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Chapter One Hundred Fifty-One: ‘What remains of a Falling...’
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‘So the worms have given up?’ Hector asked, still not entirely clear on what seemed like an ever-changing situation.

‘Uh, I’m not sure,’ said Garovel privately. ‘They’ve slowed down or stopped chasing us, but I don’t know if that means they’ve genuinely given up. My knowledge of worms is a bit spotty, in case that wasn’t already obvious.’

‘Then ask one of the others about it,’ said Hector.

‘Aww, but--ugh, fine.’ He switched over to a public voice. ‘So do you think they’ve left us alone or what?’

‘No,’ said Axiolis. ‘Judging from the movement patterns, they still seem agitated to me.’

‘Why are they keeping their distance, then?’ asked Yangéra.

‘Probably because they are hesitant to enter this area for some reason,’ said Axiolis. ‘It would make sense if this area was the territory of a rock golem. In which case, we have lucked out.’

Hector’s pessimism was doubting that.

‘Have we, though?’ said Garovel, perhaps feeling similarly. ‘We’re still both surrounded AND stranded. Doesn’t seem like the greatest luck to me, even if the worms have given up. Which, by the way, you’re also saying they might not have?’

‘Mm, indeed,’ said Axiolis. ‘They may just need to cluster up in order to overcome their anxiety. They are not exactly the brightest creatures in the world, so that may take them a while.’

‘Then let’s make use of that time,’ said Yangéra. ‘We should put some more distance between us and them while we can.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Alright.’

And the group began walking again, though at a more cautious pace than even before they were being chased.

Hector had the opportunity to observe the various crumbling structures all around them. He’d never seen the like before. Most windows were longer horizontally than they were vertically, and whatever the faintly foggy material was that occupied them couldn’t have been simple glass, as it would have surely melted at this temperature.

He tried to recall if he’d seen material like this in Babbadelo, but if he had, it was escaping him. He thought about asking Garovel if he remembered, but the reaper had never seemed to give too much of a crap about architecture, so he probably wouldn’t. That, and he didn’t want to distract Garovel from his observational duties, right now.

Regardless, he wished they had more light. Even with all of their lamps probing around, the thick darkness still made it difficult to see very much at one time. And of course, pretty much every building was in shambles, too. That made it considerably harder to spot the architectural differences between here and the surface.

What a shame. He would’ve liked to get a look at an intact roof, but he couldn’t find one.

Still, it was interesting to him that this place even had buildings to begin with--or at least this many. Babbadelo had so few by comparison. Everything there had been carved out of the natural rock formations.