“WOW,” GOGI SAYS, bowing close to the clear stone panel. “We’re seeing history right in front of us. Poor two-legs, eaten by these rounded creatures that moved single file like ants.”

Sky nods sadly. “I guess the rounded creatures digested everything but the skeletons.”

Rumi’s face crinkles. “Why would the two-legs be in this regular position, instead of the bones all jumbled up? We’ve all dissected owl pellets to see what’s inside, right? The bones are all a mess.”

“I’d like to note for the official record that I have never dissected an owl pellet,” Gogi says. “Nor do I particularly want to.”

“I almost think that these two-legs decided to go inside the rounded beasts,” Rumi says. “Like they thought they wouldn’t get digested, or something.”

“Sure, okay, weird but okay. Above my brain power to figure out,” Gogi says.

“Mine too,” Sky caws.

Rumi peers deeper into the rounded beast, soaking in all the details he can. Lengths of something that looks like woven vine fasten the two-legs into their position. Like they were trapped there.

“We should get moving,” Sky says. “Before the volcano rumbles again.”

“I’m getting hungry, too,” Gogi says, holding his belly, “and I don’t plan on trying out any new seafood. Blech.”

As if on cue, another rumble comes from the tunnel ahead. Rumi prepares to mount a rescue, but this time Banu is ready. The membrane trembles, but the bubble of air holds fast. Sky and Gogi clamber to the tunnel floor, Gogi holding up his hand so Rumi can use it to hop down more easily.

His mind running over and over the puzzle of the extinct two-leg civilization, Rumi loses track of time as they pass forward. The line of rounded beasts is seemingly endless.

For a while, Gogi keeps up a firelight to warm them, but eventually the monkey’s fur is matted with sweat, dripping even from the tip of his tail. Rumi taps him on the shoulder. “I think the temperature is rising,” Rumi says. “You can probably drop the fire.”

Gogi startles, then pats his own body. The fire disappears. “You’re right. I guess I’m a little distracted.”

“Are you saying that heading right into the heart of a volcano, with all the weight of our rainforest over our heads, is worrying you?” Sky asks dryly.

“Yes,” Gogi says. “Was that not clear?”

“No, no, it was, I was joking,” Sky sputters. He caws a sigh. “Maybe I should just go back to being quiet.”

“It was a good joke, buddy, my bad, keep ’em coming,” Gogi says, patting Sky awkwardly on the head.

They continue along, the only sounds the plop of surprised fish passing into the bubble and the rhythmic rush and flow of the waves around them. Rumi falls into a reverie, his thoughts back on his many developing theories about the meaning of the tunnel, the rounded beasts, and the two-leg skeletons inside them.

The reverie is broken by a booming voice ahead. “Who disturbs my slumber?”

The companions go still. “Please tell me that was one of you guys,” Gogi whispers.

“Come forward,” the voice says. “I would like to see that yellow light closer. And it has been a very long time since I have eaten.”

“That sounds like a good argument . . . for not getting any closer,” Banu says.

Auriel has other ideas, though. The glowing snake slithers toward the booming voice, leaving the air bubble behind.

“Auriel!” Rumi hisses. But the snake is already gone.

“Well, that’s not good,” Sky says.

“Is the voice we heard . . . one of the two-legs?” Banu asks.

“Given their mass, I don’t think any of the two-legs could make a sound like that,” Rumi says. “Besides, I think they really are all extinct. I’d be surprised if we found one now.”

There’s a low rhythmic rumbling sound that comes with undulations of the membrane. It takes Rumi a few moments to recognize it as laughter. “I am no two-leg. Come closer, and you will see what I am.”

“Again, going to officially suggest we don’t do what the scary booming voice says,” Gogi whispers.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Sky says. “The only way forward is into the mountain.”

They look down along the stream of stilled curved beasts, deep into the tunnel, farther from air and light. Farther from safety.

Auriel has already started down the passage, is a good dozen snake-lengths ahead. “If we want Auriel with us when we face whoever’s voice that is, we’d better get moving,” Rumi says.

“Gulp,” Gogi says.

Banu starts forward, Rumi on his head, Gogi on one flank, Sky on the other. Another roar from the mountain, another surge against the air bubble, Banu fighting back again. Together, the companions continue.

The rounded beasts stop, and the ground beneath them becomes rougher, casting upward in chaotic formations. Gogi scouts ahead, finding the best route for slower-moving Banu to navigate the obstacles. The tunnel’s ceiling rises so it’s no longer within the air bubble; Rumi has no idea whether it’s vaulting high above, or right over their heads.

As the shadowwalkers pass forward, Rumi notices that the path into the mountain has become almost featureless—there’s little growing on the floor of the tunnel. Like they’re too far from the open ocean for anything to survive.

Except for one thing, at least.

Ahead is Auriel’s yellow glow.

Beyond it are two giant green orbs.

Eyes.