…

Regalia

…

Gregor and Neptune flew over the sea of cutter bodies outside of Regalia, scanning for any sign of life. There were thousands of cutter bodies. Maybe even more than ten thousand. However, Gregor didn't spot a single Regalian corpse amongst them. He noticed that the mountain of bodies stopped at the bridge over the river to Regalia, and he couldn't spot a single corpse on the other side. The cutters must have retreated after being unable to reach the city's population before it retreated. But still, it must have been quite the fight. An impossible one. Even before Gregor found Ripred, he knew there was only one soul capable of such a feat.

There, lying flat on the bridge over the river to the main gate of Regalia, was Ripred. The massive gnawer's breathing was coming fast and shallow, and blood oozed out from every part of his body.

Neptune landed in a hurry, Gregor sliding off his back and dashing to Ripred's side. "Ripred!" Gregor exclaimed. He scanned the old gnawer's body, barely registering the injuries, hands trembling. "Howard. We need to get you to Howard. We still have time—"

"It's too late, boy," Ripred said, his voice coming out as a wet rasp. "No more shrimp and cream sauce for me."

Gregor choked back a sob and bowed his head.

"Never thought I'd see the day." Ripred, despite it all, managed a smirk. "You do care about this old gnawer after all."

Gregor couldn't stop the tears from flowing as the events of the day collapsed on top of his shoulders. It was already too much, and now Ripred. The most devastating blow of all. "You taught me everything I know," he choked out. "I'm sorry I didn't listen as well as I should have."

Ripred's eyes, already starting to cloud over, rolled over to him. "Luxa and I killed many to preserve your peace. I was never the peacemaker. It was the Garden of Hesperides all over again. Silksharp all over again." He coughed, wet dark blood splattering out of his snout and staining his fur.

Gregor leaned down, embracing the old gnawer, and for the first time he could remember, Ripred didn't complain about the touch. "You brought hope to the Underland," Gregor insisted. "You did so much for others. You always complained, but everyone always knew you had the largest heart of them all."

Ripred didn't seem to hear him, his eyes staring off into some distant time or place. "Silksharp… I hope one day— we no longer need— war— as our first— and only— resort." He coughed bitterly. I'm sorry— I failed you. I'm sorry I failed— to live up to— your— spirit. I'm sorry I— refused— to remember— your face."

Gregor hugged Ripred harder. In life, they'd always kept a distance between them, but there'd always been a current of mutual understanding. In that moment, Gregor suddenly understood how lonely Ripred must've felt all his life.

Ripred's eyes suddenly refocused. "The rage— it doesn't go away. Let it sharpen— not guide— you. Let love do that. I failed— in that."

Gregor nodded. "I will. I promise."

Ripred suddenly chuckled. "It had to be you— at the— end. Gregor. Tell Lizzie—" suddenly, the big gnawer convulsed, twitched and fell still. The words died in Ripred's mouth, and his head rolled to the side.

Gregor looked down at his mentor numbly, a torrent of emotions rushing through him. Then, he realized. It was the first time Ripred had called him by his name.

He raised his head, looking at Neptune blankly. "He's dead. Ripred is dead."

…

The Fount

…

Helena clung to the back of the massive bat Araxes as it beelined for the Fount. The soldiers and fliers had returned from the Overland at the perfect moment to expedite the retreat. Without their timely arrival, and without Ripred's sacrifice, they would've never made it out in time.

From what Helena heard from the other riders, Ripred had left standing orders with Mareth to leave him behind. No one had gone back for the big rat. Helena had been one of the last to evacuate. She had watched him until he'd faded out of sight. He hadn't given an inch. Helena blinked back tears.

Hazard, the little boy from before, was seated in front of her. He hadn't said a word since they'd left. Mareth, sitting in between them, had quietly told her that the boy had lost his grandfather not long before all of this.

Helena let out a sigh and quietly surveyed the retreat. Thousands of fliers, carrying rats, mice, and humans alike. There was no room for supplies. Helena hadn't seen much of Regalia, but if it was of any comparison to the Fount, she doubted the city had the supplies to feed them all. What would the Underland do now?

It was some time later when the fliers began to descend into the Fount. Helena looked up with interest, enjoying the wind running through her long hair. While not as impressive as Regalia, the Fount was still a grand city of many walls and minarets. The Fount sat at the end of the river, where it met a large body of water stretching out as far as the eye could see. "The Waterway," Mareth said, answering her unspoken question. "The great sea of the Underland."

Helena's mouth dropped. To think that such a thing existed so far beneath the surface. "How far does the Underland go?" she asked.

The question seemed to snap Hazard back into reality. "Hundreds and hundreds of miles," he said. "Jungles, valleys, oceans, mountains. Much unexplored. Home to crawlers, cutters, spinners, fireflies, nibblers, gnawers, fliers, killers."

Helena grimaced, their grotesque name for humans jolting back buried memories. "What about the moles?" she asked. At their confused expressions, she searched for the Underland term. "Er… diggers?"

Hazard bowed his head, and Mareth's face went somber. "Not many left anymore," he said.

She remembered the brutal attack by the cutters. "What do the cutters want with the Underland?" she asked, fists clenched.

"They want us gone. We're killers, after all." He fixed Helena with a somber look. "We killed the diggers."

Helena fell quiet and she cursed her curiosity, not for the first time. Why was it so easy to destroy? She shuddered, thinking of the atrocities her government had already committed in this place. She shuddered, thinking of walking through a field the mutilated American bodies strewn around her courtesy of the sword and claws of Gregor and Ripred. She shuddered, remembering the cave, the endless scratching. She was starting to spiral again, she knew it, but she was powerless to stop it.

A warm hand on her shoulder wrenched her out of her head and back into reality. Mareth looked at her with compassion, the faint light from the city below dancing in his pale violet eyes. "We still hope," he said simply, and gestured to his prosthetic leg. Hazard leaned back against the grizzled soldier and closed his eyes.

The words resonated within Helena. Araxes began to descend into the city, and Helena couldn't help but feel hope as well as the big bat soared between the towering buildings, the sea of markets, bustling with life. A place untouched by war. A place untouched by the cave. Yet.

She thought back to her first day in University, the pure desire to discover the world driving her every question and step. Fueled by a desire not to conquer, but to admire. "I want to protect this place," Helena realized, voicing her thoughts aloud. "I won't let someone snuff it out. Above or below."

"Thank you," Hazard said, opening his eyes back up. For the first time, she saw a bit of life in them.

Araxes pulled his wings up as they landed in the central courtyard of the Fount. Already, tents were being set up everywhere. She spotted the Queen talking to a towering man who was dressed like a ruler on the far end. The entire area was chaos and changing faster than she could process as a refugee camp sprung out of nothing. "What should I do?" Helena asked.

"Rest," Mareth said. "There will be plenty to do in the war to come."

Helena nodded, and turned to the bat that had carried them. "Thank you," she said, being bold enough to lay a hand on its reddish fur.

Araxes purred. "Run like the river, Overlander." With that, the bat pulled away and took flight once more. Helena turned around, only to see Mareth and Hazard on the other end of the courtyard, embracing the Queen. She smiled.

Suddenly, shouts came from the wall. Helena spun around and raised her eyes to the sky just in time to see Gregor's return. Her heart fell somewhere beneath her feet when she recognized the bloodied rat in his bat's claws. Ripred. He wasn't moving.

No one said a word as a space cleared in the center of the courtyard. Gregor's great bat descended carefully, gently laying Ripred across the ground before landing just a few feet away.

The Queen approached Ripred, her expression unreadable. She ran a pale hand across his blood-caked fur and closed her eyes for a long moment. Helena noticed a slight quiver in her shoulders before they stilled.

When the Queen's eyes reopened, they were ice cold. The broken woman buried, the vengeful ruler appearing in her stead. "Death to the last cutter," she said.

The assembled crowd roared its approval, and Helena unexpectedly felt conflicted. She looked up at Gregor, whose face was ashen. "Death!" the crowd chanted. "Death!"

…

New York City

…

In the weeks that followed, many things happened that James hadn't expected.

After the interview, massive protests swamped the streets of every major city in the country. It even drew significant international coverage. James had been interviewed more times than he could count by every news outlet imaginable. Fox, CNN, even the South China Morning Post. The outrage over the treatment of the Underlanders was unlike anything James had seen in his lifetime. While some smaller factions called for blood due to the Overlanders that were killed, the vast majority were rallying behind the Underland.

What had surprised James even more was that the sheer scale of the unrest had forced the President to resign. Apparently, he'd never been informed of the Underland, and the FBI had taken the entire matter into their own hands. James wasn't sure if he bought that. Still, the people had wanted their scapegoat. Mr. Barwell and his agents (other than Orange and Black) weren't enough.

With the new administration, some measure of stability had returned to the country. Now, debate raged internationally about what to do with the Underland. Welcome them as a member of the UN? Add them to the U.S. as the 51st state? Every single country and interest group seemed to have a different opinion, and none seemed to think that the Underlanders should be left alone.

James should've seen it coming. He'd been so focused on saving the Underland from destruction, he hadn't considered what the Underland would become if it wasn't a target: a commodity.

James stepped out of the skyscraper in which he had just met with the new President, sliding on his aviators. Cameras flashed all around him as he descended the steps towards the street. Still, he thought, things had changed for the better. He'd saved the Underland, and his son, for the moment. Even more importantly, he'd been reunited with his family.

The limo door was opened for him, and he slid inside, where he was immediately tackled by a hug. "Daddy!" Margaret exclaimed.

A huge smile stretched across his face as he ruffled her hair. "It's good to see you too! Did you take care of your mom and sister for me?"

"Mhm!" She said, snuggling into her chest.

In the far seat, Lizzie rolled her eyes. "We were fine, Dad."

James knew that, of course. However, these days, he didn't like to let his family out of his sight very often. The door shut, and gave the driver a quick signal with his hand. "Take us home."

Home, of course, was a penthouse suite on the 40th floor of a New York skyscraper. For the time being. The U.S. government had wanted to keep them together in a secure place, and well, James wasn't going to turn down security and a penthouse out of resentment for his treatment by people now rotting in jail.

Grace was riding in the front, quiet, but James could tell her mind was racing. Lizzie leaned in close to him and whispered. "She wants to tell them about the other— you know," she said.

The other entrance to the Underland, the one underneath the laundry room. For some reason, Mrs. Cormaci had not told the Overlanders of the second entrance when she had betrayed their family to the FBI. For the moment, the entrance remained undiscovered. He'd carefully omitted it from his recounting of the story in the interviews. James wanted to keep it that way, yet Grace didn't. The more time went on, James thought she might be right. Their son was still down there. Uncovered FBI records showed that they had been in active negotiations with the cutters to wipe out the Regalians. James couldn't shake the feeling that the Underland was still in danger, and that the new government, if it could be trusted, could decimate the cutter force with their guns, preventing further loss of life.

Despite the assurances he'd received from the new government, despite the public outcry, despite the gushing of support for the Underland, James couldn't bring himself to trust his own people again yet. He had no choice but to trust them with his life, and the lives of his wife and daughters. But he did have the choice as to whether to trust them with the life of his son, especially after video footage showed Gregor killing several Americans in the Underland and lighting the explosion in Central Park.

Who could he trust? Who could be trusted to visit the Underland, check to see if his son was alright, and then return without telling the Overlanders about the entrance?

The answer came to him immediately.

…

Author's Note

Uh… sorry for killing off so many beloved fan-favorite characters…

Hopefully you all have enjoyed(?) these most recent chapters. The story is now accelerating towards its conclusion. Still quite a few more chapters to go.