"Are you afraid?"

Arya stared into the lightless tunnel before her. Two great sandstone boulders rested on one another, forming the triangular mouth of the catacombs. A lion had been carved into each boulder, one male one female, the two reaching towards the top, towards each other. Never to touch. Gemstones had been inset for their eyes, emerald for the male, topaz for the female.

"Arya?"

She snapped to attention, tearing her gaze from the cave mouth to Hathor. "Huh?"

"Are you scared?"

Arya took a breath, eyes flicking back to the tunnel. "Not of the dark."

"Good. That isn't what you should be afraid of."

Somehow his words were the opposite of reassuring.

The thought had occurred to her to run. Hathor clearly couldn't see, but from what she'd noticed, he was perceptive. He'd be able to hear her, smell her.

Okay, leave this filthy shirt here, that'll cover scent, distract him with a rock down the tunnel—

No. It would never work.

Even if she fooled Hathor, she had the entire Court to escape. If she had half a chance at outrunning a male, there was no chance at escaping the females. Not in this body. And even if she shifted... That body was weak. She doubted it would fly, let alone run for very long.

So is this it? Is this my future?

Dread and panic crept through her.

No more Nandu, no more Mum, no more daylight or warm fires or the smell of the earth after rain...

"ARYA!"

Arya broke from her thoughts. "... Nandu?"

The fluffy brown cub came barreling down the sandy path towards her. "ARYA! You weren't gonna leave without saying goodbye, were you?"

Arya went to her knees, and she wrapped her arms around him as he jumped into her lap. 

"Nandu... I wanted to say goodbye but I was taken straight here. I'm so glad you found me."

He grinned, and crinkled his nose. "How could I not? You stink!"

She chuckled. "I'm going to miss you Nandu," she said sadly, stroking the fur around his ear.

He tilted his head. "Can I not visit you?"

She sighed, and glanced at Hathor. The old lion shook his head.

"No, you can't," said she. "But I'll be thinking of you. Stay good up here. Make me proud."

Nandu watched her for a moment. "You're crying."

She quickly wiped the tear away. She hadn't even realized she had let it fall.

"You're not dying, right?" he questioned. "Mum said they just sent you to the catacombs. Which is still SO unfair! You haven't done anything wrong! But... You're not dying, right?"

Arya resisted the urge to look at the darkness that waited for her. In a way, crossing that threshold would be like dying. Abandoning her current life for one of shadows and loneliness.

But she wasn't telling Nandu that.

"No, I'm not dying," she assured. "Just... starting a new life."

Nandu eyed her, perhaps not really believing her. He leaned forward, his whiskers tickling her ear. "I'll find a way to get you out, Arya. I promise."

Before the idea could even sink in, Nandu wriggled out of her grasp. "Goodbye Arya! I'll miss you!"

With that, he turned and bolted away.

"Nandu!" she called after him. "Nandu wait!"

But he was already gone.

A low, rumbling chuckle erupted from behind her. Hathor. "Spritely young fellow, isn't he?"

Arya could only nod. Not that he could see.

"Well, you best forget him now. You'll never be seeing him again."

The idea crashed with her so hard she wasn't sure she'd be able to stand.

"Come now. Say goodbye to the suns. It's time to go."

When she finally rose, it was on phantom limbs. She couldn't feel her feet, her legs, her heart. Everything had gone cold.

Part of her was glad for the numbness. For without it, she wasn't sure she'd be able to walk through that threshold, following Hathor's careful pawsteps into the shadows.

Forsaking light, and letting the dark swallow her.

~~~~~

Arya had long since lost track of time.

Perhaps it had been hours, or only mere minutes spent walking down the sandy dark path. Her only guide was the soft pawsteps of Hathor, which she followed as closely as possible. Being lost down in the catacombs was the last thing she wanted...

"We will be approaching the library soon. When we arrive, I will help you tend to that wound," Hathor said without altering his step.

By instinct she felt her chest with a hand. The cuts stung, and were tender to the touch. "Thank you," said she.

"It smells sour. I hope it will heal."

"Thank you," she echoed again. Part of her hoped he would speak more. Arya had been in darkness before, but this darkness was different. It was absolute. Not even the gleam of Hathor's eyes could be seen, for there was no light to reflect. She couldn't tell if she was walking north or south, where the boundaries existed, what was up and what was down. It was all just black. 

Hearing Hathor's gravelly voice grounded her, making the surreal journey less disorienting. It told her where something was, and that something was there. Something other than darkness.

"How do you get used to the silence?" she asked without thinking.

A pause, then the old male answered. "I hear the voices of the dead."

A cold shiver ran down her spine. "... You do? How... How?"

"You will hear them too. Patience."

Part of her wanted to halt, but more of her feared losing track of Hathor and becoming lost in the darkness. "Are you dead? — Are you going to kill me?"

Hathor's low chuckle echoed around her. "What do they teach you on the surface these days? Nonsense, apparently. No, I will teach you how to hear them. Patience."

Arya struggled to keep her quiet for the next stretch of the walk. The sandy ground slowly became harder, smoother— sandstone. Suddenly she realized that she could make out the faint outline of Hathor's body, that she had a vague sense of the walls.

Light.

The farther they went, the darkness became less absolute. A warm red light dispelled the black, and soon she could see the dusty ground, her own muddy feet, and Hathor's full, ragged form again.

The tunnel widened, opening into a rough circular chamber. A pit of fire burned in the center of it, illuminating shelves carved into the walls, bursting with scrolls and bound books. Several tunnels branched off from the room, leading into darkness, with yet more shelves and precious parchment scripts.

"I hear they draw lots up on the surface. For who gets to bring me my wood and meat once a month," Hathor commented as he approached the fire, resting his paws on the raised stone wall around it. Arya did the same with her hands, the warmth finally creeping into her storm-chilled skin. She had never imagined how grateful she could feel for a simple fire— for a feeling other than stiff coldness.

As she thawed, she looked around at the ancient writings surrounding them. "I've never seen this many texts..."

"I'd assume not. Have you read any?"

She furrowed her brows. "But it's illegal. For women to read."

Hathor eased away from the fire, and began feeling his way around the books. "I was going to give you some time to settle in, but no, this problem must be remedied instantly." Gently, he pulled a book from the shelf, and brought it over to a stone table. Arya followed him. The scholar gently used a paw to flip open the tomb, revealing columns of intricate symbols in a shimmery scarlet ink.

"The laws of men do not apply beneath the earth. It is time you finally learn how to hear the voices of the dead."