she hadn't looked at him like it was the bad kind of "needing". The kind in which a sick parent needed their child to care for them, or the necessity of doing chores or fulfilling obligations. No—her eyes had practically been shining. This "needing" was actually "appreciating", and Gregor would be caught dead before he'd take a good feeling like that away from her.

A sense of . . . belonging, it briefly flashed in his mind. Was that what she already felt here? Here, where she had previously sworn to never come?

Gregor pondered the grave implications of that for a moment, then he shoved it aside. As happy as he inherently was that Lizzie had found somewhere she could feel appreciated down here—if his entire family was staying anyway—there was still the issue that she had indeed attached herself far too quickly to this new task. So much so that she had not left the code room since. Even when he had offered to take her back to the hospital with their parents and Boots for the night, she had refused.

And so, Gregor had declared that he'd stay with her. He knew he couldn't just leave her alone to sleep here, not even with Ripred—his parents would definitely freak out if he left his not-even-nine-year-old sister with a giant rat for a babysitter.

Nerissa had been kind enough to inform his parents where Lizzie and Gregor would be staying. To his surprise, Gregor had found that would be less of a problem than he had originally thought. The room was equipped to accommodate code team members of all species, including humans. It even had little separate bedroom coves for everyone, so he and Lizzie had occupied the one for humans.

Solovet had apparently also found out where Gregor had gone after his training because only half an hour after his decision to stay—they had only just explained what the Code of Claw actually was and how the Tree of Transmission worked similarly to Morse code, which Lizzie knew—two soldiers had appeared at the door, announcing that they had been assigned to guard him. To "prevent further escapades."

Gregor hadn't protested. He had, if he was entirely honest, expected Solovet to send him guards the moment he had set foot back into the palace. But then Ripred had surprised him by stepping up and claiming he would guard him personally. Not even the burly soldiers had dared argue with him, so they had left . . . and not reappeared either, so Gregor thought Solovet had to be okay with the arrangement—luckily. Being guarded by Ripred, who knew so much more about what was going on, was miles better than by some strange soldiers chosen by Solovet.

They had all gone to sleep not long after the guards had left, and after the last battle's ordeals, Gregor had slept like a rock. He hadn't had much time for rest in general recently—uninterrupted sleep was a scarce commodity on quests, and he'd gone on two of the sort during the last month. So, when Gregor had awoken this morning, Lizzie had already been up.

Gregor tried his echolocation for a few more minutes, yet when the chatter in the adjacent main code room became unbearable, he rose with a sigh. He slipped into a fresh doublet and stepped out of the bedroom cove, although he made sure to grab his sword too; his dad's words replayed in his head about how it was safer to have a weapon, just in case. He hated that it had come so far, and yet . . . it didn't hurt to be safe, right?

As soon as Gregor stepped into the main code room, he was greeted by the sight of Lizzie sitting in the middle, surrounded by the code team, who seemed to be catching her up with their progress so far. It made a cozy picture, all of them together on the floor. Freakish, but cozy.

"Hey, good morning," mumbled Gregor, still drowsy. He had not even eaten breakfast yet—only quickly done his morning routine and then practiced echolocation.

"Hear, hear! Here is our fine Prince Gregor at last!" snarled Ripred, who lay behind Lizzie and rolled over on his side to grin at him.

"What?" Gregor froze, seriously contemplating just turning back around and going right back to bed.

Lizzie giggled, and Ripred joined in. "Well, if Lizzie can be a princess because her sister is one, that makes you the esteemed prince—so we've come to realize earlier."

Gregor blinked a few times, then groaned. "Lizzie, don't you dare let him be a bad influence on you."

Lizzie giggled more, and he saw that even the rest of the code team was fighting back laughter. Gregor rolled his eyes and took the first step back when something caught his attention, something powerful enough to stop him: the smell of food.

Moments later, a pair of servants carried in trays with an enticing breakfast, placing it in front of them on the floor, as all the tables were overflowing with scrolls. Gregor hadn't eaten since his dinner in the arena, and he was famished, so he abandoned all his plans to go back to bed immediately. He dropped his sword, then sat next to Lizzie and ate until he felt like he couldn't stomach another bite.

The rest of the code team gingerly drew closer around them in a loose circle and finally joined in on their meal. Gregor took that as a good sign since they had been quite apprehensive—shy, as Ripred claimed—the day before. As they ate, they all finally introduced themselves too. The cockroach was Min, the bat was Daedalus, and the spider was Reflex. Only when Teslas slipped back into the room did Gregor register that he had been missing.

"I have visited Cartesian in the hospital," said Teslas as he sat on Gregor's other side, where they made room for him. "He is . . . managing. Physically, he is well now, but his mind may never be the same anymore. All that he talks about are the pups you rescued, whom he can now help care for. Yet he talks about them as if they might . . . go home soon. To the Fount."

Gregor averted his gaze, feeling a shiver. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the faint echo of Cartesian's desperate, "Where are the others?" over and over. Had he finally found them in those babies, Gregor wondered—his others?

"My deepest condolences," Daedalus mumbled to Teslas.

"Thank you, but it is quite alright." Teslas waved dismissively, yet the stump of his tail twitched, and even Ripred's fur appeared better groomed than his. "It is quite—oh?" Teslas cut himself off, his attention drawn by the sword Gregor had dropped a little offside. "What a marvelous-looking weapon. May I?"

Gregor nodded, and Teslas picked the sword up, twisting it slowly. "This is Sandwich's old blade, no? I might have seen it before once or twice, during my last stay in Regalia."

Gregor nodded again. "The prophecy says I'm supposed to have it," he mumbled.

But Teslas did not reply. He stared at the hilt intensely, likely not having registered a word Gregor had said. "It is indeed," he mumbled, barely audibly. "I was not mistaken."

"What have you uncovered?" asked Daedalus.

"Many have studied the sword before, many have," added Min.

"Many have overlooked this," replied Teslas, placing the blade in their midst and pointing his claw at . . .

"Oh, that!" exclaimed Gregor, eyes fixed on the tiny, sun-shaped engraving. "I noticed that. Just, I don't know what it's supposed to be."

"But I do," said Teslas. "It is a mark of secret."

One moment of stunned silence passed. "What's a mark of secret?" asked Lizzie eventually.

"An ancient collection of symbols that each have a specific meaning," replied Ripred. "Although they've gone out of fashion."

"Has Sandwich made use of them?" asked Reflex from the outskirts of his web to their right. "Have they existed at the time during which he lived?"

"The marks preceded Sandwich's arrival, if I'm not mistaken," replied Teslas. "They might have been at their prime during his time."

"This one is the sun, this one is." Min wiggled her antennas excitedly.

"If the marks preceded Sandwich, how can it be a sun? Isn't the sun, like, an Overland thing?" asked Gregor, still trying to process all this. It was a . . . mark of secret. Like the scythes that had accompanied the genocide of the nibblers, except this was a new one.

"Boy, do you think we have all forgotten that the sun exists?" exclaimed Ripred. "That we need you Overlanders to remind us?"

"On the contrary," said Daedalus. "Most of us have never seen it, yet none of us are ignorant of its existence. I wager many idolize it far more than any Overlander who has access to it whenever they want."

Gregor nodded mechanically, mostly because he didn't know what to say. Maybe he had just assumed because no one had really spoken to him about the sun down here yet.

"You are not only called the warrior but also the Son of the Sun, you are," remarked Min.

"I guess." Gregor eyed his sword, wondering when he was getting it back.

"But what does the mark mean?" asked Lizzie.

"The sun is to life like the scythe is to death. The scythe is a mark heeding the viewer that they may die," Teslas explained to Lizzie. "And as its counterpart, the sun is heeding the viewer that they should live."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "So, it's a nice mark."

"It's the nicest mark of them all, I believe," said Ripred. "What a curiously unexpected place to find it, that sword is."

Murmurs ensued in the code room upon that announcement, and Gregor scowled. It was a mark . . . telling the viewer to live? Well, it couldn't be meant for him, then. Clearly, according to Sandwich, he was specifically not meant to make it out of all of this alive.

Feeling an odd surge of defensiveness, Gregor snatched the sword from Teslas and rose to his feet. "I'll just put it back in my room, okay? Unless . . . do I need to go to training again, or is there going to be a battle?"

Lizzie's eyes widened, and Gregor shut his mouth in fear of saying anything else that might frighten her. Just then, a crowd of distressed voices met their ears from outside the room, accompanied by hasty footsteps that seemed to close in on them.

Gregor didn't need to look at Ripred to know something must have happened. As the rest of the code team darted apart, he gripped his sword tighter and stepped out of the room, ready to face anything. But instead of soldiers speeding into battle, he almost ran over a woman in the attire of a doctor. "Sorry," he mumbled.

She gave him a quick nod, then called out to two other doctors who had followed her: "We do have room in the hospital. Not much, but it will suffice. Take them this way."

Before Gregor could ask who she meant, the doctor ran ahead, and her colleagues soon followed . . . but not alone. Frozen in disbelief, Gregor watched more than a dozen nurses carry what he counted to be eight stretchers past the code room toward the hospital . . . and on each lay a heavily breathing, twitching mouse.

Then, a frightened scream jolted Gregor. He spun around and met Lizzie's fearful gaze, peeking over Ripred's shoulder. "Shh, don't be scared," soothed the rat. "They are taking them to the hospital, not to their graves. They are in good hands, trust me. Humans have some flaws, but their medical expertise is not one of them."

Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in Ripred's shoulder. "Okay," she mumbled, but her hand that clutched his fur was still trembling.

"They . . . live!" mumbled another incredulous voice behind Ripred, and Gregor stared at Teslas, slowly inching out into the hall.

"Yes, they live. Not many, but these ones live. And with them will live your species," Ripred said to Teslas, who was still staring, wide-eyed, after the long out-of-sight mice.

"S-Species?" Lizzie poked her head up again, glancing at Teslas. "Why . . . species? Are there not many mice?"

Gregor's heart skipped a beat. Never in a million years could he find the words to explain to his fainthearted sister what kind of atrocities the Underland mice had faced, and Ripred and Teslas exchanged a look that told him they shared in his worries.

"Let's . . . go back inside, Lizzie, okay?" Ripred stepped back into the code room, with her still on his back, closely followed by Teslas and Gregor.

The rest of the code team had disassembled—likely, everyone had retreated into their coves. So, the four of them sat in front of their used dishes by themselves. While Gregor busied himself stacking dishes in a corner, Lizzie climbed off Ripred's back and stood in front of Teslas. "Why did you say that?" she asked once again, and Gregor nearly dropped the stack of plates he had carried before hastily setting it down.

"You . . . are right. There are not many of my species left," said Teslas tentatively. "So, I am overjoyed about every live nibbler I see." His eyes darkened with sorrow, and Gregor thought about that saying—that the survivors of any disaster weren't necessarily the lucky ones. Technically, Cartesian and Teslas were the lucky ones—those whom they had actually saved. But with Cartesian still confused and Teslas grieving so heavily, it hit Gregor that they probably didn't feel lucky in the slightest.

Lizzie was quiet for a moment, and while Gregor approached them again, he prayed that she would drop the topic. But she didn't. "How many are . . . not many?" she asked.

Teslas lowered his gaze. "As far as the humans know, we are . . . sixteen."

Lizzie gasped in horror, and Gregor, too, couldn't help but grow rigid when he processed the number. "The eight just now," Teslas began. "Myself and Cartesian—the one I visited earlier, whom your brother and his friends saved in the Firelands—and the six pups the Regalians fished out of their river one time." He paused, and a grave silence fell over the room. "That is all."

Gregor's head spun even worse when it finally hit him: that was all. All that was left of an entire species—one who, granted, had only counted two colonies if he recalled correctly, but they had still been a species. A species without whom both Henry and Luxa would likely be dead, and who knew how many more? They had been hundreds upon hundreds . . . of innocents. And they were now all dead. Because of—what? A mood? A completely ridiculous, baseless grudge? Gregor crouched down next to Lizzie again, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach.

Lizzie interrupted his reeling thoughts by asking what he had hoped so desperately that she wouldn't: "But why? How can there be only sixteen left of a whole species?"

Ripred and Teslas exchanged another look. "She will not let this go, so we may as well tell her," mumbled Ripred. Before Gregor could protest, he had scooped Lizzie up and sat her on his lap, then spoke gently: "Because . . . They are dead because the white rat we are at war with—the Bane—chose to hold them responsible for all his problems. Entirely irrationally, without base or justification, of course."

"So he killed them?" asked Lizzie.

"Yes, Lizzie. He killed them."

That was it, Gregor thought. They were looking at another panic attack. But then more and more seconds ticked by, and it didn't happen. She remained completely silent, as did they all. Gregor had no idea how much time had passed before Lizzie—his fragile, anxious sister, who was almost nine but so small and thin she looked six or seven—turned to look at him and spoke first: "Nerissa said you have to fight someone, according to a prophecy. Is it him? The Bane?"

Gregor could only nod.

Another silent moment went by, and then Lizzie took a deep breath. "Gregor," she urged. "Please don't let him win."

Gregor had to stare into her face, which was both far too mature and too childlike, for a few moments before her words finally registered with him. Immediately after came a wave of an odd emotion that he hadn't ever felt this strongly yet. "I won't," he said, and he knew he wasn't just saying this because she was asking.

Henry's "Now is the right time to fight" echoed in his ears, and Gregor gritted his teeth as the full extent of those words slammed into him. Now is the time to fight, thought Gregor. To spill the monster's blood. To . . . let the warrior be killed in the process. If he didn't do it, he'd be letting that monster win. He'd be letting him roam and rule freely—him, Twirltongue, and their entire pack.

Gregor clenched his fists, suddenly gripped by a thought that both terrified and strangely exhilarated him: He hadn't asked or wanted to be a hero. But if he had to in order to spill this monster's blood . . . so be it. If anything was worth dying for, ridding the world of a creature like the Bane had to be it. Because if he didn't, he'd be giving free rein to those who had killed all those innocents. How many more might they slaughter in this manner if he did that?

Before the Prophecy of Time, he had never given much thought to how he would or wanted to die. Understandably so—Gregor was fourteen. Death wasn't something a kid his age usually gave much thought to. But now, he consciously forced himself to think it, no matter how terrified of his mind the idea of dying at all left him: If he had to pick, this was the way he wanted to go—protecting the people he loved.

Gregor inhaled deeply, then met Lizzie's gaze and . . . smiled. "Never in a million years, Liz. You can count on that. You all can."

A long silence followed his announcement, but not the disapproving or stifling kind. Ripred and Teslas looked at him as though they understood the true extent of his vow, and there was something in Ripred's eyes that Gregor couldn't quite place. All he knew was that the rat had never looked at him like that before.

"Well said," snarled Ripred after a while. "Didn't expect anything less from you."

Gregor's eyes widened. Was that odd look in Ripred's eyes . . . pride?

Although Lizzie had no idea about the prophecy, she slid over to Gregor and gave him a tight hug. Gregor hugged her right back, actually smiling.

And, to everyone's relief, she even dropped the topic. Instead, she started asking Teslas about his inventions. Teslas willingly talked, and Lizzie was awestruck by the things he described.

"Why aren't you working on anything right now?" she asked eventually.

"Well, my workshop is—was—back at my colony," Teslas said hesitantly. "I had to . . . destroy it so that the gnawers wouldn't get a hold of any of my inventions."

"Oh . . . I'm sorry," mumbled Lizzie, stroking his paw.

Gregor made a face too, recalling that Henry had mentioned Cevian saying something along those lines. Seeing the grief in Teslas' eyes multiply at the mention of his workshop hit him with a fresh wave of sorrow as well. He'd really lost everything, Gregor thought. His family, his home, most of his species, and even his work couldn't soothe him anymore.

If Henry were here, he'd tell him that it wasn't all over anyway, thought Gregor somberly. He'd find a way to . . . "Hey!" he perked up, suddenly having an idea. "Maybe you can get a new workshop here in Regalia? I'm sure they could use your help with something."

Ripred threw him an astonished look. "Not bad. Have a talk with Vikus," he said to Teslas. "He might arrange something."

Teslas looked back and forth between them, then finally nodded. "I did not have the chance to talk to him yet, but maybe I should indeed. Though until the code is broken, I will remain here and represent the nibblers in the code team."

"Oh, the code . . ." Lizzie scrambled to her feet. "We forgot about that. Shouldn't we continue working on it?"

Yet Ripred held her back by her shirt. He pondered for a second, then gave Teslas a nod. "Sounds like a plan. Say, Lizzie?" He poked her in the side. "I think we've all earned ourselves a break. Would you not like to go and meet the mouse babies in the nursery? Your sister will be there too."

Gregor saw in her face that she wanted to go, but then she frowned apprehensively, asking, "What about the code? I haven't worked on that since Gregor showed up."

"You can get back to that in a minute," said Ripred, picking her up and placing her on his back. "Nobody said you couldn't take half an hour or so off."

"I'll stay here," said Teslas behind them. "I . . . I have already seen them earlier." Gregor threw him a glance and wondered if he might be the opposite of Cartesian, who found solace in being with them—if they reminded Teslas too much of his loss.

"And you, boy?" asked Ripred, turning back to him. "Eager to see your other sister?"

"Coming." Gregor scrambled to his feet, ensuring to leave the sword behind despite the threat of an attack, before he hurried after Ripred and Lizzie. He hadn't seen Boots since yesterday, and maybe he should seize the opportunity to take Lizzie to see their parents too. As he knew them, they'd be worried, no matter Nerissa's message.

***

The trip to the new nursery didn't take long, and there waited not only Boots and Dulcet with the six babies but also Hazard. His black curls had been cut shorter than Gregor's own hair, and he looked like he had lost weight, but he nonetheless rose to greet the newcomers. "Hello, Gregor, Ripred," he said, giving them a hesitant smile. "How did your journey go?"

"Hi, Hazard," said Gregor, returning his smile.

Then he was run over by Boots, who leaped at him. "Gre-go!" she called. "Gre-go, the babies can say words now!"

Gregor lifted Boots into his arms, feeling a wave of relief. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes," confirmed Hazard. "Boots and I have been trying to teach them our language. Although they are still young, they are making strife."

"Awesome," replied Gregor. "And our trip went well too. We got the lobsters and the scorpions to team up with us against the Bane. We—well, it was mostly Luxa." Upon saying her name, Gregor felt a pang. He still hadn't seen her since their return . . .

"Well, at least she has managed that," said Dulcet behind Hazard, although her smile was more sour than his.

Gregor felt his face flush, recalling his broken promise to her. "I really meant to—"

But before he could begin explaining, Hazard spotted Lizzie, who had ducked on Ripred's back the moment she had seen other humans. "Oh, hello!" he called up to her, standing on his tiptoes to see better. "You don't have to hide! They are mice. They won't bite you!"

At the sight of Lizzie's horrified face, Gregor's grin became pained. She could be so confident when she knew what she was talking about, but when it came to meeting new people, all her confidence seemed to evaporate on the spot.

"Lizzie, hey, remember Hazard? I told you about him," said Gregor. "The boy who had an Overland mom and an Underland dad. We met him in the jungle last year."

Lizzie slowly raised her head. "Oh, him?"

"Yes!" Hazard smiled up at her. "Are you related to Gregor? What's your name?"

When Lizzie didn't reply, Gregor said, "She's my sister. My . . . other sister." He poked Boots in the cheek, and she giggled. "Come on," he beckoned Lizzie. "Why not introduce yourself?" In Hazard's direction, he added, "She came to see the babies."

"Oh!" exclaimed Hazard, his sunken face lighting up a little. "I can introduce you to them. I'm certain that they would be happy to meet you."

"If he says it, I would trust that," said Ripred. "He's the only one who could communicate with them for a while."

"Because he can speak their language?" mumbled Lizzie.

"I can," said Hazard, still smiling. "You could learn it too if you wanted."

This prospect finally gave Lizzie enough courage to climb down from Ripred's back and cautiously extend her hand to Hazard. "I'm Elizabeth," she whispered.

"It is nice to meet you, Elizabeth." Hazard accepted her hand and gave it a shake, putting evident care into pronouncing the long name correctly.

"You can say Lizzie if you want," interjected Boots. "We all say Lizzie."

"Lizzie?" asked Hazard, forgetting to release her hand.

". . . If you want," whispered Lizzie so quietly that Gregor barely understood it. She was standing rigidly, not daring to move a muscle.

"I don't mind either way, but I like Lizzie," said Hazard, and Lizzie's shoulders twitched up. "My name is Hazard. But now come, let us meet the pups." Flustering Lizzie even more, he didn't release her hand and instead pulled her over to where Dulcet sat with the six little mice, watching the scene with a serene smile.

As the two kids ran off, Gregor set Boots down and looked over at Ripred, only to see him smile slyly. "Wait . . ." Gregor's eyes widened. "Hey, you . . . you did this on purpose!"

Ripred shrugged. "Don't know what you're talking about." His smile remained, though.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Gregor. "You brought her here not just because of the mice but because of Hazard too. Because they might get along. Might—" Gregor's gaze landed on the two of them again. Boots had crossed over to them too, energetically petting the mice, who were almost half the size of her now.

"Might what?" asked Ripred. "Might distract Hazard from his grief? Might make Lizzie's stay here more enjoyable? What "might" it have done, boy? Spill."

Gregor's mouth snapped shut. "Those," he stammered, glimpsing at Ripred from the corner of his eye, realizing he had sounded accusing.

"And is that a good thing?" asked Ripred keenly. "That she's enjoying herself? Tell me." He pointed at Lizzie, and Gregor realized he didn't remember the last time he had seen her smile so brightly as when she finally stroked one of the babies with the utmost care.

A moment of silence passed, and Gregor pondered. His mind flew back to all the times he had considered it a good thing that Lizzie didn't have to come to the Underland. "I always knew that she's real smart, but I also thought that she's not strong," said Gregor. "Not like I thought you have to be to . . . survive down here."

"Oh, she's stronger than you think," said Ripred, sitting on his haunches. "Maybe you should start giving your sisters some more credit. She's survived in your life up above, after all."

Gregor stared at Lizzie, and then it hit him—Ripred was right. Their life in New York had always been tough, and no matter how hard he tried to shield his sisters from their problems, he couldn't do so entirely. Lizzie had survived anyway. She had survived having to count their every penny, wearing Gregor's hand-me-downs, and going without birthday or Christmas gifts. Not only had she survived, but she had even helped him take care of Boots when their dad had been absent.

"You're right," said Gregor after a long pause. And then, "Thanks. For looking out for her, I mean."

"Oh, zip it. I'm only doing what's in our all's best interest!" lamented Ripred. "We need her to break the code to save a lot of people. She can't do that when she's frozen with panic now, can she?"

Gregor threw him a glance, contemplating bringing up that he had been nice to her from the moment she had arrived—even before he'd known she was probably the princess who would break the code. But then he left it alone. He really didn't feel like arguing with Ripred right now. Not when he was experiencing what might be the most peaceful moment since Lizzie had come here.

***

Several hours later, Gregor still couldn't stop staring at Hazard and Lizzie in a corner of the code room, looking at some of the code together. Sure, they were the same age, and they did remind him a little of each other—quiet, gentle, and a little mysterious as they both were—but . . . Lizzie had never made a friend so fast.

After introducing her to the baby mice, Hazard had insisted on coming to the code room to help, and Lizzie had seemed really happy about it. Ripred had carried them both back, and not for a moment had they ceased chatting.

Lizzie was only ever so deep in discussion with her school friend Jedidiah, and he had needed months to get her to open up like this, from what Gregor remembered. But here she was—his socially anxious, timid sister Lizzie—smiling and talking to a boy she had only just met, like they had been friends their entire life. Maybe Ripred was right, Gregor pondered. Maybe he ought to start giving her more credit.

Gregor would've dragged Lizzie out again to go see their parents, yet when they had returned to the code room, they had found their dad there. He had originally wanted to check on Lizzie, but instead, his kids had found him and Teslas in the middle of some kind of experiment involving rope and different stones. No one had bothered asking what exactly they were doing, but his dad seemed to be having fun, so Gregor wasn't complaining.

Now, Ripred and Min had gone to join them, and they seemed to be deep in discussion . . . about who knew what. All that Gregor saw was his dad's smile, over and over. Then and there, he admitted to himself that he might not be the only member of his family who felt some kind of strange belonging in the Underland, despite the war.

Before he could ponder the implications of this thought, Gregor's gaze was caught by Nerissa stepping through the curtain—bringing with herself lunch. In a heartbeat, everyone clustered around the trays of food: Gregor's dad, Lizzie, Hazard, Ripred, Teslas, Gregor himself, and the rest of the code team.

Nerissa sat with them too, and, on Teslas' request, she described how scouts had stumbled across the eight mice from earlier in the Firelands, apparently hiding from the Bane. They had all stemmed from the colony at the Fount and had successfully escaped, while the rats had escorted the rest to their death. All of them had bad poisoning from the toxic fumes in that part of the Firelands. "But our doctors say they will all live," concluded Nerissa with a smile. Gregor sighed in relief, and both Lizzie and Hazard did the same.

After they had finished eating, Gregor's dad got caught up in some conversation with Teslas again, yet Hazard didn't go back to chatting with Lizzie. Instead, he remained sitting where they had eaten, staring at the floor.

"Are you okay?" asked Gregor gingerly.

"Gregor . . ." He looked up and creased his brow. "You were traveling with Luxa, no? Know you where she is? I haven't . . . seen her yet."

His question hit Gregor like a mallet. I wanted to go and ask as well, he thought, and a wave of guilt drowned him when he realized Lizzie's panic attack and its aftermath had caused him to neglect to find out where his friends were—for a whole day now. He had even thought about Luxa earlier, Gregor scolded himself. Twice now, he had meant to check if she was okay. And if she wasn't . . . Overwhelming shame swept over Gregor. He was sitting here, having a good time, while Luxa and Howard might be . . .

"I'll go ask Solovet," announced Gregor, getting to his feet. "She said Luxa was here in Regalia. Maybe she's busy, or something." Or grounded in her room—or in the dungeon. Somewhere with guards, he thought but didn't say it aloud.

Yet, even though it seemed plausible enough, Gregor was suddenly filled with a sense of dread. It couldn't be that easy. They hadn't even announced that Luxa was back. Wouldn't they have done that? Something was off.

Like on cue, Ripred rose too. "Oh, you know what? I'll come along. Blake and Hazard, you keep Lizzie company, right? It's been a pleasure, by the way."

He tipped his head to Gregor's dad, who gave him a thumbs up. "Likewise."

"Excellent," said Ripred, strolling toward the exit, then he turned back again. "No offense to your company—all of your insights are extraordinarily stimulating. But if we're going to see Solovet, I might ask her if I'm needed for something more substantial than sitting around and enjoying myself all day."

Gregor opened his mouth, confused about what Ripred was up to, but the rat ushered him out of the room faster than he could even say goodbye to anyone. Irritated, Gregor asked, "What's going on here?"

But Ripred didn't say a word; he merely continued to drag him along to . . . Where was he even going? Gregor grew more and more worried by the second. Surely not to Solovet. Not like this.

Just when he opened his mouth again to ask, Ripred shoved him through a curtain into some dark room Gregor had never been to before. He hadn't been scared of Ripred in a while, but then, a wave of unadulterated terror gripped him. He was alone with Ripred in the dark, and . . . Gregor sucked in a deep breath. ". . . Ripred?"

For one moment, Ripred sat as a looming, still silhouette in front of him. "Gregor," he spoke at last, in a subdued voice. "Luxa is not in Regalia."