The silence was heavy, and not only because of what Zesiro had said. Maybe MOON was dead, maybe they weren’t. It didn’t really matter, because now they was chasing after their shadow, and whatever MOON had gone up against that had made them lose contact for so long was MERCY's responsibility now too. They could very well be chasing after their deaths.

Gemma shook her head; that was pessimistic talk. They’d be fine. If there was a connection between whatever was happening up on this mountain and what had happened to MOON, they would find out soon enough. They were actually climbing it now, keeping a good pace. She watched the sparse countryside sink below them.

The dark feeling was growing, pulsing, dread thickening and rising from her stomach to her heart. What she felt defied words and explanation on a good day—this feeling was so far from normal that she was pretty sure that the hurt in her head wasn’t just from whatever particles she’d been hit with. She felt like anxiety and black bile and wood smoke.

“It’s getting stronger,” she said, casually as she could. “Do you think the road leads straight to the source?”