Fallen One (Book three of Alfireán age)

- Deep Underground-

"No, its steel-cut oats," Olivia corrected, opening her bowl. Reforming the earthen lid into a spoon, she took a bite, her attention still fixated on the scrying as she floated alongside Alf.

"I agree with Alf," Zaphaniea muttered. "It's tasteless goop."

Alf nodded and placed his container back inside the medallion. Instead, he picked up a chunk of meat leftover from last night's meal. Munching on the remains of the ostrich-like bird, he walked through the middle door and into the cellar where Drake stood at the edge of the tunnel, tapping his foot impatiently.

Stepping past the empty, dusty shelves, the prince reached out and took his breakfast from Pony. "It shouldn't be any more than a few minutes run," the prince informed them. "Though once we are underneath the base, we will need to be extra careful. Vackzilian shouldn't know of its location, but we cannot afford to be reckless."

"Got it," Alf answered between mouthfuls, and taking a quick glance around to make sure everyone was following him via traverse wake, he started off down the earthen tunnel at a slow jog.

The smell of freshly turned soil greeted him as he made his way into the bowels of the earth, and a comforting silence embraced them. This is definitely better than having monkeys scream at us and birds dive-bombing us, Alf thought while he jogged through the tunnel softly lit by Olivia's scrying and chewed on his meaty breakfast.

As the smooth brown walls stretched out for what seemed like forever, Olivia suddenly said, "Ah, I see what you did wrong." She expanded the magical screen and pointed at it. "You have the order of this section and this line reversed here, so instead of attaching the spell to the surface of the shield, you were injecting it inside."

"Oh, Alfy accidentally made a new spell," Pony declared, clapping her hands together and grinning from ear to ear. Ever since they'd successfully healed the champion, Pony had been in an excellent mood, even more so than usual. Not that Alf could blame her; a part of him still sighed in relief every time he saw Zaphanieah up and on her feet instead of constantly lounging on her spheres. God is so good, he thought to himself.

At hearing Pony's words, Drake raised his hands in front of him and formed a spell to light up the long passageway. "It's an add-on, but you are correct," the prince said, studying the lines of script. "He did accidentally make a new one. A volatile, sloppy, and potentially very destructive shield mod, but a new one nonetheless," he said lowering his hands and once again attending to his own breakfast.

Alf eyed the bemused expression on Drake's face as he continued to munch on his piece of meat. He wasn't sure if the prince was scolding him or praising him, but he had a niggling suspicion it was the former.

Using her sphere as a utensil, Zaphaniea took a bite of the grey mush and said, "What I want to know is why the old man had the weird spellbook, to begin with."

"Because it's part of his job," Drake answered matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, but what exactly does he do?" the grand champion insisted. "He's always sneaking off to every corner of the globe and never telling anyone where he's going."

"That means he's good at what he does. In his line of work, secrecy is paramount," the prince answered and took another bite of his oats.

"Yeah, but what is..." Zaphaniea started to say and trailed off. "Oh! he's a dark mage hunter. No wonder he's so mysterious."

Drake's face soured and the spoon he had formed with ice magic tumbled from his fingers. With a tiny plop, a large helping of the gelatinous goop, along with his utensil, fell to the floor and disappeared into the darkness behind them. "Did you just read my mind?" the prince demanded angrily as he turned on the grand champion.