If Lani was on edge during the day, walking through the woods at night, knowing that we potentially had six or seven stalkers... well, she was a nervous wreck.

And honestly? So was I.

None of us could see the path, and Kat kept tripping over tree roots that Lani and I just weren't finding. Every time he fell, I held my breath, each time entirely convinced that our maybe-stalkers would find us this time, would catch up... and then what?

I didn't want to think about it.

Sometimes Lani would freeze, or dart behind a tree with a near-silent gasp. I couldn't see anything for her to be reacting to, but her instincts weren't dragging us off cliffs, so I followed her lead.

As such, it was almost one in the morning — according to my watch, which was probably not entirely accurate — when we actually reached the half-collapsed hill. A forty-five minute walk, or thereabouts, taking an hour and a half.

Paranoia.

"Thank God," Lani whispered, the first thing she'd actually said since leaving Grey Meadow Hideaway. The slight relief in her voice vanished in her next words, though. "Oh Lord, we've got to move. Three, two, one!"

And without any explanation as to what her countdown meant, she grabbed our wrists and launched herself forward.

The first time we'd fallen down here, I'd probably hit my head on something, because I couldn't remember it very clearly. This time, though... nothing would stay upright for even a second, and for a moment it crossed my mind that this might be what it was like to be stuck in a washing machine... just without the water.

And a lot more dirt.

When the sky stayed above me, I decided we'd stopped rolling. The dizzy feeling didn't leave as I struggled to my feet, noticing a scratch on Kat's face and several weird markings on the back of Lani's hand.

Lani, who was staring blankly up at the stars, as if she wasn't quite seeing them.

"Lani?"

"Hm?"

"Okay, you're alright. You know who you are... Kat? Katriel? Hello?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"What's that on your hand, Lani?"

"Good question." She shrugged, standing up with much more ease than I had. "Guess we should just... jump in?"

"You're insane if you think you'd survive that," Kat sighed, staying where he was. "Like, actually insane. It's probably not even a straight drop. You need to fly."

"Slight problem there, mate," Lani laughed, but it sounded forced.

"Really."

"Surely there's another way?" I pulled the bag the old woman had given me off my shoulder and flipped open the buckles on it — I'd always wanted a bag like this one — without a second thought. "Maybe there's something in here that could... aha! And ouch!"

"Not happening. Absolutely not happening." Lani's face was almost as white as Kat's by now, but my not-really-proposed solution was just that.

A solution.

"No, because this is exactly what we'd need! Wings."

"They look like they were made in Victorian times, Anya!"

"And? The first plane was flown in 1903. That's barely not Victorian times."

"How stable do they look?"

Okay. Maybe she did have a point. They reminded me more of a glider than anything else, and I couldn't help but think of how some overly-cocky men had died testing such things a couple of centuries ago.

That... that filled me with confidence.

"Whatever. All I have to do is just, like, not crash, right?"

"Aside from the fact that Lios City is not what you think it is, it's that easy," Kat sighed. "Anyone you meet down there'll be able to help us survive, but please don't try for somewhere with loads of people, okay?"

"You're not saying this is a good idea!"

"Course not. All things considered, it should really be me throwing myself down there, but I'm kinda... not a fan of heights? Or flying? At all?"

"Wonder why."

"Yeah, me too." He paused, glancing at the well, something flickering in his eyes, before turning away. "Anya's clearly fine with doing it herself. So why not let her?"

"That's my little sister?"

"Please, there's only five minutes in it!" I snap, trying to work out how I'm meant to put the things on. "And anyway, they were in my bag, weren't they? So clearly I'm the one who's meant to use them."

As if that was the final word I had on the subject, I turned away, pulling at random straps and trying to buckle them together until they didn't shake too much when I moved, or seemed like control-strings.

Then I grabbed the abandoned satchel.

"Kat, can you take this? I definitely don't think that's gonna work."

"Er, sure..." He caught the bag easily, which Lani was apparently worried about, as her sigh of relief was practically over-exaggerated.

Together, the three of us managed to shift the well cover, and Kat leaned over to check... something.

"Okay, it looks clear enough. You sure you want to do this?"

"Course."

Did I really? Well, no, but the idea of flying (or gliding) was pretty cool, so... yeah. I was going to do it whether I wanted to or not.

I scrambled up onto the edge of it, wavering only slightly, and then turned to Lani.

I'm never going to forget the look on her face.

"Three, two, one..." she muttered, looking distinctly uncomfortable with her words.

But I jumped anyway.

Pull the vaguely red string until you don't feel impossibly claustrophobic... keep the wings down until there's space...

Even so, something kept scraping the sides of the well, and I realised several moments too late that I'd forgotten to remove my glasses — when they flew off and left me even blinder than before.

The Woodingdean well is 390 metres deep. That's the deepest hand-dug well in the world, and it'd take something like nine seconds for me to fall down that far.

This can't be any deeper, but I'm sure it's been a bit longer than nine seconds.

And then the walls are gone.

I give myself a couple of seconds to adjust to the light, and release my death-grip on the 'close' string. Now for the more interesting part...

The other two are both awfully similar, so I pull the one I think I established as the 'open' cord and hope for the best.

Result?

A lot of screaming, because while it's the right one, it also happens to be about as simple as magic seems to be. Which is to say, impossible to understand properly.

I lose track of what's up and what's down as I fumble desperately for the third and final string, the one that should — in theory — sort this mess out.

And I pull, and I close my eyes, and I pray.