J. Mitchell - Midnight City

Mira examined at the artifact, another Shroud, but this one wasn’t for her. She just hoped he remembered what she’d told him. She set the newly Interfused Shroud on her pack and tossed the ring of Skeleton Keys on top of them as well.

She left the closet, leaving the door unlocked. From a pocket, she pulled out a line of red string and quickly wrapped it around the door handle. It didn’t stand out completely. If you weren’t looking for it, you probably wouldn’t notice it.

The hallway was still empty and quiet, and she moved down it again, heading for where the tunnel ended and widened into a new room. As she approached it, a deep sound, like constantly rumbling thunder, grew louder the farther she went.

The Gray Devils residence hall was a massive, cylindrical cavern that rose hundreds of feet straight up. There were ledges and indentations all through the rough, black rock walls, and built out from them were dozens of platforms made of wood and sheet metal, bolted and hung with rope and chains into the sides of the cavern.

Each platform was the personal space of a Gray Devils member, and each person made the space their own, customizing it with different furnishings and possessions. They were painted shades of gray and white, but most had additional drawings or writing underneath them, so they were visible from the ground. Seen from below, it made a kaleidoscope of color and personality that ascended far above to the cavern ceiling. Ladders climbed up the walls, and precarious bridges stretched between them all the way to the top.

Large Illuminators floated in the air at the top of the ceiling, bathing everything in dim light, while even smaller ones had been strung between the ceiling’s stalactites. Hanging down from that same ceiling were two huge banners, each emblazoned with the smiling devil logo. And between them, at the very top of the cavern, was something like a balcony, where light from candles and lanterns gleamed in the dark. It was Lenore’s residence, and Mira stared up at it warily before turning to examine the room’s most prominent feature.

A large underground waterfall burst out of the cavern wall far above and tumbled downward, crashing into a pool at the far end of the room, draining away through some hidden underwater tunnel system. A grid of latticework and sheet metal hung next to it, attached to mechanical arms, but there was no indication what they were used for.

Large blue Illuminators were installed behind the tumbling water, and the light that shone through made the falls glow like sapphire in the dark. It was an impressive sight, and Mira paused to admire it. She had built and installed those blue Illuminators herself, a project that won her enough Points to finally become the top Freebooter in Midnight City, and she smiled as she looked at it.

Mira had forgotten how loud the falls were, and marveled that she had ever been able to sleep in here. But she’d gotten used to it. Eventually, you stopped hearing it altogether.

The good news was, because the waterfall was so loud, she didn’t have to worry about being quiet. She did, however, have to worry about being seen.

Mira ducked into the shadows of the closest wall and looked upward at the multitude of colorful platforms above her. Her eye moved to two of them, on the fifth level, close to each other, and both of them were dark and lifeless.

Her platform, and a few down to the left, Ben’s. Two places where, in another life, she’d made a lot of memories. Seeing them again, dark and without any indication of life, caused a hollow ache in her stomach. Going back to how things were wasn’t why she’d come here, Mira reminded herself. There was no going back.

Mira looked away, found the nearest ladder, and started scaling it. It was a wooden one, and pretty sturdy, but she could see it went only as far as the third level. From there, she’d have to take one of the bridges to a new ladder.

She kept climbing, and passed by one of the lower-level platforms. She knew this one: it belonged to a boy named Daniel who led salvage runs into the ruins on the surface and always came back with nice items, a few of which she had traded for. His cavern wall was still decorated with dozens of faded postcards from the old world, some of them with writing on them. They were all from city ruins he had explored, Mira knew. Daniel always had a rule that he first found a postcard as a memento before doing any treasure hunting. It was bad luck otherwise.

She had liked Daniel; he was always nice to her. Now if he saw her, he would most surely raise an alarm and help run her down. Funny how quickly things could change here.

Mira continued upward and reached the end of the ladder, where it connected to one of the cavern’s many rope bridges. The thing swayed precariously when she climbed onto it. It was the same for all the bridges here, and Mira had never gotten comfortable crossing them. They always seemed on the verge of falling apart or tipping you off, but as far as she could recall, none of them had ever collapsed, a testament to just how solid they really were, in spite of their appearance.

She moved over the bridge as quickly as she dared, holding on to the rope railings that ran along the sides. She kept an eye on the dark platforms as she went, looking for any sign of movement. From a few came the flickering light of candles or lanterns, but they were all mostly dark, which is what she’d counted on. From a distance, anyone looking would assume she was just another faction member heading to bed. That was the plan, at least.

Ahead of her, the bridge connected with two other ladders that moved diagonally to a far wall. Mira took the one she needed and started climbing, moving past the fourth level and stopping at the fifth.

Her quarters were dark and empty, as she’d expected, and Mira jumped silently off the ladder onto her platform and ducked out of sight.

Everything was, for the most part, exactly as she’d left it, though somewhat dusty now. Her hammock and blankets still hung between the cavern wall and a pole she’d attached to the floor in the middle of the platform. A row of blue metal shelves were at the far end, about half empty, which wasn’t surprising. It was where Mira had kept her favorite major artifacts, which would all have definitely been stolen by now.

There were still a few things left, though. Candles, a tea jar, old books, a binder of Strange Lands maps, a jewelry box. A Polaroid picture was glued to the wall behind the shelf, and a small lump of jagged, purple crystals sat in the middle. On the bottom shelf was a small, ornate wooden chest made of a flowing combination of cherrywood and gold and silver.

The crystal was a remnant of a lightning strike from one of the numerous antimatter storms that hovered over the Strange Lands’ fourth ring. In spite of how dangerous it could be, Mira had always thought the antimatter lightning was beautiful. It ripped the air in a whole range of colors, and wherever it hit, its flash incinerated the ground into crystal of the same color. As a result, navigating through the fourth ring was like traversing a neon-colored crystalline maze. The first time she’d explored it, she brought back this chunk as a keepsake.

The Polaroid was even more meaningful: a picture she’d snapped at the edge of the fourth ring, the farthest she had ever gone in. The picture showed huge wavering bands of color filling the sky over a horizon of city ruins, like a borealis. Silhouetted against them were two massive blurry wedges of darkness, spinning powerfully in the distance. They were tornadoes, but not like any in the normal world—six times as big and made entirely of swirling dark energy. They were isolated to the core, the deepest, most deadly part of the Strange Lands, and whatever they touched, they absorbed into themselves, ripping it from existence. She had taken this picture the morning before she and Ben returned home, and she remembered having to pull him away. Exploring the core was his obsession, and it hadn’t been easy to make him leave.