79

You take the lead and follow the short steps, which feel more like a ladder than stairs. The path is well lit from ambient light, and you wonder if you should gather supplies before venturing too far. Still, something draws you down, stirring you to put one foot forward, then the next. The air is thick with a fine dust, and the weight of it hangs in your lungs. Sandy debris sticks on your fingertips as you place your hands on the wall to balance your descent. You leave an imprint of your palm on the wall and realize this area probably hasn't been disturbed in months, if not years.

The staircase ends roughly twenty steps below. Moss and spiderwebs decorate the low ceilings and stone walls in intricate patterns. The scraping and scurrying of tiny feet murmur in the distance. A sudden cough from behind startles you, and though you know it's Emma, the sudden sound causes you to jump and misstep. You slide down a series of steps, scraping the back of your right leg, but steadying yourself before falling. You hear your sister mutter "sorry" as you step down with greater caution.

At the bottom of the staircase, you stand on the east side of a square room with various boxes, barrels, and old tools lying about. To the north, a hallway leads out of the room, though you can not see where it goes as the path turns west after only a few paces.

"Can you feel that? We should follow the path now," Emma says and walks to the opening.

"Emma, let's check out this room before advancing."

She raises her hands to her forehead and wipes sweat from her brow. As she does, another vision flashes and for a split second, Emma turns into the little girl in the park. The change is so brief, you shake your head in disbelief but her hair, the shape of her face, her eyes—all of her features shift and morph into Cassie. Each time Emma gets upset, it seems Cassie appears.

Emma stares back at you, her mouth open and eyebrows raised.

"Well? What are we doing?"