Abbernathy and Magick's End

(8) - Buried Deep -

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THE TRUCE had come as a surprise. Even though Axion had been the one to suggest it, the mere idea such words could form on his tongue, let alone be spoken out loud, and with sincerity no less, confused him. But he had offered to take Abby to the Dusk Stag, in exchange for her trust.

It certainly wasn't the kind of deal he was used to giving, as it benefited him in no real way, but Abby had defended him in Darkmoore, had believed in him, had looked at him as though she could read the truth written amongst his stars, as his mother had. And he wanted her to continue believing in him, even if it got him nothing in return.

Perhaps he was not so hollow, as he assumed.

Abby agreed but was slow to trust him. He offered his hand, and she rebuked it, seeking to navigate the treacherous caverns beneath the Dying City on her own. Admirable, if not idiotic and potentially fatal. She'd give him looks, each more scathing than the last, her eyes lingering on his fingers as though they each were a root hungry for an offering of flesh.

And so they began their journey, feet apart, glowers all the pair exchanged. Axion headed up their expedition seeing the dark caverns and their many pitfalls with ease. Abby walked behind him, mindful of where she stepped, carefully feeling for deep splits in the stone, sprawling roots, and sharp neetles.

She avoided him, until she couldn't. Until the cavern constricted around them, and they were forced to stand shoulder to shoulder. Once, the narrowed path had been considered an asset, the underground tunnels leading to and from the castle a royal secret. The size and location deterred any curious young Shadlings wishing to uncover the castle's secrets or ambitious, greed-led thieves seeking discreet passage to the castle vault.

Axion, when he was still wide-eyed and fresh, and his skin dazzled with the emotion of his stars, had explored these caverns when he was without his tutors, their dull lectures on Shadling policy no longer stinging his ears. He'd crawled through the tunnels on hands and knees, cold, and unsure, and choking on the mold in the air. 

One day, he made it to the heart of the tunnels and discovered what secrets truly awaited him beneath the castle. But it wasn't the treasure that had spurred on his disobedience, but a pair of eyes, sharp and endless black, housing a thousand realms. A head adorned with long horns as sharp as spear heads, off which hung galaxies. It's nostrils leaked fire and light, all things that birthed life. And when the great beast caught Axion staring, it peeled back a mouth as dark as Axion's father's throne, and the chains wreathed around the animal's neck, and over its belly, and down it legs, pooling on the floor beneath, gave a horrendous screech. 

Axion had run. Axion had pledged never to return. And yet--

"Axion--"

With the stone amplifying her voice, a string of his name rose up, piercing his ears like a song. He didn't much like it, and he had heard many a drunk song belted at taverns all over the Eridan. But despite the detest he felt for the song, Axion responded, angling his chin to met her gaze. Immediately, Abby shifted away from him, not that the space afforded her much room. Their shoulders still touched much as she might have hated it. 

Axion waited. Abby took interest in the conical stones dangling from the ceiling. They were slick from magick-infused water, and glowed a soft blue. Finally, as she ran her fingers down one, marveling in the way the blue clung to her skin, she asked, "Why did you take me along?"

A gust of wind crept below Axion's sleeve and raised it, exposing the skin on his forearm. There, a trio of stars flashed white, his body imploring him to be honest. Instead, he tugged his sleeve down, tilted his head, and smirked. His attitude flippant, arrogant, dismissive. The air around them chilled. "I don't know."