The cable car crunched against the molten rock, freeing small pieces from the cliff side and dropping them into the orange river below. Jacob had fallen asleep during the journey. Trips across the cavern were seldom made and terribly long - six hours long to be exact. Six hours down the natural crevasse carved by the lava river below. Even in the insulated cable car, it was unbearably hot by the end of the line. The nap was more to lower his body temperature than to rest.

Jacob jolted awake as the car made contact. After a year of making this same trip over and over again, he still couldn’t stop the adrenaline from flooding his system. As confident as he was in the craftsmanship, his brain still knew that any trip over a pool of lava could be his last.

He grabbed his bag and stepped out onto the basalt platform. The first thing he felt wasn’t the solid, welcoming ground beneath his feet. It was the thick air smacking him in the face with the acrid smell of sulfur burning into his nose.

He loathed this part of the trip. The first hundred miles were easy. As rickety as the cable car was, it was well kept. It even had air control to keep the smell and temperature at bay. That was thanks to the tribes. They all contributed to fund and maintain this one connection - the Courier’s Pass. Friends and loved ones separated by hundreds of miles of poisoned earth above and burning hell below. The Courier’s Pass gave them a chance to connect once more.

Jacob grabbed the strap of his bag more firmly. The second half of the journey would be painful, slow, and hot, but it would be worth it. The letters he carried would bring smiles to children’s faces and tears to mothers’ eyes. More than that, it would bring hope to people in a hopeless world. It would remind them that life hadn’t ended, that they weren’t alone. Humanity survived, and they were a part of it.

His sister’s face suddenly filled his mind. It had been three months since he saw her last. The people of West End didn’t have their letters ready, so he’d had to wait longer than usual to leave again. His stomach felt as hollow as a cave. Was she alright? Had she stayed home like he told her to, only leaving for kerosene if the lamps grew dim? Fear flooded in, but he quickly beat it down. No, he thought. She’s smart. She’s done this before.

With confidence he began climbing across the cliff side. He had to make it back. These letters were important. This path before him, carved into the side of the rock, was important - she was important. If he failed, more would be lost than a few love letters and a thin boy with a knack for rock climbing. The very heart of the people left on this earth would be lost with him. And she would be alone, again, crying in the darkness like the night they were forced underground.

And he wasn’t going to let that happen.