-Celio-

They stopped to rest when the monsters quit coming.

Soaked through, Celio slumped on the ground by one of the bizarre fountains. His cuts stung bitterly.

Today had been no good.

No good when he woke up at dawn to find that little Lucy had decided to try baking last night and made a floury, eggy mess of both the kitchen and herself.

No good when Clementine pushed Magnus off his chair at lunch time, rolling him right into Celio’s easel. Both children were fine, and had apologized profusely, but nothing could save the mostly-finished painting he’d been hoping to bolster their funds with.

And most certainly no good when the High Priestess told him to accompany Ira to their new dungeon. Much as he liked Ira, and was glad for the Scoop, he had never enjoyed fighting the way she did. Worse still, it was wet and dark, and he was in such a bad mood he couldn’t even appreciate the artwork...

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Sighing, he rubbed his various injuries.

“Celio!” Ira came back to him from… wherever. He really was an awful delving partner. “I found a lootbox!”

“Huh.” He stood, met with Ira’s cheerful face. “What’s in it.”

She grabbed him by the elbow, “Not sure yet!” And dragged him over to a chest not much farther down the corridor.

It was made of gleaming, white marble—meant to be noticed, no doubt, in the dank tunnels. There was no lock, only a handle in the shape of a grape vine. Celio could appreciate the craftsmanship; paper-thin grape leaves of gold foil hung down from creeping brass stems, while purple gem-grapes peered from the foliage here and there. There were individual veins carved into each leaf, and rough bark textured the thicker vines as they curled down to grasp the base of the simple box.

Ira nudged him.

“What?”

“Open it.”

Snorting, Celio grasped the looping handle and easily revealed the loot.

Which was a bird.

A bird so big it barely fit in the box, with a bald face and tiny, useless looking wings.

“Uh… that’s a bird.” Ira said.

Celio sat back on his heels. “I know.”

It cooed gently. Looked up at him with big, brown eyes

“Maybe it’s a trick?” Ira sighed, looking around as if this bizzarity of a dungeon would offer an explanation.

The bird shifted on its massive, adorably awkward feet. Cooed again in a strange, two-note way.

Around them, water dripped and drizzled soothingly.

Ira scratched her neck. “Right. Guess we’ll just leave it, then?”

Celio stared at the bird. The bird stared back.

“I’m keeping it.”