Erika, arms crossed, leans forward slightly. “With what?” she asks, brows drawn. “We don’t have proper carbon filters, Mika.”
“We make them,” I say. “The Drakav can find porous rock. We have sand. We have baskets. We can build a natural rock filter at the outflow in the heart-cavern. Stack stones to form a cage, filled with layers of firestone dust and sand. It’ll slow the water, trap some of the toxins before the flow hits the tunnels.”
“Then,” I continue, “we set up secondary filters here.” I gesture at the cavern. “Every drop that goes into anyone’s mouth has to go through at least one filter. Preferably two. And we boil everything for now, just in case.”
Boiling, I push through the bond, adding images of rolling bubbles and rising steam, of bacteria dying.
Haroth flexes a bicep, jerking his chin slowly.
“Double baskets for the water,” he rumbles. “Catch more of the bad.”
“Exactly,” I say.
Kol’s eyes are half-lidded in that way that tells me he’s not just listening with his ears. He’s hooked into Sarven’s side of the bond enough to see the mental models, too.
“What do you ask of us?” he projects simply.
“Stone workers,” Sarven answers without hesitation, shoulders squaring. “Strong ones, used to tight caves. We must move the rock, shape it to Mih-kay-lah’s plan. And baskets. Many. For here.”
He glances at me, then back at Kol, his mental presence steady.
“I will lead the team to heart-cavern,” he says. “I know the path. The pool.”
Thepool. Where he almost lost me. The memory flickers under his words like a darker current.
My stomach flutters, but I hold my ground.
“I go too,” I say. “I need to see the exact flow to place the filter right. Erika comes with us—” I nod to her. “—because I need her practicality. If I start trying to over-engineer this into a three-stage purification system we can’t build, she’s the only one who will look me in the eye and tell me to just use rocks.”
Erika’s mouth twitches.
“Someone has to keep you grounded,” she says dryly.
Kol’s gaze snaps to her.
It’s sharp. Sudden. He looks at Erika,reallylooks at her, as if seeing her for the first time. Not just as one of the human charges, but as a force in her own right.
His brow tightens, and I swear his glow flares just a fraction.
“Dangerous,” he rumbles, his voice vibrating the air. “The…deep tunnels are…not for...soft things.”
Erika doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t look away. She just lifts her chin and holds the clan leader’s stare with cool, unimpressed confidence.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not soft,” she says evenly.
The air between them suddenly feels very, very thick.
Kol stares at her for a heartbeat longer than necessary, his nostrils flaring as he inhales. Then he gives a single, sharp jerk of his chin.
“Go,” he orders, his voice rougher than before.
Haroth grunts. “I will stay here,” he says. “Guard the sick females.”
“Good,” Kol says. He falls silent, thinking.
Around us, the rest of the cavern hums anxiously. Thirsty women shift their weight, glance from face to face, to the dwindling waterskins, to the cracked lips of their friends.
Urgency presses into my ribcage like somebody’s foot.
