When the Ghost Didn't Come

Liora didn’t know what it was called. The ground had given way beneath her before she had time to scream, the air rushing past her ears in a single sharp breath. Now, there was only stone. Stone beneath her palms, stone rising high above, slick with moss and old water. The circle of sky looked impossibly small from where she sat, knees drawn to her chest. Her voice echoed when she called for Kai—once, then twice—before dying into the dark. He would come. He always did. She pressed her hand to the wall, feeling the faint pulse of the world above her, the world that went on without her. She had known darkness all her life, but this was different—the kind of dark that didn’t hold tunnels or passageways, only itself. It grew darker and darker, no moon to cast light down to where she waited. How long would she be here? What if she was stuck here forever?

There was no tunnel to explore, nowhere to go but the small circle of ground beneath her feet. Wet stone pressed against her palms; water lapped faintly around her ankles. She was used to the dark, but even underground, she had never been trapped like this. There had always been somewhere to move, some direction to take, even if she didn’t know where it led.

Now there was only stillness—and the waiting, stretching endlessly above her, as unreachable as the sky.

The air was damp, heavy with the smell of old earth, but she could still remember what the surface felt like — wind curling against her skin, sunlight warm on her eyelids. It had only been a few weeks since she’d come aboveground, and yet the memory was already slipping through her fingers.

She had spent her whole life beneath, surrounded by tunnels and stale air, and she’d never thought it strange. It was just the way things were. But now, the thought of being buried again made her chest tighten. The walls seemed to inch closer with every breath.

She tried calling for Kai again, her voice hoarse this time. It bounced back to her, thinner, as if the dark had swallowed most of it.

He would come. He had to.

Unless—

Her mind caught on the word and wouldn’t let go.

Unless ghosts couldn’t go underground.

The thought made her stomach drop. What if he couldn’t hear her? What if he couldn’t find her? What if she never saw the sky again? The idea of dying down here, in this forgotten place, felt worse than death itself.

She pressed her palms flat against the stone, as if she could will herself up through it, up toward the world that had almost felt like hers.

Hands still pressed to the damp wall, Liora rested her forehead against the stone. The surface was cold and rough, scraping her skin as her tears mixed with the moisture already there. The sting grounded her—proof she was still here, still flesh and breath, even as fear and grief tightened around her throat.

She closed her eyes. How will I survive this? Will I? The questions came as quick, shallow breaths. When she opened them again, the faint ripple of water caught her attention. Something glistened near her ankles, a dull shimmer beneath the murky surface. Reluctantly, she reached in, her fingers disappearing into the chill. The water bit at her skin as she groped for the object, then lifted it slowly into the half-light.

It looked like a dagger—old, tarnished by time. But beneath the grime, the handle gleamed faintly gold, the hilt etched with a design she almost recognized. Her pulse stumbled. The engraving—it looked like Kai’s tattoo. What does that mean? she thought, heart skittering against her ribs. Why would it be here?

Liora turned the dagger in her hands, the dim light catching on the curve of the blade. The metal was slick, blackened by years of rot, yet it still shimmered faintly beneath the grime. She brushed her thumb along the hilt, tracing the lines of the engraving until the pattern resolved in her mind—spirals and sharp edges, curling into the same mark that wound across Kai’s wrist.

Her breath caught. The memory of his hand—cool, steady, the way he’d offered it to her that first night aboveground—flashed behind her eyes. He had told her the mark was old, older than him, something he didn’t talk about.

She stared at the dagger as if it might speak. Maybe it was a message. Maybe it was a warning. Or maybe it was nothing at all—just another relic buried with too many secrets.

The weight of it felt wrong in her hand, heavier than it should have been. A faint hum seemed to tremble through the metal, or maybe through her. The sound of the well changed with it—soft whispers rising from the water, or the echo of her own breathing twisting in her ears.

Liora’s pulse quickened.

“Kai?” she whispered, the name trembling from her lips. The dark answered only with a slow drip of water.

The whispers grew softer, then sharper—like breath caught in a throat. Liora held the dagger tighter, the edge biting into her palm.

“Kai,” she tried again, voice trembling, “it’s me.”

The sound bounced off the stone and came back wrong, stretched thin, unfamiliar. For a moment, she thought she heard him say her name in return. But when she listened closer, there was only the slow drip of water, the faint scrape of her own breath.

Her stomach sank. That voice hadn’t been him. It hadn’t been anyone.

The truth came quietly, like cold seeping through the walls:

Kai wasn’t coming.

The thought hollowed her chest. She wanted to scream, but the well would only throw the sound back at her, a cruel echo. Her fingers trembled around the dagger’s hilt, the metal thrumming faintly as if it could feel her despair.

If he couldn’t come down here—if he was bound to the world above—then she was utterly, terrifyingly alone.

The air felt thinner now, the circle of light above her impossibly small. Liora drew a slow breath, tasting the damp and stone. Then she pressed her palm to the wall, testing its rough surface for holds.

If no one could save her, she would have to climb.

The dagger’s weight pulled at her hand. For a long moment, she considered leaving it behind. Then she pressed it to her chest and began to climb.

Her arms trembled—not from fear this time. The fear had burned itself out, leaving only something steadier behind, something that wanted to live. Every stone she touched seemed to hum with the same pulse as her heart, a slow beat whispering: up, up, up.

The wall was slick beneath her fingers, the damp stone scraping her skin as she fought to hold on long enough to move her feet. Her boots slipped and scuffed, her satchel dragging behind her, the dagger’s hilt catching the faint light. She was determined to make it out. She had to. She needed to find Kai—to learn what the symbol meant, and what it meant for her.

Liora reached for another stone, but it was too smooth, too flat to grip. She slipped.

The fall was swift, the shock of cold stealing the air from her lungs as she hit the water. For a heartbeat, she stayed there, floating, staring at the faint circle of light above. Her arms lifted toward it, tracing its edges with her fingertips as if she could hold it, keep it. What if she never felt the light again?

No.

That was not an option.

She pulled the dagger from her satchel, turning it over in her hands. Maybe it could be her way out.

Pushing aside the ache in her muscles and the sting of her scraped palms, Liora rose again. This time, she drove the dagger’s tip between stones, using it as leverage. The metal vibrated faintly with each pull, the hum deepening, guiding her upward.

The light grew brighter with every reach.

Then the dagger caught on a loose stone. Liora’s footing slipped; her body lurched downward. Instinct took over.

This will not be the end, she thought, dragging the blade against the wall to slow her fall. Sparks of pain shot through her arm, but the dagger caught, anchoring her. She steadied her breath, pressed her boot against the wall, and climbed again—up toward the waiting air, toward whatever waited above.

The dagger slipped again, but Liora didn’t. Not this time. She drove the blade deeper, pulled herself higher, and kept climbing. The world could try to bury her, but it would never keep her.

She moved, ignoring the pain that screamed through her body. She had to keep going, if only to feel the fresh air once more.

Her fingers caught the rim of the opening. She dragged herself up, boots scraping, shoulders trembling, and finally—finally—she hauled herself onto the grass. The night air hit her face, cool and sharp, and for a moment she just lay there, gasping, feeling the earth solid beneath her.

Then a voice drifted down from above her head.

“About time. I was starting to think you’d decided to redecorate down there.”

Liora turned her head. Kai stood a few feet away, arms crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. His ghostlight shimmered faintly against the dark, like he’d been waiting all along.

She managed a shaky laugh. “You could’ve helped.”

He shrugged. “And ruin your dramatic escape? Not a chance.”

Liora rolled onto her back, staring up at the stars. The dagger lay beside her, still humming faintly. She didn’t know what it meant yet—any of it—but she was alive, and that was enough for now.