The Forgotten Chamber

Gregor followed the tunnels with Luxa just ahead of him, her hair catching the faint glow of the torches along the stone walls. The air was cooler than he remembered from his last stay in the Underland, and there was something in the silence that unsettled him. Their boots scuffed against rock, and the sound echoed back at them like faint whispers.

Luxa glanced back at him, her violet eyes steady. “You walk as though the floor might give way.”

Gregor managed a crooked smile. “I’m still getting used to being back here. Last time I came down, things didn’t exactly end quietly.”

Her expression softened for the briefest moment, then hardened again. “The Underland rarely gives quiet endings.” She slowed her pace until they walked side by side. “But it has given us beginnings.”

That last word lingered in the air between them. Gregor felt the weight of it. He remembered battles fought together, friends lost, and moments where the two of them had stood back-to-back, trusting each other with their lives. That kind of bond didn’t just fade, even after years apart.

Luxa’s voice was lower now. “Your return was unexpected.”

Gregor rubbed the back of his neck. “Believe me, I didn’t plan it. I thought I’d left all this behind.” He hesitated. “But when the Invitation came… I knew I couldn’t ignore it. I knew I had to be here.”

Luxa stopped walking. The torchlight flickered over her face, revealing an unguarded flash of emotion. “You left the Overland for me, if even temporarily?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then stammered, “For you. For all of you. I have never stopped caring.”

Her eyes searched his, and for once she didn’t hide the truth behind her royal bearing. “Nor I,” she whispered, almost to herself.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was alive, carrying unspoken promises neither of them was ready to voice. They resumed walking, and the path widened into a chamber lined with stone carvings. Shadows stretched high against the ceiling, shaped like wings. Gregor traced one carving with his eyes—it looked like a bat soaring.

“This place,” Luxa said, “was once a meeting hall. Generations ago, our ancestors swore oaths of loyalty here. Some to the crown, others to the bond between human and bat. It is a forgotten chamber that I wanted to visit again… with you.”

Gregor nodded. “It feels… sacred.”

“Perhaps it still is.” Luxa looked at him sidelong. “Perhaps it waits for a new oath.”

He chuckled nervously. “You mean me promising not to trip over every loose stone?”

Her lips curved upward, just barely. “Perhaps.” But her voice carried more meaning than her smile let on.

They moved deeper into the chamber. The echo of their footsteps seemed to press against the stone, carrying their presence far beyond the room itself. For the first time since arriving, Gregor felt a strange pull—not just to the place, but to the girl walking beside him.

Luxa broke the silence again. “Do you ever think of what might have been? Had you stayed longer?”

Gregor’s throat tightened. “Every day. All the time.”

“And now that you are here again?” she pressed.

He forced himself to meet her gaze. “I wonder what could still be.”

Luxa stopped, her expression unreadable, though her eyes glimmered with something he couldn’t name. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the sound of wings thundered through the chamber. A colony of bats descended, their leathery wings filling the air with a storm of motion. Gregor instinctively reached for his sword, but then he remembered he no longer had a sword.

“They are friends,” she said calmly. A single great bat landed before them, bowing its head. “This one has news.”

Luxa laid her hand against the bat’s neck, her tone softening. The bat chirped and trilled, and Luxa’s face grew grave. When she turned back to Gregor, her earlier softness had vanished.

“Some on the Council have sent them. They are concerned about their Queen. They say they want to know if I am safe with the Overlander. They want to know what I am planning,” she said quietly. “They want to know why you are still here. Some want you to leave. They demand a meeting.”

“Then we can face them together.”

Luxa looked at him for a long moment, then wistfully said, “I wish we could, but I must face them alone. I am now their Queen, and they no longer rule over me. They must learn this. I will make my own decisions, and you will help me, if you will stay.”

And though the bat carried the weight of war within the Council, to Gregor it also carried hope. A fragile, precious hope that perhaps this return to the Underland was not only about battles to come—but about finding his place again at Luxa’s side. Maybe his new oath would be, “I will stay.”

The flutter of wings faded into silence, but the promise between them did not, as they walked back through the tunnels toward the Council.