“Stop where you are!” a voice shouted over the plain. I froze, watching as a dozen masked figures emerged from behind the nearest rock outcroppings. They took off on foot, falling into a v-shaped formation and approaching with the grace of a pack of wolves. A cloud of red dust rose into the air as two UTVs and a fleet of ram-riders pulled out to flank the runners. Alpizeep bleated in fear and tried to bolt, but I grasped his saddle and rubbed his head in an attempt to comfort him.

As the group drew closer, I realized it was bristling with weapons: pikes, sickle-shaped knives, and rifles longer than my arms. In the distance, I caught the dark glint of rifle scopes over the top of the dunes. The group moved with the certainty of a small army, and I found myself drawing closer to Nico, who remained stoic despite the chaos.

The group stopped about a hundred yards away, sending rock fragments scattering over the cracked earth. Those with weapons had them trained firmly at our faces, and I had no doubt that they would shoot if I moved even slightly. Slowly, the leader separated and bridged the gap, walking sideways with his gun trained on Nico. The strip of black fabric around his mouth and his low-brimmed hat made it impossible to discern his features.

Nico held up a hand to ward him off and lowered his foul-weather mask to his chin. “Captain Nico, reporting from Karakul,” he said, twisting his hand into a fist and placing it over his heart. “I pledge my heart to the City and my mind to the Rebellion.”

The lead figure gestured at me, and I noticed the soldiers behind him shift in my direction. “Who is she?”

“A recruit from Karakul. She saved my life on the journey here.”

He seemed to consider Nico’s words. “What’s your name?”

“Anabelle Laurent.”

“All right. I’ll let you in since the captain vouched for you,” he said, seeming to relax. He untied the fabric covering his face and called out to the soldiers, telling them that there was no threat. “We expected you days ago,” he told Nico. “With Chibron growing restless, I feared… well, it is no matter now.” He kneeled and repeated the salute, with his right hand twisting over his heart. Behind him, the rest of the army followed.

“Rise,” Nico said. “It is good to see you all again.”

The leader clapped Nico on the shoulder, and Nico flinched, wrenching his arm from the leader’s embrace. “Captain, are you injured?”

Nico grunted. “We were pursued, and I was shot outside of Westborren. I lost them over the hills. They looked it over in Chibron, but I’d like to check in with a medic.”

“Of course. I’ll send for someone right away.”

“Take care of Anabelle, too. We have traveled long, and she is too used to rations.”

“Anything else?”

“Please arrange a meeting with Major Wright and the elders. I must speak with them immediately.”

The leader turned and relayed the directions to one of his men, and he and Nico soon fell into whispered conversation. Before I knew it, Nico had remounted Sudlic with the leader by his side. “Go on,” he told me, meeting my eyes, “they’ll find you a guide. I will see you when I’ve tended to my duties.” With that, he spurred the ram forward.

My mouth felt dry as I watched him go. In a few moments, his figure was blurred by the heat waves until I could no longer distinguish him from the other dark shapes over the horizon. Around me, the soldiers began to split and return to their posts, and someone pulled Alpizeep’s reigns from my hand and untied his saddlebags.

“Muriel, take care of her,” a ram-rider ordered. A female foot soldier emerged from the group, carrying a silver pike.

“Yes, sir,” she replied. She pulled off her mask, revealing a thin, sun-hardened face. Behind us, the rider continued to bark orders, and I caught sight of Alpizeep’s tail end as he was pulled into the crowd. The sight broke me out of my reverie, and I ran up to his handler, trying to make myself heard.

“Where are you taking him?”

The soldier regarded me with a hint of softness in his dark eyes. “He will join the herds just outside of the city.”

“Will-” I stopped mid-sentence at a touch on my shoulder. It was the pike-carrying woman, who seemed unamused by having to catch up with me.

“I’m Corporal Muriel,” she said, “I’ll show you around. It looks like we are going to have to walk.” I struggled to keep up with her stride as she set off over the sun-baked earth. Around us, infantrymen and riders crisscrossed the canyon. Through the haze, I could make out holes in the nearest rock structures. People were milling from hole to hole, walking along thin rock ledges.

“You live inside the rock?” I asked, shocked.

“Four rocks, actually. Gibnor, Bushnell, Gracego, and the barracks.” She looked me up and down. “Since you’re not a fighter, you’ll stay in Gibnor. Follow me.”

I frowned slightly, annoyed by her assessment, but followed anyway. As we hiked to Gibnor, I recognized the sheer size of the rock formations for the first time. Each one was a small city in itself, as tall as a skyscraper and as wide as the entire Fortress complex from end to end. Gibnor was the largest of the four, dark red and situated at the back of the canyon with a wide base that tapered above the ground.

By the time we finished the hike, I was out of breath and soaked in sweat. Muriel gestured to a set of narrow stairs carved into the rock, and we waited as a man descended carrying a large sack. Once he had passed, Muriel shook a bell mounted in the red rock, its pinging reverberating upwards. “These stairs are too narrow for multiple people to pass at once. You must ring the bell each time you want to ascend.” I nodded, and we started up the stairs.

My heart pounded with nervousness as we rose higher into the air. I stopped to look down, and a lump caught in my throat as the ground below seemed to shake in the dizzying height. “Come on,” Muriel urged, “you’re blocking the flow.” Reluctantly, I broke my gaze from the earth and met her eyes, forcing my legs to move again.

As we ascended, the stairway broke off into several offshoots, and soon we had passed at least half a dozen ledges and platforms. Like a beehive, the structure was riddled with holes and tunnels, many of them reinforced with metal or wooden beams. Muriel showed no sign of stopping, and my calves and thighs burned with exertion. Just as I was about to swallow my pride and ask to rest, we stepped off the stairwell and onto a platform.

Once my feet were firmly planted, I dared to look up. My eyes widened—we had exited onto a natural ledge as wide as a four-lane road. People bustled past us, carrying bags or pushing wheelbarrows, seemingly unconcerned by the seventy-foot drop next to them. Regardless of ethnicity, everyone had dark, tanned skin, and lean muscles like Nico.

I shrank closer to Muriel. With my pale skin and thin limbs, I stood out like a sore thumb. “This is the main story,” she explained. “There are no dwellings on this level, except for the infirmary for the sick and wounded. Everything you might need is here: the grocer’s, the general store, and so on.”

We followed the road around the entire circumference of Gibnor. Every few yards, holes led into the body of the rock: some jagged and natural, others chiseled out. Although many of the entrances were open-air, others were fitted with locked doors. I dragged my left hand along the edge of the rock, walking slowly to take everything in.

At the back of the rock, after making sure that I was following, Muriel ducked into a narrow opening, and we entered a long and curved hallway. “These are Gibnor’s public facilities,” she said. As we started down the hall, the outside light quickly faded, replaced by the flickering flame of the torches mounted on the walls. The heat was stifling. Metal tubing ran parallel to the ground, occasionally dripping water onto the rock floor. There were only a handful of people in sight, but the hall echoed with the noise of footsteps and conversation.

Muriel stopped and gestured to the first room. It was dark and cavelike, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. I was surprised to see a blackboard at the front and large tables stretching down the middle. “Is this a classroom?”

“Yes. We have four in this building, along with a library. There are classes every day, at night, when it’s not so hot.”

I could hardly believe it. “What subjects do they teach?”

“Mainly what’s practical, like agriculture, healing, and navigation. There’s history every week, though.”

My pulse quickened. “Could I- I mean…”

“Classes are available to everyone. Although it can be difficult to find the time once you start working.”

I nodded, growing excited. A chance to learn again. “Corporal,” I asked, hoping I was addressing her correctly, “there are classrooms, but are there any children here? I did not see any on the main ledge.”

Muriel’s face darkened. “You have identified one of our greatest debates. Some think it would be best for our society to have children, but others believe it is too dangerous. It is also difficult because romantic relationships between the ranks are discouraged. But to answer your question, we do have a few children. Just over one hundred, I think. The classrooms are mostly for the adults.”

“And how many people live here?”

“Between all four rocks? Around nine thousand.”

“Shit,” I breathed, looking at her incredulously. “How is that possible?”

“Bellgate is not a new city, and search parties are constantly bringing new recruits, although it was more before the war. Once here, ninety-five percent of the population never leaves.”

I shook my head. The existence of such a place, self-sufficient and outside of Keon’s jurisdiction, was unfathomable, especially considering that it had been built entirely out of rock. Keeping the city hidden, much less keeping it running, must be a Herculean effort.

Before I could express my disbelief further, Muriel took off down the hall again. I wanted to see the library, but I held my tongue, knowing that the time would come. We exited onto the main ledge and pushed through the crowd to a wide doorway. Inside, a few people turned to acknowledge her, and as the congestion cleared, I realized that we had entered a large cavern. The walls were padded with woven tapestries which muffled the noise, and a large fan on a gear system spun overhead.

Next to me, shoppers were bent over the crates, examining the fruit and dry goods, and at the back of the room were ice chests filled with fresh cuts of meat. I recognized cactus pads, radishes, and canned beans, but the other items were unfamiliar.

“This is Gibnor’s market,” Muriel said. “Everyone gets a set amount of rations for free, and you can buy or barter for anything extra.”

My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since swimming in the gorge. Muriel flashed a card at the grocer and picked out a handful of milky-white nuts, which she passed along to me. Tentatively, I brought one to my mouth and bit its corner, and a buttery taste spread over my tongue. “What are these?”

“They are the nuts of the piñon pine. A delicacy this time of year.”

“Thank you,” I smiled. She nodded in acknowledgment, then gestured for me to follow again.

For the next half-hour, she led me through the rest of Gibnor’s main story. Other than what we had already seen, there was a general store, a chapel, an infirmary, and a common room. Despite my excitement, I began to drag my feet. “You must be tired from traveling,” she observed. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying, and you can explore the rest on your own.”

I thanked her again, and much to the protest of my sore legs, we started up another set of stairs. Partway up, Muriel turned over her shoulder. “Anabelle, are you close with Captain Nico?”

I considered her question, resisting the urge to give an offhanded ‘yes’. It seemed innocent, but I remembered Nico’s warning about Bellgate’s hierarchy. “Not really,” I responded. “I needed help, and we traveled together. That is all.”

“Ah, I see. I am sorry if I overstepped. It’s just that the captain is somewhat of a hero here.”

“I thought as much. He didn’t mention it while we traveled, but he seems well-connected.”

“Indeed. Many are in debt to him.” I rubbed my palm against my pant leg. Clearly, Muriel knows something about Nico that I do not.

Uneasy, I tried to push the conversation from my head and focus on climbing. We had to stop and rest several times as the burning in my legs grew in intensity. It wasn’t until we were almost at the summit of the rock that Muriel stepped off the stairwell and onto a tight ledge. I followed her nervously, using the handholds in the rockface to steady myself and trying not to look down.

The path widened slightly as Muriel led me along the ledge. I planted my feet firmly on the rock floor and looked out of the edge. Below, almost the entirety of the canyon was visible. The four great rock structures cast long shadows over the dunes, obscuring the dark patches that could be people or the desert’s straggly plants. Outside of the city, a thin line of wood fencing contained herds of large, four-legged animals, and in the opposite direction were the rock cliffs that housed the Lunimis River and hid Bellgate from view.

“Come on,” Muriel urged. I stayed for a moment longer, grappling with the sense that no matter how long I looked, my mind would never fully be able to grasp the vastness of it all.

Finally, I turned, watching as she gestured to a dwelling with a triangular opening. Inside, a woman was sitting on a mat, weaving. She looked up as we walked in. “This is Sarah, my cousin,” Muriel spoke. “You’ll be staying with her for now.”