Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
Far too rarely do we think about the things we have – the things we possess and cherish. Only once we lose them do we truly become aware of their value. Loss breeds discontent. Discontent leads to inner turmoil, and being torn apart inevitably ends in misery. Yet by the time this realization sets in, it is usually too late. We try to mend what cannot be restored, even though it has long since shattered.
But what about that small part within us — that last spark of hope and defiance that refuses to give in? That spark clings to the possibility of reclaiming what was lost. It drives us to overcome the state we are in and restore the one we long for. The willingness to not only cross our limits, but to leave them miles behind, is unparalleled. Yet one must not lose sight of what truly matters. A tunnel vision blinds us miss the people and moments that still surround us.
In the end, there is only one question to ask: How far are you willing to go?
Chapter Text
Gregor jolted upright. His own scream had woken him. Whatever, I’m used to it by now, he thought as he tried to recall the nightmare that had just torn him from sleep. But he didn’t have much time to think, because a second later the door to his room opened.
His father stood in the doorway, worry clearly written across his face. “Another nightmare?” he asked quietly and sat down on the bed next to Gregor. “The Underland?”
Gregor remained silent. He knew exactly what his father was concerned about. “Everything's fine, Dad,” he finally muttered, sitting up and taking a sip of water from the glass on the windowsill.
His father shook his head. “Nothing is fine.”
Gregor recognized his attempt to remain calm, but the concern in his voice was unmistakable.
“You're having nightmares all the time, your grades are slipping, and you're shutting yourself off more and more.” He leaned toward him and put a hand on Gregor's shoulder. His voice softened. “You know you can always talk to us. It'll help you.”
Gregor snorted, louder than he intended, but he didn't care. All these people always trying to help him. When would they finally understand that he can’t be helped? He was screaming that thought inside his head. Saying it out loud wouldn’t have changed anything anyway. Who was supposed to help him? Doctors? Psychiatrists? Every single one of them would ask questions. Questions about his scars, questions about his thoughts, questions about what he had been through. They would lock him up immediately right after he started „fantasizing“ about the underland. No, these people couldn’t help him.
And his parents? They and his sisters, Boots and Lizzy, had been to the underland several times, but none of them had gone through what he had endured. In his last adventure, he barely escaped the course. It had almost killed him, and Ares… Ares, his bat, his loyal companion, had died during battle against the giant, white rat. Gregor had lost so much: his friends, a chance for a normal life, Luxa.
Luxa …
He had left his great love behind. His parents had immediately nipped any attempt to talk about the Underland or even return there in the bud. “Don't worry, Dad. I'm fine,” he said quietly.
"You’re not fine, Gregor," his father said more firmly now. "I’m telling you again, we can hel–"
"No, Dad, no one can help me!" Gregor shouted, and he felt the anger rising inside him. It surged up, faster than he could stop it. "Who’s supposed to help me? No doctor would believe me or even know how to treat me! They would ask questions – questions we can't and aren't allowed to answer!” His voice trembled. "And you haven’t seen what I’ve seen! No one can understand what I’m going through! When will you finally get that?!"
Gregor’s father stepped back, taken aback by the unexpected outburst. He looked at him sadly, while Gregor glared back in anger.
He was about to say something when a noise at the door interrupted them both.
Apparently, Gregor had been a little too loud, because Boots was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Why is Gregor yelling like that?" she asked as she padded over to them.
"Gregor had a bad dream," his father said gently, lifting her into his lap.
"Oh," said Boots sympathetically. "I know what helps."
Without hesitation, she climbed onto the bed and gave Gregor a kiss on the cheek. "Did it help?" she asked, looking at him hopefully.
“Of course it helps, it always does,” said Gregor, forcing a smile. He couldn’t possibly tell her that it didn’t help. It would have broken her little heart into a thousand pieces.
"There we go," said Gregor’s father, picking Boots up and standing. "Now we can all get some sleep again."
Boots nestled against him and waved at Gregor over her father’s shoulder.
Gregor lifted his hand to wave back, his smile lingering for a moment before it faded. Before his father closed the door, he turned back once more and looked at him.
His eyes spoke volumes – worry, confusion, perhaps even a trace of helplessness.
But Gregor looked away. He didn’t care. The door clicked shut, and he was alone again. He let his head sink into the pillow; the faint creak of the bed echoed softly through the room. He closed his eyes and whispered, barely audibly, "No one can help me."
He had been fighting this battle with himself for four long years. Gregor knew that his parents meant well, but they didn't want to understand him. No, they couldn't understand him. The fact that he was also in the middle of puberty didn't make things any easier. He was already irritable and restless, so this didn't really help him. On the contrary: they treated him as if he were fragile, like a bomb that could explode at any moment. Only his sisters and Ms. Cormaci treated him as if everything were still normal. At least a little normality, Gregor thought, as his breathing began to steady and the weight of the night slowly settled over him once more. Eventually, he drifted into a restless sleep.
The next day, Gregor was woken by someone shaking him. Four small hands tugged at him until he finally opened his eyes. He jolted upright, his heart racing, and instinctively reached for his sword—but of course, it wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t.
"Come on, Gregor, get up already," said Lizzie, and Boots giggled. “Otherwise you'll miss breakfast."
Now that was something Gregor definitely didn’t want to miss. Sundays always meant a big, delicious breakfast with eggs and bacon, and the tempting smell was already drifting through the apartment. He forced himself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His father was already sitting at the table, buried in the morning paper and sipping his coffee.
His mother stood at the stove, her hair loosely tied back as she lifted crispy bacon and freshly fried eggs out of the pan. "Good morning, sweetheart," she said with a warm smile.
"Morning, Mom," Gregor mumbled, yawning as he dropped into a chair. "Any plans for today?"
"None so far," she replied with a smile. "But the weather’s beautiful – maybe you could take your sisters outside for a bit?"
"Good idea," Gregor said, though he didn’t sound particularly thrilled.
Boots pouted. "Gregor doesn’t want to play with us," she complained, wagging an accusing finger at him.
Gregor blinked. He realized he’d been rude and turned toward her. "Of course I want to play with you. How about hide-and-seek?" He had barely finished the sentence when his mother spun around.
"No!" she cut in sharply. She was still holding the frying pan, but her gaze was fixed on Gregor, piercing and tense. "No one plays hide-and-seek in this house—someone might disappear down a shaft again and not come back for days." The words hung heavy in the air.
She looked at Gregor, who stared back blankly. The unspoken accusation was clear, even though he knew she hadn’t meant it that way.
“Go outside,” she said quickly, trying to break the tension. “Like I said, the weather is lovely.”
Lizzie shot Gregor a quick glance, as if to make sure he was okay with it. He forced himself to nod.
"All right," he muttered. "Let’s go outside." His mother smiled, though it looked a little strained, as she set the plate of bacon and eggs on the table.
"This will do you good," she said softly.
Gregor didn’t reply. As he mechanically shoveled food onto his plate, he wondered whether anything could ever really do him good again.
After breakfast, Gregor, Lizzie, and Boots set off to get some ice cream at the local parlor.
"But don’t stay out too late!" Gregor’s mother had called after them.
It was summer break, so none of them had to be home early – and secretly, Gregor was glad about that. No teachers asking questions. No one commenting on his long sleeves and full-length pants in thirty-degree heat. No, going for ice cream was a welcome kind of cooling down – even if only from the inside.
Gregor thought back to earlier days, when something like this would’ve been out of the question. Back then, they had to count every penny. His mother had worked multiple jobs while his father lay sick in bed, haunted by nightmares. But things had changed. His father was back at the university, working again, earning well. They didn’t have to worry about money so much anymore—and that was a good thing. The chance had passed for Gregor, maybe. But not for his sisters. For them, everything was still possible. They could still enjoy their childhood to the fullest.
The line at the ice cream parlor was long, but this ice cream was worth the wait. The scent of waffles and chocolate hung in the air. Boots got one scoop of lemon and one of hazelnut, Lizzie was delighted with her fruit sundae, and Gregor ordered a surprise cone.
They sat down and dug into their chilly treats.
"Ice cream is awesome," Boots declared, trying to eat hers in comically oversized bites.
"That only works if you actually eat it and not smear it all over your face," Gregor said, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
Lizzie laughed and sneaked a piece of melon from her cup.
Anyone watching them would have seen three ordinary children, sitting there and enjoying their ice cream. No one would have seen three kids with a past that could easily have ended their lives long ago. No one saw the weight on the teenager’s shoulders – or the shadows in his eyes.
When they had all finished eating, Gregor was ready to go home.
The number of people staring at him with curiosity or disbelief was enough for one day.
"But I don’t want to go home yet," Lizzie whined, pulling a face. "It’s so stuffy and cramped inside. Can we go to the playground?"
"Yeah, the playground!" Boots cheered, clapping her hands in delight.
Gregor sighed. The playground meant even more people. Even more stares. But then he saw the sparkle in his sisters' eyes. Lizzie just wanted to get out, and Boots wanted to play and laugh. And maybe, Gregor thought, that was what mattered. "All right. Let’s go to the playground," he said, and the two of them cheered with joy. Once they arrived, Gregor settled into the shade of an old oak tree.
Its gnarled branches stretched out above him, casting dancing shadows on the ground.
Lizzie and Boots had already dashed off toward the jungle gym. "You two be careful, all right?" Gregor called after them, though he was fairly sure they either didn’t hear him – or chose not to.
Gregor was glad that the two of them could still enjoy things like this – climbing and playing, jumping and skipping. The kind of things that made kids light up, proud of their little achievements afterwards.
Lizzie cheered as she made it to the top of the climbing frame, and Boots let out a squeal of joy as she swung higher and higher.
Gregor drifted into thought. Flying. Fighting. Killing. That was all he’d been good at lately. And none of it was anything an eleven – almost twelve – year-old boy should ever be known for. He sat under the oak tree for quite a while, not even noticing how the shadows stretched longer and longer across the ground. Lizzie and Boots were busy building a sandcastle when he finally looked at his phone. His dad had sent him at least twenty messages, and his mom had tried to call a dozen times.
Only now did he register how late it was. "Damn it!" he muttered and jumped to his feet. "Boots! Lizzie! Come on, we’ve got to go home. It’s already late!"
"But why?" Lizzie called out, looking at Gregor as he came hurrying toward her. "We’re not even done with our sandcastle!"
"No arguments," Gregor said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Dad’s called me like a dozen times. We need to go."
"Fine," Lizzie replied sadly and stood up. She took Boots by the hand, and the three of them headed home.
No sooner had the front door closed behind them than their mother came rushing over. Gregor immediately noticed the flush on her face and her swollen cheeks—she’d been crying.
"Where have you been?" she cried, pulling Boots into a tight hug.
"We were so worried!"
"We went to the park after the ice cream," Gregor said, taking off his sweater. "Lizzie and Boots played on the playground."
Gregor’s father stepped out of the living room. "You see?" he said with a calming smile. "I told you – they were just having a bit of fun and would be home soon." He looked at Gregor then, and now there was a hint of reproach in his voice. "Though we would’ve appreciated a quick message letting us know you'd be late."
"I didn’t look at my phone," Gregor said with a shrug. "What could’ve happened?"
"What could’ve happened?" his mother repeated, releasing Boots and staring at him in disbelief. "After the worst year of my life – when my children vanished for weeks, without a trace – you’re asking me what could’ve happened?!"
Gregor knew she was right, but anger began to boil in him anyway. He couldn’t stand the constant arguments, the warnings, the hovering anymore. He couldn’t go anywhere without his parents calling or checking up on him every hour. "You’re always watching me! I have to check in every few hours, and I can’t even leave the house without you messaging me a hundred times to make sure I’m okay!" he shouted, his voice rising with every word. "What do you think is going to happen? That I’ll vanish back into the Underland? That somewhere in New York, cockroaches and rats are waiting around every corner to attack and drag us away?!" Now his voice cracked completely. "You’ve made sure I’ll never see the Underland again – or the people there who actually mean something to me!"
All the emotions that had built up inside Gregor over the years finally burst out – and to him, it felt good. For the first time, he was saying what had really been weighing him down.
But for his family, it was the complete opposite. His parents stood frozen, Lizzie was trembling, and Boots clung to her sister, eyes brimming with tears.
"Lizzie, sweetheart, take Boots and go to your room, please," Gregor’s father said calmly. Then he turned to Gregor. "And the three of us are going to have a serious talk. But let me make one thing very clear, young man: If you ever yell at your parents like that again, you’ll be grounded until you’ve figured out exactly what you did wrong!"
For a moment, Gregor met Lizzie’s eyes before she looked away.
Regret washed over him – he hadn’t meant to scare her. But he couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t go on pretending everything was fine. He had to get out.
Without waiting for another word, he turned, threw open the apartment door, and bolted down the stairwell. His parents’ voices echoed after him – but they bounced off. He didn’t hear them anymore. All that mattered now was putting as much distance between himself and that apartment as possible.
Gregor didn’t pay attention to where his feet were taking him.
He wasn’t guiding them – they just kept moving, carrying him farther and farther from the place he couldn’t bear to be right now. After a while, he sank down onto a bench. The sun was disappearing behind the horizon as the moon slowly took its place, casting its pale light over the streets. How had it come to this? What had his life turned into? The questions gnawed at his mind while tears unstoppable welled up in his eyes. Would he ever be able to live a normal life again?
The ringtone of his cell phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He pulled it from his pocket and saw a text message from his mother. Even now, they couldn’t leave him alone. Then again, he wasn’t surprised. He’d never run away before. He opened the message:
That didn’t go very well today… You’ve never run off before or anything like that. When you get home, we’ll talk calmly about what happened, okay? But please, come home.
We love you.
Mom and Dad
Gregor stared at his mother’s words, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel any real remorse for what he’d done. Of course, they only wanted what was best for their son – but they had never tried to understand him. How could they? Gregor thought bitterly, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
Gregor shivered. He hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten, and only now did he notice he was wearing just a T-shirt. His eyes fell on the scars that covered his arms – faint, pale lines crossing his skin, each one a reminder of the battles he had fought … and of the ones that still haunt him to very day. When Gregor finally stood up to head home, he stopped. For the first time, he realized where he actually was.
He was in Central Park. He was standing in the very place where he had once left his past behind. Gregor froze. His gaze drifted over the trees until it stopped on one. Could it be? Didn't that tree back there look strangely familiar? He walked toward it and saw the large, flat slab of stone. His heartbeat quickened. There it was. Without a single doubt. The entrance to the Underland.
Gregor ran toward the stone slab and stopped right in front of it.
He looked around. It was already late, and the park was deserted. With trembling hands, he gripped the rough surface. He was just about to push it aside when he suddenly froze.
Should I really just disappear again? he thought. How would my parents feel? Or Lizzie? Or Boots? How would they feel if I vanish again, without a word? He couldn’t bring himself to worry them even more. Hesitating, he pulled out his phone, ready to write a message to his mother.
Hi Mom,
I know I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, and I’m sorry. But I can’t keep living with what I’ve been through – not alone.
You can’t help me with this, and I don’t blame you for it.
Gregor paused. These words would set something in motion that couldn’t be undone.
I’m going back to the people I can talk to – back to the Underland.
I’m using the entrance in Central Park. Dad knows where it is.
Please don’t try to follow me. It could be dangerous.
As soon as I reach Regalia, I’ll send you a message through the air shaft. I promise.
Gregor was about to hit send – but added one last thing.
If you really want to help me, then respect this. You’ll understand why I’m doing it.
I love you too,
Gregor
With trembling fingers, Gregor pressed Send. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and grabbed the rough stone slab with both hands. With all his strength, he pushed it off its base. Slowly, a dark gap opened – just wide enough for Gregor to squeeze through. One last time, he looked around. Then he disappeared into the darkness and pulled the slab back over the entrance from below.
Chapter Text
Gregor’s heart pounded in his chest. He was returning to the Underland. Soon, he would see his friends again. Soon, he would see Luxa again. He wanted to laugh, to shout with joy – but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay calm. Every movement, every sound could give him away. The Underland was still a dangerous place, and he had no idea what might have changed during the four years he’d been gone. Carefully, Gregor scanned the darkness, ready to catch the slightest noise.
He faintly remembered the corridor. This was where Ripred had once lied to him about the Prophecy of Blood – and about the journey that followed. This was where he had shown Luxa the stars – and kissed her goodbye. But not much had changed. Hardly anyone ever came up here, and Gregor couldn’t think of a single reason why the Underlanders would bother. He let his eyes drift through the darkness, searching the shadows for familiar shapes.
He hadn’t forgotten echolocation. With a snap of his tongue or a sharp cough, he could use the echoes to sense his position. It was clumsy at first – he hadn’t used it in years – but eventually, he got his bearings and began to move. Unbidden, his thoughts went to Ripred – and those early, completely ridiculous attempts to teach him echolocation.
If you lose your light in a cave full of gnawers, you’re done for, Gregor heard Ripred’s voice in his head.
Even in this very tunnel, the rat had proven just how right he was. Gregor had cursed him for it, called him every name he could think of – but in hindsight, he had to admit: Ripred had been right. During the battle against the Curse, echolocation had saved Gregor’s life, as he no longer had to rely on the light of a flashlight while fighting.
His legs carried him almost automatically now, but for the moment, Gregor decided his quick refresher course in How to Navigate in Total Darkness was enough. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He turned on the display, realized he had no signal, and pressed the flashlight icon. A bright beam of light sliced through the darkness, and Gregor set off.
The tunnel had never felt this endless before – Ares had always carried him swiftly through it on powerful wings. But Gregor was still in good shape, and the walk didn’t challenge him much. Still, his eyes kept drifting toward the ground – something he’d never done before.
Maybe his senses were more alert now than they used to be. Then he heard it. A noise ahead, somewhere in the darkness. He froze.
A scraping sound broke the silence – like a warning, like something trying to make him turn back. Unease washed over him. A cold knot twisted in his stomach. No sword, no dagger – nothing to defend himself with but empty hands.
He switched off the flashlight and let the darkness swallow him. But it didn’t help. The shadows didn’t hide him.
„Still so dependent on your light, Overlander?“ The voice slithered out of the darkness like smoke. „One would think Ripred would have driven that out of you.“ Gregor thought he recognized the voice, but that didn’t mean anything. Down here, familiarity didn’t necessarily mean safety. Soft, scraping footsteps echoed through the gloom. Gregor gasped and let out a quick tongue click.
The echoes returned – and what they revealed froze his blood. His worst fears took shape.
Rats. Three of them. Gregor's heart skipped a beat, then began to race. That uneasy feeling turned into full-blown panic. Without thinking, he jerked up his phone. His trembling thumb found the flashlight button, and a blinding beam tore through the dark.
As the tunnel lit up once more, he saw the rats – barely ten meters away, standing in the middle of the passage. He tried to think of a way past them but found none. They filled the corridor completely.
He’d have to leap over them to get through. The moment the light struck them, the rats hissed and squinted, their eyes narrowing, fangs flashing. Gregor saw his chance. He ran.
„How many times have we all told you not to blind us, Gregor?“ the rat snapped, and he stopped in his tracks.
Only friends or allies used his first name down here. Breathing quickly, Gregor studied the rat who had spoken. She was large, but smaller than her companions. Her brown fur shimmered in places where it had already turned silvery gray. Brown fur he had once cleaned in a jungle, pulling it free from quicksand.
„Do you recognize me now, Overlander?“ the rat said, slowly opening her eyes.
„Lapblood?“ Gregor asked, disbelief flooding his voice—and then a wave of relief washed over him.
Lapblood’s voice sounded mock-offended, though a glint of amusement sparkled behind it. „I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me. You could’ve at least recognized my voice,“ she said.
Gregor let out a short, relieved laugh. „Sorry, I haven’t seen – or heard – you in years.“ He stepped closer, extended his arm, and she gently rested her snout in his palm in greeting. „Feels like déjà vu,“ he said with a crooked smile. „You surprised me in a tunnel once before.“
Lapblood tilted her head and thought for a moment, but then she remembered. „That's right, and you were just as scared then as you are today,” she grinned, playfully sliding her tail across Gregor's face.
„Ha ha,“ he replied dryly, though he couldn’t stop himself from grinning.
His gaze shifted to her companions. „Who are your friends?“ Gregor asked curiously.
„You already know them,“ Lapblood replied, a soft smile curling her snout. „They were just very small back then.“
Gregor studied the two rats. One had jet-black fur, the other a silvery coat. „Flyfur and Sixclaw?“ he asked.
„Yes, that’s them,“ Lapblood said, and the two took a few steps forward.
„Nice to meet you both,“ Gregor said politely.
„Likewise,“ Flyfur replied, while Sixclaw only gave a curt nod. „They still lack manners, though,“ she scolded, prodding her sons in the side with her tail. Then she shot them a pointed look. „Be so kind and announce us,“ she continued. „Wouldn’t want anyone – or a certain someone – passing out because the Overlander has returned.“
They nodded briefly, turned without another word, and disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel. Lapblood and Gregor watched them go, then the rat began to follow slowly.
„Shall we?“ she asked.
Without hesitation, the two set off, following the others into the shadows. Their footsteps echoed softly against the tunnel walls.
After a brief silence, Gregor spoke. „How have you been? And how did you find me so quickly?“
Lapblood gave a short, humorless laugh. „I’m doing fine, all things considered. But the overall situation…“ She trailed off, then continued, „…brings me to the answer to your second question.“
Gregor looked at her, unease rising inside him. „What’s going on?“ he asked, worried.
Lapblood gave him a sideways glance, then said calmly, „The state of the Underland is… let’s call it complicated.“
„What do you mean? Did something happen?“ Gregor pressed. His concern deepened.
She hesitated, as if weighing how much to tell him.
Finally, she answered quietly: „More than you’re going to like.“
Gregor stopped walking, but Lapblood gently nudged him forward with her tail. He opened his mouth to protest, but she simply shook her head.
Explaining it now would take too long,“ she said shortly. „But let’s turn the question around, Overlander. Why are you here?“
He told her about the nightmares that haunted him almost every night. About the feeling of no longer belonging to the Overland, even after all these years. About the argument with his parents that had driven him to run away – and find his way back to the Underland.
Lapblood listened in silence, but attentively. Her eyes, however, narrowed slightly.
Gregor recognized the look. She didn’t like the circumstances of his return.
„I don’t approve of you running away and coming back like this, Overlander,“ Lapblood said, her voice calm but with an edge. „Nevertheless, I understand it. It would drive me mad too.”
Gregor didn’t respond. Her words echoed in his mind, and though he knew she was right, it didn’t make him feel any better. Instead, he let his gaze wander. The darkness no longer felt as suffocating. The shadows on the walls seemed like old companions, welcoming him back. They had been walking for a while now, and the familiar contours of the cavern walls were starting to appear. Regalia couldn’t be far.
They walked a little farther until Lapblood suddenly stopped. She turned to Gregor. "I need to warn you," she said, her voice lower now – almost as if she were afraid someone might overhear. Her gaze shifted toward the cave exit, barely visible in the distance.
"What do you mean?" Gregor asked, and that uneasy feeling from earlier began to stir in him again Lapblood straightened, her shoulders tensing, eyes fixed on him with piercing intensity.
"It’s not like it was when you left us," she said at last. "The scars of the war… they’re still there. And even if the fighting is over, the wounds it tore open are far from healed."
Gregor wondered why she was making such a big deal out of it. "It’s okay. I get it – you can’t rebuild damaged buildings and farmland overnight," he said, trying to reassure her with a smile.
But she didn’t soften. In fact, she looked almost angry. Her tail twitched restlessly, and there was a sharp glint in her eyes that had nothing to do with calm. "You don’t understand!" she hissed, her voice cutting like a blade.
Gregor flinched, startled by the sudden bite in her words.
But no sooner had she spoken than she pulled herself back together. Her chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths. When she spoke again, her tone was much closer to the controlled, cool composure Gregor remembered from her. "It’s not just about stone and soil. Think about the relationships between the peoples—about the trust they once shared. Buildings can be rebuilt. But what about the wounds in the hearts of those who survived the war?"
Gregor looked at Lapblood and could tell she was truly concerned. It pained him to see her like this. Her words didn’t sound like a warning – they reflected a reality he might not be able to grasp just by hearing about it.
"So be a little careful with what you say," she concluded.
Gregor nodded and was about to move on when Lapblood’s tail gently, yet firmly, rested on his shoulder. He turned.
"And Luxa…" Her voice seemed almost hesitant. "She’s not the same anymore. She has… obligations, Gregor."
Gregor stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. "What do you mean, she has obligations?" he asked. "She must be sixteen by now – almost seventeen. So she should be queen by now." The thought made him pause. The idea that Luxa actually wore the crown was strange. Sure, she had always taken her responsibilities seriously – but that was then. “Yes, I'm sure that changes you a little,” he said, giving Lapblood a small smile. She smiled back, but it looked forced. Gregor noticed – but said nothing. They continued walking. The tunnel widened, and suddenly, Regalia lay before them.
The beautiful city carved into the rock stretched out before him, still as magnificent as Gregor remembered. Majestic towers rose high above, ornate reliefs adorned the facades, and the silvery light of the crystals gave the city a near-magical glow. But then he saw the scars of war. Once-glorious buildings were cracked, and where delicate ornamentation had once graced the walls, gaping holes now remained. Some structures had been hastily repaired, yet their former elegance was gone. Others stood like twisted skeletons—abandoned, left to decay. Whole facades had collapsed, and it was clear that even the most tireless hands had not been able to heal all the city's wounds. It pained Gregor deeply to see Regalia like this. Now he understood what Lapblood had meant. The sight was a silent testimony to everything the Underland had endured. And yet – the city lived on. Despite its scars, it had not perished. People and fliers moved through the streets, and soft voices echoed along the stone corridors.
At least in that sense, they’ve recovered, Gregor thought, looking up at the many bats flying busily from one end of the city to the other. But the longer he watched, the more he realized: this wasn’t just any ordinary day. The main stream of bats was moving deliberately from the palace toward the arena. Gregor had never seen so many at once. He turned to Lapblood, who walked beside him calmly, as if nothing about the scene was out of the ordinary.
"Is something going on today?" he asked, puzzled. "I’ve never seen this many bats in Regalia."
She answered without slowing her pace. "You’ll see, Overlander. You picked a special day for your return."
They approached the palace walls, their shadows stretching across the streets. The air was thick with whispering voices, and Gregor could feel the eyes on him from all directions.
Lapblood seemed to notice. "They’re not staring because of me. It’s because of you," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement.
"Why me?" Gregor asked, frowning. "They know who I am."
She stopped then. "Oh really, do they? How many of those who know your name have actually seen you?"
The question struck him as silly – but she had a point. He had done much for the people of the Underland. His name was known. But for most Regalians, he was just that – a name without a face.
They reached the base of the palace wall, and Gregor moved to step onto the platform as if it were the most natural thing in the world – only to be blocked by two guards.
"No strangers allowed in the palace – especially not Overlanders," one of them snapped. "What are you doing here? Be glad we don’t put you in chains on the spot!"
Gregor blinked, confused. "Do they not remember me?" he asked, turning to Lapblood.
"Apparently not well enough. You’ve been gone a long time, warrior," she replied.
That word – warrior – made the guards freeze. Their eyes narrowed as they gave Gregor a second, closer look.
"Yes, it’s him. Gregor the Overlander," Lapblood said dramatically, turning to the guards. "You should let him through. Or do you want Her Majesty to hear that you treated one of the Underland’s greatest heroes like some common criminal?"
The guards shifted uncomfortably where they stood, then finally stepped aside. "Our apologies, Overlander," one of them said, their voice rough with embarrassment. "Please, go on in."
Gregor stepped onto the platform, then turned, waiting for Lapblood to follow. "No, I’m needed elsewhere," she said, shaking her head.
Gregor narrowed his eyes. "Does it have something to do with today? And the way you’ve been acting all mysterious about it?" he asked.
She caught the suspicion in his voice. "You worry too much," Lapblood said, adding a bit of theatrical flair as she imitated him. "I must know what’s going on or I’ll lose my mind!"
This time, it was Gregor who waved her off. "Oh, come on, give it a rest," he said, stepping toward her in mock outrage.
Lapblood laughed. "We’ll see each other later. Fly you high, Overlander – and don’t forget who the better fighter is." She winked before heading off in the direction of the arena.
"Run like the river, Lapblood," Gregor replied. The words fly you high gave him a small pang – Ares was no longer with him – but he knew she hadn’t meant any harm. A signal was given, and with a jolt, the platform began to rise. As he ascended toward the palace, Gregor could now see the full extent of the damage – and it took his breath away.
Large parts of the city were still damaged. Many buildings stood as ruins, uninhabitable. The fields that once grew grain had been reduced to a fraction of their former size. Slowly, it began to dawn on Gregor that Lapblood’s words might have carried more weight than he’d thought.
The platform came to a stop, and Gregor stepped off. The large square before the palace was bustling with activity. He spotted mice, cockroaches, bats, and even a few spiders – each group deep in serious conversation. No one paid him any attention. Lapblood had hinted that something was brewing, but seeing so many representatives from nearly every Underland species all in one place still struck Gregor as strange. Even though some faces looked friendly, he could sense an underlying tension behind their expressions.
The platform descended again behind him, and Gregor began making his way toward the throne room. Let them tend to their affairs – he had already taken too much time. The true reason for his return was just ahead, only a few corridors away. But for a moment, he hesitated. What had Lapblood said back in the tunnel?
And Luxa… She's not the same anymore. She has obligations, Gregor.
Was it really just because she was queen now? What if she no longer had time for him? What if she only saw him as a friend? What if she’d forgotten him… Gregor felt his stomach tighten. He had never really considered that Luxa’s life must have gone on in his absence.
She has obligations.
But what exactly were the obligations of a queen? Luxa had mentioned a few things here and there about what lay ahead for her, but Gregor had never been able to picture it. And then there was that other thought – one he couldn’t shake. What if there was someone else? Someone from Regalia – a warrior, or a noble – someone who had been by her side all these years, while Gregor had become just a memory? In the Overland, it was normal to eventually move on, to find someone new. But what about here? Did people bond for life? Gregor remembered what Howard had once told him that a union between two people wasn’t something taken lightly, and especially not for him and Luxa. He was an Overlander, and she… she was the future queen.
The thought unsettled him – that he had simply assumed Luxa would wait for him forever, even though they had parted with the knowledge that they would never see each other again. There had never been anything certain about them. And back then, they’d been too young, too inexperienced, for anything official. But now…?
No. She hasn’t forgotten me. She definitely hasn’t.
The feeling slowly faded, replaced by a familiar wave of nervous energy. He walked the corridors, passing familiar faces. Some gave him curious looks, but no one stopped him or asked questions. He turned a corner – and there it was: the door to the throne room. I’m finally going to see her again, he thought, and his heart leapt in his chest. But just as he approached the door, two strong arms grabbed him from behind – and held him fast.
Chapter Text
Gregor couldn’t move an inch. The strong arms wrapped around him were like a vice. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Who was it? An enemy? An old acquaintance? The thought wouldn’t leave him – but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had to focus on breaking free. Without thinking, Gregor lashed out with his left leg, kicking backward as his hands reached for the attacker’s head. He caught the stranger in the shin. The man flinched, and for a heartbeat, his grip loosened. Gregor seized the moment, grabbed the forearms holding him and shoved them upward. He broke free, spinning in one smooth motion, his right hand forming a fist and slamming into the stranger’s stomach – while his left clung tightly to the man’s arm.
The attacker reacted instantly, catching Gregor’s forearm and holding it in an iron grip. For a moment, they froze – Gregor’s eyes still locked on the man’s stomach.
"Is that how you greet an old friend, hmm?" the stranger asked with playful reproach. Gregor’s head snapped up. There he stood – older, yes, but still just as strong as Gregor remembered.
"Howard?!" Gregor exclaimed, shock plain in his voice.
Howard released him and pulled him into a tight hug.
Gregor stood there, still stunned, overwhelmed by the sudden warmth of the greeting
"I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry," Howard said, laughing. "It’s really good to see you again, Gregor."
Gregor laughed too, tears of joy springing to his eyes. Finally – someone who truly understood what he’d been through. Someone whose life had been marked by the same shadows. For the first time in what felt like forever, he could speak freely – with no hesitation, no holding back. Howard was someone who understood him. A friend whose place in Gregor’s heart had never faded – just like the memories of all the others he had never forgotten.
Howard noticed, of course, that Gregor was crying, and gently let go of him. He looked at him in that way only someone who truly knew you could – a look that said he already understood how Gregor felt without needing to ask. “How are you? It’s been ages,” he asked softly.
Gregor wiped his face with the hem of his T-shirt. “I’m fine.” Howard didn’t believe him. Gregor could see it clearly in his eyes, so he added, “Well… I’ve been away for so long, and I’m just happy to be back.”
Howard nodded slowly, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away.
Gregor knew he wasn’t fooling him – Howard could already feel the things Gregor wasn’t saying. And sooner or later, he would have to say them. “And you? How have you been, Howard? I guess you’ve finished your medical training by now?” Gregor asked, trying to shift the focus, and gave him a smile that was more honest than forced – at least partly.
Howard’s face lit up. The skepticism faded, replaced by a broad grin. “I didn’t just finish,” he said, a trace of pride in his voice. “I’ve become chief physician of Regalia’s hospital. Sometimes, I still can’t quite believe it myself.”
Gregor’s eyes widened, and a genuine smile spread across his face. “Well, I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you,” he said, laughing, and nudged Howard in the side with his elbow. “You were always the one looking after all of us. Congratulations, Howard. I’m really happy for you.”
Howard looked genuinely moved by the praise. “Thank you,” he said. “Come on, let’s walk a bit.”
Gregor hesitated, glancing toward the throne room. But then he followed. He couldn’t forget that he had more friends in the Underland than just Luxa.
They strolled through the palace, the walls lit by the flickering glow of torches. Elaborately woven tapestries hung beside them, depicting past battles and legendary heroes.
After a while, Gregor asked Howard why he wasn’t working at the Fount – where his family lived.
“Well, for a couple of reasons,” Howard said, stopping to think. “For one, the position here was vacant for a long time after the war. And for another, I serve as an official envoy of the Fount. It strengthens both our families’ ties and the alliance between Regalia and the Fount. And after everything that’s happened, it’s important to me to do my part.”
Gregor found the explanation logical – and a part of him felt proud of his friend. Howard had found his place. Something Gregor was still struggling to do.
They continued walking and stepped out onto a balcony, where they paused to take in the bustle of Regalia below.
Beneath them, people in bright garments flowed across the marketplace. Merchants shouted their offers while children darted between the stalls. Somewhere, music drifted up through the air, mingled with laughter and the cheerful hum of voices.
“How come it’s so busy today? Is there a holiday?” Gregor asked. “Lapblood hinted at something earlier.”
“You’ve already seen Lapblood?” Howard raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “Of course you have. It’s just like her not to give the whole story right away.” He looked at Gregor. “And yes, today is a kind of holiday. Technically, the Underland owes it to you.” Howard gave him a mischievous wink. “But I’m not telling you everything either just yet. A little patience, warrior.”
Gregor stood there, clearly puzzled. “I have no idea what you’re referring to,” he said as he tried to recall which holiday the Underland supposedly owed to him.
Howard didn’t leave him hanging for long and nudged him in the right direction. “Come on, think – what did you last do for the Underland that was holiday‑worthy?” he asked, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
Gregor paused, thought for a moment – and then it clicked. Of course he remembered now. “I… defeated the Curse. And with the help of Ripred, Luxa and Lizzie, it became the peace between the races. A peace that no one thought possible.”
Howard threw his arms out wide and smiled at Gregor. “Correct,” he said. “Today we celebrate the Day of Peace between the races in the Underland.”
As Howard spoke, Gregor noticed something. His friend, normally so confident, wore an expression that was almost disquieting. Just like the other Underlanders Gregor had encountered upon arriving at the palace – an anxiety that couldn’t simply be dismissed. Howard tried to cover it up, but didn’t quite succeed. This time it was Gregor who furrowed his brow.
Howard’s grin faded and he looked at him openly. “What am I hiding from you? You already know,” he said, his worry now plain for Gregor to see. “It’s almost poetic, really, that you should show up again today, four years after the war has ended.” His gaze wandered off into the distance, and for a moment he seemed lost in thought. But he snapped back immediately and directed his attention to Gregor again. “But tell me – why did you return to the Underland?”
Gregor had already told Lapblood the story and wasn’t in the mood to rehearse it again. He didn’t want any more detours – he fixed Howard with a look that brooked no argument. “Don’t sidetrack. What’s going on here?” he asked, grabbing his friend’s arm firmly.
Howard, clearly trying to defuse the tension, glanced quickly over his shoulder as though checking for eavesdroppers. Once he was satisfied they were undisturbed, he lowered his voice to a near whisper: “Not here.” Then he turned and made a decisive motion towards the conference rooms. “Follow me.”
It was clear this was about more than he had been letting on, and Gregor knew he wouldn’t get his answers without this conversation.
Gregor wondered why Howard – just like Lapblood – was treating the situation as a secret, yet he followed silently. As they made their way to the west wing of the palace, Gregor felt like an alien under the stares of many present. Apparently, many of those here had never seen an Overlander. Others, however, seemed to recognize him and greeted him with smiles or respectful bows. Gregor briefly thought he heard someone call out “Thank goodness you’re back,” but it could easily have been meant for someone else.
Howard opened a door and Gregor found himself in a meeting room with a long table. They sat at the head, near the door, and Gregor studied Howard with a look that was both questioning and demanding. His friend held his gaze calmly, though Gregor could sense the difficulty in his upcoming explanation.
Finally Howard broke the silence. “Listen, Gregor,” he began, his voice more serious and concerned than before. “I want to be honest with you. Yes – we’re celebrating Peace Day today, but if things keep going like this, I’m afraid this will be the last one.”
Gregor furrowed his brow, puzzled by what Howard meant. “But why would that be? I thought the conflicts had been resolved and all disputes set aside?”
„They were,” Howard replied, his fingers laced together thoughtfully. “But new ones have emerged. Ones of the kind that could pose a threat to each and every one of us.”
Gregor didn’t dare to interrupt him. It seemed Howard needed to speak his piece, and Gregor didn’t want to get in his way.
“Long story short: the peace is fragile. There are no open conflicts, but many Gnawers still don’t trust us – and that goes both ways. On top of that, the river is running low, and many of the old territories are no longer accessible because of the quakes. And Luxa…”
Again Gregor’s stomach twisted. Why did her name always come up in negative context? “What about her?!” he demanded.
Howard looked up. He hadn’t missed the tone of Gregor’s question. He raised one eyebrow and studied his friend with a crooked grin. “Still got feelings for my cousin, Overlander?”
Gregor felt caught, his cheeks warming.
Howard chuckled softly and the tension eased a little. “I’m just teasing,” he said, winking at Gregor. “No, Luxa has her hands full maintaining the peace. But she’s doing fine.” He paused for a moment – Gregor exhaled audibly. “You were heading to her when I found you, weren’t you? That’s why you were by the throne room?”
Gregor nodded.
“You won’t find her there today, but I think you’ll have your moment later to greet her.”
Gregor felt his heart leap, and he didn’t notice how he began to grin unconsciously.
Howard noticed immediately and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to take away your hope, but Luxa – ”
But before he could go on, the door flew open and a woman entered in haste.
“Here you are,” she said, hurrying toward them. “You could’ve told me something, Howard.” She looked at him with a reproachful stare.
Gregor wanted to jump at her neck – she had interrupted Howard just at the moment he was finally going to tell him something about Luxa. First Lapblood, who wouldn’t reveal everything, then Howard, interrupted. Gregor felt his blood boil.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were calling for me,” Howard said, first glancing at the woman, then at Gregor. “Oh.” He looked embarrassed. “Where are my manners?” He gestured toward the woman. “Gregor, this is Saria, my right hand and deputy at the hospital.”
Gregor stood, tried to calm his inner unrest, and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She took it with a firm but friendly grip and smiled. “The pleasure is mine, Gregor the Overlander. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Saria turned back to Howard, and her expression hardened into the usual formal posture she had adopted entering the hall. Her tone was strict. “The ceremony in the arena begins soon. Doesn’t the envoy of the Fount wish to be present at the festivities?”
This time Howard blushed. “Yes, of course,” he muttered in embarrassment. “Thanks for letting us know.”
Saria nodded briefly, giving him a serious look. “No problem, but hurry up.” Then she turned and left the room quickly.
Howard stood up and Gregor followed his example. “Sorry, we’ll have to continue our conversation later,” he said apologetically as he moved.
Gregor wanted to know what the ceremony was about, and Howard explained.
“In essence, it’s just a few speeches and a feast at the end. If you like, you’re welcome to join.”
Gregor thought for a moment and found no reason to decline. A little distraction could certainly not hurt. So he nodded and followed Howard out of the conference room. Together they made their way toward the Great Hall.
They drew closer, and the corridor grew more crowded. People and animals pressed through the halls, many hurrying to the arena in time.
“Howard, how are we supposed to get to the arena so quickly?” Gregor asked as a bat with black‑and‑white stripes swooped toward them. It landed right in front of them and tilted its head while Howard took hold of its claws.
“Welcome back to Regalia, Overlander,” purred the bat, smiling at Gregor. Gregor lächelte breit zurück.
Gregor returned the grin broadly. “Thank you, Nike. It’s good to see you again.” Then he noticed the greeting between the two of them and looked from one to the other. “You two… you’ve bonded? That’s wonderful – congratulations!”
Howard and Nike exchanged a look and smiled. “Yes,” said Howard. “After the war, it was clear for both of us. What we went through together welded us tight.” He turned to Nike. “Will you fly us to the arena?”
Nike nodded. But before she took off, Howard removed his coat and handed it to Gregor. Gregor accepted it with a questioning look.
“You’ll need it,” Howard said as Gregor hesitated. “It’s a bit large – but that’s actually a good thing.”
Gregor put the coat on. It was indeed too big, but the fabric felt pleasant.
“Look,” Howard continued, “the folks in the palace already recognize you and are glad to see you. But imagine what it’ll be like when thousands see you in the arena – with all the animals and all the commotion…” He shook his head and grinned. “No – then hell would let loose."
Gregor had to smile, but he knew Howard was right. He looked ridiculous: half in Underland garb, half in Overlander clothes – but that wasn’t the point. If the atmosphere was already tense – and if he was recognized as a savior and warrior, a hero of past days – just imagine what would happen now. Gregor pulled the hood deep into his face.
Nike spread her wings and lifted into the air. Automatically, Gregor grinned: it felt amazing to fly again, and he realized how much he had missed it. As they soared above Regalia, Gregor looked thoughtfully at Howard and Nike – and was glad the two of them had found each other. Then a thought struck him, and he nudged his friend’s side. “If you can bond with princess, I can do that too, right?” he asked mischievously.
Howard rolled his eyes with a teasing smile, and Gregor heard the typical “Hu‑hu‑hu” of a bat laughing.
The flight didn’t take long, and Nike set them down outside the arena.
“Thank you, Nike,” said Howard as they parted ways and Nike rose into the air again.
She flew gracefully over the arena, and Gregor had the impression that she was headed for one of the royal boxes.
Howard answered the unspoken question. “Nike will take a place in the royal‑representatives’ box as the Princess of the Fliers. Queen Athena is there too.”
Gregor remembered the silvery‑white bat who reigned majestically over her people – he had met her during his first Underland adventure, and she had recognized what he was: the “Son of the Sun,” the warrior of the prophecy. Gregor had nodded more half‑heartedly than resolutely back then – but she had been right.
Gregor and Howard entered the arena and began climbing a steep staircase toward the upper boxes. All around them was hustle and bustle. Gregor had to stay alert so as not to be knocked over by a passing rat or a spider hurrying by. The higher they climbed, the more intense his nervousness became. Soon they would reach their seats – and then…? Would the moment finally come for which he had hoped twice since his return? Gregor paused for a moment. Why should he hold back? At such a significant event, Luxa was almost certainly present – after all, as queen she represented the humans.
They were now nearly at their box, and Gregor glimpsed through a stone‑carved window into the arena. The last time he had seen it, it had been a reception station for the mice. Fliers would arrive, drop off mouse‑babies and depart again, while Hazard and Gregor attempted to reunite parents and their young. After that, the moles, or “Diggers”, had tunneled through the arena during the Battle, leaving the ground barely usable.
Apparently, the arena had been restored – hundreds of spectators now filled the massive space. In its center stood a raised platform, likely meant for speeches from representatives of the different Underland species. Gregor noticed Howard waiting for him and quickly followed. As they climbed the final set of stairs, Howard pulled back a heavy curtain and motioned for him to enter.
Gregor stepped through – and stopped, stunned. He had never seen the arena like this before. Sure, he’d looked down on it from above once or twice, but never had it been filled to capacity like now. For a moment, he didn’t even know where to look.
Then Howard nudged him forward. “Come on, those are our seats,” he said, pointing to the front row.
Thankfully, Gregor had long since overcome his fear of heights – otherwise, sitting so close to the edge might have been a problem. He settled into his seat and scanned the crowd below. Representatives of nearly every species were present: gnawers, fliers, nibblers, crawlers, and spinners. The only ones missing were the diggers.
And then he saw him – down by the stage, speaking with a young man. A rat so massive, so scarred, and with a mouth sharper than most blades. Ripred. Gregor felt a rush of relief at the sight and braced himself for the inevitable snark the old rat would throw his way. A quiet huff of amusement escaped him at the thought as his gaze wandered again.
He spotted Lapblood near the front, deep in conversation with Queen Athena. Farther back was Wevox, the spider queen, standing beside a mouse Gregor didn’t recognize. The man who had been talking to Ripred earlier reappeared as well. But one face – one person – was still missing. Luxa was nowhere in the arena.
Chapter Text
Gregor turned to Howard, who was also surveying the large crowd in the arena. “I can’t see Luxa,” he said, and Howard frowned. “I thought she’d be here as well.”
Howard shrugged. “Maybe she’s still coming,” he added, pointing toward the stage in the center of the arena. “Look, it’s starting.”
Gregor turned his gaze back to the stage and saw a young man step forward to roaring applause. His hair shimmered in the light, and his violet eyes shone with conviction. He waved and nodded at the audience until he reached the center, turned once on the spot, and began in a firm voice:
“People of Regalia, honored guests from near and far – I welcome you to the festivities of Peace Day.”
The crowd cheered and applauded again. With a wave of his hand, the man quieted them and continued.
“As we all know, it was here, four years ago, that the greatest suffering our Underland has ever endured finally came to an end. This war brought us immeasurable pain, and every one of us lost something.”
A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd, and Gregor saw the man’s head give a brief jerk toward the rats. For a flickering moment, it seemed as though the man didn’t truly consider the rats among the war’s victims. But the doubt quickly vanished, and his gaze refocused ahead. “None of this would have been possible without the help of a hero,” the young man continued, and Gregor held his breath.
Was he talking about him?
“Let us all give a round of applause to our hero. Here he is – the Peacemaker, Ripred!”
Gregor stiffened. It felt like someone had punched the air out of his lungs. This couldn’t be happening. He had sacrificed so much for the Underland, and now wasn’t even mentioned? It wasn’t in his nature to be petty or seek glory, but a simple acknowledgment of his role didn’t seem like too much to ask.
He turned sharply to Howard, who had closed his eyes and gently shook his head. “Don’t get upset. Everyone knows what you did,” he signaled.
Gregor nodded silently, but the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen as he looked back toward the arena.
Ripred was just stepping onto the stage to deafening applause. He walked over to the man, and they shook hands briefly. “So much honor for me alone – I'm not sure I can carry it all,” Ripred called out over the crowd, which immediately fell silent.
He turned to the young man and eyed him with a grin. “We mustn’t forget this wasn’t a solo act. Many played a part. Or have you forgotten our all-time hero and my favorite little warrior?”
His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and Gregor let his head crash against the railing. The headache that followed immediately didn’t let him forget Ripred’s words, unfortunately. They didn’t make him deaf either, because he still heard him continue:
“A big round of applause for Gregor the Overlander, the warrior of the prophecy, and his sisters! Oh, how I miss them – don’t you?”
Gregor felt like throwing up. But the applause that erupted after Ripred’s words nearly tore the arena apart. He looked up and saw that the young man – who had seemed so familiar before – let something flicker across his face. A momentary shift in his expression. Brief, but enough to make Gregor feel that something wasn’t right.
Then the man forced a smile and joined in the crowd’s applause.
“Told you so.” Howard suddenly appeared in Gregor’s line of sight, leaning against the railing as well, watching the scene unfold.
“Just imagine this crowd finding out that their hero is standing right among them.” He let out a quick laugh while eyeing the man on stage. “People still admire you, Gregor.”
Gregor didn’t answer – his mind was elsewhere. What troubled him more than anything was this: Why was that man down there speaking for the Regalians and not their queen? Where was Luxa? And most of all: why had the man dismissed the mere mention of her name with such disapproval? The questions pounded through Gregor’s thoughts. At least one of them, he might get an answer to.
“Who is that man down there, anyway?” he asked, turning toward Howard.
“He’s a noble from The Fount – his name is Cassius,” Howard replied. For a moment it looked like he wanted to add something, but he fell silent and turned his gaze back to the stage.
Gregor, meanwhile, sank into his seat.
Everything here is different. Nothing is like it was. What had happened in the Underland to justify all these changes? Humans and creatures alike seemed troubled by something Gregor couldn’t grasp. Lapblood and Howard knew more than they were willing – or able – to admit. The only one still groping in the dark was Gregor himself. He clenched his teeth painfully and closed his eyes.
Was he still just the Overlander? The boy who had sacrificed his own life to save the others? He drifted off and didn’t even notice when the man named Cassius invited Queen Athena, Queen Wevox, the mouse, and Lapblood onto the stage. This wasn’t how he had imagined his return. His friends spoke in half-truths, and Ripred made fun of him in front of the entire Underland. That, at least, Gregor had learned to bear – Ripred’s biting sarcasm had never been easy. But Howard withholding the truth he so desperately longed for – that stung more than he cared to admit.
He must have fallen asleep with that thought in mind, for he awoke to a light tapping on his shoulder.
Gregor jolted upright and saw Howard, who had started to laugh.
“Was it that boring?” he teased with a wide grin and let out a yawn himself. “I get it, though. I’ve never been much for these kinds of ceremonies either.”
Gregor stood and let his gaze sweep across the arena. The crowd was already clearing the stands, and preparations for the following celebration were underway on the floor below. “What did I miss?” he asked, rubbing his temples. His head still throbbed from the encounter with the railing.
“Not much. The usual stuff they say at events like this. Words of thanks, promises – you know how it goes.” Howard didn’t seem particularly interested. His eyes were absentmindedly fixed on the palace in the distance. “The only thing that really matters is happening later at the palace. And you should definitely be there.”
Gregor’s attention sharpened. “What’s going on?”
“All the leaders of the species are gathering for a meeting, and I think you should attend.” Howard’s expression darkened. “Unlike some others, I think it’s only fair that you – hero of the humans of the Underland – have a seat at that table.”
Gregor felt the blood rush to his cheeks again. For the second time that day, Howard’s words left him almost overwhelmed.
They stood and left the balcony, then exited the arena. So far, Gregor hadn’t been recognized – his disguise seemed to be working.
Nike landed in front of them, and they flew back to the palace. In the Great Hall, she let them down gently. “I need to speak with my mother before the meeting,” she said, addressing Howard. He nodded, and without another word, the bat took flight and disappeared.
Gregor watched her go until Howard spoke again.
“I have to get back to the hospital before Saria tears my head off. I’ll join you later.”
Gregor couldn’t suppress an amused smile. “I thought you were the head doctor and she your deputy?” he teased.
Howard gave an embarrassed grin. “Ah, you know how it is.” He stifled an awkward chuckle. “Like I said, I’ll be at the meeting later. It’s in the great dining hall. Luxa will be there too,” he added with a wink.
Gregor raised his fist in mock outrage as Howard turned away laughing and disappeared in the direction of the hospital. The great dining hall, Gregor thought as he set off. Thankfully, he knew his way around the palace and didn’t have to wander aimlessly until he stumbled upon the right room by chance. As he walked, he imagined how it might be – seeing Luxa again. What would happen when they met? Could she already know that he was back in Regalia? Did she feel the same anticipation he did? Or was she so buried in the preparations for the celebration and the meeting that she had no time to think about him? Lapblood’s words echoed in his mind like a dark omen:
She has obligations, Gregor.
He still had no real idea what those obligations might be. He remembered back in history class, when they had studied the Middle Ages, given presentations, and visited a museum. The tour guide had explained in detail the duties of a king and queen – the responsibilities they bore for their people, the decisions they had to make.
But was it the same in the Underland? Luxa was sixteen now, nearly seventeen. She had once told him she had to wait until that age to be granted full command over Regalia. Until then, the Council of Elders had been in charge. Now she held the scepter in her own hands. She could do as she pleased. But was that really true? Could she truly choose to be with him – if she still wanted to?
Obligations
That word had burned itself into his brain, and Gregor couldn’t push it away. It felt selfish, but he couldn’t help it. He loved her – even after all this time – and he couldn’t, no, wouldn’t accept that anything stood between them. She was the reason he had returned to the Underland.
Queen or not, Gregor thought, I’ll find a way to be with her.
He had spoken the words out loud without realizing it, just as two armored men suddenly blocked his path. “What did you just say?”
Gregor looked up. Lost in thought, he had somehow found his way to the dining hall where the meeting was supposed to take place. Only a few steps now separated him from the door – and two guards of the royal watch.
“I’ll ask you one last time, boy: What did you just say?” One of the guards placed a hand on his sword, glaring at him with hostility. Gregor realized he was still wearing his hood and pulled it back. What happened next was something he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams.
The guards saw his face – and recoiled. Instinctively, they stepped back and drew their swords. “How did you get into the palace, Overlander?!” one of them barked.
“I’m Gregor, the Overlander,” he said calmly, “and I’m here to attend the meeting in the dining hall and to meet with Queen Luxa.”
Everything had to go smoothly now – one wrong word, and this situation could spiral out of control. The guards exchanged a glance, and Gregor could see that they either didn’t believe him or didn’t recognize his name.
“In the name of Her Royal Majesty, Queen Luxa,” one of them began, slowly stepping toward him, “you are hereby placed under arrest, Overlander.” He sheathed his sword and reached for a set of shackles at his belt.
Gregor’s thoughts raced. His only chance to get out of this unharmed was to reach that door. He ran the possibilities through his mind. If he could disarm one of the guards, he might be able to fight his way into the hall if it came to that.
The guards advanced, and Gregor instinctively took two steps back. Then, just as one of them reached for his arm, he grabbed the forearm of the guard who held the shackles and yanked him forward with all his strength. The guard hadn’t expected an attack – his reaction came too late.
With a swift motion of his right hand, Gregor seized the guard’s sword hilt, yanked the weapon free in a spinning motion, and let the man go. The momentum sent the guard crashing into the wall, where he collapsed, gasping for air. Sword in hand, Gregor turned to face the second guard, who seemed determined not to let him pass. A small, confident smile crept across Gregor’s lips.
If this man truly didn’t know who he was, then he also didn’t know that Gregor was a very skilled swordsman. Gregor had no intention of wasting that advantage. He lured the guard into attacking.
With a sudden lunge, the man sprang forward, trying to drive his sword into Gregor’s chest. But Gregor saw the strike coming. He parried it cleanly, slamming his own blade against the guard’s to force it downward. In the same motion, he slid the blunt edge of his sword along the guard’s weapon, stepped to the right, and slammed the crossguard into the man’s helmet. There was a loud crack, and the guard collapsed with a groan.
Now or never, Gregor thought and bolted for the door. It wasn’t far. He reached out his hand – and then there was a sharp crack behind him, and he was yanked to the ground. A searing pain tore through his left calf, and he cried out. A whip had coiled around his leg.
The first guard was back on his feet – and was dragging him.
Before Gregor could react, the man was looming over him and slammed a fist into his temple. A stabbing pain shot through Gregor’s head, and everything in front of his eyes blurred into black fog. Resistance became harder by the second… And at last, he gave in.
When Gregor came to, he was surrounded by absolute darkness. No windows, no sliver of light cutting through the room. The air was stale and cold, and a dull ache pulsed in his temple. For a moment, Gregor had no idea where he was. But then the memories returned – the guards, the fight, the impact.
And then the realization.
Das Echo seines Schreis hallte durch den Raum, und in diesem Moment sah er ihn – nicht mit seinen Augen, sondern mit seinem Gehör. The echo of his own cry rolled through the room, and in that moment he saw it – not with his eyes, but with his hearing. The echo threw the outlines of the walls back at him, as if the darkness had taken shape for the blink of an eye. Smooth stone, polished, without the slightest imperfection. Gregor’s stomach twisted. He knew exactly where he was. The same cell. The same walls. The same suffocating feeling. It was the dungeon Solovet had once locked him in.
Panic surged through Gregor and he began pounding against the massive stone door. The last time, no one – not even Luxa – had known he was imprisoned here, deep beneath the palace. Eventually Nerissa had come and freed him, but how long would he sit in this cell this time? His blows weakened… slowed… and finally stopped altogether. Gregor collapsed weakly against the door. Tears welled in his eyes, and he could no longer hold them back. A strangled sob escaped him as all the pain and despair of the last four years broke free.
It was all so unfair! Didn’t he deserve a chance at a happy life? Now he was locked in this cell – imprisoned over a misunderstanding – and no one even knew where he was. For the first time, Gregor thought of his parents and his siblings. What would they think? How would they feel if he never returned this time? His sobs slowly faded, leaving behind only a deep, silent grief. Gregor sank into a corner of the cell, pulled his knees to his chest, and buried his head in his arms.
Howard would surely notice he was missing, but Gregor doubted that he could do much in all this confusion. After all, he was still just “the Overlander.” Just as he was about to resign himself to his fate, hurried footsteps and frantic voices echoed outside his cell. Gregor lifted his head and listened. A woman was speaking sharply to the guards and ordering them to open the door. As if that would help, he thought bitterly. But then– A key slid into the lock and the door to his cell opened.
The door opened, and Gregor squinted against the light.
Even the short time spent in total darkness had made the brightness feel painfully intense. Blinking, he made out the silhouette of a woman quickly approaching him.
“Gregor?”
The voice was warm and familiar, full of kindness. Gregor looked up.
“It really is you,” the woman said softly as she gently helped him to his feet.
He let her, feeling the brief but sincere embrace. “Perdita?” Gregor asked uncertainly as she released him.
“Yes, it’s me,” she said with a gentle smile. “It’s very good to see you again, Overlander.”
She led him out of the cell and into the light. Gregor’s eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness. Perdita gave him a kind look. Her long braid hung loosely over her shoulder. “Can you please tell me what’s going on here?” Gregor asked.
“First of all … I’m really sorry. This was a misunderstanding.” It was obvious how uncomfortable she felt about the incident, and she continued quickly: “Everyone’s on edge right now. So much is happening all at once – and then the chaos in the palace…”
She held his gaze, but Gregor could see the regret in her eyes – she clearly wished she could undo what had happened. “When I was informed that an Overlander had been arrested for trying to access the meeting chambers, I knew immediately it had to be you. I rushed here to get you out.”
Gregor stared at her in disbelief. “Thank you,” he murmured, though he still didn’t quite know how to process the situation. “How is it that your order was enough to get me released?” He noticed a flicker of relief in her expression – not just because of the question, but because he hadn’t raised his voice.
“I’m in command of Regalia’s military and guard forces,” she explained. “After Solovet’s death, Luxa approached me and offered me the position. Of course, I accepted.”
Gregor gave a faint smile, but he was genuinely glad to see that Perdita had continued to rise in the ranks. When they’d first met, she had been a simple palace guard alongside Mareth. Back then, it had been Gregor’s fault that she and her flier were badly injured during one of his escape attempts. He still felt guilty about it, even though she had long since forgiven him. “Good thing you accepted the position – who knows what would’ve happened to me otherwise,” he said with a tired smile.
Perdita placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him firmly, but kindly. “I would’ve done everything in my power to get you out either way.”
Gregor appreciated the gesture of respect and friendship. He gave her a genuine smile. He would make sure Luxa found out – if he ever got the chance to see her.
As if she could read his thoughts, Perdita led him out of the dungeon and back into the palace. “You were heading to the meeting, right?” she asked.
“Yeah. Howard said it would be okay.”
Perdita paused briefly in thought. “Yes,” she finally said. “It’s probably best if you’re there.”
She glanced at him – and Gregor suddenly became aware that he was still wearing his Overland clothes.
“But not in that,” she said with a wink. “I thought you might prefer something more... fitting – and more appropriate for the occasion.”
Gregor looked away.
Great, he thought. Another reminder of how much he longed to see Luxa. Perdita had known longer than most. During the great war, when Gregor had feared Luxa was hurt – or worse – it was Perdita who had eased that fear. Now she led him to the baths, said her goodbyes, and left him alone. With a quick laugh, she reassured him that he didn’t need to fear any further arrests.
Gregor stepped through the door, and was immediately greeted by the scent of herbs and fresh bathwater. He slipped out of his clothes and laid them beside a stack of Underland garments Perdita had already prepared.
Gregor sank into the warm, herb-infused bath. The water embraced him with soothing heat, and he felt the tension begin to melt from his body. Perdita had mentioned that he’d likely arrived too early before his arrest – and even now, there was still a bit of time. Gregor closed his eyes and let the silence surround him.
Some time passed before an attendant entered. He politely asked Gregor to get dressed and prepare to leave – the meeting would begin shortly.
Gregor did as instructed. He stepped out of the bath, dried off, dressed, and made his way toward the hall. Perdita hadn’t lied: as he passed the guards standing at the entrance to the dining chamber corridor, they didn’t so much as flinch. Gregor noticed the deep dent in one of their helmets and quickly averted his gaze, guilt washing over him. When he stood before the grand doors, he took a deep breath and tried to steady his nerves. “Just stay calm,” He murmured to himself – and opened the door.
The dining hall was already bustling, a colorful mix of humans and creatures talking and dining together. Gregor spotted Lapblood, Nike, and Queen Athena, though many of the others were unfamiliar to him. He stepped into the room, and the door clicked shut behind him. At first, no one seemed to notice him, and he stood there awkwardly – until a voice drew deliberate attention to him.
“Well, would you look at that. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear, right?”
It was as if time had stopped. The room fell deathly silent. All heads turned to Gregor and stared at him.
“What’s the matter – cat got your tongue? You usually have plenty to say, Warrior.” Ripred was sauntering toward him with a smirk, and in that instant, the silence exploded like a bomb. The meaning behind Ripred’s words was unmistakable: The Warrior – the Overlander – had just entered the room.
Suddenly, the crowd surged toward Gregor. Everyone seemed to want to speak to him at once. He heard greetings, words of thanks, and general excitement at his presence.
Only one creature in the room seemed anything but pleased.
In the back of the hall, Gregor caught sight of a jet-black bat. It looked at him briefly, then pushed off the ground and vanished into the darkness through the balcony doors.
“Come on, Overlander,” said Ripred, who had finally made it through the crowd, and led him to the table. “Now tell us – what inspired you to grace us with your presence?”
Gregor began explaining that Lapblood had brought him to the palace, and that Howard and Perdita had encouraged him to attend the meeting. He said nothing, however, about his wish to see Luxa again.
Ripred listened closely. And when Gregor finished, a mischievous grin crept across his face. He knew exactly what Gregor had left out. “Well, Warrior, getting into the palace – that’s one thing,” he began, standing up and leaning in so close that only Gregor could hear. “But getting back into Luxa’s life? That’ll be trickier.”
Gregor stared at him, ready to fire back. But before he could speak, the doors at the far end of the hall opened, and Luxa entered the room with her royal guard
Chapter Text
Everyone fell silent as the Queen of Regalia entered the room. Her guards took their positions at the entrances and exits without a word, while Luxa stepped into the center of the hall, her head held high. Her gaze swept over the assembly, and she began to speak. “First, I want to thank all of you for answering my invitation,” she began, her voice steady. “As you all know, the current situation–”
She faltered. Her eyes had landed on Gregor. Luxa’s posture shifted, as if the ground had vanished beneath her feet.
For a moment, she looked as though she had seen a ghost. Her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. In her eyes, a flood of emotion surfaced – disbelief, astonishment, and then something else, something deeper. Tears welled up as her voice caught completely in her throat.
Gregor felt his body move on its own. He slipped through the crowd and slowly walked toward her.
She took a step forward too. Then another. Her movements were hesitant – as though she had to be sure he was really there.
Gregor had imagined this moment countless times. He had pictured how it would be… what he might say, how she might react. But now as he stood before her, everything felt different.
Luxa had grown. She was taller than him now, her frame lean but strong. The pale robe she wore made her look regal, almost untouchable. And yet it was her eyes that held him captive. That deep, glowing violet, filled with unspoken words, with feelings she didn’t voice, perhaps couldn’t voice.
Gregor swallowed. Around them, the world blurred, everything else fading into irrelevance. There was only the two of them. “Hi, Luxa,” Gregor whispered softly, taking one more step toward her. Luxa didn’t move. She was still staring at him, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was truly standing there.
“It’s been so long…,” she whispered, her voice trembling with joy and disbelief all at once. Gregor saw her lips quiver, saw her fingers unconsciously clutching at the fabric of her robe – as if that was the only way she could convince herself that he truly stood before her.
He couldn’t wait any longer. In a swift step Gregor closed the final distance between them and pulled her into a firm embrace.
Luxa didn’t hesitate a second. Her arms wrapped around him as though she feared he might vanish the next moment.
Gregor closed his eyes. The familiar, warm scent of her hair. The subtle trembling of her shoulders. The beat of his own heart, mirrored in her soft breath. The moment seemed to stretch on forever – and Gregor wouldn’t have minded if it truly had.
All the years, all the battles, everything he had endured… in this instant it felt like it had all been worth it. No one in the hall dared to disturb this moment between two old friends, bound by far more than just friendship.
Hesitantly, Gregor released the embrace. His heart pounded faster than it should have. He looked at Luxa, searched her eyes for the certainty that this was real – that it wasn’t a dream that would vanish the next second. He smiled. A genuine, deeply felt smile that replaced all the words he lacked. Then he leaned forward slightly, his gaze falling on her lips – and for a moment, everything around him seemed to fade away.
But then something happened that made Gregor’s joy collapse in an instant.
Luxa turned her head slightly to the side – a subtle, unmistakable sign. She didn’t want to return his kiss.
It was only a small motion, almost imperceptible – but to Gregor it felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under him.
His heart stumbled. His thoughts raced. Why? Did I do something wrong? Was it too soon?
Luxa’s gaze flickered briefly to him, and then he saw her lips move. A word, formed silently, yet unmistakable: “Later.”
Later.
The word echoed in him, yet he didn’t know what it meant. A promise? An explanation? Or just a polite refusal? His throat went suddenly dry, his arms felt strangely empty as he let her go.
Luxa stepped back slowly, her expression composed again, and returned to her place in the center of the hall. Gregor remained frozen mid‑motion, as though caught in a jump.
And as Luxa resumed the assembly’s business, all that remained for him was the echo of that one word in his mind.
Later.
Gregor stepped back slowly, his gaze still searching for Luxa. He stood beside Lapblood, felt her eyes on him, but did not meet her look. Instead, he watched Luxa.
She was seated once more, but her posture betrayed that she was still grappling internally with what had just happened. Had she truly not known he’d returned? A shiver ran down his neck, and he spun around.
Ripred.
The rat had approached silently, his grin a mixture of amusement and approving malice. “You can’t just pick up where you left off, Warrior,” he said.
Gregor wasn’t in the mood for Ripred’s mockery.
He returned the rat’s gaze with cold eyes that said very clearly: That comment was wasted on me.
But Ripred wasn’t Ripred if that impressed him.
Before Gregor could even find a reply, the rat stepped forward, his voice suddenly overly formal. “With your permission, Your Royal Highness,” began Ripred, his tone carrying the typical irony he never quite shed in moments like this. But there was no mockery in his words – rather a wink balancing between respect and humor. “Our brave warrior was just about to tell us how he spent the last years without our enlightening company. May he continue his account?”
Luxa looked at him, surprised, then her gaze turned to Gregor. For a moment she hesitated. “Of course,” she finally murmured, then sank back into her seat at the table.
Every single person in the room waited for Gregor’s answer. But Gregor didn’t want to tell anything. He had seen through Ripred’s intention – he had steered the conversation away from the awkward moment between him and Luxa. Maybe it was effective, even well-intended. But it changed nothing about the fact that Gregor now stood under the watchful eyes of everyone – with a story he didn’t want to tell.
Gregor began to speak. At first hesitantly, then with a voice that sounded steadier than he felt.
He described how hard it had been to return to a normal life in the Overland – a life not shaped by an oversized white rat or the endless struggle to survive. At first, it seemed like he might manage. But then the nightmares started. Almost every night he found himself back in the Underland – only they weren’t happy visits. He dreamed of the Curse. Sometimes he killed it. Sometimes it killed him. He dreamed of Ares. Again and again, he had to relive the moment his friend fell and never got up. The dreams about him and Luxa – those he left out.
It didn’t take long for Gregor to realize that the Underland wouldn’t let him go – that it never would. But he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. He carried a secret he had to protect. So he stayed alone with his thoughts. He withdrew more and more. His friends in the Overland noticed something was wrong, of course, but he lied to them. He told no one what was really going on inside him. Only the nightmares – those he couldn’t hide. Every night they woke him with a scream, every night he was ripped from sleep.
Then came the day everything exploded.
A fight with his parents, loud and bitter. And finally, the escape. He didn’t even know where he was running until he found himself at the entrance to the Underland.
“And so I took the chance and came back here,” Gregor finished quietly. His gaze wandered around the room, but no one said anything.
“The rest… Lapblood can tell you.”
Only now did he realize how shaken he was.
The trauma of his childhood and youth – everything he had buried deep inside for years – couldn’t be spoken aloud without tearing him apart in the process.
The hall was silent. No one made a sound. Even Ripred, never at a loss for a comment or sarcastic remark, stayed quiet. In the faces around him, Gregor saw sympathy, sorrow, and embarrassment. Some even looked as if they secretly blamed themselves for what he had become – for the scars he bore not only on his skin, but deep within his soul. But Gregor was only looking for one reaction. His eyes found Luxa – and it broke his heart.
Luxa had slumped back into her seat and in her violet eyes, he saw grief and horror. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and he fought the urge to throw himself at her and hold her again. Instead, he slid into a seat at the table and stared down at the place setting before him. The wood felt cold under his hands, but his mind was empty. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Gregor flinched slightly and looked up. Only then did he realize that Howard had entered the room. His friend looked at him with the same sorrow and shame that Gregor had seen in the faces of others.
“I believe,” Howard began in a dry voice, “I speak for everyone here when I say how deeply sorry we are for what you’ve gone through. And if you ever need any form of help or support, please know you can ask at any time.”
Behind him, many nodded – some hesitant, others with a look of quiet resolve. Gregor did not need to see it to feel it.
“Thank you, Howard,” he replied quietly. “I appreciate that.”
Howard let his hand slip off Gregor’s shoulder and stepped back.
Before silence could settle in too long, Lapblood stepped forward. She seemed to have the same sharp sense for awkward moments as Ripred – and also a knack for dissolving them. “Queen Luxa,” she began, “you were about to brief us earlier on the state of the Underland. If you allow, I would like to take over from here.”
Luxa nodded absentmindedly. She appeared still trapped in Gregor’s story, his words still echoing in her mind.
Lapblood circled the table so all could see her, then stood upright. “Everyone here knows that our current situation is far from rosy. But before we get to that, there is an urgent issue affecting both my people and that of the humans.” She addressed her words directly to Luxa. “The peace between us holds – for now. But discontent is growing. Some among my people still cling to the old beliefs of the Curse. Others mourn Gorger as if he ever truly cared for us. And most? They just want as far away from humans as possible.”
Gregor heard Ripred snort derisively at the mention of Gorger’s name. “Well,” Ripred said, his voice dry and unamused, “some people never learn. Gorger, the Curse—both dead. But for some, the past is just more convenient than reality.” He added quietly: “Luckily stupidity isn’t hereditary. Usually anyway.”
Lapblood turned toward Ripred, her gaze sharp and intense.
“And yet it’s those very ones who make up a non‑negligible portion of the Gnawers,” she said.
“What if the gnawers again conspire against the humans or the fliers?” came the voice of Wevox. All eyes shifted to the Spider Queen, whose web trembled faintly. “Another war would be unavoidable.”
Gregor noticed Queen Athena fidget uneasily, her wings fluttering. The thought of the rats rising again clearly unsettled her.
“Such disaster must never befall our peoples. That would be the end of us all,” she declared firmly. Murmurs of agreement spread across the hall.
“No one here wants a new war,” Lapblood agreed, letting her gaze sweep meaningfully across the gathered assembly. “But exactly because of that we must find a solution – before it’s too late.”
An older mouse stepped forward and glared at Lapblood with hostility. “It is your fault that so many of my people died,” she barked. “So it is your duty to find the solution.”
Lapblood met her gaze steadily. “It was the fault of a deranged madman, not of the gnawers. Many among us stood against him.”
“And yet they’re dead and can never return,” responded the mouse coldly, her eyes unyielding.
Gregor saw Lapblood take a deep breath. He had never seen her angry – but he felt that it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge.
“Mutual accusations won’t help us,” interjected Nike. “We want to find a solution, not tear each other apart.”
“True words, Princess,” Ripred said, tossing a piece of cake into his mouth with relish. “Besides,” he continued between chews, “that’s just one of many problems.” He swallowed, then deliberately settled himself beside Lapblood. “We – and by that I mean all of us here – are simply too many. We’re running out of space. And don’t even get me started on resources.”
Gregor pricked up his ears and turned to Ripred. That rats and humans still hurled hostility at each other despite the war was nothing new. But that the Underland suffered from a lack of living space seemed almost impossible to him. Aren’t there countless caves and tunnels for every race to find its own dwelling? He asked Ripred exactly that – and got nothing but a dry laugh in response.
“Watch it, Overlander.” Ripred’s voice was edgy. “Sure, there are plenty of caves and passages. But if you feel like living in barren tunnels without vegetation or near an active volcano – be my guest.”
Gregor sensed that Ripred wasn’t entirely wrong, and he remained silent. He resumed his role as listener while Lapblood took the floor again.
“So, living space is running out,” she said, “and with all the earthquakes, the river now carries too little water for everyone to get enough food from it.”
“Not just food,” added Howard as he stepped forward. “The earthquakes have also collapsed vital supply tunnels. Because of that, we’re progressing with war‑damage repairs much slower than expected.” He let his gaze sweep over the hall before continuing:
“Although this first affects only the humans, Regalia’s fields no longer get sufficient irrigation. I don’t think I need to explain that that will worsen the food shortage even more. The Fount cannot support all of us.” A hush fell. No one knew what to say. “If the peoples learn about this, a civil war will break out.”
Luxa found her voice again, though it wavered slightly.
Gregor looked at her – their eyes met – and suddenly he understood what Lapblood had meant earlier. This was what she meant by those obligations.
Amid the looming catastrophe, the plan had been to hide the truth from the peoples, simply to avoid panic and save as many lives as possible.
Gregor could barely imagine the weight on Luxa’s shoulders, how hard it must be for her to make decisions like this.
“None of the peoples outside this room know,” intervened the older mouse, her voice laden with bitter realization. “If this becomes known – and there’s no solution – the Underland is lost.”
“And the diggers can’t help us dig new supply and irrigation tunnels,” Howard said, clearly dejected. “They disappeared after the war – suddenly, with no warning nor a trace of where they went.”
“At least the flier‑folk can compensate for some missing transport routes, but even we are reaching our limits,” added Queen Athena, her concern plainly audible. “We need a lasting solution, and fast, before time runs out completely.”
Gregor wished he was anywhere but here. How could Howard and Perdita have thought he should attend this assembly? The future of the Underland hung by a thread – how could he be of any help in such a situation?
But he wasn’t the only one lost in thought. The atmosphere was heavy as every representative was worried about the future of their people.
Then Luxa stood and looked around the hall, scanning each face in turn. “I think for now,” she began, “it would be best to postpone the assembly until tomorrow. Many among you are exhausted from the long journey. Tomorrow, I ask only the leaders of each people to return. You may bring a guard if you wish.” She looked over the gathered crowd. “To all others, I thank you for your presence today. I ask that no word spoken here leaves this room.”
The attendees nodded, and Luxa turned back to the leaders.
“As soon as the time for the gathering is set, you will be informed. Thank you.”
A murmur of agreement rose, and people began to say their goodbyes. The guards opened the doors, and slowly the hall emptied.
Gregor didn’t know what would come next for him, so he joined the crowd that flowed in all directions through the palace.
But just before he left the hall, he heard Luxa speak again. “Would you stay a moment longer, Gregor?”
Gregor stopped and turned slowly. Luxa was still standing in the center of the hall waiting for him. With a tense feeling, he walked toward her.
Later.
Was this the moment? When he reached her, Luxa gave the guards a brief sign – that they should leave them alone. Without a word, she led him to the door they had entered through at the beginning of the evening.
They walked side by side through the palace. Out of the corner of his eye, Gregor watched Luxa – in her robe she seemed to float across the floor.
Eventually, they arrived at a secluded balcony Gregor had never seen before.
Luxa walked a few steps ahead, stopped at the railing, and turned to him. They were completely alone.
In the glow of the crystals that lit Regalia, she looked almost like a being from another world. Gregor stopped and took in the sight of her – standing gracefully before him in the dim night light, the soft glow caressing her skin.
She extended a hand, and without another word Gregor stepped forward. Their hands met, their fingers interlaced. This time it was Luxa who pulled Gregor into a firm but tender embrace.
“You know,” he heard her say as they parted, “after you left, I came here often. I never stopped believing you’d return one day.”
Her voice, barely more than a whisper, resonated deep inside Gregor’s mind. “And now I’m finally here,” he replied softly. He felt Luxa’s body next to his, shoulder to shoulder.
She turned to him, her eyes searching his. “I thought I’d never see you again. You wanted to leave–” Her voice broke, and Gregor saw her eyes fill with tears.
“But we didn’t,” he said quickly, gently brushing the tears from her cheek. “My parents decided to stay.”
He wanted to tell her everything, but he knew this was not the right moment. Not here, not now. Instead, he took her hand in his, and with his other hand gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.
If not now, when, Gregor thought, and leaned forward slowly to kiss her. The fear that she might reject him again felt utterly gone. In that moment, all the happiness in the world belonged to him – standing with the love of his life under the dim glow of the crystals on that balcony. He felt Luxa move closer too, and Gregor closed his eyes. Their lips were mere heartbeats away from meeting… when a voice behind them broke the spell.
“There you are.”
The words shattered the magic of the moment, and in an instant an invisible barrier seemed to form between them. Gregor whirled around, startled, his eyes flicking toward the source of the voice.
A young man, no older than twenty or twenty‑one, stepped from the shadows toward them. Gregor wondered how long he had stood there. Had he been watching them?
The man came closer, and now Gregor could see him clearly. He was tall, with short black hair, and his build hinted at a skilled fighter. What struck him most, though, were the violet eyes of the stranger as they fell curiously on him.
The man stood next to Luxa, and then did something that struck Gregor like a blow. He wrapped his arm around Luxa’s waist and smiled at her. “Forgive my absence from the assembly earlier. Something came up.” As if noticing Gregor only now, the man gave him a glance – then turned back to her. “Would you like me to introduce myself, Luxa?”
Luxa’s cheeks flushed red, and she cleared her throat nervously. She avoided Gregor’s gaze as she spoke slowly: “Gregor, this is Cassius.” Her voice sounded dry, as if she had to force out the words. “He is my partner and the future King of Regalia.”
Chapter Text
Gregor stared at Cassius in stunned disbelief, unable to process what he’d just heard. Only moments ago, he’d been certain there was still something between him and Luxa – that the years of separation hadn’t unraveled their bond.
But now this stranger stood before him… tall, composed, radiating a quiet confidence that left no doubt: he knew exactly where he belonged – at Luxa’s side. Gregor felt like the ground was shifting beneath him. His world had only just begun to piece itself back together – and now it was breaking apart all over again. He instinctively stepped back, bumping against the balcony railing. Before he could steady himself, Cassius reached out and caught him by the arm.
“Careful, wouldn’t want you to fall,” he said with a smile. Then he released him and extended a hand. “Hello, Gregor. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he went on. “Luxa’s told me so much. It’s an honor to finally meet you.” Cassius studied him—his expression warm, yet subtly assessing.
Gregor had no idea how to respond. His thoughts were racing, his heart pounding so loudly it felt like all of Regalia could hear it. All he managed was a brief nod.
Luxa, meanwhile, had gone pale. Her veins stood out sharply against her skin, and for a fleeting second, she looked more fragile than he had ever seen her. Her gaze pleaded with Gregor, but she knew just as well as he did that there was nothing either of them could do.
And then it hit him, all at once: Luxa had someone. A partner. A companion. A future husband. This stranger standing before him would be the one by her side – from now on, in life, and in ruling. The realization struck him like a blow.
Gregor saw Luxa’s look – that unspoken plea for understanding – and forced himself to return Cassius’s greeting. “The honor is all mine,” he said quietly, taking Cassius’s hand. Every fiber of his being screamed that it was a lie, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t humiliate Luxa. Not now. Not like this. Not after she’d almost kissed someone else.
Had Cassius seen it? If so, he gave no sign. His face remained friendly, his demeanor relaxed, as if everything were perfectly fine.
“We don’t really know each other,” Gregor murmured as he let go of Cassius’s hand.
“That’s true,” Cassius replied, studying him with quiet curiosity. “I’m not from Regalia. I come from The Fount, sent here as an envoy. I never imagined I’d find something so wonderful here.” He pulled Luxa closer and pressed a kiss to her temple.
Watching it nearly drove Gregor mad. What mattered most to him in all the world was slipping out of reach, right before his eyes. “I’m… happy for you.” The words barely made it past his lips. His face must have betrayed everything he was trying to hide.
Cassius still watched him – interested, and… was that pity? Or arrogance? Gregor couldn’t tell. He didn’t care. “I should go,” he whispered at last, more to himself than to anyone else. Every part of him was screaming to get away – from this balcony, from this moment, from this entire scene. The intimacy, the closeness, the crystals casting their romantic glow on the wrong people.
Gregor slipped past Cassius and stepped back into the palace.
“Gregor, wait–” Luxa’s voice was soft, barely more than a breath, yet he heard it anyway. He didn’t turn around. If he looked into her eyes now – if he saw even a flicker of regret or sorrow – he would fall apart. Only when he was sure the shadows of the hallway had swallowed him did he turn back.
Cassius wasn’t watching him leave. Instead, he leaned toward Luxa and whispered something to her.
Gregor couldn’t make out the words anymore, but he saw Luxa’s shoulders tremble, saw her begin to cry, saw her knees give way.
Cassius lifted her up and held her tightly.
To Gregor’s horror, Luxa returned the embrace—no hesitation, no resistance. She let it happen.
Cassius shifted slightly, turning just enough that he now faced the corridor where Gregor stood. A smile flickered across his face, one that had nothing to do with happiness or comfort. It was a cold smile, meant for Gregor alone – as if Cassius knew he was watching.
Gregor began to shake. He hurried down the palace hallways, hardly aware of where his feet were taking him. Everything felt wrong. The path he had taken, the darkness closing around him, the cold weight in his chest. The air had suddenly become stifling, the walls tighter than before. He only slowed when he reached one of the more secluded corridors. His breath was unsteady, and he felt his fingers trembling. Gregor closed his eyes for a moment.
Wasn’t this what he had wanted? For Luxa to move on? For her to live her life without being tied to him? Then why did it feel as if the ground had been pulled out from under him? Maybe because he had hoped he could stay this time. No… she already had someone at her side. But then why had she brought him out onto that balcony? Why would she have let him kiss her this time? Of course she couldn’t kiss him in front of the council, he realized. Not if everyone knew she was promised to someone else. And why had Cassius smiled at him like that? Or… had Gregor only imagined it?
Luxa had tried to stop him earlier. That had to mean something… didn’t it? Or was that just wishful thinking? A thousand questions swarmed his mind, and he had no answers for any of them. His legs gave out, and he sank against the cool stone wall of the corridor. The complete darkness around him seemed to seep into his thoughts. Gregor felt the tears come – and this time, he didn’t hold them back. What did it matter? He was alone. He no longer knew where he belonged. His dream of returning to the Underland was slowly turning into a mistake. He had believed, after all these years, that he was finally home again – but this didn’t feel like home.
Gregor pushed himself upright and wiped the tears from his face with a sob. Tomorrow, he would ask Nike – or someone else – to fly him back to New York. But as his sob echoed down the hallway, a new feeling overtook him.
Something that made his whole body tense.
He wasn’t alone. A sound, barely more than a whisper. An echo that didn’t belong to him. Gregor turned, his heart pounding in his chest. “And who’s watching me this time?” His voice cracked through the silence like a whip. No answer. Only footsteps – slow, deliberate, drawing closer. Then he saw the figure of a man, hand slipping beneath his cloak.
Gregor instinctively stepped back, every muscle taut.
If this turned into a fight, he had to be ready. Then – a warm light flared. The corridor glowed with the soft flicker of an oil lamp. The man moved forward, his face still cloaked in shadow.
“What are you doing here all alone?” the voice asked. “Hardly anyone comes to this old wing of the palace. I don’t have to stop you from trying to escape again… do I, Gregor?”
The lamplight finally touched the man’s face, and Gregor let out a breath of relief. “If no one ever comes here, then what are you doing here… Mareth?” Gregor tried to keep his voice steady, but Mareth wasn’t fooled.
Mareth stepped closer, his gaze gentle but firm. Then he placed a hand on Gregor’s shoulder – briefly, almost imperceptibly – before pulling him into a hug. “I’ve been looking for you,” Mareth said at last. “The guards said they saw you and Luxa head into this part of the palace. Are you all right?”
Gregor gave a short, bitter laugh that had nothing to do with amusement. “No. Not even close.”
Mareth studied him thoughtfully, his eyes drifting over Gregor’s puffy face, the reddened eyes, the unmistakable traces of tears. “You found out about Cassius, didn’t you?”
Gregor nodded silently.
Mareth let out a quiet sigh. “Come on,” he said, turning and walking back down the corridor.
Gregor followed him without a word, through the quiet, nearly deserted wing of the palace. It was late, and the hallway was lit only by the pale glow of the lamps. No one noticed them. Eventually, Mareth led him to a door, which he opened softly. Gregor stepped into a room that was instantly familiar.
“Your old quarters,” Mareth said with a faint smile, lighting the oil lamp on the bedside table. “I had it prepared for you. I figured a little familiarity might help.”
Gregor looked at his friend – silent, but full of gratitude. He let himself sink down onto the bed, and Mareth, just like in the old days, took a seat in the chair beside it. “You’re walking much better,” Gregor said softly into the silence.
Mareth smiled. “I’ve had good training. These days, I barely notice it’s just a prosthetic.”
“I’m really glad to hear that,” Gregor murmured – and this time, he meant it.
Mareth looked at him for a long moment, and Gregor hoped – maybe this time – he would finally get the answers to all the questions clawing at him.
“You know,” Mareth began, carefully choosing his words, “Luxa is of age now. On her sixteenth birthday, she was officially crowned and given full command over Regalia. The council still handles affairs, but without Luxa’s approval, they can’t make any decisions. All the responsibilities of a queen have been placed on her shoulders.”
Gregor didn’t quite understand what Mareth was getting at – but he didn’t interrupt him.
“As you know, there’s no one left to continue the royal line of Regalia – no one else who’s ready, old enough, or suitable,” Mareth continued, and now Gregor started to understand where this was going. “After she came of age, it was expected of her – as queen – that she takes a partner. She didn’t have a choice.”
Gregor pressed his lips together.
No choice.
Was that supposed to comfort him? To ease the pain?
It didn’t. Of course he’d known that the Regalians clung tightly to their traditions, but this kind of tradition? In New York, people couldn’t even legally marry until they were eighteen. The idea that sixteen was considered an adult in Regalia still felt foreign to him.
“And she chose Cassius?” Gregor asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Mareth hesitated. “He was one of many… but the council recommended him. Before he was adopted by the royal family of The Fount, he was the son of one of the most respected families there. His parents died in the first great war against the gnawers.” Mareth paused before continuing. “A union with him would strengthen Luxa’s position as queen – her partner coming from a noble house would only solidify her rule.”
Images flashed through Gregor’s mind: Luxa in a wedding dress, standing at the altar beside Cassius. She wasn’t happy. And yet, she endured it – because her people and their traditions demanded it. A shiver ran down his spine. It might make political sense. But it didn’t dull the ache in his chest – or Luxa’s pain at how he’d found out.
“Is he at least good to her…?” Gregor asked. His throat felt dry.
Mareth seemed to consider the question, frowning slightly. “As far as anyone knows, yes. In truth, not much is known about him aside from his background. He’s well-liked by the public.” He leaned in a little, meeting Gregor’s gaze directly. “You still have feelings for Luxa, don’t you?”
Gregor nodded, defeated.
Mareth stood and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Mareth stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. “As a member of the Queen’s Guard, I have to tell you: don’t do anything reckless to try and stop her marriage. It wouldn’t end well.”
Gregor looked up, but there was no hardness in Mareth’s eyes. Only warmth.
“But as your friend…” Mareth continued, “As your friend, I’m telling you to fight for her. Do everything in your power.”
For the first time, a faint smile touched Gregor’s lips. But one thought still gnawed at him. “Howard told me that a union between two people is a big deal here – especially with a queen. And because I’m an overlander…”
Mareth let his hand fall from Gregor’s shoulder and picked up the oil lamp from the bedside table. He turned to face him, his expression steady. “Then show them how wrong they are.” He walked to the door and opened it. “Oh – and tomorrow, the meeting from earlier will continue. Don’t be late.” With that, he stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Gregor didn’t move. He didn’t have the energy to undress. Almost instantly – and without another thought for his situation – he drifted off to sleep.
The night was restless. Sleep came and went, interrupted by images, memories – and Luxa’s eyes, just before he’d walked away. Gregor was woken early the next morning. A servant brought him a simple breakfast, and though he had no appetite, he forced himself to eat. He needed the strength – whatever the day might bring. He had barely finished when there was a knock at the door. It opened, and an elderly man stepped inside.
“Vikus!” Gregor called, jumping to his feet.
Vikus smiled when he saw him, and they embraced briefly.
Gregor noticed that Vikus now walked with a cane and eyed it with concern. “Are you all right?” he asked, gesturing to the walking aid.
“It’s getting better,” said Vikus, tapping the floor twice with the cane as if to prove it.
Gregor remembered that Vikus had suffered a stroke near the end of the war. The news of Solovet’s death had hit him hard at the time. His right side had remained partially paralyzed ever since.
“It’ll never be like it was, but at least I can move around a bit again,” said Vikus with a smile – though Gregor caught the weight in his eyes as he motioned toward his weakened side. “My mind, however, is still in working order.” This time, his smile toward Gregor was genuine. “It’s good to see you, son.” Vikus gestured for Gregor to follow him out of the room. “You don’t look like you got much sleep,” he remarked as they walked through the palace.
“I didn’t,” Gregor replied, stifling a yawn. “But I’ll manage.” He didn’t know how much Vikus knew – if anything – about him, Luxa, and Cassius, and he didn’t really want to find out.
Vikus nodded and continued. “The meeting will begin shortly. I heard you were present yesterday as well?”
Gregor nodded.
“Very good. I hope we’ll get something more concrete today.” There was worry etched into Vikus’s furrowed brow.
“Will you be joining us?” Gregor asked.
Vikus took his time before answering. “Yes… I thought my granddaughter might benefit from a little diplomatic support.” At the mention of Luxa, Gregor’s thoughts snapped back to the night before. His stomach tightened. The light breakfast suddenly felt very heavy.
The hall where the assembly was held was already filled with voices when they entered. The most important representatives of all the peoples were present. Luxa sat at the head of the long table, and Cassius was beside her.
Gregor tried to ignore him, but cast a fleeting glance at Luxa. Like him, she didn’t look rested. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was even paler than usual. She didn’t look like she’d slept a minute last night.
Ripred was already there too. He sat a few seats down from Luxa, perched on the table, lazily digging his claws into the wood.
Gregor couldn’t suppress a quiet snort. Ripred, who never had much patience for political talks, was here only because he had to be. Behind Luxa sat a large golden bat, and Gregor recognized Aurora. She was surveying the room. Their eyes met, and they exchanged a small nod. Gregor let his gaze drift across the room. He saw Howard, Nike, the queens Athena and Wevox, Lapblood, the elderly mouse from yesterday – and her. The black bat who had immediately left the room the moment Gregor had arrived yesterday. “Hey, Vikus?”
Vikus looked up, eyebrows raised in question.
“Who’s that black bat over there?” Gregor asked, glancing subtly in her direction.
Vikus followed his gaze and his face lit up slightly. “Ah, that’s Hera. She’s part of Queen Athena’s personal guard. I don’t know much about her, but she’s considered one of the best close-combat fliers.”
Gregor blinked in surprise and stared at Hera. She was young, but strong for her age. Her fur was pitch black, and she reminded Gregor a great deal of Ares.
She sat behind Queen Athena, scanning the room. Only her shifting eyes gave away that she was alive – otherwise, she could’ve passed for a statue.
Another familiar face caught Gregor’s attention. Nerissa was also seated at the table.
She noticed him and gave him a small wave.
She still looks so fragile, Gregor thought, and couldn’t help but smile to himself.
The assembly seemed complete, because Luxa stood up – and immediately, a tense silence fell over the room. “Well then,” she began, her voice firm. “Let us begin.”
She asked everyone to introduce themselves, and that’s how Gregor learned that the elderly mouse was a former colony leader of the nibblers. She was one of those driven out of the jungle by the rats.
When it was Hera’s turn, she introduced herself in only a few terse words. She didn’t seem fond of long speeches – and Gregor could relate to that.
But even he had to introduce himself, despite being fairly sure that everyone in the room already knew exactly who he was.
While Gregor spoke, he noticed Hera watching him the entire time. Her gaze was cold, and it almost felt like she harbored some quiet disdain for him – though he had no idea why. He glanced at her briefly, and she immediately turned her eyes forward again. When he finished, Luxa rose once more.
This time, her voice was less steady than before, and her gaze flickered toward Gregor.
She brought up the issue on everyone’s mind: the future of the Underland. “We already discussed the main points yesterday,” she began. “The earthquakes have caused the river’s water level to drop and destabilized many of the trade and supply tunnels. Our fields are no longer receiving enough water, and they’ve become far less fertile.”
It was clearly difficult for her to talk about this, and Gregor felt a deep sympathy for Luxa.
She took a deep breath in, then out, before continuing. “As a result, our food supply is no longer guaranteed. Every people here draws nourishment from the river, and we also used to trade surplus from our fields. But if things continue like this, and our harvests keep shrinking, we won’t be able to supply you”–Luxa looked in Lapblood’s direction–“with food anymore.”
Lapblood didn’t look surprised by this answer. “If that happens, I won’t be able to keep the gnawers under control. They’ll take the food by force.”
“If they try,” Cassius replied coolly, “they know what’s waiting for them.”
Lapblood shot him a hostile glare. “Show a little gratitude,” she hissed, her tail rising menacingly into the air. “If it weren’t for me, we’d be knee-deep in another war by now.”
For the first time, Ripred actually seemed interested in what was happening. “That’s true,” he said, brushing wood chips from his claws. “You should see her when she gets going.”
He grinned, but Lapblood snapped at him. “That’s not helpful!”
Vikus rose to his feet, his legs trembling. He leaned heavily on his cane as he looked around the room. “Threats of violence won’t get us anywhere.”
It was obvious that speaking took effort, but Gregor could still see that familiar glint in his eyes – a sign that Vikus was still willing to go to the ends of the earth for a peaceful solution.
“Howard,” Vikus continued, turning in his direction, “what’s the situation at The Fount?”
Howard stood as well, his expression serious as he addressed the group. “We can compensate for some of the food shortages. The people there didn’t suffer as much during the war. We’re helping wherever we can.” He looked from Lapblood to the elderly mouse. “But,” he added, his face darkening, “once our surplus runs out, we won’t be able to help either.”
The diggers could’ve helped us carve out new tunnels,” Lapblood interjected, “but they’re gone. Vanished without a trace.”
Athena nodded. “The fliers are reaching their limits, too. We can’t transport food and water forever.”
Gregor looked over at Wevox. Until now, she had simply sat and listened, her eight eyes fixed on the proceedings without so much as a twitch.
As if Luxa had read his thoughts, she spoke up, directing her words to the Queen of the Spinners. “Queen Wevox, first of all, let me thank the spinners for their help repairing Regalia. But what do you propose we do about this crisis?”
Wevox turned all eight eyes to Luxa. “Queen Luxa,” she hummed, and there was a faint trace of displeasure in her tone, “we are happy to help where we can, but food is not our concern. We do not rely on human or gnawers provisions. The spinners stay out of this.”
Luxa sank back into her chair with a heavy sigh. Her shoulders dropped slightly, as if the weight of the entire assembly was pressing down on her.
Gregor could see it – no one present had a solution. The air was heavy. Everyone was looking around at one another, searching for an answer that wasn’t there.
“If the gnawers hadn’t committed such a horrific genocide against my people, things would look very different,” the elderly mouse suddenly snapped, aiming her words at Lapblood and Ripred.
Lapblood turned her head slowly, almost in slow motion, to face the mouse. Her gaze was murderous. “I’ll say it again. It was the fault of the Curse and his mindless followers – not the gnawers who stood against him with everything they had. Those of us who still believe the Curse was right are a tiny minority. Don’t you dare blame those of us who fought against him, Nibbler!”
The mood in the room threatened to boil over. The words grew sharper. Everyone was talking at once, each trying to shift the blame elsewhere.
Gregor looked around – this wasn’t a strategic meeting anymore. It was a power struggle. Then, in the midst of the chaos, a loud crack rang out. Everyone turned sharply.
Cassius had stood up, his fist still pressed against the table where he’d slammed it. He spoke calmly, but firmly. “Perhaps… there’s already an answer.”
The voices died instantly. All eyes turned to him.
“And what would that answer be, boy?” Ripred asked, and Gregor could hear the open disdain in his voice.
“Just listen, gnawer,” Cassius shot back, then pointed toward Nerissa. “Please, step forward and explain.”
Nerissa rose. She was trembling, as though chilled to the bone. With slow, hesitant steps, she walked to the center of the hall.
Gregor felt his stomach twist again, just as it had so often in the past days. If Nerissa believed she had a solution, it could only mean one thing.
“I believe…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her gaze lowered. “…that the Prophecy of Eternity holds the answer to our problems.”
Chapter Text
Once again, excited voices filled the room. A new prophecy? Gregor didn’t know what was worse – that there was another prophecy, or the thought that he might somehow be part of it again.
One thing was certain – it couldn’t mean anything good. He had lived away from the Underland for four years, and yet even now, he couldn’t seem to escape the shadow of Sandwich.
A wave of heat washed over him, and the swirl of voices around him suddenly felt very far away. Only one question echoed through his mind: Why? Why are there still prophecies? The Prophecy of Time had sent him into battle against the Bane – without ever revealing whether he’d come out alive. The memory unspooled like a recording, playing back in his head. Bartholomew of Sandwich’s words flickered like a dark echo behind his eyes:
SHOULD THE MONSTER’S BLOOD RUN RED
THE WARRIOR SHALL THEN BE DEAD
Those lines had etched themselves into him. Back then, no one had wanted to talk to him about it – not Luxa, not Ripred. It was only much later that he’d realized the prophecy hadn’t necessarily meant his death. Now it seemed almost ironic – how he’d once wished Sandwich had left behind more prophecies about the warrior. Back when he and Luxa had still been close.
Even Ripred had eventually admitted he didn’t put any faith in the prophecies. To him, Sandwich had been a madman – locked away, scribbling riddles on the walls. So why should this time be any different? That thought brought Gregor a small, fleeting sense of relief. After all, he had killed the “warrior,” just as the prophecy had demanded.
The rest of the room, however, didn’t share Gregor’s moment of calm. Nerissa’s words had set off an avalanche: everyone was talking over one another, voices rising in pitch and panic. Gregor caught fragments like, “A new prophecy?!” and “Impossible—there are no more prophecies!” Only one remained completely calm: Hera sat motionless, silent in her seat.
Gregor’s eyes drifted to Ripred, who shot him a meaningful look, rolled his eyes, and gave a slight shake of his head. Gregor couldn’t help but grin – he understood exactly what Ripred was thinking.
As the sheer volume of voices swelled into something like a storm, Nerissa tried to speak up, to restore order among the assembly.
But her soft voice was no match for the commotion.
Only when Ripred slammed his tail down on the table – sending two lamps crashing to the floor – did the room fall silent. All eyes turned toward him.
“Thank you, Ripred.”
Ripred gave Nerissa a small nod. “No thanks necessary, dearest Nerissa.” He could barely contain his sarcasm when speaking to Luxa, but with Nerissa, he didn’t even try. To him, she was a dreamer, almost obsessed with the words of Sandwich, words that still held the Underland in their grasp.
Nerissa cast an uncertain glance around the room and tried again. “I believe this prophecy holds the key to our dilemma. It can’t be a coincidence that it came to us so soon after the war.”
Now it was Gregor who lost his composure. “But there are no more prophecies!” he shouted. “They’ve all been fulfilled – and the walls in Sandwich’s room are blank!”
As expected, Ripred burst out laughing. “What are we supposed to do this time? Kill each other again? Or reinvent the wheel?”
Nerissa shot him a sharp look. “We don’t yet know what’s required. Currently, no one even knows this prophecy exists.”
Now Ripred nearly doubled over with laughter. “If no one knows about it, then it can’t be that important!”
“You of all people should know better,” Nerissa snapped, catching Gregor off guard. He had never seen her this angry. “You, who carved an X into your face to fulfill the final verse,” she hissed, and for once, Ripred actually looked a little embarrassed.
All eyes were on him. “Well,” he muttered, “it did prevent a war, didn’t it? Tell me you would’ve done differently.”
There was no reply.
“Thought so,” Ripred said smugly, sinking back into his seat.
Then Gregor remembered something Nerissa had said earlier and raised his voice again. “Nerissa, you said the prophecy came to you shortly after the war? Why then, of all times?”
It was Luxa who answered. Her voice was calm, but she looked utterly drained. “The diggers completely tore up the underground beneath Regalia. It wasn’t safe to enter the tunnels until they were gone.”
“Why did you have to wait for the tunnels to be passable?” Queen Athena asked with a faint frown.
“The peace with the diggers had only just been restored,” Luxa replied quietly. “Sandwich nearly wiped them out and the trust between us was fragile. We didn’t want to get too close while there was still a chance they were down there. But once we finally descended… we found something we never would have believed.”
Tension filled the air. Everyone held their breath and Gregor hung on Luxa’s every word. Even Hera had turned her head to listen.
“We found a crypt beneath the palace,” Luxa continued. “Inside it… lies the tomb of Bartholomew of Sandwich.”
Gregor could barely believe it. He stared at her in disbelief – and so did the rest of the room.
Lapblood recovered first. “I thought the legends said he was burned and his ashes scattered. How is it that his tomb just happens to turn up now?”
Vikus rose unsteadily to his feet, leaning on his cane.
His voice was hoarse as he spoke. “We can’t explain why his tomb remained undiscovered for so long. There was no path leading to it. But we had enough time to study the site.” He paused, as if speaking caused him pain.
“There’s no doubt that the prophecy written on the crypt wall is authentic,” Nerissa finished for him.
A murmur ran through the assembly, and Gregor leaned back in his chair. He’d expected many things, but not the discovery of Sandwich’s tomb. A cold shiver ran down his spine. The thought that Sandwich had left behind one final prophecy in his grave felt almost mocking.
Queen Wevox shuddered in her web. “The spinners place no faith in the prophecies. What if the tomb had never been found?”
“Finally, someone who shares my thoughts,” Ripred commented dully, still idly picking at the wood of the table.
Cassius raised his voice. “Please, listen to the prophecy. Perhaps then you’ll see it differently.” He gave Nerissa an encouraging smile. “Would you recite it for us?”
It didn’t surprise Gregor that she knew it by heart. She stood and began to speak in a calm, steady voice:
YEARS IN THE GRAY AND YEARS IN THE LIGHT,
SHADOWS STILL LINGER, BEYOND YOUR SIGHT.
A WARRIOR STRONG, YET LOST IN A CURSE,
A WORLD, WHERE TIME RUNS IN REVERSE.
WITH WINGS AND CLAWS THROUGH BURING LAND,
OVER WATER AND FOREST, OVER STONE AND SAND.
ONE ALONG, A RISING FLAME WITHOUT DOUBT,
AND ONE ALONE, WHOSE TIME’S RUNNING OUT.
DRIVEN BY GREED, DRIVEN BY HATE,
WARM-BLOODED LIKE US, WITH A FOUR-PAWED GAIT.
AGAIN IN THE CRADLE, WHERE BETRAYEL ASCENDS,
FRIENDS TURNS FOES, AND FOES TURNS FRIENDS.
THE YOUNG ONE GROWS, BUT IF ITS LIGHT GROWS DIM,
A BURDEN SO HEAVY, IT WON’T EVER WIN.
A BOND THAT BLOOMS, WITH DOUBTS NOW FAR,
SHINING BRIGHTLY ONCE MORE, HIS ONLY STAR.
TAKE HEED FO YOURSELVES, MORE NOW THAN BEFORE,
A DANGER DRAWS NEAR YOU CAN’T IGNORE.
DEATH AND SORROW, ENVY AND SPITE,
A FATE, SEALED IN SHADOWS, BEYOND ALL LIGHT.
A silence followed Nerissa’s recitation – so thick, it was almost tangible. No one in the room spoke; her words still hung heavily in the air.
Gregor looked at Howard, who didn’t seem surprised by the prophecy, and at Luxa, Cassius, and Ripred, who also showed no reaction. They had probably heard it before.
But the rest of the assembly seemed struck speechless. Athena looked visibly shaken, Nike fluttered her wings nervously, and Lapblood stared out the window, unmoving. Only Queen Wevox and Hera remained silent and still in their places.
Cassius let his eyes drift across the gathered faces.
“Well, you’ve heard the prophecy,” he said, almost challengingly – daring the others to disagree. “It clearly speaks of a solution.”
Ripred didn’t miss the opportunity. “Does it?” he chuckled. “When were Sandwich’s prophecies ever clear?”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, and Gregor had to admit Ripred had a point. In the past, they had gotten lost in the vagueness of the wording more than once – with devastating consequences. He thought of Hamnet and Frill, who had died in the jungle while searching for a cure. Of Reflex and Gox, the spinners. Of Tick, the cockroach. And of all the others who had lost their lives because of Sandwich’s prophecies.
Back then, Gregor had been certain that fulfilling the Prophecy of Time would mean his death. But they had been wrong – Gregor hadn’t died, even though the prophecy had seemed to say he would.
He looked at Cassius, who held Ripred’s mocking gaze as he continued. “What is clear is that it speaks of a journey. Where exactly – to be determined,” he said, reinforcing his position.
Queen Athena spread her wings, her voice edged with irritation. “It also speaks of death and ruin. Who’s to say it won’t lead to our end?” She directed her words straight at Luxa, and many in the room murmured their agreement.
Gregor noticed Luxa’s heavy breathing. The weight of expectation on her was immense. “But haven’t the prophecies always offered us a solution?” he asked, surprising even himself. He wasn’t one to speak in large assemblies – but he couldn’t leave Luxa alone. He cleared his throat and continued, “Of course the path is difficult, but they’ve always helped us in the end.”
Ripred stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious! You, of all people – you, who got dragged across the Underland by Sandwich’s madness – you’re defending his words now?”
Gregor’s gaze didn’t waver. “But it does speak of me, doesn’t it?” he said defiantly. “It says ‘the warrior’ – and that’s always meant me.” This time, it was Gregor who stared down the assembly, daring them to disagree.
Cassius nodded at him, but Gregor immediately looked away. That was the last person he wanted support from.
Yet Howard, Nike, Athena, and even Lapblood nodded too, as if they were all thinking the same thing.
“And besides,” the old mouse added, “the Overlander has always saved us from greater disasters.”
The agreement that followed those words made Gregor quickly sink back into his seat. He didn’t want to be the center of attention – especially not when people were praising him.
Only Ripred remained unmoved. “Explain something to me, little warrior.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “How can you be the one it speaks of, if you ‘killed the warrior’ in the arena after the war? You said it yourself.” And with a mocking grin, he mimicked Gregor’s own words:
The warrior is dead. I killed him.
Gregor glared at Ripred angrily – but he wasn’t the only one.
Lapblood was shooting daggers at her fellow rat as well. “So far, your only contribution has been sarcasm,” she hissed, fixing her eyes on him. “If you have nothing helpful to say, then be quiet.”
“I’m just as interested in finding a solution as anyone here,” Ripred began, his voice dangerously calm. “But, my dear Lapblood, don’t you ever try to silence me again.”
The two rats locked eyes, seething – but Lapblood said nothing more. Instead, she turned away and looked at Luxa. “What do you think, Queen Luxa?” she asked, voicing the question everyone had been holding back.
Luxa took her time. When she finally spoke, her voice was clear and resolute. “I believe this prophecy can help us – and will. The only question is to what extent. In that, I agree with my partner: we have to find that out first.”
Gregor met her gaze and gave a brief nod, even though it hurt to see the two of them standing together like this. You’re doing this for her, he told himself, clenching his fists.
But before anyone could respond, Queen Wevox stepped out from her web.
The guards at Luxa’s side grew tense and reached for their swords – but Cassius gestured for them to stand down. Hesitantly, they allowed the large spider to approach.
She cast a brief glance at Vikus. “Vikus was only able to convince us in the past because the Gray Prophecy has spoken directly of the spinners. That is not the case now.” She turned back to Luxa, and her tone grew harsher. “Since no one else seems to have a better idea, I will take the liberty of excusing myself from this assembly. The trade agreements will remain in place – but the spinners will not support this endeavor.”
A gasp of disbelief escaped the assembly. How could Wevox, in the midst of this crisis, declare that it no longer concerned her?
Howard jumped to his feet, glaring at her in fury. “You’re leaving the assembly and have yet contributed nothing. You should be ashamed.”
His words sparked another wave of shock. It was rare – almost unheard of – for anyone to speak so directly to a queen.
Inwardly, Gregor agreed with him. The spider had sat silently in her web the entire time, without offering a single suggestion.
Wevox rose to her full height, but her voice remained calm. “I’ll repeat myself: the food shortage does not affect us. Nor does the issue of territory. Therefore, I am free to leave whenever I see fit.”
Howard stood his ground, undeterred – and even Nike spread her wings slightly – but no one dared to stop the Queen of the Spinners.
Vikus stepped forward and shakily approached Wevox. “I will escort you from the palace, honored Wevox,” he said, signaling the guards to open the doors. They obeyed, and Vikus left the hall with the spider queen.
When the doors closed behind them, silence once again settled over the room like a heavy blanket. Luxa stared after Wevox but didn’t say another word. Everyone knew – she could not be swayed.
“I think,” Cassius began cautiously, “we should take a short break to gather ourselves.”
“A splendid idea, boy,” Ripred replied with an exaggerated yawn. “All this talking is making me hungry. What do you think, Luxa?”
Luxa’s expression left no doubt about her mood, but she stood as well. “I agree. I ask everyone to return after midday. Thank you.” With those words, she exited the chamber, accompanied by Cassius and her guards.
Gregor watched them go, silently hoping Luxa might turn back once – but she didn’t. His gaze wandered across the room. No one seemed to be waiting for him. Queen Athena, Nike, and Howard were deep in conversation, Nerissa had already followed her cousin, and Ripred was talking with Lapblood. Was she apologizing to him? Gregor couldn’t hear. Only the old mouse still sat alone at her place.
Since Gregor didn’t know what he could possibly say to her, he left the hall as well, hoping to stretch his legs. Like so often in the past few days, he had no real destination. He wandered aimlessly through the palace, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. He had returned to the Underland full of hope and longing, only to find that another war was looming. And as if that weren’t enough, Luxa already had a partner by her side. On the one hand, it comforted Gregor to know that she hadn’t chosen this herself. On the other hand … did she truly love Cassius? Or was she merely playing a role to fulfill her people’s expectations? And if it was only a mask, why hadn’t she simply told him the truth? But what if it wasn’t …? Mareth had said he needed to fight if he didn’t want to lose her – but Gregor had no idea how. As an Overlander, he found little acceptance in the Underland, neither among the people of Regalia nor among the animals. They reminded him often enough who he was by calling him just that – the “Overlander.”
With both hands, Gregor massaged his temples as he stepped out onto one of the palace balconies and looked down over the fields of Regalia. In the past, he had only been able to guess where the green lands ended. Now he could clearly see barren ground stretching all the way to the horizon. No wonder the humans, rats, and mice were fighting over it. Gregor didn’t want to imagine Regalia sinking back into war over food – but that was exactly where things seemed to be headed. And the prophecy? Could it really be the solution? But why did it speak of a warrior when, according to Sandwich, the warrior was already dead? Question after question drilled into his mind – questions he had no answers to.
“Where am I even supposed to be…? This has nothing left in common with the Underland I once knew…” Gregor murmured his thoughts aloud, as if the words might drive the darkness from his mind, and closed his eyes. A voice in his head, sounding just like Boots, answered that he was right here – in the Underland. At the thought of his little sister, he buried his face in his arms. The realization of how long it had been since he’d last thought about his family startled him. Were they thinking about him? Were they worried?
And then he felt it.
And then he felt it. That familiar, small tug at his T-shirt – just like back then, whenever Boots wanted his attention. It felt almost real. A little too real. Slowly, he lifted his head – and blinked in disbelief. It wasn’t his imagination. Boots was standing right there, in the flesh, a radiant smile on her face.
“Hey you! You’re back again, huh?”
His heart skipped a beat. “Boots …?” He blinked again, but she didn’t disappear. Before he could stop himself, he had already scooped her up and pulled her close.
Boots giggled happily and wrapped her arms around his neck. Gregor felt his throat tighten, tears welling up in his eyes – tears of pure relief.
A second familiar voice pulled him completely out of his composure. He turned around and saw Lizzie, his mother, and his father rushing toward him, accompanied by a young woman. Before he could say a word, his parents had already wrapped him in a tight embrace.
Gregor returned the hug, grateful and strong. Only now did he feel just how much he had missed his family. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Hey, Lizzie,” he said softly.
“We were so worried about you,” he heard his mother sob. They pulled back, and Gregor looked at each of them in turn. “How did you even get here? Are you all okay?”
“We’re fine, don’t worry,” his father said, studying him. “How are you?”
Gregor hesitated, wondering whether to tell the truth. But this wasn’t the time for honesty. “I’m fine too,” he replied instead.
“We missed you, Gregor,” Lizzie said softly and hugged him again. “We thought something had happened to you.”
Gregor brushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled gently. “Nothing’s happened to me, I told you,” he said. Then he turned back to his parents. “But how did you even get here?”
“That big bat – I think her name is Andromeda – flew us here. I know her from my time in the hospital,” his mother answered. “And there was another bat with her, I believe her name is Nike.”
“Really? But how did you know where I was?” Gregor asked, still astonished.
The young woman stepped forward and smiled warmly at him. “You have Mareth to thank for that,” she said, lifting Boots into her arms. “It’s so good to see you again, Gregor.”
“I’m glad to see you too, Dulcet,” he replied with a genuine smile. But the question still nagged at him. As if Dulcet had read his thoughts, she continued: “Mareth had a message delivered to your home last night, asking them to come here today. I welcomed them early this morning.”
Gregor’s eyes widened, and he stared at his family in disbelief. “You’ve been here since this morning? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because you were in the meeting,” came the answer from behind. Gregor turned and saw Mareth approaching them, a crooked grin on his face as he looked at Gregor. “I figured you’d want your family to know you were safe.”
Gregor said nothing, but the look in his eyes told Mareth everything – that he was more than thankful.
“At least someone’s thinking about us,” his mother said, half-joking, half-serious, and pulled Gregor into another tight hug.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to run away,” Gregor whispered so that only she could hear. “It was just… too much.”
She looked at him, and he saw understanding in her eyes. “It certainly wasn’t your finest moment,” she said gently, “but everything turned out fine.” She gave him a soft smile and released him from the embrace. “We can talk more about it tonight – once we’re back home.”
Gregor froze. “Wait, what?” he asked in disbelief, looking first at his mother, then at his father. “What do you mean, back home?”
His mother laughed briefly. “Well, we only came down to bring you back.”
Gregor shot a pleading glance at his father, but he seemed to agree with his wife.
Mareth appeared to sense that Gregor was in a tight spot. “Honored parents of Gregor,” he began smoothly, “how would you feel about staying a little longer? Gregor and his family are always welcome here. It would be our pleasure to have you as our guests.”
Gregor couldn’t help but admire Mareth’s diplomatic finesse – not a single word about the looming crisis, no hint at the real reason they wanted the family to stay. “Yeah,” he added quickly. “Like a mini vacation. It’s the holidays after all, and I bet Lizzie wants to see Ripred again.”
“Ripred’s here too?!” Lizzie’s head snapped up at the mention of the rat. She shot Gregor a piercing look.
“Not just him,” Dulcet chimed in, turning to Boots. “Temp is here too. Do you want to see him, little Boots?”
Her eyes immediately lit up. “Yesss! I want to see Temp!” she squealed with excitement and looked up at their parents.
“Can we?” Gregor’s sisters asked almost in unison.
Gregor noticed Mareth giving him a quick wink. His plan to bring Ripred into the picture had clearly worked. And the fact that Temp was in Regalia too only made things better. He saw his parents exchange a meaningful look, but with their children’s hopeful faces turned toward them, they couldn’t say no.
“Alright,” his mother finally said. “But only one week, and not a second longer! Things are quiet anyway, and the kids are all on break.”
Gregor felt like cheering. At least he had this one week. One week to show Luxa that what they had wasn’t gone for good.
“But someone needs to inform Ms. Cormaci. And we didn’t even bring any luggage,” his father added.
“We’ll provide you with clothing and anything else you might need,” Mareth replied at once. “And I’ll see to it that this Ms. Cormaci is notified.” With that, he turned and disappeared back into the palace.
Lizzie gave her parents a pleading look. “Can I go see Ripred now?” she asked softly.
Boots immediately chimed in: “And I wanna see Temp!”
Dulcet laughed and took Lizzie’s hand. “Come along, you two – let’s go find them.” She glanced at Gregor’s parents and added, “If that’s alright with you, of course.”
“Go ahead,” said Gregor’s mother. Her voice was kind, but her gaze left no room for debate. “But my children do not leave the palace.”
“I’ll see to it,” Dulcet promised. She gave Gregor one more warm smile before disappearing with Lizzie and Boots through the palace archways.
Gregor watched her go. He owed her so much. Had he ever truly thanked her? He would make sure she knew how much he appreciated her help.
Now he stood alone with his parents. For a moment, no one said a word. Then his father placed a hand on his shoulder.
“So, Gregor,” he began quietly, looking him straight in the eyes, “what happened? Why did you come back down here after all this time?”
Gregor didn’t answer immediately. He met his parents’ gaze, long and steady. If he wasn’t honest now, this might truly be his last time in the Underland.
oatzmeal on Chapter 3 Tue 11 Nov 2025 07:14PM UTC
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The_Real_Ghost on Chapter 3 Sat 15 Nov 2025 08:27AM UTC
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HeruniX on Chapter 6 Sat 06 Dec 2025 06:30AM UTC
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HeruniX on Chapter 7 Sat 06 Dec 2025 06:37AM UTC
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