They trudged through the ominous darkness, an overwhelming stench clinging to the damp air, as the distant sound of dripping water echoed throughout the narrow passage. Althea guided them with her faintly glowing lantern, it's flickering light casting eerie shadows on the moss-covered stone walls.
The chilling dampness seeped through their clothes, while their footsteps splashed in shallow puddles, their path lined with roots and fungi that seemed to crawl across the walls like ghostly tendrils. The air was thick with the musty scent of decay, as though a thousand secrets had been buried and forgotten in this forsaken place.
Rats scurried away from the intruding light, and a faint, otherworldly whisper seemed to emanate from the shadows, sending a shiver down their spines. It was as if they had stepped into a realm far removed from the world above—a place where the living dared not venture, and yet, they pressed onward, the weight of their mission urging them forward through the oppressive gloom.
"Pray, proceed with the switch, for I can no longer endure the exhaustion emanating from your malnourished and sleep-deprived body," Galen articulated to Thorne within their shared mind.
"And, for the love of all that's sacred, this odor is insufferable! You intimated the possibility of switching earlier, so kindly execute it forthwith!" Galen continued to importune Thorne.
"Last time we tried switching, something went wrong. The process was slow and it hurt like hell. I think we need to rest before we try again, or something bad might happen," Thorne replied, dismissing Galen's insistence.
"By the demigods, are we almost there, Althea?" Galen inquired, his patience stretched to its limit. "We've been down here for hours!"
Annoyed, Althea stopped her conversation with Varence and turned around. "We'll be there in just a few minutes. Once we arrive, I'll heal you and make sure you have everything you need for the upcoming battle, as I've already explained… Thorne," she said, emphasizing the name with a hint of irritation.
Galen smirked mischievously. "Ah, indeed, I had momentarily forgotten that I am masquerading as your person. It seems an opportune moment to infuse our circumstances with a touch of intrigue."
"Please, don't do anything weird. If you try anything, I'll start the switch even if it might kill us both," Thorne warned.
"Go ahead, seal our fate," Galen taunted Thorne as he quickened his pace to catch up with Althea and Varence. Upon reaching them, he proceeded to grasp their hands firmly.
Althea and Varence stood before a massive wooden door, having finally reached their destination. "What in blazes are you doing?" Althea demanded, her eyes narrowing at Galen with menace.
Galen adopted a monk-like tone, "I wish to offer a prayer and–" Althea swiftly reclaimed her hand, cutting him off. "I haven't the time for your antics. Enter, Mr. Wannabe Demigod, or whoever the hell is currently occupying that head of yours!"
Galen promptly released Varence's hand, only then realizing they had arrived. "Get the hell away from me," he snarled at Varence, shoving him aside and barging through the door first.
"Ouch! Thorne, wait! Althea warned us she should enter first to introduce us," Varence said, puzzled by Galen's behavior.
"They won't kill him, but they'll likely inflict considerable pain," Althea remarked, disappointment creeping into her voice as she realized she had placed her trust in someone utterly unreliable.
After navigating a few twists and turns, Galen burst into a large chamber teeming with supplies. Doors led to adjacent rooms, and papers lay haphazardly strewn about. At the heart of the room stood a planning table, a map spread across its surface, and pins indicating some manner of strategy.
"I demand sustenance and a place to rest!" Galen bellowed, prompting several individuals to emerge from the rooms, weapons in hand. They charged at Galen without hesitation, but he nimbly sidestepped their onslaught. "We have an intruder! Activate the anti-magic barrier!" one of the assailants shouted, ferociously attempting to behead Galen.
"Is this truly the best you can muster? I haven't even employed magic, and yet you falter. Why did Althea guide us to such weaklings?" Galen taunted in a tone dripping with boredom as he evaded strike after strike.
"Did you just say Althea?" one of the attackers asked, halting their assault. At that moment, Althea and Varence finally entered the room themselves.
The men all dropped to one knee in a show of deference. "Princess, we believed you had fallen during the castle siege. It's a relief to see you unscathed," their leader remarked.
"Rise, my loyal comrades. Thank you, Garrick. Your decision to retreat here during the battle was wise. My father is at his most vulnerable now, and we must strike by tomorrow if we are to end his tyrannical rule," Althea declared.
The men shifted nervously, clearly anxious as they awaited further instruction. Garrick eventually broke the silence, "Understood, Princess. But I must ask, who exactly are these companions accompanying you? Even with my army's full force attacking tomorrow, we'd likely face crushing defeat. Yet, you seem to possess a plan, a glimmer of hope in these dire circumstances," he added, his tone cautiously optimistic.
Althea gestured to her companions, introducing them. "This is Varence, once my pupil, who fought bravely in the battle. And that individual over there is Thorne…" her voice trailed off as the men observed Galen rummaging through their food supplies, greedily stuffing his face with chunks of crusty bread, wheels of pungent cheese, and slabs of cured meat.
Galen's hands moved deftly from one food item to another, tearing open bags of dried fruit and cracking open jars of pickled vegetables. The sight of him voraciously devouring their carefully rationed supplies was both impressive and disconcerting.
"Enough of this charade. Call me Galen," he grumbled, his mouth full of bread and cheese.
"I apologize for the confusion," Althea said, attempting to conceal Thorne and Galen's shared consciousness. "Galen here single-handedly eliminated numerous royal mages, thousands of soldiers, dozens of guards, and the majority of the slave traders before facing Zarex."
"Zarex? I remember him as a middling wind mage. Was he truly so formidable?" Garrick inquired, perplexed.
"No, allow me to explain while Galen and Varence recuperate," Althea told Garrick, making her way over to Galen. "When you've finished feasting, take a rest in that room over there," she instructed, pointing to a nondescript chamber. "We'll regroup in a few hours, so use this time to recover as much mana as possible."
"I'd recover more swiftly if you'd heal me completely," Galen retorted, fixing Althea with a commanding gaze.
"Heavens above! I nearly forgot. Please, sit in this chair, and I'll tend to your wounds," Althea said, motioning to a wooden chair near the command table.
Galen took his seat, and Althea closed her eyes, focusing intently. Thousands of minuscule, luminescent motes flowed from her fingertips, forming a shimmering cascade of healing energy that enveloped Galen's body in a dazzling display of magical prowess.
As the glowing particles made contact with his skin, Galen could feel a warmth seeping into his very core, melting away the lingering pain and fatigue. The soothing sensation spread through his muscles, mending torn fibers and dissolving knots of tension. His joints, previously aching and stiff, loosened as the restorative magic worked its way through his body, lubricating and repairing each hinge and pivot.
"Remarkable," Galen murmured, his voice tinged with awe. "It's like being bathed in the most serene and comforting warmth. The pain is simply... evaporating."
In response to the healing energy, Galen's skin began to knit together, closing gashes and smoothing over bruises. The motes of light continued their dance around him, suffusing his body with vitality and strength. As the magic suffused his body, his internal organs hummed with renewed vigor, and his heartbeat steadied, strong and sure.
Althea maintained her focus, guiding the radiant motes to the most grievous of Galen's injuries. Bones that had been fractured or cracked realigned and mended, the sound of their fusion barely audible over the gentle hum of the healing energy.
As the final vestiges of pain vanished, Galen exhaled deeply, feeling as if he had emerged anew from the ashes of his previous self. "That's a remarkable improvement. My gratitude, Princess," he said, punctuating his statement with a contented yawn. He added, with a mischievous grin, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say your healing hands have some sort of bewitching charm to them."
Althea opened her eyes, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "I'm glad my healing could provide such relief. Now, rest and recover your mana. We have a long road ahead, and we'll need your strength."
Varence shot Galen a glare, itching to say something. However, before he could find the words, Galen rose from the chair and strode toward the room designated for his rest, prompting a frustrated sigh from Varence.
"After we've rested, let's switch consciousness. It seems the princess has healed the damaged area affecting our switching. But let's hold off on any, ahem, intimate encounters with the princess until after we've dealt with the king," Thorne advised Galen.
"Oh, absolutely," Galen replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "I was planning on seducing her right here in front of her loyal followers and especially Varence. How very perceptive of you."
Galen disappeared into the room, leaving Thorne to contemplate their situation. Meanwhile, Varence approached Althea, concern etched on his face.
"Althea, can you truly trust Thalen?" Varence whispered urgently in her ear. "Their behavior has been erratic and unpredictable, and let's not forget that I'm only here because they kidnapped me."
"Who is Thalen?" Althea inquired, a puzzled expression crossing her face.
"Well, you see," Varence explained with a grin, "It's a little linguistic invention of mine. Combining Thorne and Galen into a single name, so we don't have to utter both of their names every time we mention them. Saves us some breath and time, don't you think?"
Althea offered a reassuring smile, placing a gentle hand on Varence's shoulder. "I understand your concerns, but we need all the help we can get. Thalen's skills are undeniable, and if they remain on our side, we have a better chance of defeating the king. Besides, if they weren't trustworthy, they could have killed you long ago. They had plenty of opportunities and even saved your life multiple times."
"Only because they put me in those situations in the first place!" Varence erupted, drawing awkward glances from the group of men nearby.
"Carry on, men! Garrick!" Althea commanded.
"Understood, Princess," Garrick replied, motioning for the men to move to another room.
"Listen, Varence," Althea said, her tone firm. "I just expended a significant portion of my mana to heal that man. Killing my father is impossible without his help. I understand you have no personal stake in this, so you're free to leave at any time. We either succeed or die tomorrow, so it won't matter if you decide to betray us and reveal this hideout's location," she added, her voice tinged with bitterness.
"Never would I stoop to such depths," Varence declared, his eyes burning with conviction. "My purpose is to help. The kingdom's corruption blindsided me, ensnaring me in its twisted web. But since I'm already entrenched, I'll navigate this dark labyrinth to its bitter end."
As he spoke, Althea brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, her touch feather-light. "Do you need anything else before resting?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Feeling the heat of her closeness, Varence couldn't resist the magnetic pull between them. He leaned in, their lips tantalizingly close. "Perhaps one thing," he murmured, his breath warm on her lips.
But just as their lips were about to meet, Althea gently pushed him away, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Not yet, Varence. There's a time and place for everything, and right now, we need to rest and prepare."
A look of shock and disappointment crossed Varence's face. "Did I do something wrong?"
Annoyance laced Althea's voice as she snapped, "Varence, just go get some rest. We're not going to discuss this any further." With a huff, she turned on her heel and followed Garrick and his men into the room they had retreated to earlier.
Varence exhaled a frustrated sigh and muttered under his breath, "Damn you, Thalen." He grabbed some food to take with him, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions as he prepared to rest before the looming battle.