Unbound Divinity: The Art of Divine Inconvenience

The Subterranean Crawl

Chapter 13: The Subterranean Crawl

"Keep your head down," Calista hissed, her voice tight with suppressed panic as she yanked hard on the silk sash binding their wrists together.

The damp stone roof of the maintenance shaft scraped against the top of Calista’s military cap, sending a cascade of centuries-old grit down the back of her uniform jacket. Just inches behind her, Aether let out a wet, breathless gasp, his left shoulder suddenly flickering out of existence and replacing itself with a swirling vortex of glowing orange dust. Every time he took a breath, his ribs expanded like a collapsing accordion made of stained glass.

"I am keeping my head down," Aether wheezed, his voice echoing hollowly off the slick limestone walls. He dragged his feet—or rather, the light, airy approximations of feet that currently refused to register any friction against the stone floor. "In fact, I’m practically on a first-name basis with the floor moss. Do you know what kind of bacteria grows down here? Because I’m pretty sure it’s trying to unionize."

"Focus, Aether," Calista snapped, her boots slipping on a patch of slimy moss as she hauled him forward by their tethered wrists. Her military training—decades of rigid tactical drills, stoic endurance, and flawless execution—clashed violently with the sheer, farcical absurdity of dragging a dissolving, wisecracking thief through a sewer. "If you turn into pure vapor right now, I am going to tie what’s left of you to a broom handle and carry you like a banner."

"Ooh, threatening me with domestic utility," Aether chuckled, though the sound hitched sharply into a cough that produced a small, brilliant burst of violet sparks. "That’s deeply erotic, Captain, but can we perhaps discuss our relationship milestones after we haven't been vaporized by a cursed estate?"

"We are not having a relationship, we are running for our lives from the Gilded Regulators," Calista retorted, ducking beneath a low-hanging iron pipe that dripped freezing water down the back of her neck. "And stop glowing! You look like an oversized, malfunctioning lantern."

"I have no control over the lumen output! It’s an emotional condition!" Aether protested, his right hand phasing momentarily through the rough stone wall before snapping back into semi-solid form with an audible pop. He stumbled forward, pitching heavily against Calista’s back. "Oh, brilliant. My elbow just visited the thirteenth century and came back without a watch."

"Stop leaning on me!" Calista half-shrieked, staggering under his sudden, weightless lurch. One second he felt as heavy as a grown man in soaked wool; the next, he weighed nothing at all, floating behind her like a helium-filled balloon shaped like a catastrophe. "You're either too heavy or you're a puff of wind. Make up your mind!"

"Physics is currently a suggestion, Calista, not a rulebook," Aether muttered, pressing his semi-transparent forehead against her shoulder blade. For a fraction of a second, the amber mist of his cheek brushed the exposed skin of her neck, radiating a dry, feverish heat that made her breath hitch. "Besides... you’re warm. It’s grounding me. If I lose contact with your rigid, unyielding moral compass, I’m pretty sure I’ll turn into a sunset."

"Don't you dare turn into a sunset in a sewer," Calista growled, though her grip on his wrist instinctively softened, her fingers wrapping around his pulse point to check if he even had one anymore. Beneath her palm, his skin felt like warm porcelain cooled to the touch of frost. "If you evaporate down here, I am going to be very annoyed."

"Annotation for my future gravestone: He died as he lived, mildly inconvenient to a military officer," Aether murmured, his voice dipping into a ragged whisper. The amber glow along his collarbone flickered violently, pulsing thrice before dimming to a dull, bruised violet.

"Aether?" Calista stopped dead in the narrow tunnel, hauling him against her chest before he could slide sideways into the shallow drainage runoff. "Hey. Look at me."

"I’m looking, I’m looking," he mumbled, his golden eyes wide and unfocused as they stared past her ear into the blackness of the pipe. "Though I have to say, the ceiling decor down here is severely lacking. Needs more velvet."

"You're fading again," she said, her voice cracking despite her best efforts to sound commanding. She reached out with her free hand, pressing her palm flat against his chest where his heart should have been. Her solar divinity flared up automatically, a warm, golden-white luminescence spilling over her skin, but she immediately reined it in, terrified of repeating the crystallizing agony of twenty minutes ago. "I can't use the light. It hurts you. How do I anchor you without burning you?"

"You don't need a torch, Captain," Aether whispered, a faint, lopsided smile touching his lips as he leaned into her palm, ignoring the way his shoulder dissolved into sparkling motes whenever he moved too fast. "Just... stop pulling so hard. I’m not going anywhere. Mostly because I’m physically attached to your forearm by designer silk."

"It’s not designer, it’s a cursed magical shackle," Calista corrected, though she couldn't help the small, involuntary huff of breath that escaped her nose.

"Same difference. High price tag, terrible return policy." Aether let out a weak chuckle, coughing up another harmless cloud of pink glitter that sparkled like cheap confetti in the dim light of her divinity. "Though I must admit, being handcuffed to a woman who carries a rapier and yells at infrastructure is a surprisingly high tier of romantic vacation."

"We are not on a vacation, we are fugitives," Calista snapped, though she pulled him closer anyway, wrapping her arm around his waist to support his erratic, half-ethereal weight as they resumed their miserable crawl through the sludge.

"Tomato, tomato," Aether muttered, his head dropping heavily against her shoulder. "Tell me again about your retirement plan. The one where you live in a cottage and yell at sheep."

"It’s not yelling at sheep, it’s managing livestock," Calista corrected, her eyes scanning the ahead darkness for the faint glint of iron grating that meant they were finally reaching the lower cisterns. "And it involves a garden. A very quiet garden. With zero magical artifacts, zero smuggling rings, and absolutely zero thieves."

"Ouch. The thief is currently resting his ethereal chin on your collarbone, you know," Aether mumbled, his breathing growing dangerously shallow. "Do I get grandfathered into the garden plan, or am I strictly banned from the radishes?"

"If you survive the next ten minutes without turning into a glowing cloud of dust, we can discuss your agricultural status," Calista said fiercely, quickening her pace as the sound of rushing water grew louder ahead, echoing through the stone labyrinth like an approaching storm.

"Deal," Aether breathed, his fingers tightening weakly around hers as the silk sash between them hummed with a sudden, ominous vibration. "Lead the way,

Captain. Try not to drop the merchandise."