The guest room looked exactly as I'd left it this morning. The bed was perfectly made, no sign of our... whatever that had been.
I kicked off my shoes and lay down on top of the covers, fully clothed.
This was weird.
Penguin hadn't even joined me; he was still playing with Lumos in the other room—and I could hear Llewellyn moving around in the living room.
I took out my phone.
Niamh had sent a gif of me water-blasting the reporter, captioned "MOOD FOREVER".
I rubbed my face. I was never living this down.
[Ryo]: You're enjoying this too much.
[Niamh]: 🌊🥳
I snorted.
I scrolled up and stared at the link I'd been reading earlier, when Llewellyn called.
I really shouldn't—
"…"
I clicked on it.
[nighttrain]: I can't stop looking at it
[sparrowglyph]: same. the rage-to-protect pipeline was so sexy of him
[cutthroat]: protectiveness but make it unhinged and wet
[sundialdare]: if someone blasted water like that for me I'd simply marry them
[fanreign]: I saw that waterblast and immediately understood what kind of noises he'd make in bed
[wiltedtree]: it's not just that he defended him, it's the rage
[spinewine]: right?? the ferocity. like if you touched Llewellyn he'd put you through a wall
[doubleknot]: pretty sure if Llewellyn told him to burn the world down, he'd ask for a lighter
[bluesoot]: we don't even know his name, but I need fics where Llewellyn lifts him up by the thighs, mouths at his neck until he gasps, kisses him hard enough to bruise, then drops him on the bed, saying "stay still"
[firelace]: you know he'd go quiet the second Llewellyn's mouth hit his throat
[howlsmovingtassel]: trailing kisses down his throat, slow and hot, bitten deep enough to show the next day
[bitevow]: god. if Llewellyn ever kisses him, he's going to fall apart
"…"
What was I doing with my life.
Why was I reading this!!!
In Llewellyn's house!
In Llewellyn's guest bed.
I closed everything and rubbed my eyes.
I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and flopped back onto the bed, one arm over my face. For a moment I wondered if I was going to burn alive in this house.
Eventually, I somehow managed to nap a few hours before Llewellyn came to wake me up.
***
We materialized in Liorim Forest, about fifty meters from where Tiernan had indicated. The trees were thick here, blocking out most of the moonlight.
We'd equipped not just concealment artifacts, but also Magic masking ones—which were something I didn't even know existed.
Of course, assuming they worked, that is.
Llewellyn held up a hand for silence as we hid behind a tree, then he pointed somewhere not too far away.
A guy sat cross-legged in front of a Dungeon entrance.
A small fire crackled in front of him, and several books lay open around him like he was having a study session in the woods.
One book was open over his crossed legs and he had one hand extended toward the Dungeon, fingers moving in lazy circles, while the other held a sandwich, which he was currently munching on.
The Dungeon entrance kept humming in response, light flowing in and out of it.
I frowned. Penguin also seemed intrigued, staring with awed eyes.
What was happening? Was he tampering with the Dungeon? But it didn't feel like he was trying to destabilize it. Modifying the entrance parameters, maybe?
This was weird. Why would he do that?
Llewellyn's eyes narrowed.
The man turned the page with his sandwich hand while keeping up the steady stream of Magic toward the Dungeon, not even looking at what he was doing—like this was nothing for him.
That said—
"He doesn't look like a criminal mastermind," I said, perplexed.
Llewellyn's gaze stayed locked on the man. "True. But that level of Magic is insane."
I could see that. My chest itched just looking at him.
"You think he's the one who tampered with the keyring?"
"Difficult to say," Llewellyn said. "But my guess would be no."
The man flipped a page in his book, still channeling Magic into the Dungeon entrance with his free hand.
Llewellyn's jaw tightened. "He's not using the System. At all."
The man took a bite of his sandwich. Crumbs fell onto the book in his lap and he brushed them away.
The magnitude of Llewellyn's statement would have probably hit me differently a few days ago. Now it just gave me pause.
"Do you think he has Core Partition access?" I asked.
Llewellyn glanced down at me, looking amused. "So you did get access. Were you not going to tell me?"
"Not the time for that," I said, waving a hand.
Llewellyn's lips twitched, then his gaze moved back to the guy.
"Fair enough," he said. "And I don't know. I can't tell what he's doing."
We watched as the man finished his sandwich and kept sending a stream of light toward the Dungeon.
After a few moments, it occurred to me that recording this would not be a bad idea and I took out my phone.
Llewellyn eyed me but didn't comment.
Finally, something clicked and the hum coming from the Dungeon changed. I aimed the camera at it for a moment, but apart from a faint glow, nothing seemed to be different. I moved the camera back just as the man yawned and stretched, looking satisfied.
Now that I could see him better, he seemed to be in his thirties. Despite his careless demeanor and food of choice, the way he was dressed made me suspect he might be nobility or something.
He gathered his books, lowered the fire with a casual wave, and crawled into his tent.
Well.
I stopped the recording.
We waited ten minutes to be sure he was settled. Then another ten, just in case.
"What's the plan?" I asked. "Do you want to question him? Fight him? Or should we focus on the Dungeon instead?"
Llewellyn seemed to mull this over.
"Dungeon," he decided. "If he gives us the slip and gets into it first, locking us out, we'll be left with nothing."
Fair enough.
"Now?" I asked.
Llewellyn nodded.
We crept closer, careful to avoid any branches or leaves that might give us away.
The Dungeon looked normal. It felt normal too.
"Think he set traps?" I asked.
Llewellyn extended his hand carefully, not quite touching the entrance. Then he frowned even more. "No," he said.
So, then?
We looked at each other.
"Let's go in," Llewellyn said.