The Answer

The flames in The Quiet Room’s fireplace had burned lower, shadows flickering across the stone walls. Gregor sat forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees, staring into the glow. Luxa’s question still hung between them, heavier than the silence itself.

What are you seeking by staying in the Underland?

He had not answered at once. Part of him feared saying the wrong thing, part of him feared admitting to himself what he truly wanted. Yet as the moments passed, the truth began to take shape in his mind. Slowly, Gregor lifted his head, his voice low but certain.

“Luxa… I want to be  a peacemaker.”

Luxa turned toward him, her eyes narrowing with surprise, though she said nothing.

Gregor’s words spilled out, steady now, as if they had been waiting inside him all along. “I don’t want to be remembered as just a rager or a warrior who fought battle after battle or a protector. I do want to protect you, but I’ve had enough of war. Enough of blood. What I want—what I’m seeking—is peace. Not just for myself, but for you and for everyone who lives down here.”

He leaned back, letting his gaze drift toward the glowing fish swimming lazily in the great aquarium. Their scales shimmered in calm, endless motion, unbothered by the turmoil outside. “I want to work with you, Luxa, to find ways to end the fighting. To make peace within the Council. To make peace with the other creatures who were once our enemies. I want this world to stop bleeding and start healing.”

Luxa’s lips parted, as if she might speak, but Gregor continued, needing to let the words out before he lost courage.

“And most of all,” he said, turning to her now, his gray eyes steady on her violet ones, “I want peace with you. I never want there to be a day when you and I are divided. Whatever storms may come, I want us to face them together—never as opponents, but as allies.”

Luxa drew in a slow breath. Her expression softened, though a trace of doubt lingered, like a shadow behind her gaze. “Gregor… peace is not an easy thing to win. It is far more fragile than war. War thrives on anger and fear, but peace must be built on trust—and trust can be broken with a single careless act.”

“I know,” Gregor said quietly. “That’s why I want to give everything I have to it. I’ve seen enough death. I’ve seen how revenge eats away at people until there’s nothing left. If I can stop even a little of that from happening again, then maybe…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “Maybe it’ll be worth it.”

The fire snapped, casting a brighter glow for a fleeting instant. Luxa leaned back against the couch, her eyes never leaving his face. For a long moment she seemed caught between her role as queen and her place as simply Luxa, the girl beside him.

“You speak as though you were born to wear a crown,” she said at last, though her tone was gentle, not sharp.

Gregor shook his head. “No. I don’t want a crown. That’s yours. All I want is the chance to help you keep this world from tearing itself apart again.”

Luxa lowered her gaze, her hands folding together in her lap. When she looked up once more, her eyes shone with something he couldn’t quite name—admiration, perhaps, or relief. “Then perhaps,” she said softly, “we share the same dream.”

They sat in silence again, but it was a different silence than before. Not heavy with unspoken questions, but lightened by shared purpose. The Quiet Room seemed to hold its breath with them, the fish drifting, the fire warming, as if the chamber itself approved.

Gregor leaned back, a strange calm settling in his chest. For the first time since he had come below, he felt certain of his place. Not as a warrior. Not as a pawn of prophecy. But as something else entirely—something he had chosen for himself.

A simple peacemaker.