What followed was a wagonload of pain and quite a bit of yelling, but in the end Teva’ryn had to admit that Pell knew his way around dislocated shoulders—even the Sylven kind. He slumped back to the wall when they were done, watching the now yellow-orange shoulders on his collar’s projection. He couldn’t rest for long however, because his eyes landed on Devi’lynn. She was looking at her contraption’s display too, sitting next to Randel who groaned on the ground miserably.

“What are you doing, Lady Devi’lynn?” Teva’ryn asked as he moved closer, wincing when he jostled his still-tender shoulders.

“Reading what my collar says,” Devi’lynn said. “The reward for running away was experience points, according to this description. That’s why I received a level, I think.”

“I received one too,” Teva’ryn said, then glanced down at Randel. “What has happened to him?”

“He said he’s going to die.”

“Die?” Teva’ryn asked, perplexed. The Human didn’t look injured at all. “Die from what?”

“I believe he is exaggerating,” Devi’lynn said. “He is just exhausted.”

“Strange. Why does he want to look weaker than he actually is?”

“Humans are strange,” Devi’lynn replied, smiling for some reason.

Teva’ryn sighed, sitting down on Devi’lynn’s other side. He took his flask out of his backpack, then raised it to his lips carefully. The motion sent a jolt of pain up to his shoulder, but he took a sip of water nevertheless. Devi’lynn didn’t offer to help him drink, and he wondered whether he should ask. Their relationship was ambiguous-vague in certain aspects. As a woman, Devi’lynn would have been required to do his bidding—were she not the First Daughter of Gramoro’lynn, head of House Lynn. A simple guardsman like Teva’ryn couldn’t give orders to noblewomen, particularly not to a noble belonging to Ylvasil’s foremost House. Exceptions existed, however. In emergencies where a woman’s life was at risk, even the lowliest soldier would have authority over her to ensure her safety. And what was being transported to another world, if not the highest-rated emergency?

A sudden noise made Teva’ryn snap his head up. One of the monstrosities was lurking outside still, digging at the ground with its segmented limbs and clawing away the dirt little by little. The stone proved to be too tough for the creature however, and it gave up soon enough.

“We’ll have to explore the rest of the cave,” Teva’ryn murmured as he watched the creature settle down in front of the entrance. He turned, squinting at the darkness on the other end. It made him more uneasy than he dared to admit; they had no torches, no natural light, just the pale glow of their magical contraptions. Only the knowledge that they weren’t on Ylvasil kept him calm. This world might not have any of the horrors of his home-world.

If Devi’lynn was afraid of the dark, she showed none of it. She was talking with Randel in hushed tones, gesturing at the projection of her collar. Teva’ryn leaned closer to see what her contraption showed; two small boxes displayed side by side with some written text inside of them.

> Injury Transfer

> Transfer wounds and injuries from one person to another. Direct skin contact required. Efficiency increases by level.

>

> Instant Portals

> Open two tears in space in front of you, connected together. Diameter increases by level.

“Lady Devi’lynn, may I ask what this is?”

The woman froze at his question, cutting off her explanation to Randel.

“It’s not only a level that I’ve received,” she said with some reluctance. “My Legend became two, which means I get to choose a new Ability.”

Teva’ryn’s jaw dropped upon hearing her words. She? The woman had already obtained her third Feat? How—ah, but of course. It must have been the beast Randel killed that earned her a Feat. Devi’lynn’s simulacrums had been blocking the projectiles, which perhaps counted as a heroic deed. Teva’ryn hadn’t done much during that fight, so he was one Feat behind her. Which meant—

He glanced at the Humans. None of them were looking at their contraption right now; they talked among themselves, eating and drinking from the limited amount of supplies they had in their bags. If they had received any new magics, they were hiding their excitement very well.

“What about him?” Teva’ryn asked, nodding at Randel. The man was lying on his back, peeking up at Teva’ryn with half-closed eyelids. “He must have earned a Legend too.”

“He did,” Devi’lynn said. “He told me that he doesn’t want to choose a new Ability.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure,” Devi’lynn said, shrugging in a very unladylike manner. “He said something about painful choices. Maybe he wants to take a rest first?”

If Randel was afraid of the strange magics of this world, Teva’ryn could sympathize. Sometimes he wasn’t sure how far he trusted his collar either. It gave them power, that was true. Without the so-called Abilities, they all would have perished already. But even so, Teva’ryn couldn’t help but think that relying on their new magics might be like making a pact with the Wicked. As tempting as the promise of power was, it would not come without consequences. Because for all the boons their collar had given them, it was still a collar. A symbol of slaves and the oppressed.

And yet, and yet—Teva’ryn’s arms ached. He needed them in order to fight, needed them in order to protect Devi’lynn. The solution was, quite ironically, within an arm’s reach.

“Be as it may, I’m glad you received a new Ability,” Teva’ryn told Devi’lynn. “You ought to be able to heal me with that Injury Transfer.”

“Perhaps,” Devi’lynn said stiffly. “I was in the middle of discussing with Randel which Ability to pick.”

“Discussing? The choice is obvious,” Teva’ryn said. “It is Injury Transfer we need; you could distribute my injuries among the less competent members of the group, bringing me back to fighting shape.”

“No.”

“What?” Teva’ryn asked, taken aback. “Lady Devi’lynn, I know it sounds cruel, but right now we need—”

“No, Randel is right,” Devi’lynn said, defiant-resolute. “This choice isn’t about what we need right now; it is about what I want to become.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“You listen to that pale-skinned man too much,” Teva’ryn said, fighting to keep his rising irritation off his face. He saw now that pretending to be unaware of Devi’lynn’s little frivolity last night was a mistake. Tacitly ignoring that she had carried his sword during their escape was another one. Teva’ryn had hoped that her childish fascination for swords would lessen if he gave her this much, but it had only encouraged her to stray even further from the way of their people. Still, these things could be easily rectified by paying more attention to her. The worst mistake lay not in allowing her access to real weapons, but in letting her keep Randel’s company. Human culture to Devi’lynn’s rebelliousness was like fuel to fire.

Teva’ryn watched as Devi’lynn clenched her hands into fists, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Randel is—”

“—a terrible influence on you, Lady Devi’lynn,” Teva’ryn cut her off, his raised voice echoing in the cavern. “For Creator’s sake, what would it take for you to remember your place? We all have our duties in life, and you can’t perform yours if you get yourself hurt.”

Devi’lynn jolted as if she was slapped, and for a fleeting moment Teva’ryn thought he had finally got his point across. But when she looked up, her deep-amber eyes were narrowed with hatred as she met Teva’ryn’s gaze. The flagrant-insolent woman huffed, and slammed her hand through the projected text of Instant Portals.

“What are you doing?!” Teva’ryn cried out, watching impotently as the panels of light disappeared. “What— Why— Haven’t you been listening to me, woman?! You’ve just doomed us all!”

“You’re the one not listening to me,” Devi’lynn said, rising to her feet to look down on him. “How many times have I told you that I don’t need your protection?”

“I’m the only one with sufficient training,” Teva’ryn said, getting to his feet as well. “None of the Humans have any idea how to hold a sword properly—even you should be able to see that much, woman!”

“If you are such an expert, why did you get injured?”

“Oh, so that’s how you thank me, after I saved your—”

“You saved nothing,” Devi’lynn sneered. “The monster was charging at my simulacrum, not me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Teva’ryn retorted. “I saw you create copies of—”

“You saw my simulacrum create more simulacrums,” Devi’lynn said. “By then, I was already far from the monster. Face it, Teva’ryn; if you trusted me to protect myself, you would still be able to use your arms.”

“And if you trusted your fellow Sylven more than that pathetic excuse of a man, we wouldn’t even have this conversation!”

“Then I won’t be your fellow Sylven any longer,” Devi’lynn said, her voice firm. “I, Devi’lynn of House Lynn, First Daughter of Gramoro’lynn, exile myself from my House and kin. Let it be known that my name henceforth is Devi, of no House.”

Teva’ryn blinked, his anger faltering. Self-inflected exile was extremely rare, even more so than suicide. What was Devi’lynn thinking? Her entire motion was senseless, of course; women never went into exile. They were too precious for that.

“Don’t be daft, Lady Devi’lynn. You can’t exile yourself.”

“I can and I did. As the highest ranking noble around here, I had this right. My name is Devi now, Teva’ryn.”

“So you decided to join the Humans,” Teva’ryn said, clenching his jaw. He glanced down at Randel, who was lying on his side and watching them with amusement. “I’m sorry Lady Devi’lynn, but I cannot allow that to happen.”

“Then stop me,” Devi’lynn said hotly, then jumped backward, hopping over Randel. Teva’ryn tensed as she crouched down, picking up Randel’s cursed dagger, which she raised—revealing a blade that was shaped like a strange-petaled flower, all curves and no edges.

“Randel!” Devi’lynn yelled, giving a swing to the weapon as if to straighten the blade out.

“Oh, sorry,” Randel apologized. The dark blade moved in the pale light of their collars, shapes distorting as the weapon reformed itself.

“Now,” Devi’lynn said, raising the weapon once again. “Teva’ryn, I challenge you to—Randel!”

Devi’lynn shook the black item that looked like an overly-large spoon.

“What?” Randel asked. “Me speak no good Sylven. Me think you want to make dinner?”

“Lies!” Devi’lynn exclaimed. “You know full well what happened! Give me a sword!”

Seeing that Randel still feigned ignorance, Devi’lynn crouched down and began to beat him with the spoon.

“Ouch! Hey!”

Teva’ryn watched the entire scene unfold before him, standing utterly still.

“Gwah! Mercy!” Randel cried as Devi’lynn hit his head. He shifted the spoon to his hand, but Devi’lynn just continued to shower him with light punches.

Ridiculous. That was all Teva’ryn could think about, his earlier anger forgotten. This entire situation was ridiculous. Just what exactly had he been fighting for? How had he come this close to hurting a woman, when his intention had been to protect her? Teva’ryn watched as Devi’lynn, with a smile on her face, started a tugging-match over the spoon in Randel’s hand. The Human man had diffused the entire argument just like that—effortlessly. Teva’ryn had nothing else left to say. He wasn’t above admitting defeat. Stepping around the bickering pair, he headed deeper into the dark cave.

“Teva’ryn!” Devi’lynn called out.

“Do whatever you want, woman,” he spoke over his shoulder, without stopping. He needed some space to think, needed some time to be alone. Fortunately the cave extended deeper still; it almost looked like a man-made tunnel.

Teva’ryn didn’t believe in Fate, but if he had, he imagined it would be laughing at him right now. Back on Ylvasil, his chances of finding himself a woman had been close to none. It was simply improbable as a mere guardsman, and stepping upwards in the ranks would have taken him a lifetime.

Yet one day he was thrown onto another world, a place unlike any of the worlds Ylvasil’s portals opened to. He didn’t arrive alone either; he found himself in the company of a Sylven woman. What were the odds? One in ten that his Sylven companion would be a woman. One to several millions that he would be brought here instead of someone else. Quite the coincidence, truly.

And so, in spite of the dangerous situation they had found themselves in, Teva’ryn had felt hope for the first time in many years.

That hope quickly diminished the more Teva’ryn learned about Devi’lynn. For all his luck up until that point, he managed to get paired up with the most infuriating woman on the entire world. He had heard about the eccentric First Daughter of House Lynn before, of course; the fact that she was still unmarried and well within her breeding age birthed many gossips across Ylvasil. Yet the tales didn’t do her justice. She was disobedient, rebellious, insolent, and with barely any regard of Sylven customs and traditions. She didn’t have any redeeming qualities at all; even her looks were completely disappointing with the distinct lack of soft, pliable flesh on her bones. How would she be able to bear children with such a slender body? Teva’ryn had always tried not to judge a book by its thickness, but in this particular case even the contents of the volume were unappealing.

Had he really been considering taking Devi’lynn as his wife? He was already fed up with the woman; living the rest of his life with her would be pure torture! The only upside of marrying her was her wealth and status, and the promise that one of their sons would be the future head of House Lynn. None of that mattered now, not unless they found their way back home. Even then it wouldn’t have been a tempting offer, since money and fame weren’t what motivated Teva’ryn.

No, the more he thought about it, the less sensible he found the idea of courting Devi’lynn. Even if his chances of finding a wife were disturbingly small, it simply wasn’t worth it. Not even he was that desperate.

Sighing tiredly, Teva’ryn tucked his hair carefully behind his horns. He would need to get a haircut soon. Not only did the length of his hair began to bother him, but it was also against the regulations. Long hair was a liability in combat—and of course he would fight, sore arms or not. He would help the group if it was within his power. He wouldn’t put Devi’lynn above himself, not anymore, but that didn’t mean he would abandon her. If she wanted to behave foolish-bold, she was free to do so.

With no small amount of relief, Teva’ryn decided that Devi’lynn—no, Devi wasn’t his problem anymore.

He jolted as the illumination around him suddenly became brighter. He had wandered quite far from the group while thinking, the idle chatter of the Humans sounding like a soft murmur from where he stood. The dark tunnel extended ahead of him deeper still, dark gray rocks mixed with dirt on all sides. It took him a moment to realize what had caused the change in light; the contraption around his neck was now displaying another window, one with a single line of text written on it.

> You have entered the Dungeon: Swellers of the Deep