"I''ll ask you again. Do you have proof?"


    Aster tried to keep her expression impassive as she bristled inside. I do have proof. I just also know enough to assume that if I demonstrated it to you, you''d take him away. "Do you?"


    The Lantern Overseer, Andromeda, gave her a pitying look. That almost bothered her more than the incredulity. Do you really not know, or do you just not care? Is it you who seems to be trying so hard to make sure all the lights go out, or is it all from further up the chain? "Aster, I''m sorry, but you''re fighting a losing battle. Read the Lantern guidelines about Darkening. I''m sure they won''t be difficult to find."


    "I have read them, again and again. The information is incomplete, and the evidence is shaky at best. At worst, the notion of ‘evidence’ is carefully skirted around." Aster folded her arms, trying to hold in her frustration.


    "Do you really think it''s all some grand conspiracy?” Andromeda sighed. “What would you have me do, Aster? Risk more untainted Lanterns by sending them deep into the Depths?"


    "You''ve had no qualms about it before!" Aster found herself glaring and took a step back. She looked away for a moment and took a deep, slow breath. "It''s cruel. We should be helping the people who have been Tainted, not subjecting them to the increasing pain that light inflicts on them just to light others'' way."


    "There''s nothing we can do for them, Aster. Their fate is sealed. The best we can do is give them heroic last moments, don''t you think?"


    "No.” Aster looked Andromeda deep in the eyes, silently daring her to look away. She didn’t, but just blinked, calm, if looking a bit weary. “We shouldn''t make them suffer more than they will already. It doesn''t have to be them. How many of them would actually choose those heroic last moments, instead of relative peace and comfort?"


    "Who else would you suggest for a mission this deep into the Depths?"


    Aster hesitated. She clenched her fists tightly, squeezing her hands into themselves for comfort. I already made this decision. What''s the point in reluctance now? It’s too early to stop pretending. "I''ll go."


    Andromeda didn''t seem the least bit surprised. Just disappointed, in a way. "Aster..." She glanced at the other Lanterns. "Come, let me talk to you for a moment." Aster followed the Overseer a few paces away. She turned toward Aster and sighed. "You can''t save her, Aster. Delaying the inevitable, building false hope... it''s more cruel than just getting it over with." Andromeda did that pitying look again. "Is this about Orion?"


    Aster didn''t meet her eyes. "Not specifically."


    "What happened to Orion isn’t about you. Those things just... Happen, sometimes."


    "He shouldn''t have been sent out there." Aster looked back, holding Andromeda’s gaze again as if that could make her listen. And I shouldn''t have been the one that found him. It should''ve been someone better, someone that could have brought him back. "And we just keep repeating the same mistakes, just letting things happen, over and over. We can''t afford to do that. Too many lives hang in the balance. Too many people keep getting hurt by all of this. You’ve got to already know this, deep down."


    "The root of the problem is the Starless Depths themselves. There''s nothing we can do about the fact that they’re here, so we have no choice but to live with them the best we can." Andromeda returned Aster’s gaze, seeming somehow earnest in her own way. "And the best way we can ensure survival for the most people is by rooting out those that are Darkening from among us, Aster. That''s the other reason, as unpleasant as it may be. They''re a danger to all of us, and they''ll lose their names soon enough anyway. They''re already fading. There is no cure, no way to stop the process. Only to slow it, give them more empty time with which to stare into the unresponsive abyss that awaits them. Do you think that''s what they''d want? A slow death, confined to some dark corner alone, watching as they lose themselves?"


    Aster looked over at Mira, standing still in the long dimming veil and cloak, looking out toward one of the many yawning openings to the Depths. She looked... somehow smaller now than before being Tainted, even though she was still getting taller. Was that the fate that awaited her? That slow lonely fading, or suffering as she led someone else to safety? She doesn''t have to fade completely. I can save her. I have to believe that.


    Aster turned back to Andromeda. "But what if we can find better ways to slow or stop the Darkening? What if it just needs more research? Isn''t that worth the risk?”


    "Is that why you seem so eager to put yourself in danger of being Tainted? You want to test it? Good luck telling us what you learn, if you go that route. I can''t say I have much hope of gaining anything from that." Andromeda let out a sigh. “I agree that we should try to hold on to whatever and whoever we can. We just disagree on what’s actually possible.”


    “I’m not trying to test what it’s like to be Tainted,” Aster said firmly. “I’m trying to save them. The other Lanterns, as many as I can. I thought it was your job to make sure we’re all as safe as we could be. With all due respect, you’re not doing that, none of you are. It''s like you''ve already given up.” She hoped it wasn’t obvious how backhanded that phrase could be, “with all due respect”. What if she didn’t think they were due much respect, at least not as an organization?


    “You think that if we can’t, surely you must be able to? One person can do what a whole organization has found themselves unable to?” Andromeda sighed wearily. “We’re doing all we can, Aster. Nothing is perfect. Every person we can’t save pains me as much as it does you.”


    Aster felt her hands shaking. I don’t believe you. I can''t. She relaxed her hands from being clenched as she noticed they still were. “Please. Let me do what I can.” She hated having to concede and try to take as much of the burden as she could, but what else could she do? She could at least be better than nothing, couldn''t she?


    Andromeda paused, then let out a breath. “You get one chance. The first Lantern we sent out to investigate hasn’t made it back. I don’t know what you think you can do, but you may as well try. I hope you come back.”


    Aster nodded and gave a short bow as respectfully as she could muster. She did manage to stop herself from grinding her teeth, if only for the sake of her teeth. “Thank you.” She rushed off towards Mira.


    Mira didn’t look up as Aster came. “Mira?” She turned her head slightly toward Aster, but otherwise gave no indication that she’d noticed her. “She’s giving me a chance.”


    Mira paused. “Am I supposed to be happy about that?” She spoke softer than she used to. “About you putting yourself in danger to try to prolong a life that’s already over?” She finally turned to look Aster in the eyes. “It’s pointless, you have to know that. Please. Let me go, do one last good thing for someone.” Aster tried not to wince at the earnestness in Mira’s haunted eyes. Mira hesitated, looking away again. “Maybe... Maybe I can save them. Wouldn’t that be a good thing to be remembered for?”


    “Hey.” Aster stepped forward, putting a hand on Mira’s shoulder. She was so much shorter than Aster. Several years younger. “Hey, it’s not over, Mira. I promise.”


    “What is this false hope you’re hanging onto? Where did it come from?”


    Aster hesitated. “I... can’t tell you where it came from. I can tell you that it’s real, though. It’s based on something I know, not just something I hope. Please, trust me.” Aster moved to try to catch Mira’s eye, or at least be more clear in her field of vision. “That’s something good you can do for someone.”


    “Not if it ends badly for you.” Mira took a shaky breath. “I don’t think I could forgive myself if it did.”


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    “It would be my fault then, not yours. What if it was a different Lantern instead of you? Would you think it was their fault if I asked to go instead of them? It’s my choice, and I already made it. It’s not you. If anything happens, you can be mad at me.” Aster mustered up a smile. “And just to spite me, you can resolve to outlive me by as much as you can.”


    “How would that be to spite you, if it’s what you want?” Mira mumbled.


    “Mm... Then by not letting anyone go to look for me?”


    Mira tilted her head. “I can’t figure out if you want that one or not.”


    “I can’t either. I’d want to be found, but... I wouldn’t want to endanger anyone.” Aster took a breath. No one should have to suffer for my mistakes. Not again.


    “So you can understand how I feel, then.”


    Aster went quiet. “I’m... sorry, Mira. I can understand that. But believe me when I say that the best thing you could do for me is just to try to live. Well, at least to do your best to stay out of the Depths. Okay?”


    “What if I say the same thing about you?” Mira met her eyes again, for a moment. “They can’t afford to lose you.” No ‘we’ or ‘us’ because she thinks she doesn’t belong anywhere anymore.


    Aster winced but tried to hide it. No. You’re wrong. You have no idea just how much I can’t do, how performative this all is. But you need to believe that I’m strong, so you’re not so afraid. “I’ve ventured into the Depths so many times before, and yet I have a 100% return rate. You really think this will be the time that does me in?” She tried to pour her artificial concoction of confidence into her words.


    “You’re not invincible. No one is.” Mira paused, looking at Aster with an expression that seemed pained. “I’m... afraid. Especially afraid that it’ll end up being my fault.”


    “I told you. None of this is your fault, and no one else’s actions are your fault. It’s not your responsibility to decide for me, and you can''t control whether you succeed in persuading me.” Aster paused and took a deep breath. “I know I’m not invincible. I know you’re afraid, and I’m sorry for the worry I’ve caused you. But, do you know just how hard I’ll try to come back?”


    “As hard as all those times you came back on your own?”


    “Harder, because I know this time I have someone counting on me.” She put on another smile. Was that the right thing to add here?


    Mira paused, then suddenly embraced her. “Come back,” she said fervently.


    Aster froze, surprised for a moment, then gently returned the hug. “I’ll do my best.” Mira pulled back. “Take care of yourself, okay?”


    Mira nodded. “You too. Promise me.”


    “I will.” Aster offered one more smile, then turned and walked away.


    She collected the lantern marker for the Lantern that had been sent out first, double-checked her supplies, and stepped up to the nearest tunnel into the Starless Depths.


    Aster stood at that threshold and took a deep breath, then flared her lights to life and took the first steps into the tunnel.


    The beginning stretches of the tunnel were crowded with various varieties of hanging plants, vines, and ivy straining toward the light. Those species only grew in that thin in-between area of dimness, though they had something of siblings and a few distant cousins further on.


    The dimness became darkness before long, then that darkness deepened until she thought she could almost feel it. She knew that was her imagination this early on, though. Her multitude of lights cut through it starkly, enfolding her in a sphere of illumination. She was alone with her light, the subtly brown rock walls and ceiling, her echoing footsteps, and the Depths. The pressing silence seemed to fight with the sounds of her footsteps, much as the Depths fought her light.


    The floor started slanting more sharply downward. Aster took care not to trip. After passing through a few forks in the tunnels and coming to another, she opened her lantern and secured the Lantern’s marker in its place. That made part of the light extend outward, reaching out in the direction of the light the missing Lantern should have with them. Aster adjusted her course accordingly. It angled downward diagonally, so she started laying out a mental route in her head.


    Soon, Aster could hear the rhythmic dripping of water from stalactites. She splashed through a shallow pool of collected water, then stepped onto something soft that squelched as she put pressure on it. Carpets of dark green moss stretched out here, drinking in the water. Sporadically, tiny orange or yellow flowers poked out of the moss. Aster angled herself sideways as she brushed past some hanging plants, these a few shades paler than those on the threshold.


    She stepped away from the dripping water and checked one of her handmade maps. She should be nearing the Well she''d be going down soon.


    Aster came to a short, circular stone wall surrounding a hole. There was a ladder coming up out of it, securely attached to a side of the well. Most Wells just had a rope, but this one was used frequently. She peered in, lowering her lantern so she could check the area she’d drop into. The hole here didn’t continue down after reaching the next level below. The way seemed clear, so she tied her lantern to her belt, swung onto the ladder, and started down carefully.


    It didn’t take long to reach the ground. This level wasn’t that far beneath the one she’d come from. It tended to be a little more humid than the first, and had an abundance of mushrooms that weren’t all that different from those found on the surface.


    Aster continued similarly for a while, falling into a sort of habitual trance. After a while, she descended to another level. This third level was where the strange translucence common in the Starless Depths really started to appear, but more noteworthy was the reflective quality that many denizens of this level had. She passed by a cavern wall covered in mirrorlike moss and stepped around a cluster of willowy reflective mushrooms. The light extending out to the lost Lantern slowly became steadily brighter as she got closer to them.


    At one point, she heard the telltale clattering of new swallowrock nearby, so she made a quick note on one of her maps and gave the area a wide berth. She didn’t have the time to pinpoint exactly where the swallowrock began, but maybe she could do it on the return trip.


    She had to check her map a few times as the Lantern’s marker led her into less-traveled areas, but she was fairly sure she’d been here before.


    Aster snapped out of the trance when the Lantern marker’s light suddenly jerked in a different direction. It’d gotten much brighter now - she was getting close. Aster sped up, then broke into a run as the light sped up further.


    She started nearing a jagged wall of rock with a low opening at the base. The light had become blinding, pointing straight through the wall, at a similar height to where Aster held her own light. She took off her backpack and set it down, crouched down, and started examining the opening.


    A crash sounded from the other side of the wall. Something shattered, and a short moment later, the light pointing toward the Lantern abruptly went out.


    Aster tied her lantern at her side on the belt and, filled with a newfound sense of urgency, started crawling forward as quickly as she could. When she went too fast, jutting portions of the small tunnel''s uneven ceiling scraped her back, but she couldn’t afford to stall. As she progressed toward the source of the sound, the temperature steadily dropped.


    She pushed herself out into a small cavern and came face-to-face with a stark white deer-like creature. It had long, translucent antlers, fading from white at the stems and slightly sharp at the tips. It opened its mouth and let out a drawn-out high-pitched sound that strained at the limits of the sounds Aster could hear.


    Frost started snaking up Aster’s arm nearest the creature. It must’ve been the source of the uncharacteristic cold here; this layer didn’t usually drop to these temperatures on its own.


    Aster brushed the frost off as she rolled away and tried to scramble to her feet. Before she could fully stand, the creature’s antlers rapidly elongated, some of the branches darting toward her. She stumbled backward and something crunched under her boot. She narrowly avoided slipping on a shard of the broken lantern and risked a glance backward.


    A Lucenari huddled there, and she recognized them as the Lantern she’d been tracking. Hyacinth, the Lantern that Aster admired most of those she’d met. He stood and stepped up beside her as she whirled back around to face the creature of the Depths. As she did so, she whipped a dagger out of its sheath on her belt, elbowing her cloak away from her lantern so it shone more openly on the creature.


    It let out another screech-like sound, forced to retract its antlers from the light, despite their translucence offering some amount of protection from it. Neither the translucence nor pale colors could fully avoid or reflect all the light, but the colors and patterns nonetheless attempted to protect their hosts.


    Aster slashed her dagger through the air, and it cut a long, thin sliver of light away from the rest, shooting toward the creature. Hyacinth cut out a few smaller slashes of light to accompany hers.


    The creature made an attempt to dodge the pieces of light, but couldn''t get out of the way in time. It shimmered and quickly faded into translucency a second before it was hit, becoming mostly intangible. Several of the blades of light passed through the creature and shattered to dust on the cavern wall beyond.


    It screeched again, louder this time, the sound gaining a hollow, echoing quality as the air escaped differently than when it had been mostly tangible. Aster''s ears started ringing.


    As she prepared another strike, trying to carve it out more strategically this time, Hyacinth lurched forward suddenly. "Aster!"


    Aster barely had time to react as a boar-like creature of the Depths came hurtling toward her. She gasped, stumbling backward, but wasn''t able to get herself far enough out of the way in time.


    Before the boar could quite reach her, Hyacinth was there. He slashed a curtain of light in front of her, but not before the creature rammed into his leg. And in that sliver of a moment, a tendril of the Dark snaked out and struck at a new wound inflicted by the creature''s tusks.


    “No-!” Aster heard herself shout. Not that it''d help. Hyacinth staggered back. She could hear his breath quicken.


    She bit back an apology. That would come later. She turned back around and cut out a quick series of blades of light toward the creatures of the dark. In the moments that bought her, she supported Hyacinth in getting back a little further and helped him to the ground, handing him two of her brightest echo crystals. He seemed to want to object to being pushed out of the battle, but was in no state to do it, at least not yet. "Stay behind me," she breathed, whipping back around and taking a few steps forward.


    She hoped neither Hyacinth nor the monsters could see that she was shaking.