No, everyone's mood has soured down here, gone to rot like the bodies sunken in the bellies of those fungal pods on the cavern wall. It has made them all volatile. Wilhelm is as likely to throw fists as he is to crumble into tears. Even now as he swipes his knuckles at his eyes, something violent lurches in his expression. He wants to grab Kaz by the collar and throttle sense into him. He wants to be strong enough to not become another body stinking up the shadows, strong enough to make sure they all survive.

If this hell has cracked him, it has remade him too.

"I can't sleep," he says, shaking his head. Even if his mind were purged of all the ghosts haunting it, the thrumming in his veins would keep him awake. He's stopped trying. "I don't...I don't need to sleep."

Is if the gods, he wonders, keeping him alive when he should have keeled over from exhaustion by now?