Gregor slept soundly that night and awoke feeling invigorated and ready to take on whatever challenges the underland could throw at him. Which was probably lucky since he rarely ended a day there without some traumatizing incident. He practically jumped out of bed and headed out of his room. The palace was already buzzing with activity.
A large group of people were in the hall, studying the prophecy and making copies on tight scrolls of parchment. Gregor spotted Ripred slouched against the wall, a bored expression plastered across his face.
"Ah, there's my little Rager boy," said Ripred, sarcasm practically dripping from his sharp teeth. "We were beginning to think you'd fell into a coma," continued Ripred in the same sour tone.
"Well, I see you haven't changed much," said Gregor in amusement.
Ripred's mood greatly improved over a breakfast of greens, a vegetable that resembled sweet potatoes, and small, sweet cakes made of a coarse flour. As soon as he had finished eating, he began drilling Gregor about his fighting.
"When you first told me you could do a rager spin, I thought you would be terrible, but after witnessing it first-hand..." Gregor smiled, proud of Ripred's praise.
"You're even more abysmal than I had expected."
"What? That is so unfair! What was wrong with it?" said Gregor.
"Well..." said Ripred. "For starters, you fell over and almost died. To continue— oh, wait, I think that's enough!" said Ripred, practically rolling on the ground with glee. Gregor glared at the rat for a few seconds.
"Oh grow up," he muttered. "I'm going to go," said Gregor, stepping away from the table. He was going to find his dad; it was his fault he was here in the first place. He could be dead for all he knew! It had been weighing on him all night. He knew the underlanders wouldn't be thrilled with him leaving; they never were.
"Where do you think you're going?" Ripred's voice froze him in his tracks.
"Never you mind," said Gregor, shooting an irritated look at the rat.
"There's nothing you can do for him," said Ripred, reading Gregor's mind. "We have scouts scouring the entire underland for him, and you'll just get in the way."
"Yeah, I guess," said Gregor, still not sure. "I mean. But—" he spluttered, "I have to do something!" Ripred needed to understand how helpless he felt sitting around waiting for news of his father and his friend.
"I know it's hard but you've got to wait it out," said Ripred, in a surprisingly gentle tone. It was his tone of voice more than anything that managed to convince Gregor.
"Fine," he said, grudgingly. Much as it frustrated him to do nothing, Ripred was right. Gregor slumped against the wall. Why did things always have to go this way?

Gregor decided the first order of business was to find Luxa. He hadn't had a chance to talk with her since returning to the Underland.
Gregor figured he could catch her in the arena the underlanders used for training and sports. Since the underlanders had training every morning, he assumed she would be there.
He was walking through the hallway in search of Luxa when something made him freeze: Nerissa and Ripred were huddled together in a corner. They were clearly in the middle of a heated debate. Gregor could see Nerissa gesturing at Ripred, who was rolling his eyes at her. They were too far away for him to hear what was being said, but snatched of their conversation floated their way to him. He caught phrases like "If they find out!" and, "And what if it doesn't work—?" and his name—Gregor. He was sure he heard them say his name.
He casually moved closer, hoping to hear more, but as he got within hearing range, Ripred glanced up. The rat muttered something to Nerissa. She looked up at Gregor too. Gregor froze guiltily. He didn't want them to know he'd been eavesdropping. Still, he thought, a little defensively it was their own fault for staging a conversation where anyone could listen in. Gregor waved at them and continued on his way. As he passed, he saw Ripred say something out of the corner of his mouth. Nerissa laughed. Whatever Ripred had said, Gregor was sure it involved him, because as she was laughing, she made a half-glance to check if he heard. What was going on? Gregor wondered. This was strange. Why were they talking about him? Gregor pushed the thought from his mind and continued on his way to the training arena.
When Gregor reached the arena, he saw the usual swarm of bats and humans flying complicated patterns of swirls and lines. There was an exuberant amount of noise from the crowded arena. It was so loud Gregor almost plugged his ears to block out the sound. But he didn't. Gregor looked back up at the underlanders. Instead of the usual swords, the humans held a variety of balls, clubs, nets, and clumsy gloves that reminded Gregor of the baseball glove he had found at the Goodwill next to their apartment. He had found a small, pink glove next to it and had bought the pair. He and Lizzie had tossed an old baseball around in the park with them. Gregor wondered what had happened to them...
Arranged throughout the arena were hoops suspended in the air by thick ropes, The hoops ranged in size from about the size of small watermelons to a few feet taller than Gregor. From what he could see, Gregor guessed the underlanders were playing some sort of game. He had seen them play it once before when he had first fallen. On that occasion, he had been much more focused on other things, but now he was studying the game in earnest. As far as he could tell, they were just warming up—lazily passing a ball back and forth. He wondered what kind of rules a game like this would have. Maybe they would start playing soon and he could find out.
"Gregor!" a voice shouted from somewhere in the moving cloud of bats. Gregor looked up to see Luxa flipping down from the ceiling.
"Luxa!"
Gregor felt himself smile for the first time since returning to the underland. Why hadn't the first thing he'd done when he had returned been to find her? Wait—it had. But then all the things that had happened—Angelina's disappearance, his dad's disappearance, and the cutters' attack had pushed her out of his mind. Gregor looked up and down Luxa, studying her. Her hair was longer than it had been the last time he had seen it. It was now half a foot past her shoulders.
"Hi," he said, a little shyly. After all, it had been almost a full year since they had last laid eyes on each other. As he looked at her, his mind seemed to go strangely blank. He should say something interesting... but what?
"Uh, how's the queening going?" Really? His first words to her in almost a year and on top of using something that wasn't a word it was also a tedious, depressing topic. But she didn't seem to mind. She completely ignored what he had asked her, and instead, began explaining the game to him.

"Come, Gregor, you must help us," said Luxa blithely. "Every year, we have a tournament, and every year, the Fount's team wins. But with a rager..." said Luxa."It should be no problem."
"What are you guys playing?" asked Gregor, seizing on the readily provided topic.
"Ah yes," said Luxa, "You have not played before. The game we play is called Mittent I'll explain the rules later. It's easy enough to understand, but difficult to play," said Luxa, taking him by the hand. "You can be the goalie," said Luxa.
"And what does that entail?" asked Gregor, hoping it was easy. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself in front of her, and sports had never been his strong suit. Not because he wasn't any good but because he wasn't very competitive.
"All you have to do is defend these three hoops," said Luxa, pointing to three wooden hoops at the end of the arena.
"Okay, sounds easy enough," said Gregor, hoping it was.
"Come on, the game is about to start," said Luxa, steering him through the crowd of people. "Here Gregor, meet you Poseidon, he will be your flier for the match," said Luxa. Gregor nodded at the bat, and the bat nodded back.
"Wait, so I just block the balls from going through those hoops?" said Gregor, mounting up on Poseidon.
"Yes," said Luxa. "Oh, here, this is a Goalie helmet," said Luxa, tossing him a withering gray wooden helmet.
"Why do I need a helmet?" asked Gregor with some alarm.
"Oh," said Luxa, "Just in case someone hits the Mortiferum." Mortiferum? What was that? Great, just what he needed, some unknown aspect of the game looming over him the entire time.
Before Gregor could ask any more questions, a whistle sounded in the distance, causing all the bats to rise into the air.
"Wait, Poseidon, what happens if someone hits the Morti-thingy?" Gregor asked, trying to get his tongue around the strange word.
"Oh, that," said Poseidon, "Do not worry yourself, it has only been done three times in the history of Mittent."
"But what does it do?" asked Gregor. Why wouldn't they give him information about it?
"Do not concern yourself with that," said Poseidon, spiraling higher into the air.
"Okay," said Gregor, not really feeling any better.
While they had been talking, two underlanders—each mounted on bats—had been battling each other for a small wood ball about the size of a grapefruit.
To Gregor's alarm, one of them had gained possession of the ball and was streaking down the field. He flew straight at Gregor and raised his arm, preparing to throw it with deadly accuracy. Just as he was about to release the ball, another underlander swooped in and rammed into the other player, dislodging the ball.
The ball fell for about three seconds before another player dove after it, catching it mid-air. He fumbled with the ball for a few seconds before shooting off in the other direction. He made it to the opposite end of the field and tried to score; he was thwarted by the opposing goalie who managed to nab the ball at the end of his fingers. The goalie threw the ball back to one of his teammates who was swooping by, and the game continued.
It was unlike anything Gregor had ever experienced. It was faster-paced and more brutal than anything he'd ever played, though, admittedly, he had never been a big sports player. Within a few minutes of playing, there had already been two collisions against the stone walls, and one man had been punched in the face. The speed took Gregor's breath away. It took only a few seconds for each goal to be scored. It seemed that all contact was allowed; not a single person had been fouled or seemed at all surprised by the amount of violence.
For the most part, Gregor had been lazily circling the hoops he was supposed to be protecting. He was flying over the topmost hoop when several things happened in such rapid succession that Gregor barely had time to register them. First, the man holding the ball was suddenly knocked off his bat by a well-placed kick by an underland woman. His bat completely lost control and flapped around in wild circles. At the last second, the bat dove, catching the man mere feet from the ground. The bat had to turn sharply to avoid ramming into the wall.
In the time Gregor had been watching this, three men had gained possession of the ball and were now flying at breakneck speed toward him. They made quick passes from player to player, keeping it out of reach from the opposing team. Instead of pointing it at the goal-post like before, Gregor saw the men aiming at a small wooden board in the middle of the arena. What had Luxa said about some board thing? Anyway, this couldn't be good.
The man threw the ball straight at the board, hitting it squarely in the middle. The board buckled, ramming into a small spring. The spring stretched out, causing a heavy piece of stone to fall, launching, hundreds, maybe thousands of small balls straight at Gregor.