“I NEED . . . JUST a few minutes,” Banu says, before collapsing on the tunnel floor. His snores fill the air. Rumi wouldn’t have thought that a bubble could have an echo, but here it is. He also wouldn’t have thought any creature could take a nap under the ocean, but here’s that, too.

“How long do we give him?” Gogi asks, nudging the comatose sloth.

“There’s no pushing a sloth past its limits,” Rumi says. “Let’s let him have his power nap.”

“He did this once before, keeping his water power up while sleeping,” Gogi says admiringly. “I wish I could manage that.”

“I think it’s in all of our best interests that your fire power does not stay active while you’re asleep,” Sky notes.

“Yeah, I get some vivid dreams,” Gogi says. “Say, I wonder if the Veil has dropped yet over the land. This is the first time I haven’t known what’s going on with the sun. It dictates so much of our lives up there.”

Rumi nods, rubbing his froggy fingers over his body for warmth. “Yes. Maybe it shouldn’t. Dictate so much of our lives, that is.”

“Here you go, buddy, here’s some heat,” Gogi says as he crouches and creates a little fire on the kelp-strewn floor of the tunnel. The moisture beneath it sizzles and evaporates. Then there’s just the crackling of crisping seaweed.

“Thanks,” Rumi says, huddling near the flames and holding his hands out. “That helps. Being cold-blooded is a pain sometimes.”

Gogi’s meager fire makes the tunnel on the far side even darker. What awaits them down its length? Rumi can’t help but shudder at the thought of it.

Sky keeps a careful distance from the fire, like any creature covered in feathers should, but Rumi does notice the macaw’s beak parting in relief as he holds out his wings, catching some of the radiant heat.

Auriel doesn’t seem pleased by the group’s break. He slithers around the perimeter of their air bubble, dipping in and out of the surrounding water. His pacing casts rippling yellows through the membrane.

“I could stare at that shifting yellow light forever,” Gogi says, leaning back on the ground with his hands behind his head. “It’s so mesmerizing.”

“It also lights us up for any enemies to see,” Sky says.

Gogi sits straight, bites his fingernails. Rumi knows the monkey well enough by now to see the exact thought passing behind his friend’s eyes: Uh-oh, tentacles, uh-oh. True to form, Gogi looks around for something to eat to cut his anxiety. His eyes light on an odd star-shaped organism. Before Rumi can say, “I don’t think you should,” Gogi’s brought it to his mouth and taken a bite.

“Phugh!” Gogi says, spitting out a rubbery hunk of the animal. The remaining four arms writhe in his hand. He tosses the star creature into the wall of ocean. “Oh my gosh, you’re alive, I’m so sorry, I thought you were a plant! Ack!”

“You know, even if that had been a plant, it technically would have been alive,” Rumi says. “It just wouldn’t have been an animal.”

“Ah,” Gogi says as he frantically rubs his fingers over his tongue. “Whatever it was, I’m definitely not glad that I took a bite out of it. Blech.”

Rumi’s body shakes, and at first he assumes his shivering has returned. Then he sees Sky looking about, head tilted. It’s the ground itself that’s trembling. “What is that?” Gogi asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sky asks. “We’re nearing the volcano’s interior, and it’s about to erupt. Of course there’s bound to be seismic activity.”

“Sheesh, I was just asking,” Gogi says.

The rumbling stops, but as it does, the water ripples strangely. “Well, would you look at—” Rumi starts to say. Before he can finish, the edge of the bubble pushes unexpectedly, shoving them toward the tunnel entrance. They’re bowled over by the surprise of it more than anything else, and are just getting back to their claws and feet when the water pushes again, the force of it this time jetting them right out of the tunnel.

The sphere of air holds for a moment and then it disintegrates, frittering away into a million tiny bubbles. Rumi is suddenly floating in the freezing darkness, unable to hear or see his friends, saltwater stinging his skin all over, cold sapping the life force out of him, his tender eardrums aching with pressure. He flails through the seawater, the pain sharp now, like thorns in his flesh. Rumi’s thoughts scatter. He looks for light in the dark as his eyes sear with the salt.

Even in his panic, Rumi’s thoughts go to his mammal friends—if they’ve started gulping in seawater, they’re done for.

There—a new sphere of light, hanging in the undersea like a glowing mushroom. Rumi swims toward it, but he can’t make any headway against the currents coming out of the tunnel. He’s pushed farther and farther away from light and safety . . . until he remembers his air power.

Rumi turns away from the direction of the blast, and emits the most powerful stream of air that he can. It sends him hurtling blind through the sea, mouth open in a silent scream as he strengthens his jet. He can only hope that he calibrated his bearing well enough, that he’s not a few degrees off and hurtling into the unknown deep.

Then, with a pop and a sputter, he’s in open air again. Rumi reaches out an arm to grab Banu’s fur, misses, then shoots his sticky tongue out on reflex. It contacts Banu’s ear, and Rumi uses it to lasso himself to his friend. Sky’s there too, held tight in Banu’s arms. But where is Gogi?

The yellow light dims, and before Rumi can tell where Auriel has gone, the boa constrictor is back, holding a sorry soggy form tight in his rear coils. Auriel releases Gogi onto the tunnel floor, where the monkey lies on his side, horribly and terribly still.

“He’s not . . . he’s not breathing!” Banu says.

Sky turns his head so he can listen to Gogi’s lips, then shakes his head.

Rumi’s skin, still stinging from the seawater, goes clammy instead. No—it can’t be. He hops to his friend, tugs on Gogi’s fingers. “Get up, Gogi! Get up!”

He’s motionless.

Tears stream from Rumi’s eyes. “No. No!”

“Rumi, what do we do?” Sky caws.

“No, Gogi!” Rumi wails.

“Rumi, perhaps your magic . . . ?”

Rumi’s snuffles stop. “My magic?”

“So Gogi can breathe?”

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” Rumi says, then hops to Gogi’s chin. “Sky, could you help?”

Sky doesn’t need any more direction. The macaw uses his agile claws to part Gogi’s mouth. Rumi leans forward and sends a gentle gust, then a stronger one. Gogi’s ribs rise and fall with the force of it.

But he’s still motionless.

Rumi tries again.

The monkey sputters and turns onto his side. He coughs up great mouthfuls of seawater, and if Rumi’s not incorrect, his star-creature lunch. Gogi rolls over onto his back again. “Wow. What just happened to me?” he asks.

“Gogi!” Rumi says. “You’re okay!”

“Let’s make sure that nothing like that ever happens again,” Gogi rasps. “That was horrible.”

Sky surprises Rumi by wrapping his wings around Gogi. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks to Rumi,” Gogi gasps.

“It was Auriel that saved you, really,” Rumi says. “He went to fetch you.”

Auriel stares at them, expressionless, then arrows out of Banu’s air bubble and farther into the tunnel.

“Thank you!” Gogi calls after him.

“That was the absolute . . . worst,” Banu says, shaking his shaggy head. “I was having . . . the most wonderful dream . . . and then suddenly . . . we were all drowning.”

“And it could happen again at any moment, when the volcano rumbles next,” Sky caws. “So let’s get following Auriel, quickly. No more resting.”

“Okay, okay,” Banu says, starting his slow progress along the tunnel floor. “You don’t have . . . to ask me twice.”

“Maybe next time we sense a rumble, you can put some extra water pressure up against it,” Rumi suggests as he hops to a position on top of Gogi’s head, holding on to the tufts of fur over his eyes. “That way, hopefully our air bubble won’t break.”

“I think I can . . . do that,” Banu says. “I wasn’t even . . . awake last time . . . so it wasn’t a fair chance.”

Auriel threads himself along the boundary of their air bubble, illuminating the entire membrane in yellow. Banu crawls forward, the friends making a protective circle around him. As they progress, Rumi’s eyes dart around the front of the open space, alert to any more rumbles from the volcano.

Plop plop plop.

Rumi cringes, readying his wind magic for whatever enemy has come upon them. But there’s no ruckus, no rush of water or sizzle of magic. Instead, he opens his eyes to see three fish on the ground, gasping, eyes wide.

“Oh, poor little guys,” Gogi says. “We surprised them.” He picks the fish up one by one, and tosses them through the membrane behind them.

As the group treks forward, they continue to surprise sea creatures that drop onto the tunnel floor. Once they come across a whole school of small orange fish, too many for Gogi to rescue. Instead Banu speeds up, letting the water pick the fish back up on the far side before too much time has gone by.

The tunnel stays remarkably level, passing right into the mountain. There’s a stream of the rounded still creatures along it—or rather, two streams. They’re closer to them than ever before, now; if he dared to, Rumi could reach out and touch one. He examines them as they pass, trying to figure out their mystery, and realizes that the shapes are a little more elongated on one side, depending on which of the two streams the creature is in. Almost like they’re . . .

“They were moving in different directions!” Rumi exclaims.

“What?” Sky asks, startled.

“These big rounded beasts. Before they died, they were traveling in an orderly way, one after the other, in two different lines. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Except for ants,” Sky says, leaning close to one of the rounded creatures and bravely scraping his beak all along its length. “Ants do that.”

“That’s true!” Rumi says. “Maybe the two-legs were relatives of ants.”

“They both appear to have highly structured, cooperative societies,” Sky says. “Unlike any other animals in Caldera.” The macaw hops on top of one of the seaweed-covered giant beasts, works his beak into the growth covering it.

“What are you doing?” Rumi asks, garnering up enough courage to hop to Sky’s side so as to get a better view.

“It’s as I thought,” Sky says between scrapings. “These rounded creatures are made of different materials. Mostly they’re made of something hard and smooth, like rock, and the four circular things connecting the creatures to the ground are soft and bouncy, whereas these panels, like the one I’m scraping now, are . . . yes! Take a look.”

Gogi joins them as Sky steps back, cawing triumphantly. “What is it?”

Rumi hops forward, wipes a hand over the surface Sky just cleared with his beak. “Oh wow, it’s as clear as the lens. And on the other side . . . Gogi, could you give us a little firelight?”

“Of course,” Gogi says, creating a ball of flame that hovers above his palm. “Hey, Banu,” he calls down, “pause for a minute here, okay?”

Banu’s exhausted voice wafts up. “Not . . . a problem.”

The three friends lean into the surface. Inside the rounded shape are lumpy things, hard to make out, and a circular device right in front. Attached are two bony appendages, leading to . . .

“A skeleton!” Rumi exclaims.

“Ew, gross,” Gogi says.

“No, it’s fascinating,” Rumi says. “Look, the same bones you see in frog hands and feet, only longer, and the skull is similar, though a different overall shape, of course. But this creature is no longer alive.”

“Enough talk,” Gogi says worriedly. “Let’s not delay anymore, okay?”

“It’s all we have left of them, but it’s more than we’ve ever seen of them before, in the flesh,” Sky continues. “Not that there’s any actual flesh to speak of, but you catch my meaning.”

“It’s all we have left of who?” Gogi asks, scratching his head.

“The two-legs.”