The last leg of the arduous feat was by far the easiest portion. Vorden leaned his whole body into every pull forward, adding his weight to the leverage. Sil used his legs to push with his entire frame, he really took advantage of the narrow passage way using his magnificently muscular thighs.
Once they got into a good rhythm, the task went rather smoothly, without any issues. Before too long the finally broke free of the tunnel, removing the hulking subterranean beast and Sil was able to step out from behind it at last.
The sense of urgency that Sil felt spiked after the beast was finally out of his way. He suddenly needed to hurry, and his mind was laser focused. The small cavern they entered had two other tunnels that branched off of it. As one was the tunnel that Vorden had just come from, they needn't bother with it and just continued straight.
"I hope Raten doesn't hit any road blocks, it would really set us back if he ended up having to double back and come through one of the other tunnels." Vorden voiced his concerns as he did his best to quietly keep up with Sil's increased pace.
The tunnel narrowed as Sil and Vorden moved deeper into the bowels of the mountain. Their footsteps were soundless, measured. Breaths shallow. Voices silenced. The walls pressed close with jagged stone and slick ridges, shimmering faintly with alien minerals that refracted the occasional glint from Vorden's light crystal. It wasn't a place that welcomed intruders. The air felt ancient, yet somehow alive.
Vorden's hand brushed the rough surface of the wall as they turned a bend, and suddenly the passage opened.
The breath caught in both their throats.
They stepped into a vast, vaulted cavern — and were swallowed by a faint, earie, toxic looking glow.
The chamber was alive. Bioluminescent mist curled through the air in soft waves, drifting like spirits. The walls, ceiling, and floor pulsed with alien plant life: phosphorescent fungi bloomed in spirals of violet and neon green, tendrils of glowing moss wept like waterfalls from above, and clusters of chittering, luminescent insects flitted through the air in lazy arcs.
Snail-like creatures with translucent shells glided across every surface, leaving shimmering trails in their wake. Their bodies glowed from within, casting ambient, dreamlike hues across the stone. It felt like stepping into the belly of a living galaxy.
Sil and Vorden stood still, mouths slightly open, eyes wide with awe.
"…Okay," Vorden whispered, barely audible. "That's... actually beautiful."
Sil nodded slowly, unable to look away from the glowing vines winding through the air like liquid light. "I've seen a thousand worlds," he murmured, "but this—"
Suddenly, a high-pitched whine pierced the cavern, sharp and unnatural.
Their expressions twisted in agony as the sound intensified—no longer heard, but felt. It was like needles burrowing into their skulls, vibrating through bone and nerve. Both men dropped to their knees, clutching their heads.
Vorden gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. His vision swam with flickering stars and smears of color, then darkness. His arms trembled under the weight of his own body. He wanted to scream but bit down hard on his tongue. Blood filled his mouth. Don't scream.
Don't give them a sound.
Beside him, Sil doubled over with his eyes squeezed shut, and knuckles white against his temples.
Then, through the fog of pain, Vorden saw something.
A shape—just barely—a shadow cutting across the glowing mist like a blade through silk. It swept through the creatures, carving a deep rift of blackness through the sea of light. Wherever it moved, color died, vanishing as if devoured.
What is that?
The shape moved closer, faster now, growing.
Quinn? The thought struck him like lightning. It has to be Quinn. It's a shadow. It's his ability. Oh God, Quinn—how is Quinn here?
But before he could shout, the shadow enveloped him—wrapped around him—and he flinched, expecting pain.
Instead, something smeared across his face.
Wet.
Gritty.
Foul.
"Ugh—what the hell?!" Vorden gasped, recoiling. The stench hit him like a physical blow. "Quinn, what the f—what are you putting on my face?!"
The ringing began to ease. The pressure lifted.
His vision—blurry a moment ago—started to steady. He blinked hard, gagging from the stench, eyes watering as he tried not to throw up.
"Quinn? Seriously?" came a familiar, amused voice. "Did you hit your head?"
Vorden squinted. A silhouette stood over him, crouched low, teeth flashing in a wide grin beneath eyes gleaming in the ambient glow.
"…Raten?"
"Who else would it be?" Raten said, shaking his head. "You really are losing it."
Vorden blinked rapidly, finally making out his brother's face, smeared in the same god awful, brownish sludge that coated his own. The thick substance was packed with gritty chunks and glistened under the glow like congealed meat paste. The smell was worse than rotting corpses—wet manure with notes of fungal decay and old socks.
He gagged again.
Raten extended a hand holding another generous glob of the sludge. "Here. You missed a spot. Smear it all over your head."
Vorden stared at it in disbelief, then—reluctantly—scooped all of it from Raten's open palm, and began slathering it into his hair and across his neck, doing his best not to breathe.
"I swear to every god in existence, if this doesn't work…"
"It's already working, genius," Raten said smugly. "It negates the toxins caused by all of these toxic waste looking plants."
Vorden grumbled, finishing the job. "You could've told me what you were doing instead of jump-scaring me into a trauma response."
"I did," Raten replied. "You were just too busy hallucinating about Quinn."
While trying to collect what remained of his dignity, Vorden glanced over—and his brow furrowed.
"Raten… is that… a daisy chain on your head?"
Raten turned slowly, expression full of wounded pride.
"No," he said flatly. "These aren't daisies. I think I'm calling them rebels. And don't worry—" he pulled something from around his arm, a second, dark crown made of strange alien flowers—"I made one for you guys too."
Vorden stared at it in horror. "Yeah but… why? And seriously, what is this crap? It's foul." He asked, pointing at his face.
Raten looked personally offended. "Ungrateful. That foul crap just saved your brain from being scrambled like Shiro's breakfast eggs. And this?" He tapped the dark flower crown. "This is flair. Survival flair. Learn to accessorize."
Vorden just stared at his brother with a blank expression. Lost for words he simply blinked. Maybe having a little girl affected him way more than anybody knew—
Suddenly snickering as quietly as he could, Raten had to hold his stomach from the pain. "The paste is crushed up flowers obviously. The flowers— negate the nasty toxin that was about to kill you and Sil right here on the spot."
Vorden shook his head, still wincing at the smell. "Damn. I guess I should be thanking you."
But then, as the last of the pain faded completely and he realized he could finally see clearly and breathe without choking on air, something sank in. "Raten where did you get this? How did you know what it would do."
Raten gave a small, lopsided shrug. He then went into detail about how he came across the little flowers and how he went about testing them.
Vorden was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded slowly.
"…Thanks," he muttered.
Raten smirked and tossed the extra flower crown at his chest. "Don't thank me. Just wear your rebel crown and don't die. Let's go."
Without another word, the brothers moved swiftly forward into the shadows once more, each step resonating with the echo of their near death experience, a stark reminder of the battles yet to come.