“Very,” Sariel agreed, his own steps slow and precise. He still had Seymour’s hand, and he laced their fingers together as they followed after Day.
Walking up the mountain was a slip and slide of smooth planes, punctuated only by the mechanical seams of this odd world that didn’t allow for any kind of friction. Seymour was incredibly thankful when they finally reached the top, the sleek ground guiding them into a large opening.
It was a cave—but it wasn’t made out of porcelain. It was real stone with patches of soft moss blanketing the floor and clinging to a host of stalagmites framing the sides of a narrow path. The only illumination was from a large red paper lantern.
But because Seymour was having the craziest day of his life and had dared think it could not get stranger, the lantern had a set of human arms.
And long legs.
And a face with bulging eyes and a wide mouth with a long, flopping tongue.
Of course.
Why the fuck not?
The lantern turned to stare at Sariel and Seymour, its tongue swinging. It turned again to stare at Day, tongue flapping harder back the other way. It seemed confused.
Day mewled and smiled, patting its arm.
Whatever she said seemed to calm the bizarre creature, though its gaze came right back to Seymour and Sariel as they walked past it.
With as small as the path was, they had to turn sideways to avoid smacking into the lantern creature, and Seymour offered what he hoped was a friendly smile.
The lantern growled.
So, guess not.
The tunnel opened up in a large space, and there were more of the odd lantern creatures here. They were all different shapes, sizes, and colors, and a few hung from the ceiling, swinging their gangly legs. There were two other tunnels leading into otherparts of the cave. One was full of neatly made beds, at least a dozen, and the other was a kitchen and dining area.
The large chamber they stood in now had an elaborate shrine carved right into the rock. Hollow niches held carved tablets, and the long mantel beneath them was lined with candles, a round metal disc covered in a veil, and a pot packed full with the stubs of incense sticks.
On either side of the shrine were elaborate murals, and Seymour struggled to make sense of the story he was seeing.
One showed a double-tailed cat who looked like Day all alone, curled up in what may have been this very cave, with a katana next to her.
The next was the same cat but smaller, holding the same katana and standing next to a tree that was dripping blood. There were bodies of other cats strewn across the ground—a battle of some kind.
On the other side of the shrine was the same group of cats, but they were all laughing and celebrating. Two cats in the middle were particularly detailed. One in robes had the katana by its side, the second was wearing the same dress Day had on, and they were holding a bundled calico kitten between them.
The last picture, which by now Seymour had figured out was actually the first, showed the mountain with wispy clouds swirling all around it. At the very top, there was a shadowy feline figure with a katana at its side.
Now understanding the order, Seymour also noted variations in the style. The big mountain and happy family seemed to be by the same artist. The battlefield had spots where it had been painted over and touched up, possibly as the artist grew their skills and wished to redo.
The last one was the most beautiful, no doubt the labor of many years of work. The cat in this picture looked ready to take a breath, her fur beautifully soft and vibrant, and the fabric ofher dress was so sleek that Seymour could swear he’d touch the stone and feel silk beneath his fingers.
“Your family.” Seymour frowned, his heart dropping into his gut. “They were… killed?”
Day bowed her head, nodding sadly. She approached the shrine to add a fresh stick of incense to the pot. It lit by itself, perfuming the air with its musky scent.
Seymour kept staring at the murals. “And you… You were left all alone?”
Day didn’t respond that time. She kneeled in front of the shrine, her head still tipped forward. She appeared to be praying.
Seymour wasn’t sure what to do. He thought it might be rude to interrupt, especially in what was clearly such a sacred space, but they were here on a mission.
So, he nudged Sariel.
Sariel blinked.
