Miri didn't fall for long.

  She rolled on instinct, shoulder taking most of it. Stone slammed into her ribs and stole her breath and she lay there for a moment with the dark pressing down on her and her lungs refusing to cooperate.

  She had barely begun to remember what breathing was when Tony landed beside her with a heavy thud and an angry snarl, claws scraping uselessly against smooth floor.

  Something in her chest that had nothing to do with the impact loosened slightly. Not alone.

  "Tamsin—" Her voice vanished in the black. No echo. No answer.

  "Fen?" she called louder.

  Nothing. No impact above. No shifting stone. No answering curse from Fen.

  The silence from above pressed tight against her ears.

  Tony's flank brushed her leg. She grabbed him immediately, burying her fingers in fur, and held on a beat longer than strictly necessary.

  "I'm here," she whispered. "They're probably okay up there."

  He huffed hard against her shoulder. Warm. Solid. Breathing.

  She bent over his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his chest and let herself have exactly five seconds of that before she straightened up.

  "Thank you for coming with me," she said into his fur. "You absolute idiot. Thank you."

  Gold light flared without warning, revealing a rectangle of stone around them. Perfectly smooth. No seams. No markings. No door. Just walls. Empty. No ceiling.

  Miri stood slowly, hands trailing along the stone.

  "Okay," she muttered. "Puzzle box. Fine. Sure."

  She scanned corners. Checked for sigils. Tapped the floor with the pommel of her sword. Nothing.

  Tony prowled the perimeter, tail stiff, claws testing the surface. They screeched and slid. No purchase.

  She opened her inventory. Rope — useful if there was somewhere to go. The Inside Out Charm — she turned it over mentally and put it aside. Explosive — and bury them both, no. Rations, sleep dust, charms that had nothing to say about stone walls closing in on her.

  The room shifted. A low grinding hum vibrated through her boots.

  She froze.

  The far wall moved. Barely at first, then unmistakably, sliding inward. Slow. Steady. The opposite wall did the same.

  Both advancing. Slow. Deliberate.

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  "Oh, come on," she snapped at the darkness above. "We're really doing this?"

  The walls continued their patient approach.

  Ten feet across. Nine and a half.

  Tony lunged at one wall, pushing off it to strike the opposite, trying to rebound upward. His claws screamed against the stone and found nothing and he slid back down.

  Again. Push. Scrape. Fall.

  "Stop," she said, voice cracking. "Stop, you're going to hurt yourself."

  He ignored her.

  Nine feet.

  Think. There had to be something. She ran her hands over the floor again. No levers. No hidden plates. Nothing. At least not down here. She looked up at the darkness above.

  Eight feet.

  The walls were smooth. But smooth didn't mean impossible. Climbing wasn't about holds — it was about friction. Pressure. If she could brace against both surfaces—

  She pressed her palms flat against one side and leaned. Couldn't reach the other.

  Not yet.

  Seven feet.

  She swallowed hard.

  "I need it closer," she whispered. The words tasted wrong.

  Tony paced. Six and a half feet.

  She imagined the end state — the final crush. She imagined staying, curled around him, and the thought hit her like ice water and she shoved it so far down it stopped existing.

  No.

  She dropped to her knees in front of Tony and grabbed his face in both hands.

  "Listen to me." Her voice cracked. "I'm going up. I have to go up. I'll stop it. I'll stop it and I'll come back."

  He blinked calmly. He nudged his head forward and bumped her chest.

  Go.

  Five feet.

  She stood and pressed her back against one wall, boots against the other.

  Still too wide. Four and a half.

  Four feet.

  Now.

  She shoved herself sideways, palms flat, boots flat, wedging her body between the stone surfaces. Friction caught. Barely. She climbed — back foot up, opposite hand higher, press, slide, press again.

  The walls continued closing below her.

  Three and a half feet.

  Breathing became work. Her thighs shook. She did not look down. She did not.

  Three feet.

  Tony paced beneath her, agitation rising, space tightening, his shoulders brushing the walls now. She could hear it — the soft scrape of fur against stone. She climbed and didn't look down.

  Two and a half feet.

  Her shoulders screamed. The pressure increased. The walls weren't just closing, they were squeezing, and her breath came shallow and if she slipped—

  She didn't slip.

  Two feet.

  Her fingers brushed something above. A lip. A seam.

  She forced herself up with a sound she didn't recognize and hooked an elbow over the top edge and hauled herself onto the upper ledge and rolled onto her back.

  Air.

  God.

  Air.

  Below, the gap was barely wide enough for Tony to stand. He had stopped pacing. He was braced. Waiting. His eyes found her the moment she looked over the edge.

  "Hold on," she sobbed.

  There was a mechanism. Of course there was. A lever embedded in the stone, polished smooth from use. She grabbed it and yanked.

  The grinding hum stuttered. Paused.

  The walls jerked outward with a violent shudder, moving apart inch by inch, the gap widening from a coffin squeeze to something survivable.

  Tony stumbled as the crushing force released. The stone peeled away until the chamber returned to its original width, smooth and deceptively innocent.

  She didn't wait for them to finish.

  She pulled the silk rope from her inventory and it uncoiled as she dropped it over the edge. She climbed down too fast, hands slipping, friction burns on her palms, and hit the floor and grabbed him.

  Her hands flew over his sides automatically, checking, confirming.

  She pulled a high quality healing potion from her inventory and helped him drink it, and pressed her forehead to his while he did.

  "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm so sorry—"

  His tail thumped once against the stone.

  She stayed there until her breathing steadied. Until her hands stopped shaking. Until she could feel that he was whole and breathing and fine and the walls stood wide and silent around them as if they had never tried to close at all.

  Until she could stop hating herself.

  She had left him. Even for a minute. Even with a plan.

  She wiped her face roughly with her sleeve. Only then did she notice the doorway that had appeared behind Tony. Wide enough for both of them.

  "Okay," she whispered hoarsely. "Okay."

  She stood. Tony walked beside her.

  They stepped through the arch together.