I went with Hansa to the east side of the mountain, which was basically a steep limestone wall overlooking the deep, dark blue ocean. Small trees popped out from rebel ridges here and there, where some soil had fallen from the top, years ago. We’d noticed a couple of Exiled Maras trailing us through the city earlier, and Hansa had identified them as Correction Officers, based on their blue badges, but we’d quickly lost them in the second level slums.

We followed a narrow stone path out of the city. I was covered from head to toe, given that these areas were not protected from direct sunlight. It was getting a little too hot for my taste, but I kept up with Hansa nonetheless. She came to a halt at the end of the trail, and I stopped behind her. We both looked down and noticed the almost-vertical descent. The area below looked as though someone had scooped out that part of the mountain with a giant spoon, several tall trees casting their shadows over the water lapping at the shore.

The Five Lords had previously told us a little bit about the eastern mountainside, snippets dropped in conversations at the Spring Ball, so we had a good idea about what we were getting ourselves into. I remembered Vincent’s accounts of Imen climbing down the wall using rope, so I had brought a lot of it with me, carrying the entire thousand-foot roll on my shoulder.

“Are you sure this is going to hold?” Hansa asked, her voice unusually weak as she glanced at the eight-millimeter braided rope.

“Yeah, this is heavy-duty stuff,” I assured her. “It’s a metal fiber cord in textile braid. Remember, I was pretty specific with the store owner. Given they’ve lived their whole lives on this mountain, I’m pretty sure they know their rock-climbing gear.”

We’d stopped by a building equipment store, a small place up on the first level that sold a variety of cables and construction tools, the go-to place when new residential expansions were carved into the stone walls on the northwest side, and Imen workers needed safe ways to rappel. The old Exiled Mara had been quite adamant that the rope he’d sold me was the best for what we were about to do. I’d used my strength to test it, and it hadn’t snapped. I called this method the “Fiona Quality Check”.

“Okay, well, let’s get this show on the road then,” Hansa muttered, and pulled out two long and thick metal bolts with the top ends curled into eyes. “I didn’t bother to bring a hammer, seeing as… you know…”

She smirked at me. I chuckled, then switched places with her on the edge.

“Hold this, give me these,” I said, handing over the rope as I took the bolts, then dropped to my knees and shoved them both, hard, into the path’s rock. They went in deep inside the limestone. “Better than a drill…”

I wiggled them, just to check how firmly I’d implanted them. They didn’t move, so I took the rope back from Hansa. I used a pair of shears I’d gotten from the same supply store to cut it in half, and looped each rope middle through the bolts’ eyes. I tugged and pulled in different directions, but the bolts didn’t budge.

“Nice!” Hansa grinned. “I should take you out more often. You definitely come in handy!”

We both laughed lightly, then prepared our descent. The base of the eastern wall was about three hundred feet below, and held a small strip of sandy beach, closed off from both north and south by giant boulders. It was private and secluded, and the water seemed deep even by the shore.

With the bolts firmly anchored into the stone, I held both sides of my rope together, pulling them through my legs, around my hip, then over my right shoulder, around the back of my neck, and down my left arm. I watched Hansa as she carefully mirrored my movements with her rope segment, then nodded at me. Her eyes were wide and her shoulders tense. I had to take a wild guess and assume she’d never done this before.

“Not used to rock climbing?” I asked, giving her an understanding half-smile.

“I’m not good with heights, in general,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder. “In fact, I think I can share a little secret with you. Remember the accounts of our battle on Luceria’s platform?”

“Yeah, you cut off Goren’s head and kicked Azazel’s ass six ways from Sunday. Of course, I remember.” I chuckled, as that war was already being beautifully chronicled in Eritopia’s historical records.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but I was scared out of my mind the whole time I was up there.” She sighed. “I wasn’t scared of Destroyers or Azazel. I was terrified I’d fall over the edge. Trust me, I am not good with heights…”

Not that it made her any less fearsome, but it was nice to see Hansa in a different, slightly more vulnerable light. She didn’t need me to comfort her on the issue, so I simply winked.

“Meh, it’s fine. You’ve got the rope all looped up, so just follow my lead and we’ll get down there in no time,” I replied.

With our feet apart, we walked backward off the edge and started rappelling down the rocky wall. I could hear Hansa’s gasps and the swish of rope friction against our leather combat suits. As a vampire, I could leap this distance with her on my back if I had to—but now that I knew she was afraid of heights, it was a good thing I hadn’t suggested that.

“Gravity’s doing most of the work,” she croaked as we both let the ropes slip through our gloved hands in short sequences, until our boots sank into the soft sand at the bottom.

We had made it down smoothly, but I could still hear Hansa let out a sigh of relief. We then looked around and noticed some aspects of this side of the mountain base which had not been visible from above.

This enclosure was quite big, the mountain’s limestone wall curving inward, leaving room for a half-moon strip of sand to serve as a small, secluded beach, tucked away between giant boulders and crests peeking from the ocean. The water was, indeed, significantly deeper at the shore.

There was a wooden jetty extending from the small beach strip. Given its height and width, it was big enough to serve as a breakwater, protecting this section from stronger waves, and there were several large bolts drilled into it to confirm that boats could be docked here. However, it looked quite old and was partially covered in algae. No one had been down here in years, for sure.

The wall at the base of the mountain was even more interesting. Three large tunnels had been carved into it, spacious enough to fit a two-lane highway each, separated by fifteen feet of stone. They were dark, and it was impossible to tell how far they went, but it was safe to assume they all went through the mountain’s innards.

Hansa and I stared at the tunnels for a while.

“What do you think these were used for?” I muttered.

“I’m not sure,” Hansa replied, then looked at the jetty again. “Maybe they brought supplies in from other parts of the coastline. And the tunnels are access routes into the city. Or maybe the tunnels are escape routes from the city, and there should’ve been boats anchored here to take people away, to safety.”

“Given what we’ve seen in Azure City so far, Minah’s murder included, I’m inclined to think these are escape tunnels, and someone got rid of the boats,” I said, walking toward the wall.

“I think we should ask the Five Lords first, and see what they say.”

She had a point, and I certainly didn’t like the prospect of looking at Vincent as a potential murder suspect. Given that he was a Roho and that Arrah was terrified of coming forward about Sienna’s disappearance, however, it really didn’t look good for him at this point.

Minah’s death didn’t help, either. The topic had been bugging me since we’d left the infirmary, as I had trouble looking at the charming and slightly mysterious Vincent and seeing a killer. I’d been around for long enough to know that when two seemingly unrelated crimes happened in the same place, there was a connection between them. We just weren’t seeing it yet.

I took out a metal pick and carved a hole into the wall. Hansa gave me Patrik’s satchel from her backpack and I stuffed it inside. The whole mountain trembled slightly, prompting us both to take a couple of steps back. The tremor went as quickly as it had come.

“I wonder where the tunnels lead,” I said, moving closer to the one in the middle.

“I don’t think they take you anywhere other than the city itself.” Hansa stayed behind, inspecting the jetty. “There’s nothing else around, besides the plains and the Valley of Screams, and both have their own shore access. Frankly, I’m more curious about what happened to the boats…”

I stepped inside the tunnel, and noticed an old iron torch on the wall. I’d taken a page from Caia’s book and had learned to carry a lighter with me at all times. It did come in handy, as I used it to set fire to the torch. I took my goggles and head cover off and stared at the walls for a while.

“This was all done by hand,” I said to Hansa over my shoulder, hearing footsteps at the tunnel mouth while I moved forward. “They scooped it all out…”

I touched the wall, my fingers passing over the rough surface, with dents and scratches left behind by handheld metal tools. Some had even left residual traces that shimmered slightly under the torchlight.

“Why don’t we go in deeper and see where this one takes us?” I asked, focused on the path ahead. The darkness swallowing it retreated as I took a couple more steps.

A thud echoed from outside. I turned and saw two dark figures at the entrance, now thirty feet away. I drew my sword out of reflex. Were they real? The background was blinding light against the tunnel entrance, and I couldn’t make out much of anything from that angle. It was one thing to see in the dark, but my eyes could not work out exactly what or who the figures were, because of the sunlight shining over the entrance.

“Who are you?” I called out.

The figures vanished to the side, further confusing me. Had it been a sun glare or some tree shadow playing tricks? Or were they the same dark figures I’d heard Patrik mention?

I ran toward the exit but stilled as two loud bangs shook the entire tunnel. A heavy rumble followed, and, before I could even think of a reaction, the entrance cracked and crashed, sealed by massive chunks of stone.

“No, no, no!” I rushed to it.

I placed the torch back on the wall and touched the massive slabs of stone that had collapsed into the tunnel. I tried moving them, but there were too many, and they were too heavy even for me. I pushed hard, beads of sweat blooming on my forehead, but none of them budged.

“What the hell!” I cried out with frustration.

I kicked and punched, cracking and chipping away at the stone slabs, but I soon realized it would take hours for me to get out through so much stone. I couldn’t hear anything beyond the rocks. Not even Hansa.

“Hansa!” I shouted. “Hansa! Are you there? Is there anyone else there? Can you hear me?”

There was no answer. I glanced around, surrounded only by silence and the torch’s warm orange light flickering against the round walls. I coughed from the substantial amount of dust released by the tunnel’s collapse.

“Hansa! I’m going to try and get out the other way, okay?” I called out, hoping she could hear me. “If it doesn’t lead anywhere useful, I’ll come back and punch my way out, but it will take some time unless you get some help from the city!”

The fallen rocks were too big and tight on top of one another. Even my bare hands couldn’t resolve this issue quickly. I was also getting increasingly curious about where the tunnel went, and equally puzzled by the dark figures I’d seen… or thought I’d seen.

“And, most importantly, who the hell blew the tunnel up?” I growled, with no one but myself as company.

I had to move fast. Kicking and punching my way through those stones was inefficient. Whatever had happened outside, I hoped Hansa could handle it.

There’s something terribly off here…

In the meantime, I could make myself useful and explore the tunnel for a while.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I muttered, and retrieved the torch from the wall.

I could’ve just used my eyesight, as I had no trouble seeing in the dark, but I figured fire might help deter potential hostiles. Of any kind.