Chapter 17 · The Name He Lost

The girl was bleeding when I found her.

Not a lot. Just enough that the sand around her boots had gone dark, wet. She pressed herself against the curved metal wall of the shaft, one hand clamped over her ribs, the other holding something that looked like a busted tablet. Her eyes locked on me the second I dropped down from the access ladder.

"You," she said. Voice tight. "You're the one who—"

Then the grinding started above us.

I didn't think. I shoved my hand out and the sand responded, surging up in a spiral that caught the falling debris—a chunk of corroded pipe, a sheet of metal, what might've been part of an old vent cover. The shaft shuddered. Dust rained down. My head went cold, that same icy feeling that always came when I pulled too much too fast.

The girl stared at me. Then at the sand, hanging in midair like it forgot gravity was a thing.

"Put it down," she said.

I let it drop. The crash echoed down the shaft, and somewhere way above us, something else gave way. More grinding. The whole structure groaned.

"We need to move," I said.

She didn't budge.