The fall was eternal.

Anya felt the world spin around her, a nightmare of stone, shadow and screaming wind.

Debris pelted her from all sides: chunks of wood, shattered glass, twisted metal from the hospital framework.

Mika’s arms were wrapped around her so tightly she could barely breathe, his small body shielding hers as they tumbled through the abyss.

"Mika!" She screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the roar of collapsing earth.

"Hold on!" He shouted back, and she felt him shift, trying to angle them away from a massive slab of concrete that plummeted past, close enough to graze her cheek.

They had been falling for what felt like hours. Minutes. Seconds.

Time had lost all meaning in this vertical nightmare.

The only constant was the rush of air, the sensation of terminal velocity, and the growing certainty that this was the end.

Anya thought of her mother. Of her sisters. Of the yellow house with blue shutters she had been dreaming about just moments before.

All of it, everything she had ever wanted, was about to be crushed into nothing against the rocks below.

’I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.’

She closed her eyes.

And then—

Everything stopped.

One instant she was falling, falling, falling—and the next, she was suspended in midair, weightless as a dandelion seed caught in a gentle breeze.

The roar of the collapse faded to an eerie silence, broken only by the creak of settling rubble and her own ragged breathing.

"M-Mika?" She whispered, not daring to open her eyes. "Am I...Am I dead?"

"No." His voice was strained but steady. "Look."

She forced her eyes open.

They were floating.

The two of them along with massive chunks of the hospital, shattered furniture, loose stones, and clouds of dust hung suspended in the darkness as if the very air had turned to syrup.

It was the strangest sensation Anya had ever experienced like being held in an invisible hand that had caught them just before the fatal impact.

"What’s happening?" She breathed.

"Some kind of gravitational anomaly." Mika said, his mind already working despite the terror of their situation. "A magnetic field, maybe. Or a localized distortion in the cavern’s natural energy."

"Whatever it is, it’s slowing our descent."

As if responding to his words, they began to drift downward like feathers spiraling toward the ground.

The massive debris around them followed suit, huge slabs of concrete and twisted steel beams descending with impossible slowness, settling onto the cavern floor with soft, muffled thuds rather than the catastrophic crashes they should have made.

It took nearly a full minute for Anya’s feet to touch solid ground.

The moment her shoes made contact, the strange suspension vanished as suddenly as it had come.

Gravity returned to normal, and she stumbled, nearly collapsing before Mika caught her arm.

"We’re down." She repeated numbly. "We’re...we’re alive?"

"We’re alive."

She threw her arms around him and burst into tears.

—

When the tears finally subsided and Anya could breathe again, she became aware of their surroundings.

The cavern they had landed in was...enormous.

The ceiling soared so high above them that she couldn’t see it clearly, only catching glimpses of jagged stalactites hanging like stone fangs in the gloom.

The chamber itself was easily the size of a professional football stadium, its walls curving away into distant shadows.

And there was light.

Not sunlight, that was impossible this far underground.

But a soft, ethereal glow that emanated from crystals scattered throughout the cavern.

Massive clusters of crystals jutted from the walls and floor, some as tall as trees, pulsing with gentle hues of blue and purple.

They cast dancing patterns across the stone, creating an otherworldly beauty that might have been breathtaking if their circumstances weren’t so dire.

"Where are we?" Anya whispered, her voice echoing strangely in the vast space.

Mika was already surveying their surroundings.

"Some kind of subterranean chamber. The hospital collapse must have broken through into a pre-existing cave system."

He pointed upward, where the hole they had fallen through was now completely sealed by collapsed rubble.

"That’s our way out...Or it was."

"Can we climb back up?"

"Look at the ceiling, Anya. Even if we could reach it, the entire tunnel is blocked. Tons of rock and debris. We’d need heavy machinery to clear it, and even then..."

He shook his head grimly. "We’re trapped."

Anya was taken aback. Trapped. Buried alive, miles beneath the surface, with no way out and no one who could reach them.

Her breath started coming faster, her chest tightening—

"Anya." Mika took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Look at me. Breathe. In and out, slowly."

"That’s it. You’re not alone. I’m right here and we’re going to figure this out."

"But—"

"Your mother is a Battle Angel. Your Aunts are the most powerful beings in existence."

"Do you honestly think they’re not doing everything in their power to reach us right now? They will find a way."

"But until they do, we have to stay calm and stay alive. Can you do that for me?"

She swallowed hard, nodding. "Y-Yes. I can do that."

"Good girl." He released her face and turned back to the cavern. "First things first: we need to assess our resources. Water, shelter, any supplies that fell with us."

"Let’s look around."

—

The cavern, as they discovered, was both a blessing and a curse.

On the positive side, there was water. Cracks in the stone walls seeped with clear, cold liquid that trickled down into small natural basins.

Mika tested it cautiously, touching a drop to his tongue, waiting, then nodding.

"It’s clean. Filtered through who knows how many layers of rock. We won’t die of thirst."

The oxygen levels were adequate too, though the air had a strange, heavy quality to it like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm.

The crystals, Mika theorized, might be producing some form of breathable gas through a chemical reaction with the moisture in the air.

Whatever the cause, they wouldn’t suffocate.

And the crystals themselves provided constant illumination, their soft glow banishing the absolute darkness that should have consumed this place.

It was a small mercy, but a crucial one.

But that was where the good news ended.

There was no food. Not a single plant, not an insect, not even a patch of fungus on the walls.

The cavern was geologically alive but biologically dead, a tomb of stone and crystal and nothing else.

They could survive on water for perhaps a week or two, but beyond that...

"There are no exits." Mika said, after completing a circuit of the chamber. "No tunnels, no passages, no openings large enough to crawl through. Just cracks."

He gestured toward the walls, where narrow fissures split the stone like wounds.

"Some of them might lead somewhere, but they’re tight. Dangerously tight."

Anya hugged herself, trying not to shiver. "So we’re stuck here? Completely stuck?"

"Unless your mother finds a way to neutralize the anti-mana field and dig us out, yes."

He didn’t sugarcoat it. He never did, not with her.

"But that’s exactly what she’s going to do. So our job is to stay alive until then."

"How long will that take?"

Mika was quiet for a moment.

"I don’t know. But we should prepare for the worst while hoping for the best."

—

It was then that they heard the screaming.

"Ahhhh—!"

At first, Anya thought it was her own heartbeat, still thundering in her ears from the terror of the fall.

But no—these were other voices, other cries, echoing from somewhere nearby in the cavern.

"Hello?!" A woman’s voice shrieked. "Is anyone there?! Where are we?! What is this place?!"

"Oh god, oh god, we’re going to die down here—"

"I can’t see! I can’t see anything! Someone help me!"

"Everybody calm down! CALM DOWN!"

Mika and Anya exchanged glances before moving toward the commotion.

Near the base of the massive rubble pile where the hospital wing had collapsed, they found the source: a cluster of hospital staff.

Doctors, nurses, attendants stumbling out of the wreckage or huddled together on the stone floor.

There were perhaps a dozen of them in total, their uniforms torn and bloodied, their faces pale with shock and terror.

"We’re not alone." Anya breathed, and for a moment, hope flickered in her chest.

Adults. Professionals. People who would know what to do, who could take charge of this nightmare and make it manageable.

Mika’s expression, however, was far more guarded.

"No." He said quietly. "We’re not."

—

The first few minutes were chaos.

The hospital staff stumbled around the cavern like frightened animals, their voices echoing off the stone walls as they shouted questions no one could answer.

Some of them were injured—bleeding from cuts on their heads, limping on twisted ankles, cradling arms that hung at wrong angles.

Others seemed physically unharmed but mentally shattered, their eyes wild and unfocused as they tried to process what had happened.

"Where are we?!" A young nurse wailed, her voice cracking with hysteria. "One minute I was in the supply closet, and then the floor just—just disappeared—"

"The whole wing must have collapsed." An older doctor said, his voice shaking. "The ground opened up and swallowed us whole. I saw it—I saw the walls just—"

"But where is this?! How far down did we fall?!"

"Does it matter?! We’re trapped! We’re trapped underground and no one knows we’re here!"

"We’re going to die." Someone whispered. "We’re all going to die down here!"

The words spread like poison. Panic rippled through the group, and suddenly everyone was shouting at once

Accusations, recriminations, desperate pleas to deities that Anya had never heard of.

Two of the nurses even started screaming at each other, blaming one another. An attendant collapsed to his knees and began to sob.

And Anya watched it all with growing disbelief.

These were doctors and nurses—people who were supposed to be calm in emergencies, who dealt with life and death every day.

And yet here they were, falling apart like children.

She looked at Mika. He was still watching the adults, his expression unreadable.

"They’re...They’re really scared." Anya said quietly.

"Yes." Mika agreed. "They are."

"Should we...should we try to help them?"

"Not yet. Let them calm down first."

So they waited. And the adults continued to panic.

It went on for an hour.

An hour of grown medical professionals, people who had sworn oaths to help others completely falling apart while two children stood off to the side and watched.

Anya felt something shift inside her as she observed them.

At first, she had felt sympathy. She understood their fear, she was terrified too.

But as the minutes dragged on and the adults showed no signs of pulling themselves together, that sympathy began to curdle into something else.

Disappointment, perhaps. Or maybe something closer to contempt.

Even she, the timid one, the quiet one, the one who had always been afraid of everything had pulled herself together because Mika needed her to be brave.

And yet these adults, with all their years of experience and education, couldn’t do the same?

It was...pathetic.

She felt guilty for thinking it. But she couldn’t help it.

—

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the panic began to subside.

The adults exhausted themselves, their screams fading to whimpers, their frantic movements slowing to exhausted stillness.

And as they caught their breath and looked around the cavern with clearer eyes, they noticed the two children standing at the edge of the crystal light.

"Wait." one of the nurses said, squinting. "Is that...Lady Anya?"

The effect was immediate. The adults scrambled to their feet, their expressions shifting from despair to something that looked almost like...hope.

"It is her! Lady Anya is here!"

"The Battle Angel’s daughter! She fell with us!"

"Thank the heavens—if Lady Anya is here, then Lady Fauna will definitely come looking for us!"

"Of course she will! She wouldn’t abandon her own daughter!"

"We’re saved! We’re going to be saved!"

The relief in their voices was palpable.

But Anya noticed something that made her stomach turn.

They weren’t relieved that she was alive. They were relieved that her presence meant her mother would come.

She wasn’t a person to them. She was a lifeline. A bargaining chip. A guarantee of rescue.

—

When they finally approached, their demeanor shifted to something more polished—the practiced smiles of professionals addressing a VIP.

"Lady Anya." The older doctor said, bowing slightly. "Please don’t be afraid. We’re all medical professionals here."

"We’ll take care of you until your mother arrives."

"That’s right." A nurse added with a bright, false smile. "You just leave everything to us, dear. There’s no need for you to worry about a thing."

"We’ll all help each other out." another chimed in. "We’re in this together, after all."

Anya and Mika exchanged a long, meaningful look.

"Thank you." Mika said diplomatically, his voice betraying nothing. "That’s very kind."

But Anya knew him well enough to hear what he wasn’t saying.

She could see it in the slight tightening of his jaw, the calculating flicker behind his eyes.

Don’t trust them.