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But what catches my attention the most is the shallow glowing pool along the perimeter of the room. The glow from the cerulean waters lights the stone walls above, casting shadows along the imperfections of the stone and giving the impression that the entire room is underwater.

Perhaps I am somewhere underwater, deep beneath the surface of the earth.

I stand to get a closer look at the water and pull the silky black robe tighter—unsure of where it came from but grateful for its comfort regardless. I expected the stone floor to be cold on my feet, but it’s surprisingly warm. I walk along the edge of the water and reach carefully toward a cluster of floating lilies. They glow in shades of blue, green, and pink.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

I startle, almost falling in the water. I turn to the source of the raspy voice. An older woman wearing a shawl is hunched over an embroidery hoop, stitching silently near the fireplace. She is unlike the Underlings I’ve seen, skin adorned with wrinkles telling stories of her long lifetime. Her grey shawl, white hair, and dull black uniform nearly match the room perfectly. No wonder I didn’t see her there.

“Excuse me, but who are you?” I ask.

“Is it important to know who I am? Yes, eventually. How strange that your first question is about me and not about you. Where you are, for example.” She continues to stitch while looking at me perplexed, nearly offended.

I decide to play the game. “Okay, where am I?”

“Why you, little starling, are under the care of the Lord Atlys, in his royal house at Baiabella in Terraguard.” She gestures toward long floor to ceiling doors I hadn’t noticed before. “See for yourself.”

I open the doors to a small terrace overlooking an entire city of people below. I have to be five stories high into the wall of a cave. I crane my head over the side to see other terraces jutting out from the stone wall below. Busy streets bustle below with trade and food markets. In the distance, I see a cove of black sand leading to bioluminescent blue waters. The entire city sits within a huge cave that expands into darkness I cannot see beyond. The air is warm and slightly humid with traces of salt.

How is this possible?

The old woman responds to the question in my head, or maybe I asked it out loud. “Terraguard is an ancient territory in the Underworld, rarely explored by our kind.”

My attention snaps back to her. “You’re a human too?”

“I was, but now, I’m something…more.”

I decide not to question the human-but-not-human further.

She rises slowly from her chair, and I feel the need to rush over to her. Her spine is curved and stooped, and she walks stiffly.

“Here, let me help.”

“Oh, shush. I’ve been walking myself since the dawn of time without assistance, Sun knows I do not need any assistance now. Besides, it’s me taking care of you,” she says, slowly working her way toward the terrace. “Now is the time you ask me who I am, dear.”

She’s got confidence, I’ll give her that. “Who are you?”

“I am the High Healer of Terraguard, with a specialization in Old World methods, of course. You can call me Trix.”

I gasp at her reference to the Old World. The Teller part of my brain, that I’ll never be able to turn off, swirls with a thousand questions.

“Nice to meet you Trix. I’m Akemi Nox, First Stone Cadet in the Watch.”

She tuts her teeth. “No, no, my dear. Tell me who you are, were, and will be.”

I pause for a moment, considering the depth of her question. So simple and yet so vast. “I’m Akemi Nox, a Prentice Teller who studied under one of the Greats, Master Teller Marrow. I have completed my First Stone rank in the Watch and intend to earn more”—I pause—“and I’m the last known Starwatcher on earth.”

“That’s better my dear.” Trix reaches toward me and rests the back of her hand on my forehead. I should shrink away, assess her as a threat. But the feeling in my gut tells me that I’m safe with her.

She removes her hand. “Much better.”

A door unlatches, and Damaris comes in. “Akemi, you’re awake! How are you feeling?”

“Like new,” I say, walking toward the couches near the fire. Trix resumes her embroidering.

“I should tell Altys you are awake,” they say. “He will want to see you right away.”

“No,” I say. I’m not ready. “I would like some time alone first to process. Can you send in a tarthill? I need to send a message to the Surface.”