Cebrice and Mofrim were still standing in the wet from the massive insect’s body when the Elder arrived. Mofrim had gotten something to strap to the wound until he got back and held it against his torso where the insect had struck him.

Elder Issik was of, politely put, venerable years, but he made it down here quickly considering his age. His body was large and his spine haunched downwards, though he didn’t use a stick. His keen and icy eyes gazed through them above a grey braided beard.

As the Elder wasn’t part of the pack, it was considered rude to connect telepathically with him - not to mention difficult. The Elder’s mind was almost impenetrable.

Neither Beltal nor Runiek came back with him. Mofrim turned first to greet him with a bow. Cebrice took a minute to even register his presence.

“So, is there here is anything you want to tell me?” Elder Issik asked, looking past them at the corpse of the massive insect. Its wide empty eyes stared through the group of them.

Mofrim took over for Cebrice, who felt like white noise.

“Cebrice. He killed that.” Mofrim pointed over to it, his arm soaring just over Cebrice’s head.

The Elder looked between the tower that was Mofrim, a pillar of force and a confident will, and back to the short, scrawny and frazzled boy that he spoke of. “Are you sure?”

Cebrice would have been insulted if he didn’t feel the same way. His tears were still drying on his cheeks. He needed to blow his nose.

“Yeah,” Mofrim confirmed.

“He doesn’t seem too happy about it,” Issik peered at the boy.

“…He was connected to it.” Mofrim hesitated to speak it, because it was not usually done.

Even Cebrice was shocked. There were of course pets in the underground, but their thoughts in passing were very simple and emotive. Trying to communicate was difficult, except to learn what the animal wanted. Without language, their minds were more abstract. Sometimes they wondered about the world around them but they couldn’t quite grasp the answers when they got them. Any suggestion or direction given was just as quickly overridden by a separate one of their own.

“You commanded a large beast?” Issik's face craned closer to Cebrice's. Cebrice was sure that he was rifling through his mind like a trouser pocket.

Cebrice managed to speak softly. “Well, something else did. Not me. Not exactly.”

“Ah yes. The Ancestors, of course, boy. They are how we accomplish any task, and we are grateful to them.”

“Will I do it again?” Cebrice asked. He felt fear and hope at once with the idea. There had been something so tragic about what had happened he wasn’t sure if he could face it again. But then, he wanted to be stronger, worthy. This was the first time he felt anything close to truly earning the Bheorse name.

“I can’t answer that, only you can. What I can say, boy, is that doing so now shows promise from you! I won’t lie and say I’m not surprised. I am, but happily," the old man said with a firm nod.

The verbal pride from his Elder seemed a pale imitation of the pride felt from the spirit that had been within him not long before. He gave his Elder a sad smile. Elder Issik didn’t seem disappointed by the response. Perhaps it was only natural.

Cebrice was exhausted mentally from what had happened, but worry for his friends came back in a flurry. Every passing minute was like he was gathering himself back together even more. “Mofrim’s hurt. Beltal and Rune. Are they alright?”

Elder Issik hummed as if deciding how to answer. “I can see that. And the other two are both fine… Well. Runiek has seen better days, but she will live. Stupid girl.”

Mofrim and Cebrice both felt insulted on her behalf. They wanted to go to her defense and argue the point, but the Elder was the better of them and so could say and do what he liked. Speaking out would be a challenge, and neither of them were willing to risk challenging an Elder. But that didn’t mean they liked it, and the Elder knew that.

He laughed at their unspoken reaction. “You’ll understand yourselves once you see her, she’s made a mess of herself.”

“We should go and see her.” Cebrice said, chest feeling tight.

“Of course. But before you go, what would you like to do with your prize, child?” Elder Issik asked. “It’s your first, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m not sure,” Cebrice said, finding it hard to reimagine the insect as some object he now owned.

The Elder decided for him. “I’ll arrange to have it taken it apart for you. I imagine you’ll want the meat for the pack sent to the mess hall. And the chitin can be made into armour or accessories, of course. Check in with the Dar Yi side of the market tomorrow and they’ll do with it what you like.” Once that subject was understood, he turned and sighed down to the tunnels. His voice got softer as he spoke again. “Nowadays, it is lucky that you find tunnel prey at all. The dream manifests can only satisfy so much. There is nothing like a true hunt… New tunnels are carved so rarely nowadays. These mines are some of the most reliable spots, but even they…”

He was distracted by his musings, and after a moment of silence the two standing there seemed forgotten, so Cebrice and Mofrim gave a short respectful bow and went to pass him. But he snapped to attention and grabbed Cebrice’s arm as he went, his grip all bone and sinew. Its strength surprised him. Issik's eyes met his with a sharpness that was frightening. “I want to speak with you some more.”

“Of course, Elder,” Cebrice said. His nervous energy was palpable even if the Elder hadn’t been reading his mind.

Elder Issik looked into Cebrice for a moment and then let go, his serious expression turning lighter. “It can wait until tomorrow though. You go and check on your pack. They need you, don’t they.”

The thought made Cebrice feel a little better and he nodded hopefully.

Elder Issik gave him a scooting wave to send him off. Cebrice left the insect’s body behind him.

Mofrim had already gone far ahead, so Cebby went back on his own in the dark. The shadow creatures were not there to watch him then.

It was getting very late by the time he got back to the dormitory. He could have collapsed to sleep, but he wanted to check to see how everyone was doing.

Runiek’s door was open. Mofrim was getting patched up by Beltal, who leaned over him with salves and ointments. She applied them liberally to the slice across his torso. Some parts had needed stitching but for the most part it wasn’t as bad as it could be.

Rune was laid out on her bed, her blonde hair a frazzled mess against the pillow. It was strange to see her look so peaceful, when usually she was so angry. She was dreaming of something, but dreams were too messy to follow for a conscious mind. The sleep would do her good to fight another day. The thought that Runiek would just work to exhaustion again tomorrow made some part of Cebrice sad for her, but he didn’t know why. She was dedicated, and he admired that.

Mofrim meanwhile was relaxed enough that he had lowered his walls between the conscious three of them, and unfortunately that meant they could feel aching as the ointment was applied. They sucked in through their teeth as the job was done, leading to a collective sigh of relief. Of course Mofrim waits until he can share pain to stop being so closed off, both Cebrice and Beltal noticed - to which Mofrim chuckled - and the stitches strained.

“Please Mof for the love of crown,” said Beltal groaned with a laugh.

They would all probably have to rest for healing before returning to training. They could get someone with healing magic from the ‘Kind’ Eazu family to deal with it. But their costs were usually too steep for the students, and so their services were reserved to the Bheorse who were working on the Family’s behalf.

Beltal glanced over at Cebrice differently, and couldn’t meet his eyes. She glanced then to Rune, resting so peacefully. She felt ashamed. She called to Cebrice, wanting to express this in her heart. “I’m sorry.”

Mofrim listened patiently to the exchange, without interruption. They must have already spoken before Cebrice entered.

“No use assigning blame,” Cebrice felt.

“She wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t called for help.”

“Yes but If you hadn’t called for help you would have died.”

“But how was it that you won?” It was an honest moment in Beltal's mind, unfiltered, her incredulous shock that he conquered where she failed. There was something sour in it, though whether that sourness was inward or directed to him, even she didn’t know.

“You heard how, Mof told you.”

“But I thought you didn’t connect easily with the Ancestors,” she slipped into verbal conversation easily.

“I usually don’t. That’s what’s strange. It was so strong.”

“I see… Like the current.”

“The what?”

“You’ve heard of the ocean outside.” She moved back into the mind and meditated on the ideas of the ocean as they both understood it. It was easier to express complex ideas that way. The home of all water. It was endlessly flowing, but toxic and undrinkable. It could swallow the underground. It was hundreds of undergrounds in size, impossible to fathom. The sacred grotto, a holy site where the Royals had given their lives, was said to lead to the ocean, but to reach you would have to swim down deeper than even enhanced human lungs could manage. No one has done that and come back because of the current that takes you. Some said that only powerful swimmers like the giant merfolk could visit from the other side - but he’d never heard of anyone ever seeing those either. It was a children’s tale. There was surely nothing to it. For all they really knew, the grotto was simply a pool.

“That’s a myth," he said aloud, finding it too ridiculous to believe.

“Even so. The idea is the same. It’s like the Ancestors. The ocean has a current, where water wants to take you where it is going to. There’s so much of it going that you cant resist. Nothing can fight the current. It sweeps you up.”

“Have you been swept up by them before, Bel? Have you had that happen to you too? It felt so much like that.” He felt like he had joined some club that he had always wanted to experience. It was different - more harrowing - than he had imagined.

“Oh, not exactly like yours. I mean, not to command animals. But to become stronger and to extend myself to my surroundings more, yes. We are with them even now of course, but the moments where they become strong in us, those are special. You get to know them, the ones that come to you most.”

"What about you Mof?"

Mofrim gave a smile and leaned back against the wall, "I'm fond of them. They help me control pain."

"I wish they'd done that a few minutes ago," Bel remarked.

Cebrice smiled, wondering what the one that was with him was called, and who they had been. Maybe it was the one who he had been reading earlier that day. He would have to look at her page again.

“I’m to talk to Elder Issik tomorrow. He wants to see me... But why were you even down there, Beltal?”

“I was just training, like we were meant to. I wanted to get some real experience.” She had thought she could take it on, and win. Maybe not that monster in particular, but something. Something smaller maybe. But it wasn’t as easy as she had thought.

Cebrice envied her for that. She had actually gone out and challenged something - but then that was Beltal. She was strong, and fierce. An ideal child of the Family. Ever since they were kids, Beltal had always known all the stories, could recite them by heart, and always did well in performance tests in their schooling. All the elders doted on her. Her boldness may not have worked out for her this time though.

"Definitely not," Mof added to Cebrice's reflection.

A part of Cebrice though did feel some anger towards Beltal for putting them in that situation, even if the feeling wasn't useful. If she hadn’t gone, then the beast wouldn’t have had to die, and none of them would have gotten hurt. She was foolhardy. But Cebrice was a coward. And he reminded himself that she had never intended for any of this to happen.

The strange thing about reading each others minds, as opposed to speaking, was they didn’t even have to shout any of these things out. Instead it was like a silent understanding between them, this tension, which could have no release. If they could scream at each other or slam a door, they’d maybe feel better.

“Just punch me.” She said, turning to him and offering her arm as a target.

“That wouldn’t prove anything.”

“Yeah but do it, I can take it. Don’t hold back.”

Cebrice saw it as the peace offering it was. “Alright,” he said uncertainly. He shifted his weight to the correct stance from training. A moment passed. What if she laughed at him?

“I probably will,” she said.

Then he started laughing, but straightened himself out, “Ok, fine.”

He threw a punch and she took it without flinching. It barely connected anyway. She just grinned at him. Her thoughts weren’t surprised but weren’t mean either.

“Can I punch you next?” Mofrim asked her. Cebrice laughed a little, despite himself.

“You’d just hurt yourself Mof!”

“Be worth it though.”

In the end he did get to give her a punch in the other arm, to which she complained it would be dead the next day. Then she punched him back, and he laughed.

It was strange. That night, Cebrice had really felt like he was part of something, and he was finding his place. His happiness was shadowed by the intensity of the experience he had felt earlier. The sadness had been overwhelming. They could sense it, but couldn’t fully understand. Not exactly. The idea of being unable to share an experience, something just being his, felt wrong somehow. The other two had had similar experiences themselves, they had said. And yet, the night was filled with such joy and laughter. They had made it out.

As he lay in bed later that night, he didn’t want the day to end. What would tomorrow bring, after all? Now people would expect something from him. That dread stayed with him even in sleep.