The missing First was the same giant with whom they had just spoken.

Or it wasn’t.

Tritian and his siblings still knew nothing about the Creation. In what was possible, they said very little, at least from their perspective. If nothing else came from their time trapped in this nightmare, it was to appreciate just how miserably slight their knowledge was.

“We are eleven simple, stupid idiots,” Tritian muttered, speaking to the Seven but imagining the Three listening too. He imagined them so well that he saw Diamond and King and Quest standing at the lip of the crevice, tiny faces peering inquisitively down at them, taking his declaration to heart.

Something about that moment felt magical, which was not an uncommon occurrence. Every day had its moments when meanings seemed to raise their heads from the chaos. But that happened to be the moment when day vanished without warning, and in the same instant, the Eight fell out of the crevice, tumbling wildly through the black air, spinning toward a sun that had ceased to be.

“It’s out, it’s gone. The sun is gone.”

Seldom shouted those words, and people laughed. Everybody was surprised and scared, and there was a lot of laughing, giggling and cackling with wild, mad voices making everyone feel even worse. Then an older voice, male and very deep, repeated Seldom’s last few words. Diamond didn’t recognize the man, but there was a defiant tone to the way he spoke, a booming dismissal meant for everyone to hear, and then the man delivered a string of withering curses, belittling and denying even the idea that anyone could sprout such a stupid thought. And the room that was on the brink of panic suddenly fell back to skepticism and sanity.

Meeker’s shrill voice emerged, trying to gather control. He offered words that seemed to mean that the overhead windows had slammed shut, making ready for the papio attack. But darkness came in an instant. Diamond understood enough to know that windows couldn’t close so quickly. Yet he joined in with the giggling, which made him feel better. And maybe that new mood would have lasted, but then some practical hand thought to test the principle, striking an important switch, and the great room becoming quieter as everyone listened to the throbbing of an engine and the hard rattle of chains that were lifting plates of interlocking steel

One of the giant access doors rose. Everyone could hear it lifting, and everyone felt the inside air flowing outdoors. But when light-adapted eyes stared at the door, nothing was visible, nothing waiting but a rich and perfect darkness that had claimed the entire world.

Five or six measured breaths had passed.

Time felt dense, leaden.

The initial shock and near-panic from before was nothing. It was a mild emotion compared to the mayhem that followed, chaotic and incoherent and shrill. Every mind was taken, every heart. One portion of the crowd surged for what should be the open door, but at least as many tried to flee back into the facility’s hallways and safe rooms. No one could see past the wet depths of his own wide eyes. A small torch might be brought out of a pocket and lit, but that triggered ten hands grabbing for the treasure, and accidental collisions led to blind intentional battles, bodies dropping to the floor and a single gunshot—an accident, maybe, or warning shot, or somebody trying to win enough room to stand still and think.

Diamond was struck from the side by an anonymous adult, and he shoved back with an elbow and then his entire body.

King called his name, the voice tall but not as loud as it could be, and distinctly, richly frightened.

“Here,” Diamond called out.

A vast hand dropped on his head, little scales cutting into his scalp.

Then Diamond called out, “Quest.”

A dry angular hand brushed across his chest and his face, pinching shut the lips before he could say her name again.

Her invisible face came close. An odor like old flowers and mold rode in with quiet sharp words. “I didn’t,” she said. “I did not.”

Of course she hadn’t, no.

From overhead, King said, “I want to see.” He was nearly begging, saying, “Sister . . . can you make a light . . . ?”

But she already had, it seemed. He asked the question, and a second hand opened, revealing a pale red globe. The globe resembled the fruit of the fungi that lived at the gloomy top of the world. The nearest few people noticed, surging like moths. King let go of Diamond and pushed back the first wave, and the second, and then he picked both up by their waists, asking, “Where is that damned thing?”

The gray ball wasn’t where it was just moments ago. To Diamond, nothing was more reasonable than the gray ball riding inside the corona for one purpose, and having finally done the job, it had vanished. Or it became the world’s darkness. Unless the ball sprouted legs and ran away . . . which was just as easy to accept . . .

“Brighter,” King pleaded.

Quest’s face was sprouting globes like sores and broad nocturnal eyes, and from the mouth that was still human, she said, “Put me on your shoulders.”

Easily, yes. King dropped her behind his head, legs kicking his chest, and he turned once quickly, holding Diamond under his left arm.

“I hear it,” he said.

Something that wasn’t metal was being dragged and rolled along the clean floor of polished bone.

King followed the sound.

“Behind those soldiers,” Quest said.

Half a dozen young men had surrounded the mysterious orb. The surging crowd must have kicked it to them. Maybe they didn’t realize where it was, but they were standing in a rough ring, accidentally protecting what they couldn’t understand. Then they saw an apparition wading through the crowd—massive below and glowing above—and one of the soldiers managed to lift his rifle and fire two shots before his rifle was flying across the room and one of his hands was shattered.

The soldiers backed up and fell over, and King grabbed the prize with his right hand. But the ball was a little too large, and it was slick as glass, and falling free, it again gave off that faint ringing sound as it bounced.

Diamond was dropped.

King scooped up the prize with both hands and spun it. Then with desperate conviction, he held it up before his face, saying, “Put your finger back in. Go on, now.”

Quest did exactly that.

For a full breath, nothing changed. And then the room was bright again. Scared faces blinked and bodies started to pick themselves off the floor, and for a fine stupid moment Diamond could believe that the problem was both simple and solved. The sun had returned, and not only was it back, but if anything, its light was more brilliant than ever.

He laughed.

But King knew better. He cursed and said, “No, it’s just the lights.”

The nearest big doorway was fully opened. The outside world was still black and mysterious, while the indoors was illuminated by a series of electric lights that hummed and sometimes flickered as their filaments grew white-hot.

One soldier turned to another, asking, “What do we do?”

King thought this was a fine question. Turning to his brother, he said, “Listen for the voice. The voice.”

“Whose voice?” asked Quest.

Neither boy answered.

Quest was still riding King’s shoulders. Her eyes kept shifting forms, shifting talents. She was watching every face, and in the uproar, nobody noticed her stares.

“Seldom,” said Diamond.

King looked just at him. “What?”

Diamond wanted to find his friend, and a good smart reason helped him. “Seldom’s wonderful with puzzles. This is a puzzle.”’

That notion wore an appealing logic.

The three of them shouted, “Seldom.”

Someone closer to the door called out, “Here.”

King cradled the orb in one arm and pushed, his other arm sweeping bodies aside.