Our travels through the grotto remain uneventful for the next hour or so. Despite how sound carries in the cave, we hear no signs of the party behind us, nor do we hear anymore of those horrible giggles. Hopefully they all blew each other up. They probably didn’t. But it’s fun to imagine.

I’m tired. For the first time since this started, I’m hit with the profound urge to just not. I don’t want to. I simply don’t. I don’t want to win. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to hike through this goddamn cave anymore. I can barely put one foot in front of the other. The only reason I keep going is because choosing to stop, choosing to just give up and sit my ass down, requires the oh so exhausting concept of actually making of a decision.

I know what this is, this familiar feeling. It’s going through the motions like I’m a puppet with slackened strings. It’s the relentless crawl through a desert of unjustified boredom. It’s the pointless search for emotions that somehow just slipped off the list of my neural capabilities and down some proverbial drain like, oops, where’d they go, where are the emotions. Oh well. I just didn’t think another episode would hit me so soon.

That’s what always happens though, isn’t it? Some days I wake up with it. Some days it’s a bad day at work, getting fired, a reminder of Ethan, a glimpse of a funeral, a hopeless news article about the housing crisis. And some days, I just see a weirdly shaped cloud and think, huh, there’s just no end to the torture, is there.

Perhaps hitting something would help. If I can’t feel even a sliver of emotion, even pain, I might as well give it to something else. Yeah, that’s it. Perfect plan, Helen. I shall live vicariously through the monsters I kill.

And just like that, an opportunity presents itself! And you know what? Turns out no matter how depressed I am, I can still feel terribly, terribly grossed out.

Out of a fissure pops a pair of antennas, followed by beady black eyes, and a sharp, serrated jaw.

An insect. A giant fucking insect.

Dearg-a-Daol (Level 8)

Meet the Devil’s Coach Horse, a recent addition to Ireland’s folklore. This real life beetle features in a charming children’s story about sinful women turning into beetles and how to crush them with one’s boot. For your information, this insect is not typically two feet long, so squashing it with a boot in this instance may prove a challenge.

Struggling to yank out its huge segmented ass of the fissure, the beetle wiggles to the surface and clacks its pincers our way.

Oh god. Those spindly legs, that waggling glossy abdomen. And the stink! Why does it smell so bad? Shivering with disgust, I try not to retch.

“No, no, no,” whines Ron. “I do not like that, man. I do not like that.”

He stomps forward, levels his boot, and with a sickening crunch, splats its head flat.

Take that, system.

I give him a fist bump. The man deserves a fist bump for that.

But as with everything, the battle doesn’t end so easily. The cave echoes with the sound of skittering legs. Then, from the fissure spills a writhing black tide of insects, just one over-sized beetle after another.

Summoning a sword from my inventory, I hand it to Ron.

Item removed: (1) Common Sword

“Let’s get to work,” I sigh.

It’s a foul fight. I don’t know what the hell you call the shit that comes out of bugs when you flatten them, but it’s a lot of that. Just a rank stew of shattered chitin and offensively gooey, stank-ass bug juice.

None of us suffer any critical injuries, except the bites hurt like a bitch. If you can imagine pinching your shins in a vice made of bread knives, they feel a lot like that. But they heal quickly.

The nightmares though. Those are gonna last.

Before long, a winning string of messages appears.

1.

Enemies Defeated:

Dearg-a-Daol (Lv 8) [Shared with Luciana, Elias, Ron] x4

Dearg-a-Daol (Lv 8) x2

Exp: 120

Earned: 600g

2.

Task Complete! BUG HUNT

Reward: 50xp

3.

Level up! You are now Level 14.

Exp to next level: 23/140

Attribute points available: 6

4.

Skill Proficiency increased:

Melee Weapon Handling 9

You’re kidding me.

Out of curiosity, I bring up the experience I scored after that terrifying monster-child blew up that man.

Eighty, split between myself and the child. So 40.

It was 40.

Not like I want humans to be worth more because that creates a whole slew of issues, but a human life being worth one third of a half dozen insects seems pretty bleak too. I get it: the way the system works, lots of shitty enemies reward more XP than a hard one. Quantity over quality, the American way. Still feels bad though.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

With my brain on full “meh” mode, it’s hard to make a decision on the points. But having succumbed to that awful spell during the last fight, I’m pretty sure I know where to stash them anyhow. I can’t suffer another stamina drain. And god knows what else sorcery abilities can do.

So with that in mind, I throw 5 of my 6 points into wits and suggest everyone else do the same. The last I add to fortitude. Since Ron also leveled up twice since the party battle, he allocates half of his points to dexterity and the rest to wits. Luci and Elias follow my lead.

Still, given that the +5 points I got from the wits potion didn’t cut it, just one stat bump won’t be enough to protect us. My goal is to have a solid 15 in there. So either we’ll have to add our next batch to wits as well, or we’ll have to be lucky enough to find some gear. Allegedly, dungeons are supposed to be rich in treasure so… anytime now, dungeon. That would be great.

Shortly after our exhilarating arthropod adventure, we come to a wider part of the corridor with an archway cut into the wall. Across the archway hangs a giant petal. Ron, unbarred by things like “fear” and “caution”, casually saunters over to it. As he nears, there’s a kind of squishy slurping sound as the petal curls back, revealing an enclosed cavern.

“Whoa.” Excited, he beckons us with a wave and ducks inside.

Nothing immediately eats him. So that’s good.

When I follow him inside, my mouth drops open. “Whoa.”

An intense wave of vertigo hits me as I look up, and up, and up. It’s a circular cavern, not very wide, but god knows how tall. Tall enough that the ceiling simply vanishes into the darkness beyond. Lining the walls are countless ledges, like steps in an ancient amphitheater, each interwoven with green threads from which hang luminescent blue-violet flowers. They’re shaped like dangling bells, most of them open, but some of them with their petals tapered shut, constraining bulbous masses within. Monsters, no doubt.

In fact, I feel like it’s so obvious that the bluebells are concealing monsters that it doesn’t seem worth saying. But despite how we found ourselves in this room, I forgot there’s a Ron in our party. That is, until, he approaches the nearest bluebell.

“Ron, don’t touch the-”

He pokes it.

“-flower.”

“Oops,” he says, curling into his hunched shoulders.

The bluebell quivers. At first, I think that’s it. But then the mass inside begins to squirm, kicking and sloshing around like a baby about to burst from a womb. Disturbed, the bottom of the bluebell peels open and out splats a mess of white goo, followed by the thud of a fetus wrapped tightly in a thin membrane.

The membrane splits.

It’s not a fetus.

It’s a person. A child.

Senan - Boy (Level 1)

We all back up. Elias readies his axe.

“Wait, wait.” I look closer. “He’s not wearing an amulet. I think it’s just a kid.”

We hold our positions, watching in suspense.

Luci scans the room. “Afric,” she says quietly.

“What?”

“She has to be in here.”

Luci rushes to another bluebell.

“Hey, hold on-”

But Luci doesn’t wait. She grabs a bluebell with both hands, stroking the sides, an expression of worry etched across her face. As the flower spills open, she kneels, her bare knees right there in the weird flowery placenta. She caresses the child’s head until the membrane separates.

Afric - Girl (Level 2)

Her concern breaks into a meager smile. “Helen. Look. I found her.”

Quest Updated! INNOCENCE LOST

You have found Afric in the bowels of a fairy grotto beneath Lord Cathal’s hall. Keep her safe as she returns to Glasbaile.

Objectives:

- Enter Lord Cathal’s hall: Complete

- Locate Afric: Complete

- Return Afric to safety: In Progress

The poster didn’t really do her justice. Her eyes closed, her small body tucked sweetly in Luci’s arms, golden ringlets gently falling across her face, the little girl looks like a cherub.

I’ve never considered myself maternal. I wanted to get to a place where I felt like I could have kids. With Ethan, I imagined that one day it would be possible. Without him, the possibility shattered. But now? I don’t know. Maybe just a few days protecting Luci has had more of an effect on me than I realized. When I look at that little face illuminated by the harsh glow of otherworldly plants, trapped in the depths of a dangerous cavern, it’s like a thorn piercing my unfeeling heart, warming the wound like an infection.

And the way Luci is holding her… I’m failing her. She’s breaking. Yet, despite that, I’m strangely okay with trying again and again and again. I’m a dead puppet in a dead desert with a dead heart, and not a single one of those things will stop me from trying to protect her. The only problem is…

I don’t know how.

Ugh. What I need is some fucking sleep. Caring. Not caring. It's all too damned tiring.

“Uh, kid numero uno’s wakin’ up, man.”

Moving to the child, I crouch beside him. Whatever maternal instincts I’m discovering are not enough to get me to kneel in that goo.

The boy looks somewhere between Luci and Afric’s age. In the blue light, his curly mop is looking a little purple, which I think means he’s a red-head. He’s also pale as a ghost with endless freckles, so yeah, my bet’s on red.

“No,” he croaks. Then, eyes wide, he clings to my arms. “No, no, no, I don’t want to. Don’t make me!”

“Hey kid, chill. I’m not one of them. I’m not a fairy.”

The boy swallows as his gaze darts from me, to Ron, to Elias. “How? All the adults who come down here die. All of them.”

“We’re just stronger I guess.”

“You have to help us. I don’t know how many-” His attention lingers on the open flowers. “Oh. They’re gone. Have you seen them? The others?”

“Others?”

“The other children who came before me. I've seen them, I have. The first bit of time in the flowers, we’re awake. The flowers drop them, like, and the fairies force them to wear this yoke there ‘round their necks. They tell them to survive, they have to fight. And when they come ‘round again, if they’re not dead already, they’re… different.”

“Then, yeah,” I say. “We’ve seen them.”

“Did you…” He pauses.

“No. We ran.”

The boy nods as he rubs his eyes. When he lifts his head again, he gasps. “Afric!”

Before I can reply, he bursts to his feet and races over to Luci. “Is she okay?”

“I think so,” Luci answers. She’s petting the girl’s head, those golden ringlets curled between her fingers.

“Good. We were all together. Me and them. Last ones they brought down here ‘fore the problems with Lord Cathal.” He looks about. “What about Éogan?”

“He’s not here,” Elias coldly states. He’s so good with children.

The boy wrinkles his nose. “What? But this was his.”

He runs to another bulging bluebell and slaps the side. Again, the mass wriggles, then spurts out the bottom. In a puddle of goop lies an older boy, his muscled arms wrapped around his knees and curly locks only half covering a pair of deep-set eyes.

Éogan - Boy (Level 5)

For a moment, I just stare.

“Okay, what the fuck.”