In the end, after discussions and logistics and quite a bit of arguing, Tzugakk decided to stay at the team house with Kitten while Praetorian, Mist and Amanda ventured forth. Of Nala there remained no sign.

The shopping quarter was a cheery sort of place, filled with colourful awnings and intriguing storefronts and the happy energy of healthy commerce. Long white clouds floated against the blue of the sky, pink petals danced on the warm breeze, and absolutely nobody was trying to kill anyone.

"So, are we to attend this party?" Praetorian asked, as he and the others made their way past shops selling amulets and staves and robes. "I assume that's the primary purpose of this little outing, to tidy yourselves up a bit—a hopeless task perhaps, but nonetheless admirable."

"Shut up, Darkcede," Amanda said, not looking at him.

"Charming."

Praetorian would perhaps have said more, but at that moment a strikingly tall elf girl caught his attention, her healer's robes flowing around her in an irritatingly natural sort of way. He watched her until she disappeared into a shop with darkened windows and a blue crystal orb on its sign, then let out a soft sigh and turned to the others—who were no longer there.

"Yes," he muttered. "Quite charming."

"We'll be in here for a while," Mist said—Praetorian saw her in a nearby doorway, the airy store beyond selling robes and dresses. "Don't go too far!"

"I'll just loiter then, shall I? Busy myself with pleasant nothings while you two girls play at dress-ups—ah, well, it turns out you're in luck because there seems to be a bookshop along here..."

Mist watched Praetorian amble off, then turned to see Amanda standing with arms crossed, scowling at a display of ribbons and hairclips.

"Do you like those? The rainbow ones are cute ... or these little heart badges ... um, I should go ask about this first, anyway."

Mist raised the awkward bundle she was carrying, wrapped in faded blue cloth and bound by scavenged string.

"Can't you fix it yourself?" Amanda said. "I thought you were good at sewing. You made me this dress."

"Um. Well. I did my best, but this is ... different. Are you okay just looking around?"

"I'm not a child, you don't have to coddle me."

"I, sorry, I—"

"You do your thing. I'll be waiting. It's not like I can go anywhere."

While Mist went and made inquiries Amanda shambled around looking at sparkling ribbons and baroque hats and gleaming badges. The shop was large, long skylights letting in plenty of light, shelves attractively arranged, wooden floors darkly polished. From behind a central counter two elf girls dressed in elegant green dresses murmured to each other, their eyes flicking to Amanda from time to time, the waves of disapproval they sent at her happily ignored. Far harder to ignore was the blurriness to her vision, the sound of waves at the edge of her hearing, the pressing loss of focus that came with distance from Praetorian—

"Um."

"Could they do it?" Amanda looked up from the mirror she'd been staring at to see Mist still holding her bundle. "No?"

"Um. Well. They could, but I don't have so many merits..."

"So use the team merits, we've got plenty."

"I don't think Nala would like that."

"Screw Nala."

"Amanda!"

Amanda shrugged at Mist. "That's a special dress or something, right? So just do it. Nala owes us."

"Well ... maybe she owes you ... I haven't done much..."

"Then think of it as me buying it for you, just go and give it to them—do you want me to come with you?"

"No, I mean, it doesn't seem right—"

Eventually Amanda managed to bully Mist into using the team's merits to pay for her dress repair, then went and frowned at ribbons while Mist gave the necessary instructions to the tailor and her assistants.

"Finished! Sorry it took so long, there are some fiddly bits—oh, do you like those ribbons? Do you want one? Or a dress?"

"This one is fine."

"It's not, um ... fancy, though."

"It's fine."

Mist went to protest further, because obviously Amanda deserved far better than the crude parody of a dress she'd patched together, but then she noticed the girl's hands. Amanda had two positions for her arms; crossed, or hanging loose at her sides. Presently they were in the loose position, but she was gripping her dress tight.

"Well, um, maybe a ribbon then? For your hair? It might look cute—you should try one, ribbons are fun. If I didn't have my helmet I'd wear them all the time."

"I don't think I'm much of a ribbon person."

"But, um, why don't you just try one? Maybe to tie your hair back, maybe a ponytail or something?"

"I really don't think I'm much of a ponytail person."

"Come on, just try! You might be surprised!"

A minute later Amanda stood in front of a mirror, hair flopping down her back like a ratty old horse's tail, bound by a bright red ribbon.

Mist's forced smile faded as she struggled to think of something to say. Eventually, defeated, all she could manage was:

"Um. Sorry."

Without further comment Amanda's hair was returned to its usual state, and soon Mist was squirrelling around the shop trying to find something more suitable—

"You really don't have to do this," Amanda mumbled, as she shuffled after Mist. "I mean that. Really. Don't do this. I don't even care, I know how I look, it's not like there's anything..."

Mist perked up then looked back, mouth open in delight when she saw Amanda staring at a wide-brimmed black hat, perhaps a little floppy and plain but maybe ... just maybe...

"You don't have to..."

Amanda's half-hearted protest melted as Mist went on tiptoes to place the hat upon her head. The zombie girl glanced at herself in a nearby mirror, then glanced again, then pulled the hat forward a little and gave it a twist, then turned to look at herself properly as she continued adjusting it.

"I actually don't hate this," Amanda admitted, after a further minute's subdued preening. She pushed her hair away from her face, winced, then pushed it back again. "It's not terrible, right?"

"I think it really suits you! It makes you look..." Mist took in a long breath as she struggled to think of an appropriate word. "Swish."

"Swish," Amanda repeated, with raised eyebrows and a small smile. She cocked her head at her reflection. "I guess I'll take what I can get."

There were hidden places in Bright Battle Academy; sealed chambers in the sprawl's dry sewers, twisting labyrinths buried beneath the spire, locked towers scattered throughout battle quarter, sunken teleportation circles in glowgleam swamp. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of secrets, more than could ever be discovered in a lifetime. Of course, finding these places granted no merits and thus few students bothered looking ... but Nala Greyward's focus was not on merits.

There had been mention of this particular place in a score of books, though never precise, never detailed, and rarely even with the same name—in a tome on legendary amulets it had been called Inglenook, a treatise on obsolete status effects had references to 'stoneblight' and a street that bore the same name, and several of the monster manuals Nala had read vaguely acknowledged a place called Shadowhome—but upon thought and careful questioning of the shadowtail that had taken an interest in her, and upon examination of its answers—or lack thereof—Nala had come to an independent conclusion:

Shadowhome was not a place. It was a condition.

So it was that she descended into a buried city. Above, a constant breeze whistled through the yellow-brown shells of forgotten buildings, thick wooden walkways protesting with alarming creaks if one dared to step upon them. Climbing down (carefully; ever so carefully) revealed the city that these ruins had been built upon, a place of dark stone and narrow streets, passage made frustrating by collapsed stone and eclectic town planning.

It was possible, however, to descend still further, to find the city beneath the beneath, or at least its remnants. Only the largest buildings had survived, and those poorly, but there was one in particular that seemed worthy of interest, perhaps once a council building or chamber of great magic, its high domed ceiling cracked but not broken, the many long slits still serving their function; to let in light. Perhaps it was purely by chance that this intensely buried building was still touched by the sun throughout the day, that channels and cracks and openings connected open sky to deep earth and created a myriad of ever-changing shadows within its bare hollow; shadows that seemed almost to move of their own accord.

Yes, perhaps this was brought about by chance.

But then again, perhaps not.

It had taken Nala near an hour to reach the building, an hour of careful and efficient descent (ropes and spikes, after all, weren't free) followed by a treacherous clamber over the bones of three cities—yellow-brown stone from the most recent to fall, dark solid blocks from the second, and rising from the rubble were the golden rooftops of the most ancient sunken city. Now she crouched upon a certain domed roof, hammering a spike into a wide crack, pausing between blows to check that it wouldn't crumble—perhaps unnecessarily. This building was old, but Nala was enough of a dwarf to know that the stone was good. It would not betray her.

Soon enough she was tying her last rope to the firmly anchored spike, letting it fall through one of the many dozens of skylights and into the dappled darkness and light below. From a distance her final descent seemed marked by a series of still images, her small form caught for an instant in a stray beam of light then hidden in shadow once more, again and again and again until she dropped to hard stone, dust rising around her in a sparkling cloud.

There was noise down there, unexpected but present. Something like a thrumming, repetitive and distant and deep and old. It spoke to Nala. It said, this is not the end. It said, there are still-deeper depths to this floating island.

She ignored it. She raised her head. She spoke, to the clusters of shadows and beams of glittering dust surrounding:

"You found me. Now I have found you."

Nala gazed into the places between light, and the places between light gazed back.

"Let's talk."