“Why me?”
She hesitates. Long hair touches my arm. She can see me, I realize—I’m blind here, but she isn’t. She moves too deftly, too easily. “Knockers reward respectful miners. I’ll lead you to a new seam, on the far side of this room.” Something isn’t right about her words, like this is a practiced answer instead of a real one. I’m sure if I could see her eyes, I’d know that for certain.
I chuckle nervously, trying to sound casual, hoping to coax the truth from her. “That’s all? Because if that’s it, you’ve picked the wrong miner then,” I say. “I’m not respectful. My father was the miner; I hate this place—”
She makes a strange noise, one that sounds more catlike than human, one that sounds like she’s hurt herself—I lunge forward, hoping to catch her arm, but there’s nothing. I sit back and wait for her to speak again.
And wait.
And wait.
And realize that the sound of her breathing is gone, as is the rustle of her clothing.
The room suddenly fills with light, blinding me for a moment. It’s from my helmet, lying on the ground nearby. The lamp has flickered on, and its tiny light is like the sun. My eyes adjust and I search the room for her, waiting to see her face, to connect eyes with the voice.
The room has smooth walls and a steep pitch, and the ceiling is high and cathedral-like. Thick seams of coal line it, like striped wallpaper. Behind me, I see the exit into the ballroom. But there’s no other way out, not that I see, and there’s no one else here.
Maybe she only exists in the dark.
She is the only thing I’m thinking of as we head underground the following day. I didn’t mention her to anyone—as strange as she is, she is the only thing about the mines I’ve ever found intriguing. It’s almost like the mine itself has changed—it’s something exciting, something different than just mile after mile of darkness and coal. I don’t want anyone, not even Roth, to take that away. I wonder who she is really—a homeless girl, a runaway? A lunatic? A traveler, a con artist?
A faery girl? I’d ignore the last prospect were it not for her so easily vanishing yesterday. I spent the night thinking about it, trying to imagine what a life in the dark would be like.
I wait till everyone is at work and go back to the ballroom. It’s not easy—the retreaters are buzzing around, looking at pillars. I sneak around them, hold my breath when I see the tiny doorway into the cavern. Did I really plunge into that darkness so readily yesterday? I grit my teeth as I slide inside.
Nothing, no one. Not even the rustle of her clothes. I call her name softly, gently. I rap on the walls; I even resort to begging, but nothing.
Just as desperation is morphing to irritation, just as I’m about to leave, my helmet lamp flickers out.
“Why did you come back?” Her voice slices through the thick black. She sounds curious.
I lick my lips, turn my head to the sound of her voice. “I wanted to see you. Or, well, talk to you, since I can’t see you.”
“Why?”
I offer the simplest answer, the one I don’t think I would give if I could see her eyes on mine. “I’m lonely.”
Ennor waits to reply, but I can feel the words trying to escape the tip of her tongue. “I’m lonely, too.”
We’re both silent a long time. Finally, I sit down, leaning against the wall. Just as I reach the floor, I feel the tips of her fingers press into my palm. Her breath falls on the back of my hand, a thousand times warmer than the cool mine air.
I am afraid of Ennor.
I am afraid that talking to her means I am crazy. I’m afraid she isn’t real, and I’m afraid she is.
And I am not afraid of her at all. She is the magic my father told me about. Talking to her makes me forget I am a miner, gives me a reason to look forward to going underground during the brightest part of the day.
Ennor herself is darkness to me—my helmet lamp flickers out whenever I step into the cavern. I’m left to imagine her face on every woman I see when I surface. I whisper confessions to Ennor, confessions a thousand times more honest than I’ve ever said in church, confessions that get deeper with each passing day. I can admit to anything—like not being able to see her means I also don’t have to see myself.
She tells me about her life. About how she lives underground—I don’t understand, really, but I listen. She tells me how the light would burn her skin, but how badly she wishes she could see things above the ground, like flowers and Ferris wheels. I describe them to her and she’s enchanted, delighted when I explain that carnival rides glow.
When I’m with her, I’m not afraid of the dark.
“Why do you hate the mine?” she asks one day, just as I step into the cavern and my helmet lamp goes out. I balance myself, dizzy from the sudden change in light.
“Because I don’t want to be a miner.”
“But you are.”
I shake my head and reach for the wall for stability, then lower myself to the floor.
“Not because I want to be,” I say. She sits next to me, her knee pressing against mine. She always touches me when we talk—a hand, her arm pressed against mine. It’s not intimate, exactly, though it felt strange at first—now it’s eye contact in the darkness. “It would be easier if I did. If I was like the rest of them and didn’t care that I might spend most of my life underground. If I was more like my father.”
“You don’t like it here?” Ennor asks gently, and I pause, trying to work out if there is hurt in her tone.
“I’m afraid here, sometimes,” I admit. “I’m afraid of suddenly being fifty years old and realizing that I haven’t seen the sun in decades. I’m afraid of not living up to my father’s reputation. And I’m afraid of getting covered up, of being trapped down here, where I don’t even think I’m supposed to be to begin with.”
“A cave-in,” Ennor says. “Like the one that happened when I was young.”
“Yes,” I answer, raising my eyebrows. “My father was caught in it. You know about it?”
“It’s my family’s job,” Ennor answers. “We protect the land and the mines, and if they’re respectful, the miners.”
“Your family’s job?”
“Yes. Some of the miners weren’t respectful like your father. He was a good man, my family says.”
Wait. Does she mean what I think she means? I take a deep breath before speaking. “What happened to the ones who weren’t respectful?”
Ennor sighs. “My family let the earth take them.”
My stomach twists like someone is tightening a bow in it. Yes, she means what I think she means. Roth’s face flashes through my head, my father’s, and finally the four who died, whose faces are memorialized in bronze at the center of town. My family let the earth take them.
I lean away from her and stand up, steady myself on the wall; I’m not sure if it’s the darkness or the knowledge that’s making me dizzy.
“Will?” she says, and my name sounds exotic on her lips.
“Your family caused that cave-in?” I ask. My tongue feels thick.
“Yes. But I didn’t do it,” Ennor says quickly. “I had nothing to do with it. Are you angry?” She sounds almost desperate as I move to duck through the doorway. “Why are you angry?”
I’m trying not to yell, but my voice is loud, bounces off the walls. “Because people died, Ennor! My father could have died.”
“My family protected him—”
“So I’m supposed to think it’s okay? What did the other miners do that was so disrespectful they deserved to die?” My voice is high, almost panicked.
“They killed us!” Ennor says, and she is yelling—her voice echoes up, shoots through the rock the same way her knocking does. “They blew up the mountain, killed a thousand years in seconds. They murdered the earth that had given them so much with explosives and fire. My family had to fight back!”