(A/N) Hello all! I'm finally finished with this chapter, so enjoy! Thanks for the reviews last chapter, and Arodelle, you nailed it. Glad you picked up on that XD

Disclaimer: I don't own ToS, but if I did, Gnome would not wear a bow and look like a fur-bee...anyhow I don't own.

Chapter 32

As Martel secured Yuan's balance, they were both able to take a better look at their surroundings. The dim glow of the holy bottle glanced off the tremendous boulders behind them and flicked on something silvery ahead. Leaning down to run her fingers along the strip of metal, Martel sighed.

"It seems we found the main branch." she muttered, peering into the shadows ahead. Upon no response from the man barely standing by her side, she turned to him.

"Yuan?" A light shake earned her a dazed noise.

"Yeah?" The response was broken, and Martel held the holy bottle higher to illuminate his face. The pupils were far too dilated and his skin was paler than she had ever seen. Having been trained as a healer before pursuing research, Martel easily recognized the signs of a severe concussion. She was lucky that the man wasn't throwing up yet. However, with him in this state, it would be near impossible to move forward without ample rest time.

"The miners have to be somewhere ahead." She finally said, worried about the swordsman's state of mind should they be attacked again.

"I'm not sure how much help we'll be to them." The concussed halfling murmured under his breath.

"Still, it's all the better if we find them nonetheless." Martel smiled a bit in relief. At least he was capable of some rational thinking and dry humor. The smile soon morphed into a grimace. There was likely no way out, now that their escape had been destroyed. It was dark, and she attempted to remain cheerful, but the nagging sensation wormed its way into her mind. Upon her try at shifting the bruised man, a pained sigh escaped Yuan's lips.

"Kratos was right." Regret laced into his hoarse tone, "I only hope that he's with Mithos and whole." Martel shouldered one of his arms to steady him and managed a couple of steps forward.

"Right about what?" She had missed some conversation somewhere.

"The collapse. We shouldn't have come." He admitted with a labored exhale. Martel felt another frown tug at her lips while the words sunk in.

"I wonder how he could have predicted such a thing." It was extraordinary for a human to sense mana, let alone nuances none of those with elven blood had picked up on. It was an astounding concept.

"He said it was some quality of the mana- an 'unsteadiness'. Perhaps a complication of the seal?" That was when her eyes widened and her mind reeled.

"If the Summon Spirit residing here is earth based, that could be our ticket out!" It was now their only chance. Yuan however, didn't appear keyed up by the idea and didn't stir at her side.

"I've already thought of that. Mithos is the only one who can do it, though." the pause already had Martel deflating a little, "I swear by all that is holy, if he isn't with Kratos, we are royally screwed." Martel tugged his arm a bit harsher than was necessary to maneuver him around the detritus.

"Well aren't you Mr. Optimistic. I'm sure it will all work out. For all we know, we can find a way to dig out from this end."

"Or they'll all have been crushed by the last earthquake." Yuan noted darkly.

"Oh shut up, will you?" Martel jabbed back, now growing irritated.

"You'd think that you would be nicer to a wounded comrade."

"I am nice!"

"Not to my throbbing skull."

"Oh stop whining." She found herself smiling when he eventually fell silent. The bickering was far better than taking their situation at face value, and she knew Yuan knew that as well. Somehow they'd make it.

They had to.

Mithos crept through the dim tunnel tentatively. It had only been a couple of steps when he caught himself. What was he afraid of? He was alone, wasn't he? There was no need to creep. It was not as if he would wake the dead. Volt's pulsing light was enough to keep the darkness at bay, and the glittering sword was reassuringly solid in his hand. He confidently braced on, a twelve year old half-elf alone with tons of rock pressing on all sides.

He had been walking for a little over a half hour when he began to grow irritated.

What's your idea of 'just ahead' anyways? He addressed Volt, hoping for a better idea of how long it might be before he could reach Gnome's seal.

There was no response.

Oh sure, don't answer him. Mithos kicked a rock spitefully, listening to it clatter uselessly off the stony cage he was trapped in. Left to smolder with his thoughts, he could only slip back into the anxious fear of what he didn't know. All of this could be useless if Martel and the others were dead. What good would making it out alive by himself do? If they weren't okay… He couldn't dwell on it. Any thought wasted on whether or not they might make it could delay helping them if they had made it and were on the brink of death at this very moment. Still, his body shook involuntarily and he couldn't make the shivers stop, no matter how hard he tried. His left arm hugged across his body, he suddenly realized that he was pretty pathetic looking.

Some of the falsetto self-confidence had drained away, leaving nothing but a scared boy behind, and he cursed it. If Kratos had the ability to summon, he wouldn't be quaking in his boots! Anyone, really, with exception to him would be handling this much more professionally. Gritting his teeth and taking a deep breath, Mithos gained a slender hold on his rising panic. If he could find Gnome with Volt's help, then he'd do what he could from there.

Kratos was almost grateful when they ran across the small cave-dwelling monsters. The bloated rats were an icy white, as if they had never seen the bright of day, and their eyes carried a crimson gleam whenever they darted within the circle of light. Aside from their unusually large size, the fanged creatures were easily dispatched with several well-aimed flicks of the sword. They posed no difficulty, and kept the irate Sylvaranti beside him from talking further.

Yes, a battle was precisely what he had needed.

When the last rodent shrieked at the tip of his blade, scurrying back into the darkness in surrender, Kratos sighed and begrudgingly sheathed his weapon. He trudged on, only now noticing that the tunnel had shifted somewhere behind them into a real cavern. The walls were no longer rough with jagged debris carved out, but instead smoother like river stone. The ceiling was dotted with dripping stalagmites, and some had reached the ground to form complete columns. The floor continuously sloped down, so Kratos concluded that water had to have once flowed through, eating away at the thick stone.

He only had taken two even steps when he found himself encompassed by darkness, the faint arc of light unmoving behind him. Turning to see what was holding up Zerai, Kratos found the steely eyes still watching him. He raised a brow in mild annoyance.

"Keep moving."

Though it was not a suggestion, the man seemed to think it was, because he had yet to move. The makeshift lantern they had found swung slowly at his belt, dancing with its trembling flame. Kratos could not read the expression the human wore, but the eyes stared unblinkingly at him.

"Where did you learn swordplay?" Now he blinked, and when he did, Kratos found traces of suspicion and confusion. The Tethe'allan frowned at the oddly placed inquiry.

"Why should you care? We don't have time to waste standing anyways." The question was dodged and Kratos began to walk anew, now growing thoroughly perturbed when again the light refused to follow. Stubborn as he was he kept going, until a call from Mysan stopped him.

"I'm not moving until you answer." Some bullheadedness remained in the tone, and Kratos felt his eyebrow twitch.

"My father taught me." He lied smoothly, put a bit at ease when the accompanying tread of the Sylvaranti began to follow. The more he considered it, though, he'd much rather leave him behind.

Soon though, the other man fell into Kratos' pace beside him.

"You're almost a convincing liar." He snorted, some sort of an implication hanging limply in the air.

"My lies don't involve forfeiting my life." Kratos countered easily, already exhausted with where the conversation was heading.

"So you aren't going to tell me why your style of fighting is befitting of Tethe'allan royalty?" Kratos' breath caught silently and he threw his investigator a warning glance.

"I fight with a sword." He deadpanned, "Now, besides the glaring similarities, I am unaware of any 'style' used uniquely by those of noble blood." Though his exterior was frosty as always, the mind of the prince was whirling with possibilities. It was simply too much of a stab in the dark for the conjecture to be mere coincidence. He heard more than saw the smirk in the man's voice when he spoke next.

"Hmph. I'll admit that you're good, and quite frankly I've been too tired lately to recognize exactly how good you are with that ordinary blade. But that last skirmish got me thinking. Remember the first time we met? In the woods?" Kratos chose not to answer, but the quiet was taken as a confirmation. "It was harmless, so much so that I'd nearly forgotten it by the second meeting. You were alone in the woods and I was going to pass you by. But you heard me, and you took a very peculiar stance. Perhaps it was because I thought you could kill me, but I had bigger priorities at the time. However, now, I finally remember where I've seen it." A thoughtful pause permeated the dank chamber, and Kratos had a sneaking suspicion that the Sylvaranti was not done analyzing him.

"The second time I met you was… inconvenient." The understatement was thick and Kratos nearly snorted in derision. "It remains clear that although you may have been just a boy, you took out two of my men in the pitch dark and outsmarted them in a strategic location even after capture."

"Mayhap your team was at fault, and not my skill." Kratos shook a strand of hair away from his face to disguise the tension in his posture.

"A possibility." Zerai conceded, "My point is this: you were trained thoroughly at a young age, with a stance I've only seen mimicked by the most aggressive and skilled fighters on the Tethe'allan battlefield. These men have a foundation based heavily on technique, but the odd way in which you place your feet leaves you open for attack." Kratos blinked once. He had never given any thought to his style, as it was one of the secondary skills beaten into him after he had mastered the basics at age ten.

"Now my first thought when we met was that it could only be sloppy technique. The following encounter disproves that theory. You were too good with a sword for it to be a mistake." Kratos hated that he knew exactly where the accusations were shifting. "But really, you were purposefully leaving a false open target. I say false because you're already on your toes and the ducking maneuver you open with is a fool proof way to come away with mild scratches at worst, even with a quick opponent." Cocky tone, and perfectly correct logic. Kratos was thrown off guard at the in-depth analysis of his fighting approach. "I've only ever seen Prince Typhon of the Aurion line use that stance, when I was stationed at the border dispute nearest to Lake Umacy."

Well, damn.

"What does that prove?" The Tethe'allan all but hissed, finally deigning eye contact with the man probing his secrets.

"I'm only ballparking a few things." He drifted airily along, seemingly pleased with Kratos' hostile reaction. "And I feel like I'm getting somewhere."

Kratos was no idiot. He knew at this point, he would have to concede some information or risk discovery of more than he was willing to let the outsider know. He was getting a plausible backstory together when-

"Sword technique aside, you have some tie with the royal family. The first day I met you, I told you that the king was dead." The playfulness was gone, replaced by a serious undertone that Kratos found put him on edge. He didn't discuss his father's death. Not with Yuan, not with anyone. There were too many things he had yet to come to terms with, even now for him to face an attack on this front.

The prince did his best to calm the raging turmoil and appear disinterested.

Detached.

Impersonal.

"No matter how much I saw you try to hide it, it was clear that you were crushed." Kratos' eye twitched. Crushed? He felt a surge of anger rise up only to be settled back down with cold reason. He knew Mysan was digging for an emotional response, and he didn't know what kept him from threatening the man to shut up or face maiming. He was very close to snapping what was left of his self-control, but he was an Aurion, famous for his poker face and stoicism.

He didn't have to be nice about it, however.

"If you want to keep your legs attached to your body, I'd advise that you cease speaking immediately."

Now the Sylvaranti looked slightly disappointed. Set on ignoring him, Kratos fixed his eyes on the midnight ahead, searching and scanning the emptiness for threats instead of the human to his right. The quiet was one of consideration. A decision over what Kratos was unsure, but he didn't like it one bit.

"I was stationed in Meltokio with orders to kill the newly crowned Queen of Tethe'alla."

Kratos didn't register the words very quickly, brought up with no warning or preparation. It was only a split second later that he had the Sylvaranti pinned against the wall, hand clenching the collar of the other's shirt.

"Like hell you were!" He barked, furious and appalled and suddenly afraid. What might've happened if the Sylvaranti had not been stopped in time? Nyx had been targeted. It was a low blow even during war to disrupt a crowning. The man in front of him had threatened his last sibling, the very last shred of his family, and Kratos hated the smug smile he now wore.

"Don't even try convincing me that was a civilian reaction." The human shrugged. Kratos pressed him harder against the smooth stone, all fierceness and anger and annoyed with himself for showing it. Reluctantly, he let the man go, breathing heavily and fists still clenched.

"You're right, it wasn't." He admitted slowly, dangerously, trying to catch up with the human who manipulated almost as well as Yuan. "And what does that tell you?" He reigned in his expression once again.

"Not much." Those infuriatingly calculating eyes were trained on his face, and Kratos did not respond. "I only know that you have a personal connection with them, and I'm wary to jump to conclusions this early." Kratos sighed and then turned again.

"We really do have to keep moving. Lives could be at stake." A pointed nod of his head was aimed in the direction of the downward sloping tunnel. He could feel the cool draft of air wafting up from the darkness; the steady drip of liquid from the spiky stones adorning the chamber was methodical. He felt as if there was movement deep within, and he was hasty to see if it lead to the seal. The uprising of energy was palpable.

Ignoring the pause put on his interrogation, Mysan tipped his own head in agreement. They could wait to settle whatever rift had just been formed, at least until they reached whatever lay at the end of the tunnel.

It was a matter of what they might do if they got there.

Mithos knew he was getting somewhere when the cavern began to widen. There was a very prominent incline for a moment before the halfling boy was forced to climb down a tricky debris-strewn dip in the tunnel. It seemed the miners had stumbled upon a watery cave formation, because now Mithos was picking his way through a spaciously domed cavity in the rock. Irregular and damp, the cave stretched farther than Mithos could see, with a darker patch that could be an exiting tunnel to his right.

However his steps stalled when he found the traces of a glyph scratched deeply into the floor. He felt the mana in the air writhing around him and the orb of light Volt had gifted the boy with went out like a dying candle. Plunged into nothingness, Mithos' grip tightened on his sword.

"Hey!" He let his accusation ring aloud, hoping Volt could return the meager illumination.

He lost his voice, though, when the odd symbols beneath his feet began to glow. The antiquated magic circle looked like a series of fissures, white light spewing through the cracks. Mithos could see again, and he had a faint sense of foreboding.

He had already found the seal.

That realization hit hard, and he was fumbling with his weapon, tossing his gaze about the room frantically. Monsters could be spawning anywhere, and he got a grip on his nerves before the battle begun. Instead of dragons and wolves like before, however, Mithos only met the piercingly bright columns of light shifting fluidly across the chamber. Confused, but not willing to let down his guard, Mithos' sword tipped a bit lower towards the ground.

"What do we have here?"

A nasally voice reverberated among the stones, and Mithos spun around, trying to pinpoint exactly where the Spirit's words were coming from.

"Are you Gnome?" The name felt foreign in his mouth, but Mithos managed to make the words sound solid and confident in spite of the power rippling around him.

"You're just a kid." The question was ignored, but Mithos was too taken aback to care.

A flash of that same white light momentarily blinded him. But as he blinked away the black spots dusting his vision, he heard the brush of movement and opened his bleary eyes to see again. A bulbous mass of fur had formed directly in front of him. It slowly pieced together, building larger and larger in a oddly striated pattern until…

Big black eyes and a red bow topped off the cuddly creature, a dorky expression adorning it. The being pulled a fittingly gigantic shovel out of the very floor and twirled it like a baton.

"Wha- You're…" The poor halfling boy was speechless. He had expected some menacing monster, but was faced with an oversized stuffed animal? Was he supposed to fight it? Volt had to be a demon in comparison with this Summon Spirit; it was essentially a ball of fur with legs! The being was oblivious to his dilemma, instead blinking its enormous eyes owlishly.

"I'm what?" The all too innocent question only made Mithos even more conflicted.

"Never mind." He came to grips with his surprise and could only be put off by the unassuming being. It wasn't long before he remembered why he was there.

"I'd like to form a pact with you." He couldn't bring enthusiasm into his voice, instead picturing the look on his foe's faces when he summoned a gigantic furball. His fingers twitched and he rolled a kink out of his neck, skin crawling.

"A Summoner, eh? It's been several hundred years since a pact-maker approached me." Mithos noted that the creature was cheerier than Volt by far, practically peaceable. Maybe he could even get out of this with a vow and no fighting-

"I'll have to test your power, so prepare to taste dirt!" The declaration was one of juvenile excitement.

Of course. Mithos grumbled to himself. Why was it never easy?

When Yuan had first awoken, the white sparks had faded from his vision in mere moments. Now, however, he was annoyed with pulsing lights returning to his peripherals. His balance was horrendous, and he grew increasingly embarrassed every time he had to put even more weight on Martel's slim shoulders. It wasn't his fault the room swayed back and forth like the deck of a ship in choppy waters.

"I think I hear voices." Martel whispered softly. It was only when Yuan turned his pounding head to see her that he realized that was a bad move. Fuzzy as her outline was, Martel oscillated between three to four copies of her beautiful self. Dizzy and nauseated, Yuan would not add insult to injury by nodding.

"Good." He rasped quietly, perfectly ready to sit down again. He couldn't quite tell if his vision was tunneling, or it was just reproducing the actual tunnel they were in several times over. Not willing to find out, he bit back the bile that tasted very much like pride and requested a break. Any movement to his head and neck felt magnified a thousand fold, and he needed to remain still to regain his bearings on the situation.

"Oh, right." She nodded briskly, and gently lowered him onto the cool stone. Instead of the quiet he desired, Yuan could make out the voices to which Martel referred. They steadily grew louder, and the halfling groaned in irritation.

"What was that?" There were footsteps and an unidentified speaker with a gravelly tone.

"Perhaps a rescue team?" A softer, more hopeful timbre rang out.

"From this side? Impossible."

"Don't give up just yet."

"But the monsters-"

"They aren't worse than starving to death." The first voice was interrupted by the second, chidingly.

"I'm still positive I heard something."

Yuan knew that the trapped miners were just ahead, and Martel called out to his side, the noise grating despite the melody in it.

"Over here!"

"Ouch."

"Sorry."

The footsteps turned into a patter of thumping and soon even Yuan's groggy eyes could make out the dirt crusted men that approached. They came into the light warily, wielding pickaxes and stones. Both were well built, and gruff, dressed in the practical grey miner's suits. They both gave a start when they found the battered half-elves.

"Are you both okay?" The one with the softer tone knelt beside him.

"Is there a way out?" The other asked after Yuan grunted a reassurance.

"The way we came was blocked with the last quake." Martel explained grimly.

"Damn." He responded, running a calloused hand across his brow, only worsening the smear of dirt spread over his forehead.

"Is the damage on this side completely inescapable?" Yuan inquired shakily, already knowing the answer from the saddened look on the others' faces. He simply got downcast eyes and a murmur of confirmation.

"How many made it?" Martel was quickly in healer mode. Much to Yuan's chagrin, she was already motioning him to stand.

"Ten of thirteen are accounted for, but we have many injuries. We're still working on freeing one man from a boulder trapping his legs." Yuan winced in empathy. The break had done him well, though, because the muted throb was more bearable, and the pulsing lights fading. He stumbled forward, balance improving, but not perfected.

Martel's trim fingers firmly wound into his shirt sleeve, preventing him from tumbling down. The motion was gentle yet sturdy, and he was righted once again as they walked. At the sudden gesture Yuan felt heat rising into his cheeks. Inexplicable as the embarrassment was, he quickly refocused on the shifting floor instead of her closeness right there beside him. He couldn't be sure if she had noticed whatever it was that had shown itself, but if she did, he was grateful that she made no mention of it. Exhaling softly with relief and exertion, he followed his cohorts in confinement forward.

Mithos twisted to the side as an unexpected spike fell from the trembling ceiling. The draft of air was the only thing that alerted him of the impending impact, and it took him a couple seconds of frantic diving before he could get his guardian up to deflect the smaller pinpricks of stalactites that came rattling down afterwards.

The demon puffball was clucking sadly at him, "Heh. You'll have to do better than that." Mithos bristled with annoyance.

"That's dirty, I wasn't ready!" He accused through the silvery film that was his elementary shield.

He fired off a wind blade spell while he jumped away from his adversary's own glittering spell circle. The most basic of spells he could cast at a moment's notice. Not a full second after he escaped the intricate glyph, the ground was torn and spikes of deadly stone sprouted out with lightning speed. He was already panting with the stress of impalement, but the halfling knew he had to keep moving. It looked as if Gnome's mobility was minimal, and he relied on spells to get by. If Mithos could just get closer….

The sword felt heavy in his hands, unsteady with his inexperience, but the boy hefted it as he ran closer. Zig-zagging to avoid another pillar of rock that blasted into his way, he heaved the blade over his shoulder and lashed out wildly when he neared the powerful creature. The rusted iron pressed deeply into the fur, slicing some of it clean off.

As the tufts of brown floated down, he was forced to swing the weapon up to prevent the shovel from smashing his head open. The deflection was sloppy and jarring, and it sent the boy reeling back on his heels as he tried to recover. Throwing up a simple wind blade to cover his mistake, Mithos was struck with an idea.

"Volt! I Summon Volt!" He skidded to the side, retreating a safer distance away. But he felt no power welling up within. "Volt?"

Gnome huffed in displeasure, the bow on his head spinning while his ears twitched, "Why would he help you defeat another Summon Spirit?"

The Summoner must be strong, not simply the spirits he controls. Volt's reprimand was bouncing in his head and Mithos grunted in frustration. His sword's tip was sliding across the stone, too cumbersome for an untrained child to lug in a fight, and his energy was waning from all the dodging and spell casting the battle required.

"You won't help me at all?" The silence was punctuated with a rumbling floor and another merciless spike the halfling barely escaped in time.

So much for Summon Spirits.

Left to his own devices, Mithos knew he had to use what little speed and maneuverability he had over Gnome to his advantage while he still could. As soon as he tired to the point of exhaustion, he would lose. There was no Martel to heal him, and no Kratos and Yuan to keep the spells at bay.

The thought of his friends fueled Mithos' next charge. They could be depending on him right now.

He had no time to waste casting complex spells, so Mithos shot yet another quick wind blade to screen his approach. The spell was simple, but Gnome's flinching proved it more effective than he thought. But really, the opposite of earth was air, so it sort of made sense in a convoluted way, Mithos noted vaguely. Running haphazardly towards the spirit, dragging his blade behind him, Mithos curved his path behind Gnome. He threw his whole body into the motion behind his sword, twisting his body to boost the sword in an arc that hit his foe solidly across the back.

Much to his surprise, the being fell on its face with an 'Oomph'.

For lack of a better plan, Mithos hacked away with his weapon, tossing a spurt of wind-infused mana in when the puffball struggled to get up. It was remarkably easy to keep the creature down in this way, only requiring minimal attacking energy to maintain his pace. His initial suspicion that Gnome must rely on magic was shockingly spot on. He sidestepped the flailing shovel that the Earth spirit was waving blindly in his direction, forced to jump further away.

"Ouch." Gnome bemoaned as he rubbed his round head with a paw, shuffling to stand once again.

Though Mithos' chest heaved with exhaustion, he readied the sword anew. Taking another deep breath to recite the well-worn chant for wind blade, he was cut off by his adversary.

"Wait, wait! I give up! You win!"

Mithos' sword clattered to the ground noisily, suddenly too heavy to lift again. He blinked slowly, trying to decipher if the words were a trick. If so, he was already caught off-guard.

"I what?"

"You win." The indistinct words were spoken as if to a toddler, "Make your vow already. I don't have all day." Though Mithos was fairly certain that Gnome did, in fact, have all day, he kept the brazen reply to himself. If the Summon Spirit wanted to save what was left of his choppy fur, Mithos wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I- I vow to find a way to stop the war and the fighting, and to bring the mana back into balance." If what Volt said was right, this was an even better vow than his last one. They couldn't be on borrowed time for much longer, and Mithos felt confident as the words came together.

"Yeah, sure. I'm at your service." Gnome remained unimpressed, so much so that Mithos found his patience growing thin. Wasn't it a good promise? He never would have guessed that Volt would be the polite one.

His inner grumbling was forgotten, for what power Gnome held had dissolved into a glowing orange beacon. The light floated towards him, twinkling and shifting fluidly with energy that cast the room in brightness only comparable to sunlight. He blinked as his eyes adjusted and boldly reached out as it drifted down.

His fingers grazed the brilliance, and the power began to drain into his system. The influx of energy was rapid, like a torrent, and he gasped at the sensation. He quickly felt the storm within die down, and sunk into a sitting position, momentarily stunned. His heart still raced, and his body was spent.

"Mithos?" A familiar call echoed in the cavern.

When Kratos heard the crash of rock on rock, he thought there was going to be another earthquake. When that prediction proved false, he recognized the clink of iron amidst the chaotic rumbling. Iron meant weapons. His brisk walking pace transitioned immediately into a run, and it was all the Sylvaranti could do to keep up.

The lantern on the other human's belt bobbed irregularly in their stride, but Kratos could see well enough to know there was a larger chamber ahead. And from that chamber emanated the noises that could be evidence to the seal.

"What's going on?" Zerai gasped, just behind him.

However, Kratos was intent upon the quietness that had befallen. Mithos must be up there, possibly with Yuan and Martel, yet the silence could mean a number of things. Had they failed? Had they won? Just as Kratos reached a point in the tunnel where it curved up and widened, a flash of pulsating light painted the walls.

"Mithos?" He called out into the chamber, the light dying as quickly as it came.

"Kratos?" A head of blonde hair, matted with dirt and blood, sat sprawled across the floor in the middle of the room. The boy scrambled to his feet, leaving the iron of his blade behind as he ran to meet the Tethe'allan. When the faint light of their lantern touched him, Kratos could see the lines of fatigue writ in the halfling's face. But he was whole, and a wave of immense relief washed over the royal. He didn't even move to push the kid away when he eagerly embraced his midsection, instead wrapping his arms around the child's shoulders.

"Is anyone else with you?" Kratos inquired, after reassuring himself that Mithos had no severe injuries.

What he was met with was a brilliant smile and proud blue eyes.

"No, but we can fix that."

(A/N) That was a monster of a chapter to write for some reason. Thanks for reading, and drop me a review! Another update should be coming soon.