Hey everyone! Life is stressful and busy so I may not be able to post with the same regularity, but I'm trying my best to! This was the longest chapter I've written since coming back, which is because it's quite crucial in Calvin's character development. Before I say any more, I want to thank Jeremiah Hudson (nice to meet you!), Hyphenman (thank you so much for the detailed reviews, it actually has helped me to articulate the values and themes of my story better), Gyltig, and of course, HumanicHedgeHog, the only reader who has been there literally since my first story. It's so good to see you again, it means the world to me that you're still reading the last part of this trilogy!

As usual, please keep reviewing if you can! It makes so much of a difference for me to engage with people. Anyway, if you want to read a chapter before this book, read Chapter 17 of Regalian Bloodbath - that is where this scene is set (limited in my description because of Calvin's blindness).

This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.


Chapter 37: Eye of the Storm

"Try… not to think about my fur."

Calvin's heart rocketed out of its little pocket, and his skin turned clammy even against the unrelenting Regalian draught.

"You know," he said through gritted teeth, training his vision on a random spot in the vast, empty darkness in front of him, "telling me NOT to think about it just makes me think about it more."

"Apologies, Calvin," Hecate purred, the edge in her voice very noticeable. "I am merely trying to help."

"I know," he sighed, trying his best not to conjure a mental image of her as he gingerly lifted one foot and placed it on her back. Once again, his heart rate slowly began to pick up speed, threatening to tear through his chest in its panicked state. He took a deep breath to cool its jets, and lifted himself up onto Hecate's back. His fingers ran through what felt like bristles, long and tangled in a wiry mesh that coated its owner from head to toe. Funnily enough, he thought he felt morning dew collect in his hands, indicating the moistness of Hecate's fur. She was breaking out into a cold sweat too.

For a second, Calvin's heart slowed as the observation sank in.

"Hey," he said, reaching out to gently pat her back. "It's gonna be fine. Let's just stick to the plan."

"Yes… everything will be alright," she said softly, her voice wavering ever so slightly. Now her body began to tremble, like a solitary leaf shaking violently against the gentle breeze, the pregnant stillness of the air belying the arrival of a long-awaited storm.

"If this doesn't work," Calvin said slowly, his fingers still running through Hecate's fur, "it's just back to the drawing board."

"You do not know that, Calvin," she said, her voice now finding its pitch and frequency. "We do not know how the Murk works. This could mean your death."

Calvin chuckled, but he knew that laugh was just an attempt to comfort himself. It seemed like Hecate wasn't exactly sold by it either.

"I am serious, Calvin," she continued. "When you saw me, your reaction was… troubling, to say the least. You should have seen your own face."

"How did I look?"

"Paler than the humans of Regalia," she replied. "Eyes bloodshot and rabid. You were salivating like a caged beast, hemmed in by fire."

"Sounds like most guys at a frat party," he quipped cheerfully.

"I am serious, Calvin," Hecate's voice was steeled with urgency, but tempered with earnestness and sincerity. "I hope for your sake that you may yet have light to play the jester for many years to come."

Calvin stared at the unflinching wall of darkness beyond the horizon. He found himself imagining an ocean of shadows he had waded into, its secrets swirling around his legs as he planted his feet firmly into the seabed. There was no light in the void. Just courage, and the hope that still burned in his chest.

"I can't live in this darkness forever," he said firmly to Hecate. "I might as well lose my light on my terms than accept that I've already lost it."

Without a single word of reply from Hecate, he sensed that she understood what he was saying. He felt her muscles ripple underneath him as they stretched, ready to take them airborne.

"Calvin!" Hero called out.

Calvin turned in the direction of Hero's voice. He could hear her scampering over quickly.

"Do not," she said fiercely, "do anything that will jeopardise your life."

Calvin smirked. "Yes ma'am."

If Hero was annoyed with his ostensible blasé towards flying into the unknown, she showed no sign of it. "You have always been the bravest of us all," she said, her voice softening slightly. "Fly you high, Calvin."

Calvin's smirk slowly dissipated as the gravity of the situation began to settle on his chest, rendering every breath both heavier and shallower by the second. This might be goodbye if things went wrong - theoretically it shouldn't, but no one knew how the Murk worked. He had literal fear in his blood. Heading into the fliers' colony with a biological fear of bats was like soaking in a chum bath before diving into a shiver of sharks.

But he had to do this. He couldn't sit on the sidelines while his friends fought a war for their survival. This was his war to fight too.

"Fly you high, Hero," he replied as stolidly as possible, trying his best not to let the fear spill out of his veins and into his words.

It was almost as if Hecate sensed his struggle to maintain his emotions. With a deep breath, she shot into the air, and Calvin felt the currents rush past his face as they shattered the stale Regalian air with a blood-pumping flight. The hair on his skin stood up as he felt his stomach lurch back and forth from the speed of Hecate's ascent. Suspended in the midnight void but travelling with the purpose of an unbridled hurricane, Calvin found himself both exhilarated and frightened. Perfect for his date with destiny.

As Hecate slowed down slightly, he took the opportunity to speak up. "Thanks Hecate… I was starting to freak out back there. You kinda saved me from a panic attack."

"I discerned that was the case," Hecate replied. "I could hear your heart rate - it was beating faster than a vicar in a whorehouse."

"You have vicars down here?"

"Yes," Hecate said curtly, and Calvin could tell she was trying not to laugh. "Although I thought men your age would be more interested in hearing there are whorehouses in Regalia."

"I'm… not like most men my age," Calvin replied, trying his best to stifle a laugh himself.

"Not on the evidence of your little exchange with Hero earlier," Hecate said flatly.

Calvin allowed himself a light chuckle. "She's married," he said, sighing softly to himself. "Nothing's happening there."

Hecate snorted. "Mmhmm."

"What's that for?"

"What?"

"You just grunted."

"Ah, that is the noise I usually make when I am thoroughly convinced that I was mistaken."

If Calvin could roll his eyes, he would have. "Your sarcasm is duly noted."

"It was?" Hecate replied with mock surprise. "I could have sworn I hid it better."

"Come on," Calvin said with an exasperated sigh. "Spit it out."

"There truly is not much to say, Calvin," she replied tersely. "I can smell the tension between the two of you… I understand that it is challenging to move on when your love once burned so passionately."

"There was nothing passionate about my love for Hero," Calvin replied defensively.

"The two of you were all over each other on my back. I think it is fair to say I am something of an expert on your passions."

"Ugh," Calvin groaned. "Don't remind me."

Hecate laughed, her signature hur hur resonating like a summer tune on a winter's night. It was a melodious monotone, warm honey when the hearth was weak. Familiarity never felt more familial to him than it did in that moment. He had been so cold, so heartbroken, so alone. Hecate may have been a nightmarish beast in his eyes, but she was something far more precious in his heart - she was a friend.

And despite doing his best not to imagine what she looked like, he let himself drink in the scene - riding on her as they soared into the distance, it felt like some small section of Calvin's old world had been restored. It represented the antithesis of fear - it represented hope, hope that Calvin wasn't broken beyond belief, hope that Calvin still had something left to give to this world he now called home.

Hope that Calvin could be whole again.

He knew he would never be the same - how could he? How could someone who'd lost his parents, lost another father figure, lost his friends, and lost himself, ever hope to be the same again? Even when the drumbeats of war faded and scars were no more than lines on wrinkled skin, no one could ever dream of just being the same bright-eyed soul who left home to see a lifetime of horrors. One day his hope would be buried deep underground where his friends and guns were too. And all he had left were shards of memories, fractured by invincible time, splintering through the moments that made and broke him.

But the small moments - Hero's smile, Gregor's embrace, Hecate's laugh… they'd fill the cracks with gold so that Calvin could be whole on that day. Not the same, but whole.

"I've missed you," he blurted out suddenly.

Hecate sighed. "I have missed you too, Calvin. I have missed you greatly."

Calvin let their little exchange stew in silence for a minute. "God, it's been years since I last saw you guys."

He cleared his throat and corrected himself. "Well, not that I've technically seen you guys yet."

Hecate's laugh was as light as a feather, and for a second it felt as if they'd flown through the torrential winds onto a carefree breeze, taking them into a boundless field free of anger, jealousy, or greed. A vast expanse for everyone to co-exist concurrently, to be one with the natural world. In that moment he knew the answer to all their problems.

And in that moment he understood how impossible it was.

The foxes went to war because of a genocide carried out by Sandwich centuries ago. Now they were allied with Overlanders, the latter intent on conducting a genocidal campaign of their own. There was no vast utopia, no paradisiacal ecosystem, no underground heaven where all of them could survive together. Underland space was scarce, and its inhabitants violent - there was no simple solution to accede to everyone's demands. The Overlanders had no right to the land, but ironically held the most military power. Their objective to build new cities, however evil and unjust, demanded everyone's attention by virtue of how close they were to executing their masterplan.

Hecate's voice jarred him out of his usual forays through the murky existential swamp. "Am I right to assume nothing will happen between you and Hero?"

Calvin leaned back slightly and sighed as the currents swirled around him. "Yeah," he said. "She made a really good point - she said sometimes people come into each other's lives when they both need it, and sometimes that ends. But it doesn't make the relationship or the past any less beautiful."

A short silence ensued. "Hero is wise beyond her years," she said. "Unfortunately for you, young Overlander, you will not be so easily rid of me."

Calvin smiled. "I expect nothing less."

He just knew Hecate was smiling in response. "I sometimes think there is beauty in impermanence," she continued. "Life eternal renders the present meaningless. This mortal coil is all we have and is all we need. I like to think the gods of the past and future desire that which we have - for the present to matter more than anything else. It is beyond their reach, and for that we should always be grateful."

"Goddamn," Calvin breathed, unsure of how to react. "That is some crazy poetry right there."

"When war accompanies you even through your dreams and nightmares, you eventually adopt a profound perspective on the time you spend without it."

"Yeah… lucky us."

"There are few events more horrible than a war," Hecate said, her tone uncharacteristically stoic. "But few events distill our life's purpose like wars do."

"So war's good for us?"

"I am not justifying war, Calvin. I merely suggest that there are many ways to interpret it, and I prefer not to dwell on the bloodshed and horror. Perhaps war will bring us peace one day."

Calvin shuddered. "That's exactly what Flavius thinks."

Hecate sighed. "Can you fault him?"

Calvin paused. Hecate and Fabius made the same point, one he couldn't exactly disagree with - Maybe Flavius wasn't as evil as everyone made him out to be. He was just a product of time and circumstance, having witnessed the death of his parents while a civil war consumed his home. Would Calvin have thought so differently if he'd been in Flavius' position?

He thought back to his conversations with Flavius when he was masquerading as Murellus. Calvin had felt so lost, so out of place, so alone in the Underland. The quiet moments he spent with Murellus, whom he thought was an outcast, had been so precious to him in ways he didn't fully understand until much later. Those were the moments that gave him the confidence to step up and be himself, even among the veteran leaders of that quest. And despite all the pain that Flavius had inflicted on him, despite how bitter his betrayal was, despite how hellbent Flavius was on tearing Calvin's world apart… with all his heart, Calvin believed that the empathy Murellus had shown him wasn't purely a construct, or just another cog in Flavius' elaborate ploy. In those moments of barren isolation, Flavius had reached out to Calvin through Murellus to let him know that he wasn't alone - that they had both been hurt from losing their parents, and together they'd make something of a world that had taken everything.

"Murellus and I are one and the same."

In the deep recesses of Calvin's heart, he believed that - Murellus was Flavius uncorrupted by desire, or vengeance, or pain. Maybe Murellus was the true Flavius, but stifled and suffocated by the demands of a hungry population and the weight of royal expectation. Somewhere underneath Flavius' mask of evil, he still lived. Calvin had to believe that, because he needed to redeem himself too. He had to believe that everyone was worthy of a shot at redemption. If he held a gun to Flavius' head, he wasn't sure he could pull the trigger. Calvin knew he would never take another life. Vikus' death would mean nothing if he did.

But how could you fight a war without taking a life?

"What troubles you?"

Hecate's voice penetrated through Calvin's mental fog of apprehension.

"How… How do you know?" he asked, slightly taken aback by her intrusion through the hazy ambiguity of his moral quandary.

"You forget my sense of smell," came her reply. "And you have flown with me for some time now. I think it would be remiss of me not to notice your anxiety and to refrain from inquiry."

"I guess you do know me pretty well," Calvin admitted. He paused slightly before asking, "Do you think Flavius can be saved?"

"Saved?"

"Yeah," he said. "Like, I don't know, redeemed? Maybe we can convince him to drive the Overlanders out of here?"

"Redeemed or not, I am certain he is plotting to turn against the Overlanders," Hecate pointed out. "He knows the Overlanders are setting a trap for him. He must choose when to make his move to manoeuvre around it."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure of that too," Calvin said quickly. "What I meant was whether we could make him see some sense. Help him to see that… war isn't always the answer."

"Calvin…" Hecate began, but he wasn't in the mood for a cynical lecture.

"Just hear me out, ok? if we captured him and convinced him to pull his armies back, or if we told him we'd help him take down the Overlanders, maybe we could come up with a plan to include them in the Underland in the meantime, you know what I mean? This place is so huge, I'm sure there's some way of fitting them in, right?"

As soon as his little rant was over, Calvin knew he was being naïve. His expectations were not just astronomical - they defied reality and the laws of survival in the Underland.

"Calvin," Hecate said slowly. "I am no politician and I sit on no Council, but I think what little I know of running a city suffices for me to say this - the land in the Underland means nothing without water and without soil which can be cultivated. We fliers can hunt for insects and fly to the Waterway whenever we want, but the schemers do not have that mobility. The schemers eat some insects and can consume Regalian agriculture, but there is only so much tillable land. Most of that land is within Regalia's walls. Hope will not build Flavius a castle of stone and provide starving schemers with a banquet of abundance."

The wall of darkness coalesced in front of Calvin again, each shadow piling on to add to its imposing stature.

"Hope is not born in these lands," Hecate said darkly. "It is taken. Flavius knows this as well as any of us do."

Calvin sighed. "I know, but I have to believe there's another way."

"Why?"

Calvin shook his head. "I don't know. I think the one thing I do know is that there's good in everyone, and it's worth fighting for. Life is about the choices we make, but war doesn't really give us that. It takes away choice and second chances. I've been given a second chance to live a different life, and I think everyone deserves that same chance."

A wave of silence greeted his words. But then Hecate spoke up.

"You have changed since we last spoke, Gunner."

"I thought I screamed in your face and called you a monster when we last spoke."

Hecate laughed. "No, Calvin, when I brought you back home, thinking I would never see you again. You were hurt, and angry, and I could see how much you loathed yourself. I am glad to see you have returned."

"Yeah," Calvin said. "I guess it's good to be back."

Hecate's hur hur punctuated his remarks again. "I did not mean your return to the Underland, dear Overlander. I mean it is good to see the true 'you' again."

The true him? Calvin leaned back slightly, allowing her words to wash over him. He remembered coming down to the Underland confused, overwhelmed, and full of bluster. Eagerly throwing himself into the deep end and succumbing to his emotions. He wasn't that same emotional volcano, but he could still feel its idealism flowing through his veins. Hecate was right - he'd disappeared for a long time, especially when Regalia was under attack. He'd killed Vikus, lost Mr Carter, and been told that his dad wasn't actually his dad. He could've been a broken, cynical mess. But here he was, hurtling into the unknown to conquer his fears, believing he could still make a difference in the Underland.

Hope in the darkest corners of the world indeed.

"Speaking of seeing old friends again," Hecate continued. "We are here."

Hecate's flight pattern changed abruptly into a sharp vertical ascent, and Calvin instantly wrapped his legs around her side and pressed his chest and face against her fur as they began the steep climb upwards. As soft as her fur was, he tried not to think too much about it, lest he slipped back into his panic phase.

As soon as the ascent had started, it was over. He felt Hecate land, and had a good feeling he knew where he was.

"Are we on top of the pillar?" he asked.

"Rebuilt with the help of our Regalian friends," Hecate confirmed. "It has been named Nike's Column."

"Nice touch," Calvin said as he slid off Hecate's back awkwardly, still moving in an ungainly fashion. He was still nursing a few injuries, and his effective blindness didn't help either.

"Does she know I'm here?" he asked.

"She does," Nike's voice chimed in.

Calvin couldn't suppress a smile spreading across his face. "It's been a while, your Majesty," he said, bowing his head.

"Oh please, Calvin, you know I resent it when my friends address me as such," Nike replied fiercely.

Calvin grinned. "Yeah, I still remember, Queen Nike."

Nike's infectious laugh rang out. "Always up for provocation, aren't you Gunner?"

Calvin shrugged, still smiling stupidly from ear to ear. "You know how it is."

Nike laughed again. "It is good to see you, old friend. You have always been my second favourite Overlander."

If Calvin could roll his eyes at her, he would've. "Come on, I'm everyone's second favourite Overlander," he retorted. "Get your own thing."

He was nudged on the right shoulder. "You are my favourite Overlander," Hecate whispered to him. "The Warrior counts as an Underlander at this point."

Now Calvin rolled his eyes underneath the blindfold. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said dryly.

He turned back to Nike. "Nice to see you've rebuilt this place… or well, I've heard you rebuilt it."

"Indeed," Nike said, the cheeky edge in her tone now ebbing away. "I would ask you to see it for yourself, but it seems a deliberate choice of yours to wear that blindfold. Care to explain why?"

"Well, uh…" Calvin began, unsure of whether he was going to relay the whole story to her. He cleared his throat. "I was following a trail of Overlanders who had captured the Warrior's family."

"The Warrior's family," Nike breathed, and it wasn't difficult to detect the concern in her voice. "Poor Boots… Are they safe, Calvin?"

"Yeah," Calvin replied firmly. "Gregor got back in time to save them."

"Praise Hades," she said with an audible sigh of relief. "Pray continue."

"I was captured by the Overlanders, and one of them injected Murk into my blood," he said, his voice now beginning to waver in confidence. "Now whenever I see rats or bats, I don't know… I just freak out completely. I'm so, so…"

"Scared?" Nike filled in the blanks. "Terrified? What in Sandwich's name possessed them to do that… that is true evil."

She paused. "Wait… If you have a fear of fliers and gnawers, why then are you here?"

"About that," Calvin said, shifting from foot to foot. "Look, I know this is a big ask of you, but I want to try shocking it out of my system. I've resisted the Murk before, and I was hoping that if I was surrounded by you guys and couldn't run away, and had to just expose myself to a cave full of bats… I'd be able to get over my fear."

The silence that greeted him told him everything about Nike's position on this. "Calvin," she said, "If we knew for a fact that this would help you, I would be happy to assist you in this. But for the wellbeing of my fliers, I cannot put them in danger by frightening you."

"Putting them in danger?" Calvin asked, and then he put two and two together.

"Oh wait, you mean my guns? I don't use them anymore Nike, I swear! I swore I'd never take another life."

He raised his arms and showed her his palms. "No weapons on me. I swear. None of your fliers will be hurt."

"But would you be hurt?" Nike asked, her concern now well and truly pulsating through her voice. "I would not forgive myself if anything happened to you. We have never heard of anyone's blood infected by Murk. It may have dire consequences for your health - Does Doctor Howard know about this?"

"Uh… we might have slipped out without his permission," Calvin mumbled.

"Calvin!" Nike exclaimed, the concern morphing into disapproval. "You are not a child anymore, you should NOT be sneaking out of the hospital to go on little adventures."

He heard a few stifled laughs in the background and figured her Council was probably listening in on the conversation as well. "Old habits die hard," Calvin said sheepishly. "And Hecate was in on it too."

"Your Majesty, the Overlander is on too much medication," Hecate protested. "He is spinning an elaborate lie, I was ordered by him -"

"Not you too!" Nike interjected. "And the Gunner cannot order you to do anything, he's neither your master nor your bond, not yet anyway. Stop with these silly excuses, the both of you knew exactly what you were doing."

"Feel like I shouldn't really be called Gunner anymore, now that I don't actually have guns," Calvin added quickly.

"Ok Calvin the Overlander, you and Hecate must fly back to Doctor Howard now, we will certainly not entertain your shenanigans anymore," Nike declared.

"Geez, when did she get so uptight?" Calvin pretended to whisper to Hecate, but said it loud enough for every bat on Nike's Column to hear his voice.

"Uptight? I'm not uptight at all!" Nike said indignantly.

"Sure you're not," Calvin said sarcastically, and this time he heard a faint chorus of laughs break out among the Council.

He heard Nike snort. "Utterly unbelievable audacity," she said, but added grudgingly, "You did catch me out there, to be fair."

"Look," Calvin said, more seriously this time. "I know my ways are… unusual, especially to you guys. I'm pretty sure they don't teach this at medical school in the Overland either. But I've never been more sure of anything. I'm scared, and I'll be even more scared when I take this blindfold off… but if we always keep running away from our fears, we'll never live without regret, or get to the places where we need to be. And I know exactly where I need to be in the days and weeks to come."

Nike didn't reply, so he continued, "You're a queen to your fliers - you'll do anything to defend them. But you're also a friend to so many of us, and I know you'd want to do the same for your friends. I want to help them figure this out because I don't think it has to end in total war in the Underland."

He found the next few words stuck in his throat. With tears welling up in his eyes, he swallowed deeply and said, "I couldn't figure out why my dad sent me down here, I didn't know how to help you guys besides killing foxes and other Overlanders. For so long I didn't know why I was alive, I didn't get why I was losing everyone I cared about while I kept on living. But I think I've figured out why I'm here… I'm not here to take more lives, I'm here to help people figure out how to save them. I know we're at war and lives will be lost, that's just how war is. But I don't think we have to sacrifice everyone on our side and their side, just for the survivors to rule over a barren wasteland. There are good foxes out there, foxes who are trying to protect their loved ones and stop the bloodshed. And I think if I get through to them, I might be able to stop this war from destroying the whole Underland."

Nike still didn't reply.

Sighing, Calvin said, "There's good in this land worth fighting for. And I really believe I can fight this war without taking another life. I'm begging you to take this leap of faith with me… Nike, I want to fight for my friends. Please give me that chance."

Even the soft murmurs of the Council faded away, and Calvin could feel everyone's eyes settling on Nike as she pondered her decision. The air was heavy with expectation, and for once Calvin felt bad for placing the burden of this decision upon Nike's mighty wings - even the Queen of the fliers could buckle under the pressure of eager anticipation.

When she spoke, a regal current swept through Nike's Column. Her voice reverberated across its open space, seizing the attention of its captivated audience. Nike's voice was not that of Calvin's friend, but of a queen wise and strong beyond her years, a queen who knew authority and loyalty wasn't a birthright, it was bestowed and earned by faith.

"Tell us what you need."

Calvin exhaled like a balloon pricked by a blade. "Thanks Nike," he said, still somewhat shaken by the emotion he channeled in his brief monologue. "It's simple - when I take off my blindfold, I want as many bats as possible to fly at me. I just want to be overwhelmed by so many of them that I can't see anything else."

He heard a flurry of hushed whispers explode in the background. "That is simple enough to arrange," Nike said cautiously. "You are certain this will work?"

Calvin didn't know for sure - this was unlike anything he had ever trained for or experienced. But he wasn't going to back out now. He was rooted in the middle of the ocean, awaiting the break of day and a glimpse of a horizon of hope.

"Yeah," he said. "It'll be ok."

He heard Nike exhale heavily too. "Well then," she said. "I suppose I will see you on the other side of that blindfold. I eagerly await that moment, my friend."

She paused, and then said, "Fly you high, Calvin."

"Thanks," he said softly, afraid his voice would crack from the weight of the emotion.

He heard Hecate shuffle over to him. "I will let you know when you can pull the blindfold off," she said simply.

"I'm afraid," he blurted out, unable to swallow the words before they came tumbling out of his mouth.

In that moment, the world around him dimmed. The frantic discussions between the Council members faded into the wind, which itself enveloped the cacophony descending from the cavern ceiling. The screeches of thousands of bats were drowned out by the rhythm of his heartbeat, and the world slowly ground to a halt.

He was back in the ocean, the shadow waves no longer lapping up against his shins. Their stillness silenced the dark wall bearing down on him, as if it too was dwarfed by the significance of the moment.

And then Hecate's voice reached him.

"I am here with you, always. In dark, in flame, in war, in strife."

Calvin had never witnessed a bonding ceremony, but he knew those words. He knew what they meant.

I save you as I save my life.

Years of isolation, of loss, of regret, suddenly flashed before his eyes. Living in the Overland carrying a century's worth of pain as a teenager and unable to talk about it. Living in the Underland and gripped by the disorienting confusion of an orphan in a foreign land. Living in a world of pain, the last bastion of hope now an ancient ruin long past its glory days, its foundations sinking into the ground as it held its last stand.

But it wasn't his last stand. It wasn't the end of hope. And he would carry the pain and confusion of a boy caught between two worlds to become a man holding together these worlds with his bare fists. A bridge between peace and war, hope and despair, life and death.

Because he wasn't alone anymore.

He reached out and placed his hand on Hecate. "I will see you soon," he said. "We'll be together again soon."

"Of that I have no doubt," Hecate replied firmly. "Fly you high, Calvin. Remember your father."

He took a deep breath. Dad, if you're out there, I need you now.

And then the sounds of the cavern came back into focus.

The beating of wings became a steady drumbeat, signalling his rise from the darkness. The hoarse whispers of the Council were drowned out by the screeches of a thousand bats echoing throughout the cavern, an amorphous organism which assumed a life of its own. Nike's voice could barely be heard above the din which found its way into every corner of the space. Calvin's defining moment would have a very active audience. A harsh draught settled on Calvin, holding no pretensions over the momentous nature of the occasion.

He breathed in and out slowly, calming his overworked heart.

And then Hecate's voice struck midnight.

"Take off your blindfold."

With another deep breath, and with his hands shaking like a reed in the storm, Calvin bid farewell to the wall of darkness in front of him and took his blindfold off…

… only to be greeted by the wall of darkness once again.

There was no light in the abyss.

The wall glared down at him as the air stilled and the silence wrapped its fingers around his throat, choking him out of a scream. The scene was motionless, as if he had stumbled into a metropolis of the dead. All he could fixate on was the wall of darkness in front of him.

And then thousands of red dots appeared on the wall.

Those weren't dots.

Those were eyes.

The wall of darkness leaned forward and, with an almighty groan, collapsed into a thousand shards of…

Of…

Black beady eyes, ears the size of barrels, and wings that stretched and reached out towards him like the bony figures of a witch. Their screeches began to rise above the roar of the wind rushing past Calvin's ears, and in the blink of an eye became a haunting wail, a refrain reverberating around the cavern with increasing aggression and ferocity. Thousands of dark creatures, borne of the nightmares of tyrants and monsters, plummeted towards him with increasing speed as he tried to cough out a scream for help.

But fear had its withered fingers around his throat, and his life in its hands.

A barrage of images assaulted him as they closed in on him.

Black fur.

Claws.

A rotting carcass.

It smelled.

It was rancid.

Eye sockets, vacant and devoid of a soul.

Calvin fell back as the shattered wall of shadows, now seconds away from falling upon his pitiable mortal soul, reared back to let loose one last shriek…


Calvin watched the waves crawl up the beach and fall back dramatically, each time seemingly closer to completing its Sisyphean task of clinging on to the sand. They came up with unrelenting burst after unrelenting burst, somehow concomitantly biding their time with each roll up the weary shore.

"The waves will reach us eventually. Then they'll retreat back to where they came from, and begin their long journey up the coast all over again."

"What's the point?" Calvin asked, shaking his head.

"The sea brings many things up the shore - food, minerals, life… And then it gives those on land seeking shelter an escape back into the water," his dad said, as he reached down and grasped the dry sand. He lifted it up and watched it filter through his fingers. "This will be the bedrock of someone's home… someday."

"Or the soil of a grave," Calvin said grimly.

His dad laughed. "You've always taken life so seriously. You were… maybe four feet tall, when I realised I had a man for a son."

"I didn't really have a chance to grow up," Calvin said bitterly. "You didn't really get a chance to see me grow past four feet."

"I know," his dad said wistfully as he stared into the distance, the sun now level with his eyes. "I know."

They looked ahead wordlessly at the setting sun for a while, both unable to find the right words to unlock the silence. And then his dad spoke up.

"You're a good man, Calvin."

Calvin glanced over at him. "What?"

"The last time we spoke, you asked me whether you were a good man. I haven't been there with you in person, but I've watched you these last 10 years, growing from strength to strength. There is no father in the world prouder than I am. This should never have been your burden to bear. But you are where you are not because of me, but because you have so much good in your heart to give. So, so much."

Calvin looked back at the sepia sunset, its vibrant golden rays now drained to a dull yellow hue. The sun itself knew its time had come as it slowly lay to rest, resting in a deep slumber only to awaken to the call of day.

"I'm scared, Dad."

He turned to face his dad, who met his gaze with a warm smile. "I know, son. But I want you to know there's nothing wrong with that. Courage isn't the absence of fear - it is the will to stand up, face your fear, and walk through it and into the light."

They both turned back to watch the last glimpse of light fade into the ocean.

"You ready, son?"

Calvin turned to find his dad reaching out with his hand. Without a second's hesitation, he reached out too and clasped it.

"I'm ready," he said, staring ahead defiantly as the wall of darkness now surged out of the ground in front of them…


The sound of beating wings slammed into him and seemed to push him downwards, forcing Calvin to duck as the wind pinned him down. He could see blurs of black, silver, and brown raced around him in a violent storm. He could barely open his eyes in the whirlwind of energy that surged across, above, and around him. He could just about make out claws, ears, wings… his heart started to thunder against his chest, desperately trying to punch its way out of its flimsy cage…

Calvin took a deep breath. It was ok to be scared.

But he wouldn't give in to fear.

As the chorus of screeches intensified and the beating wings now became an earsplitting battle cry, Calvin opened his eyes wide and slowly rose. He could now make the flitting figures out clearly - where they had been shadowy personifications of terror and fear before, they were now titanic fliers darting and swooping up and down all around him, forming a spectacular maelstrom of mayhem.

Calvin arched his back up, still feeling his heart rising up his throat. But he forced his gaze to stay focused on each figure, drinking in the sight of their feet, wings, noses, ears, eyes… They were utterly frightening, and each glimpse of their face felt like fear placing another finger on his exposed throat. But he refused to look away as they swirled around him even more furiously, creating a current so strong it could knock him over.

Or hoist him to his feet.

He now found himself on one knee, his hands resting on the leg which was kneeling. With a guttural growl, he slowly lifted himself up. The chill of the cavern made him feel more naked than ever, but he gritted his teeth and straightened himself upright. The fliers now cascaded into a coherent tornado, circling him as they fixed their gaze on him. His heart now weighed a ton as it slammed against his chest with the same vigour, but Calvin refused to let it hold him down. He tilted his head up and stared right into the heart of the hurricane.

Fear looked right back at him with its beady black eyes.

Calvin did not break his stare. With a deep breath, he clenched his fists and held his position.

And fear quaked.

The storm of fliers broke to reveal a single flier, spinning through the air as its shape took form. As the cloud passed over him, he felt warm light slowly hit his face as the flames in the distance slowly came into view. A light in the corner of this dark realm.

The bat now came into focus, staring straight through Calvin's eyes and into his soul. For what felt like an eternity, his heart finally stood still as he continued to watch its descent towards him. Even as it inched nearer, his heart did not dare to move a muscle.

And then, at the last possible second, it veered away from Calvin and into the endless dark.

Calvin unclenched his fists.

"Calvin?"

He turned to his right as a bat wearing a coat of sleek ebony, with the exception of a single orange striping running down her underbelly, stepped cautiously towards him. She paused for a second, almost afraid herself of coming anywhere near him. Calvin's heart rate still quickened, but his eyes weren't playing tricks on him anymore. This was no shadow or monster.

"Hey Hecate," he said, smiling.

"Calvin!" she exclaimed, and clumsily ambled over to him. She nuzzled his chest as he wrapped her head in an embrace, possibly the closest they'd been to each other ever.

A sudden flash of rotting carcasses and screeching shadows hit him.

He stumbled back as blood rushed to his head and his vision became hazy.

"Calvin?"

"Hey," he said weakly, shaking his head slightly. He looked up and his vision slowly cleared up, revealing Hecate once more. "Sorry, think it'll take me some time to get over it fully. But I'm not afraid."

He looked up at Hecate's anxious eyes and repeated himself. "I'm not afraid."

"You are the definition of lunacy."

He turned around to find a black and white striped bat landing gently. "This shouldn't be new to you," he said with a grin. "Good to see you again, Nike."

Nike laughed softly. "It has been far too long, my friend."

Calvin looked around him as he absorbed the sheer size of the cavern. Thousands of bats hung from the stalactites and stared down at him, while others were perched on little ledges littered all around the vast cavern walls. It was a cave of gargantuan proportions, one which took Calvin's breath away. He looked down at his feet to admire the finely chiselled stone that made up the top of Nike's Column, which could have been a vast arena fit to hold events of resplendent spectacle.

"Courtesy of Regalian engineers," Nike said. "We found a new cavern, and Regalia helped us to rebuild our old column by carving it out of a wall of stone."

"Man," Calvin breathed. "As far as first sights go, this has got to be up there."

He looked back at Nike. "Thank you… thank you so much."

"Any time," Nike replied cheerfully. "Well, not any time. You had best head back to Regalia to break the news to Doctor Howard."

"What news?"

"The news that I categorically rejected your attempts to cure your Murk poisoning, and sent you back promptly," she said with a wink.

"Ah, gotcha," Calvin said with a sly grin. "That's very bad news. Real shame."

Nike bowed her head, and Calvin bowed back at her deeply.

"Until we next see each other," she said with a wry smile. "Fly you high, Calvin."

"Fly you high, Nike," he responded, bowing his head again.

He clambered onto Hecate and wrapped his legs around her body, savouring every second of sight he had. This was by no means the end - he knew that fear was deep in his bones and still flowed through his veins. But today was the first of many victories, and Calvin would face fear head-on as a battle-hardened warrior. And as Hecate rocketed out of the cavern, Calvin felt a smile spread across his face

He finally had his light back.


And that's a wrap! A chapter that might be helpful to read is Chapter 13 of Fall of Ragers (provides an important dream sequence which is continued here).

As usual, please review if you can! This has now officially become my longest story... and we still have some 12-13 chapters to go! Will keep chugging along.

Question: What fears do you have?