…

The Fount

…

Gregor curled up against Luxa in the darkness, his arm wrapped over her waist. Her gentle breathing eased his mind, relaxed his muscles. She shifted ever so slightly, the thin silk nightgown flowing with her movements. He looked at her face in the dark. Lax, soft. She was so peaceful when she slept. Dreams seemed to be her only respite nowadays.

Over the past several weeks, Luxa had grown colder and colder as she prepared for war. After the successful retreat from Regalia, the cutters had not pursued them. However, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before they marched to take the Fount too. Luxa had ordered the construction of trebuchets and ships, sending much of the civilian population out onto the Waterway by boat to subsist on fish in tight quarters for the foreseeable future.

"I do not blame you," Luxa said, her eyes softening for a moment as they met his. Gregor released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He'd arrived hours before, and this was the first time Luxa had spoken to him. He'd been afraid that she'd resent him for knocking her unconscious to stop her from throwing away her life for revenge.

Luxa took a deep breath, her violet eyes radiating power. "My life must burn longer, if I am to wipe out our enemies." She took his hand. "My last fight."

It hadn't taken long for the two of them to begin sleeping with each other. In this time of blood, they'd needed each other. Not even Howard had objected. Privately, Howard had expressed his worry for his cousin, and asked Gregor to look after her.

Gregor was more than worried. He was terrified. He knew Luxa better than anyone. The way she walked, the way she talked—she was forcing down all her emotions, focusing solely on the war and revenge. Gregor knew that she thought that the emotions would break her if she faced them head on.

As Ripred's pyre burned, the light reflected back in Luxa's eyes. Turning to the assembled crowd, Luxa proclaimed: "Three years ago, my bonds and I destroyed a Gnawer Rebellion. My methods were severe, but they built a peace which lasted. Which would have lasted, if not for the Overlanders and the cutters." She sneered. "They refused peace. They don't even know the meaning of the word. I will inflict far worse than a Garden of Hesperides upon the cutters. It'll be complete annihilation."

The crowd cheered as Gregor's stomach churned, unspoken words sticking in his throat.

Luxa drew her sword and pointed its tip towards the pyre. "He taught me something. To fight. In the days, weeks, years to come, remember his name. Remember what he died for. Remember him with every slash of your sword, every slash of your claws, every drop of enemy blood spilled."

The crowd was in an uproar now. Luxa met Gregor's eyes, and he had no idea what she saw in them. She lifted her sword high above her head. "This land is ours. This time, we are all warriors!"

Gregor let the chanting crowd flood around him towards Luxa and the pyre, remaining put like a lighthouse against the sea, Ripred's last words echoing in his head.

He leaned down, lovingly brushing the hair out of her face. He remembered Luxa before she had lost Vikus. Before she'd lost Aurora. Before she'd lost Ripred. He wanted to tell her that it'd be okay. That she'd find love and happiness again. That he'd never leave her ever again. But more than anything, he wanted to save Luxa's heart. Tell her that her bloodthirst and rage wouldn't solve anything. He knew that better than anyone. But how could he tell her that, when he didn't have a solution?

The cutters were going to come, and if they weren't stopped, they'd destroy them all. If they weren't annihilated, made extinct, who's to say they wouldn't come for the Underland again in a generation or two? Trust was the prerequisite of peace, and with every passing day, Gregor feared that the situation was too far gone. Especially with the laundry room Underland entrance remaining open. Gregor knew it was only a matter of time before the Overlanders descended upon them once more.

Gregor closed his eyes in frustration. Unlike Luxa, his dreams were not an escape, they were torment. On top of his original nightmares he had from the War of Time, he now saw the bodies of the Overlanders he'd killed. The massacre of civilians outside the walls of Regalia. How easy it'd been to give into rage again, to kill again. He hadn't even had to think. How awful was that? Even if it'd been necessary, even if it'd bought them a precious few weeks…

Only with Luxa did he feel remotely like himself. He was just as damaged as she was. The tension between them had remained unspoken because of the comfort they both desperately needed. But he knew that one day, he'd have to confront her. Argue, plead with all his might that she shouldn't lose herself. That she was worth saving, too. That there was still hope for a future.

Gregor leaned down over Luxa and gently kissed her forehead, eyes still closed. "No matter what happens, Luxa, no matter what is lost, I will save you," he said softly. "I love you."

He didn't notice, but Luxa's eyes opened slightly as she smiled.

…

Regalia

…

"These tracks are fresh," Helena said, running her hand over the strange markings. "They were here, probably only a few hours ago."

Mareth leaned over, nodding to himself after a moment. "Yes, you are correct. This is new. I see thousands of these markings. I believe the next attack will be soon."

Helena felt a chill race down her spine. "We should return to the Fount at once."

Mareth stood, whistling for Araxes. Helena took a moment to catch her breath. Although it'd been weeks since her imprisonment with the cutters, she still felt the fear of that time vividly. Mareth unconsciously must have noticed this, as he placed his large weathered hand on her shoulder without even turning to look at her. Helena smiled. She'd grown quite close to him as of late.

Helena took a moment to survey her surroundings. The city was eerily quiet, the buildings once full of light now dark. Mareth required a torch to see, but Helena's echolocation ability had grown stronger with additional practice. With this little activity and noise, Helena could kick a stone at her feet and see the inside of every building within a mile's radius. It was thoroughly creepy because Helena knew just how alone they really were here.

Araxes fluttered down towards them, pulling up his massive reddish wings at the last moment, landing gently beside them. "Find something?" he purred.

"The final confrontation is imminent," Mareth said soberly. "The cutters march."

Araxes sniffed the air. "It is time to finish what they started." Like most of the surviving population of the Fount, Araxes had rallied behind Queen Luxa's call for genocide of the cutters. Even now, the spinners, nibblers, gnawers, and fliers moved towards the Fount to answer the human queen's call. As much as Helena hated the cutters, especially their queen, she still wasn't sure how she felt about the notion. Genocide directly clashed with her deeper, original instinct for honest exploration. However, the rules of the Underland seemed to be much different than those of the Underland. The cutters were just as bent on genocide as Luxa was.

Suddenly, Araxes took a second sniff of the air, and hissed. "Overlanders," he purred lowly.

Mareth stiffened. "They must have joined forces with their cutter allies," he said.

Helena instantly thought that sounded wrong. "The American public will know about this atrocity by now," she said. "I would doubt if their plan is still to ally with the cutters to wipe us out. Most people above wouldn't support such a notion."

Mareth hesitated. "Do we dare risk approaching the Overlanders?"

"We should at least look," Helena insisted. "Even if they're hostile, they won't shoot on sight if they see me."

Araxes growled. "Overlanders are not to be trusted."

Helena stared the bat down, who she knew had a good heart when not thinking about the war and the deaths of his brethren in Central Park. "Am I not to be trusted?" she insisted. "What about Gregor?"

The great bat averted his gaze, looking slightly ashamed. "I apologize," he growled.

She shook her head. "Don't. But we must be willing to see beyond our own preconceptions if we are to end this conflict." She extended her hand towards Mareth. "What do you say?"

He took her hand without hesitation. "I trust you. Let's go observe these Overlanders."

It didn't take long for Helena, Araxes, and Mareth to find them. Sitting at the front of the great bat, she saw them with her echolocation long before they drew near. She frowned. "There's only two of them. Definitely not an invading force."

Mareth and Araxes exchanged glances. "Messengers, then?" Mareth speculated.

"Demanding our surrender, likely," Araxes grunted.

"Let's go talk to them," Helena said, hope spreading in her chest. "We never know."

Obliging her, Araxes dived through the darkness towards the ground far below. The bright light from the Overlanders' torches was almost blinding to Helena. From how tight Araxes's ears were pressed to his head, she guessed he hated it as much as she did.

The Overlanders only noticed them when they were less than a hundred feet away. A man and a woman. They gasped with surprise as Araxes thudded to the ground next to them. Helena was slightly frustrated by the bat's show of aggression, but she slid off his back with her hands raised before the Overlanders could draw their weapons. "Peace. We come in peace," she said.

The Overlanders looked at each other, and slowly took their hands off their guns. "Who are you?" the man called out carefully.

Helena walked towards them, wincing as their torchlight directly illuminated her face. "My name is Helena Morten. I am a scout for the Regalians."

The woman gasped. "You're that cave explorer! Everyone thinks you're dead!"

She nodded. "I am, but I was saved, and given a new purpose. The Regalians do not kill those who come in peace. Especially those betrayed and interrogated by their own government." She squinted at them. "Why are you two here?"

The two Overlanders exchanged glances. "Well," the woman said, "my name is Mariana Hernandez, and his name is August Choi. We were sent by Gregor's father, James, who knows us as Agent Orange and Agent Black. James is concerned that the Underland might be plagued by violence by the cutters."

Helena laughed, startling the two of them. "Oh, you have no idea. Come quickly, I'll fill you both in on the flight. You need to meet our Queen."

…

New York City

…

James sat with his family around the dining table of the penthouse, where they were all attempting—and failing—to play Go Fish.

"Lizzie, it's your turn," Grace said for the third time.

Lizzie startled out of her stupor. She'd been staring at some papers on her lap, where she had written line after line in the Tree of Transmission. "Oh? Uh… do you have any eights?"

Grace frowned. "Lizzie, you didn't even look at your hand."

Lizzie frowned but obliged her mother. "Fine." She picked up her hand, stared at it for less than half a second, then dropped the cards, letting them scatter over the floor. "I looked."

Grace twitched. More than anyone else, she wanted to feign normalcy. "Young lady, pick your cards up. Now."

Before the situation could devolve further, James extended a hand towards each of them. "Peace. We don't need to play if she doesn't want to." She wasn't the only one. Margaret had opened a coloring book and was busy shading in something.

"Well, we have to do something," Grace insisted, eyes narrowed at him. He instantly knew what she was referring to. It'd been days since Orange and Black had descended secretly into the Underland, and they hadn't received word back. It had also been difficult to talk about the issue when he and his family were monitored for most of the day.

"We can just be," James said, trying not to draw the attention of the burly security guard by the door. It's out of our control now, he tried to convey. He pushed a step further. "We're all together here." Gregor belongs down there.

"Absolutely not!" Grace shrieked. "My son is still trapped in that hellhole!"

James spared a long glance towards the guard, who thankfully took the hint and slipped out the door. While his family were not prisoners anymore, they were still considered persons of import, and he was sure someone would still be listening in on their conversation. However, this way, at least they would have the illusion of familial privacy. "Grace," he began. "I think he's demonstrated where he wants to be." As much as it broke his heart to say so.

His wife trembled uncontrollably. "I know what is best for him. He's still a kid. He has a life up here."

James shook his head. "He's turning eighteen next month, Grace—"

Surprisingly, it was Lizzie who cut in. "HE NEVER FIT IN, MOM! AND NEITHER DID I!" Her eyes were bright red and tears welled in her eyes. "You never talked about it. You were so determined to hate the Underland, you ignored the fact that Gregor fell in love and that all three of your children felt at home there."

Grace collapsed forward onto the table, head in her hands, fingers raking through her hair. "Why am I the crazy one?" she asked no one in particular. "Can no one else see the violence, the blood, the death down there? Why we should all leave that time of our lives behind us and never look back?"

If that wasn't impossible before, it was certainly impossible now, with the media coverage and the fame, James thought. But he didn't say anything, simply wrapping an arm around his wife, who didn't resist his touch. "We will see him again, and many more times to come, Grace," he said softly. "He is not lost to us, and the Underland is more than death. Shouldn't we let our children choose their own path in life?"

Grace choked, but said nothing.

Margaret finally finished scribbling, holding up her drawing for all to see. All of her marks were inside the outlines given by the coloring book—a first. It was a bat. "Look!" she said proudly. "It's Ares!"

James smiled at her. Yes, the Underland was more than death indeed. He knew that one day, Gregor would find his peace in that distant land beneath their feet, peace he had never been able to find in Virginia.

And that was why he had to learn to let his wayward son go.

…

Author's Notes

Well, that makes five chapters (10k+ words) in six days. Definitely an unsustainable pace… but I remain incredibly motivated. This chapter lays the emotional foundations for the last part of this story. I hope you all enjoyed.

Until next time.

Gyltig