Darkness has two stages. The first is a blackness in which nothing can be seen. The second is an emptiness in which you can see nothing. People hated the first because they feared the second, and they feared the second because they equated it with death. People said that ancient cities were always bright— that people would struggle to sleep because of the ever-present light. But, even then, they built more and more, as if they could stop needing sleep. As if that meant they would never die. “You guys are being crazy,” Sil said. A soft thump indicated that she had hoisted herself onto their current ledge. _Clip_. A droplet of water hit stone. The note rippled past them, clear as a glacier stream. The air’s dampness was thick and tinny on En’s tongue. The knees of her pants were torn, and a chill raised goosebumps on her skin. That chill. It climbed her spine like an eager kid climbed her first wallway, hurrying up to the tips of her ears. Dylia stomped her boot, clearing dirt from her spurs. The thump bounced playfully between the rocks. “What’s crazy is spending every weekend running through the Small Intestine drinking shroom shine like that’s all there is to life,” Dylia said. Dylia was right. When En was younger, tunnel they called the Small Intestine had seemed impossibly huge. It wound its way through Los Pozos, wide enough to fit twenty men across, and reaching ten meters in height. This tunnel, though, made the Small Intestine feel like the schoolway burrows of their youth. Here, the air moved freely, of its own volition, smelling earthy and clean. Sound stretched out across incomprehensible distances. _Clip_. (_Clip_, _clip_, _clip_, _clip_.) There it was again. Water. Natural water. Sil wasn’t having it. “You’re risking your life based on some bullshit Grange said. Grange.” “Not just Grange.” En said sharply. “Ray was an even bigger liar!” Sil’s voice broke, its final shrill tone cracking through the black. (_Liar_. _iar_. _iar_. _ia_.) Sil probably regretted it as soon as the sentiment left her mouth. The ground didn’t care. The words echoed, and echoed, and echoed, remixed into nonsense as they faded away. “This is why we didn’t tell you,” Dylia said, righteous with the anger she assumed En would feel. “Run the fuck home. Tattle. Let them chase us.” (_Us_, _us_, _us_.) Sil’s deep breath was her hesitation. All three of them knew that not a soul in Los Pozos could catch them. They had spent the last five years running errands along paths no one else wanted to take. Dylia, Sil, and En were the fastest moles in Los Pozos history. En turned and took Sil’s hands. She didn’t pause to feel the space out. She didn’t fumble. Her palms slid into Sil’s as if to say, this place is ours to conquer. Can’t you taste it? “Los Pozos is full of contraband. Everyone who comes in off the Route is searched, top to bottom, inside and out. We know the smugglers get here somehow, and we’ve explored every inch of this hole — it has to be this tunnel, Sil. Which means Kid Creek is on the other side, with all its light shows, music, food and fun. Everything we want. No visa necessary.” “And you were going to go without me?” En swore she could hear Dylia roll her eyes. “Obviously not,” Dylia said. “But we couldn’t let you overthink it and rat us out.” “I used your overnight-run checklist to pack,” En assured her. “Oh.” Sil was easier than Dylia, in a way. If En and Dylia were gone, Sil would have no one left here. “But if you say anything like that about Ray again,” En said brightly, “you won’t make Kid Creek.” (_Creek_. _Creek_. _Creek_.) Sil started an apology that En didn’t care to hear. She let go of her friend, adjusted her pack, and pointed herself towards the tunnel that they could feel with every cell. “Let’s go.” Dylia said. “I’m sick of not knowing what’s through this thing.” Sometimes, En would think of the greedy people who came before them, who stripped the earth of life to satiate their hunger. Now, the earth was consuming them in return. Life was a funny thing. Sometimes, to live, you had to embrace the darkness. You had to eat things that were once alive. You had to defend yourself and your home from others. You had to make decisions to keep the population under control. En had spent her life surviving, scurrying through the tunnels that made up her world, death matching her stride with every scramble and turn. But she had learned, as she saw people starve, saw humanity crumble under the weight of their own sins. She had learned that she wanted to live, not just be alive. She had learned that this meant taking death’s hand in hers. Ahead of her was stage two. The emptiness. And on the other side, the fullness for which she had been longing.