Elias watches Thetis disappear into the narrow passage, her shells clinking gently and her floral adornments swaying with her determined steps. Despite her theatrics, despite the splashings and the impromptu soakings, he is struck once more by how much weight she carries in her delicate frame.
When she returns—with Mival—the chamber holds its breath. Elias straightens, eyes fixed on the young man as he emerges from shadow into flickering light. The tension in the air sharpens.
The resemblance to Kara is there, faint but present—the slope of the eyes, the line of the mouth. And yet, there’s something else too. A hollowness, something dulled. A boy who has worn a secret too long, or perhaps has become it.
As Mival speaks, Elias listens—not as a bard, not even as a nobleman, but as someone who knows the ache of lost identity, of paths strayed from.
And when Mival says he wanted to disappear and be forgotten, Elias steps forward slowly, stopping a few paces away—not closing the distance fully, not crowding him. Just being present.
"You're not forgotten, Mival," Elias says gently. "Your mother remembers every breath you took. She still waits. She still loves. And whether you believe you’re worth that love or not..." he lets his voice trail slightly, "...you don't get to choose how deeply someone cares."
He takes another half step forward, searching Mival’s eyes.
"You disappeared because something inside you changed. Maybe something you didn’t ask for. Maybe something you’re afraid to explain. We’re not here to drag you back or bind you in chains. We’re here to understand."
He gestures gently to the group, to Woodrow, to the companions who’ve risked fire and flood.
"We’ve seen what waits in the depths. The Lords from Below. The transformations. The lies. We know you may be tied to them."
And then, voice calm and low:
"But before we judge you—before you judge you—tell us your truth. Whatever it is, we’re listening."
He says it with no magic, no bardic charm—only quiet conviction.
Koran starts to say something, but Elias (naturally) beats him to the punch. The elf lowers his gaze, slightly, and waits for a more opportune time. Too much interaction pushed before the boy fully engages could end the opportunity as surely as an attack.
Mival carefully scans the group members one by one, starting with Elias... and finally returning to fix his green eyes on him: "You really think so!" It is a statement, however amazed, not a question "You really believe that my mother can accept me even if I am not... what she always believed me to be!"
"The truth, do you want?" the young man sighs "Do you really want it? Yes," he answers himself, with the same certainty as if the party had just replied to him verbally "you want it. Well... you will have it! The truth is that I... Mival Loznhosk, son of Kara Sashar (rightly nicknamed 'Tarsakh Flower')... I am born from the union between a good and dreamy woman... and a deceitful monster! And for this reason I myself am... a monster!" and as he pronounces the word 'monster' his body changes, mutates with impressive speed and naturalness, so much so that in the blink of an eye the interlocutor is no longer a man, but a sort of humanoid reptile with skin covered in a slimy and smelly excretion.
"A monster!" he shouts again - this time becoming a menacing half-orc scarred by a thousand battles "A monster!" and he becomes a frog-like humanoid with eyes that project unnatural light "A monster!" and he becomes a Bugbear with shaggy fur and a brutal appearance.
"Everything you think I am..." he reverts to the form of Mival, hard to say if by choice or instinct "is just a big lie. This is what I am. This is what I have always been. Kara... Kara has given everything and done everything for me. She doesn't deserve to know this. She shouldn't know... that the son she always loved... was actually never what she thought he was! He never existed, do you understand!? She shouldn't have this disappointment... after all... after all the love she always and continuously gave me".
With his eyes downcast, Mival, the self-proclaimed monster, is crying...
"Form does not make a monster. Choices do. Behavior does. No matter how you look, or what you can do. What you CHOOSE to do determines what kind of person you are." He locks eyes with the angry shape-shifter. "As with any of us, your history is less important than the story you choose to write as your future. You still have the option of writing a story of love and compassion, of caring and consideration. 'Tarsakh Flower' wants to help you continue the story of love that you were writing with her before you responded to this change with fear. Yes, fear. This anger looks to be driven by your fear of what you can do. I would prefer the path that overcomes the fear, but . . .. It isn't my path to choose. We can help you let go of the fear which is driving you, if you choose to. We can help you be the person your mother knows you are, if you choose to. As with all men, you get to choose whether to be a monster or not. The body is a vessel, not the definition, of who we are. I think you are Mival, a young man who still loves his mother and doesn't want to disappoint her. Your mother thinks that you are still her son. Who do you want to be?"
There are those who would call me a monster, also because of my father. But you have a mother that loves you, and that is more than I can say. Count your blessings! If you have the love of your family, cherish it and do not discard it casually. She will accept you as you are, as a mothers love should.
Elias is still as stone as Mival shifts form after form before their eyes—each transformation more jarring, more visceral, than the last. The stench, the twisted bodies, the harsh light from alien eyes—all of it a visual cacophony meant to repel or terrify. But Elias does not flinch.
Because in the trembling voice behind the roar, in the break between the rage, he hears what matters most:
grief. shame. fear.
When Koran speaks, Elias finds himself quietly awed. The monk's words are not lofty—they are steady, lived-in, like the foundation of a temple built one stone at a time. He watches as those words find their mark, striking at the very heart of Mival's turmoil, and he sees what Koran has always understood:
Monstrosity is not a shape. It's a choice.
Then Ardana speaks—her voice choked with the pain of knowing that pain, and Elias feels something inside him crack. He had seen the grief behind her eyes before, but now it speaks, and it stands beside Mival, not in sympathy, but in solidarity.
When they both finish, Elias steps forward—not to correct or add or even persuade—but to confirm.
His voice is low and even, the words simple, measured like a lullaby:
"You’re not a monster, Mival." "You’re just afraid. And being afraid doesn’t make you wicked."
He approaches slowly, pausing just a few feet away.
"Your mother gave you love, and you fear you’ve betrayed it. That you were never worthy of it." "But love isn’t something you earn, Mival. It’s something you receive. And the only way to dishonor it is to throw it away."
He looks into the boy’s eyes—the boy beneath the forms, beneath the shame.
"You’re not the lie. The lie is that love has conditions. That she only loved a version of you that doesn’t exist."
He softens.
"She loved you. Whoever you were. Whatever you were."
And then:
"So the question is no longer 'what are you?' It’s 'what do you do now?'"
He lifts a hand, offering—not commanding.
"Will you let her see you? Truly see you? Will you let her decide for herself if the son she loved is still worth loving?"
And quieter, for Mival alone:
"Or will you decide for her... and live the rest of your life hiding from a love that never stopped looking?"
Elias doesn’t press the hand closer. He just leaves it there, open and patient—an invitation, not a command.
Mival stops crying - and is astonished... Green eyes peer with gratitude and admiration that has given him hope and expressed solidarity.
"You are really very different from the Lords from Below..." he whispers "I... I never expected this! You... you convinced me! I will return to my mother Kara! You convinced me that there is hope for me - or rather for us!"
"And I want to repay my mother for all she suffered because of my hasty behavior!" The former Lord from Below declares, "Rassalantar is a true legend to Kara... She has told me countless stories of Rassalantar! And this is all that remains of that long-forgotten hero's Keep! I will help you explore it! I will come with you! My knowledge and skills may be of use to you! When I return to my mother, I can bring her knowledge about her hero - perhaps even a trinket of him, if we can find it... You need not fear for me! The metamorphic abilities of Doppelgangers like me also help in combat - I can harden my limbs upon impact - a slam from me with my bare hands is similar to a sledgehammer from a normal person! Of course, I will not take any initiatives of my own, but will obey you more experienced heroes! What do you say?" The green eyes of a potential future Doppelganger adventurer peer into those of the party members...
Elias watches the exchange carefully, his expression remaining neutral but focused, absorbing both the question and Mival’s reaction to it. He knows Ardana’s tone is careful, perhaps even sympathetic—but the question is pointed. And warranted.
Once Ardana’s words hang a beat in the stillness, Elias finally speaks, his voice calm and carefully balanced.
“Ardana’s right. Before we begin speaking of ruins and relics, your mother deserves to see you with her own eyes.” “There’s power in that. And peace. For her… and for you.”
He pauses just long enough to let the moment settle, then shifts, voice still even:
“And I’m curious as well… about your father. Not just because of what he left behind, but because we’re starting to see patterns—disappearances, strange behavior, transformations. If he’s still here, or if you know anything more about where he went, it might help us understand what’s happening now.”
He softens just slightly, not pressing, but attentive.
“But only if you’re willing to share, Mival. You’ve already shared more than most would in a lifetime.”
Elias then glances to the others—Koran, Tarysaa, Woodrow—his stance subtly inviting their voices as well. He still hasn’t spoken to whether Mival should accompany them further. Not yet. Not until the mother and the past are acknowledged.
"No, no..." Mival is reluctant to go back right away "Not like this, empty-handed like I am now. I want to be able to bring Kara 'something' that will repay her in part for what I've done. It won't take long... this was a keep, not a city! And you are an experienced team. We can probably finish exploring it during the day and come back home!"
"My father?" the Doppelganger seems almost surprised by the interest in that individual "Yes, he is one of the Lords from Below. I met him recently, here. And, like all Doppelgangers, he is not particularly affectionate... we have barely spoken. His real name is Pheryus. He specializes in playing 'heroic' roles, so he had an easy time capturing the interest of a dreamer like my mother - he was the 'Galar Loznhosk' she still remembers today. Pheryus did not do it out of love, but out of instinct... it is the instinct of us Doppelgangers: when we feel like... having offspring, we look for a female to deceive, then we let her take care of the rest. I hope..." he sighs "I hope that, when the time comes, I will know how to behave better... For now, remembering that I am Kara's son is helping me to fight natural instincts. To be more 'human' than many Doppelgangers. It is no coincidence that I chose 'Blossom', as my Doppelganger name... I was keen to never forget that I was the son of a 'Flower'!"
"True, this is the ruin of a fortified home; not a full blown dungeon space. However, it is enough to hold dangers around every curve and way too much water for proper footwear."
Tarysaa looks down at her soggy boots and sighs.
"We came to find you,Mival. We have embraced Tethisand her plight. I was tasked with finding an ancient portal if it still exists. Perhaps we can wrap all three goals into one to best accomplish our goals."
Elias listens closely, his expression composed but softened, especially as Mival speaks of Kara and his struggle against inherited instincts. There’s a quiet tragedy in the young man's voice—a boy trying to forge his own path from the pieces of a lie, clinging to the love that gave him shape more than his lineage ever did.
The moment Mival mentions Pheryus, Galar unravelled into a mask, Elias feels a flicker of vindication in his chest, quickly tempered by a chill. So it was a performance. A masterwork of deception by a creature who’s made seduction and vanishing into an art form. Kara’s heart had been prey—and Mival is the one who carries the consequence.
He says nothing of it for now. This isn't the moment to weigh down the boy with the sins of the father. Not when he's standing on the edge of redemption.
Tarysaa’s voice cuts in just as Elias draws a breath, and he turns slightly to regard her words. He nods in agreement as she lays out the full picture—three goals, not just one.
When she finishes, Elias finally speaks, his voice calm, bridging thought and emotion.
“Mival…” he begins, “if your heart is set on bringing your mother something—something real—then I won’t stand in the way of that.”
He pauses, carefully choosing his tone.
“But I ask this of you: don’t mistake doing something for being enough. Your mother doesn’t need a relic. She needs you. If we run into something that risks delaying or endangering that reunion…”
His eyes meet Mival’s with deliberate steadiness.
“…I hope you’ll remember that you are the proof of her faith—not whatever we find in the dark.”
Then he lets the moment breathe, his tone turning pragmatic.
“Tarysaa’s right. If we can find what you’re looking for, help Thetis, and uncover the truth about the portal in one sweep, then that’s where we go. Efficient. Purposeful. Measured.”
He looks down at his own soaked boots with a faint smile.
“Though yes, I do second the motion that this ruin has been thoroughly unkind to our footwear.”
Then he turns to the others, his voice level.
“We have a path. We have our reasons. And now, we have one more with us.” “Shall we finish what we started?”
"In fact, I admit that not even my Doppelganger powers have ever stopped me from getting my boots soaked down here!" Mival laughs, seemingly excited to begin his adventure with the party "When I want to swim well or breathe underwater, I can transform into a sea elf... but my clothes don't change with me - they stay the same - and there's no way to keep them from getting wet."
"But who knows how many times has Rassalantar found himself soaking wet during his exploits?" the young Doppelganger's eyes become dreamy for a moment "And yet that has never stopped him... All we can do is be his worthy heirs!"
"So 'worthy heirs' that you can free even a 'damsel in distress'?" Tethis raises an eyebrow.
"We'll manage, Tethis..." Mival tries to reassure her "We could even find something of value and bargain with the other Lords from Below for your freedom! You are a possession of great value... but if we could offer something adequate in exchange, we could buy you - and free you, of course".
"Oh, 'a possession'..." the nereid doesn't seem too flattered by the other's word "How gallant!" she approaches and pushes her lips out as if to kiss him...
"Tethis, stop right there!" the doppelganger worries "I know your kiss can drown..."
The young girl in the skimpy dress of shells and flowers then stops before reaching him - but from her lips a jet of water suddenly originates and hits the other in the face, making him cough and spit.
"You offered to try to free me, Mival..." she sighs "How could I drown you? I'm a joker and perhaps a little touchy - not stupid" and, satisfied, she winks and returns to guard the narrow passage.
"So where would you like us to start?" Mival asks the party (once he's stopped coughing and spluttering).
Mival doesn't know what to think in the face of everyone's silence: "What's up? Don't you know where we should go either? We could choose randomly then..."
Elias watches the exchange with a mix of amusement and caution, arms crossed, eyes keenly tracking both Tethis’s watery flirtation and Mival’s good-natured but slightly panicked response. The scene is absurd on the surface—a doppelganger dodging a drowning kiss from a moody nereid in a floral shell ensemble—but beneath it all, Elias sees something that makes him almost smile.
They're alive. They're healing. They're human, in their own strange ways.
When Mival finally turns back to the group, soaked and sputtering but smiling, Elias gives a small shrug and answers with wry calm:
“Well, since you're determined to earn your muddy boots, I’d say we return to the deeper levels—wherever we haven't fully explored yet.”
He glances to Tarysaa and Woodrow, the two most focused on mapping and practical movement through the ruins.
“If I recall, we still haven’t determined the full extent of the flooded levels. And there’s the matter of the teleportation circle Tarysaa’s been tracking.” He gives the elven wizardess a brief nod of deference. “If such a thing still exists, it could be tied to the Lords’ movement… and their hold on Thetis.”
Then, turning to Ardana and Koran, he adds:
“I’d like to uncover more of the original Keep’s layout—see what might’ve survived beyond the obvious collapse. Hidden chambers, relics tied to Rassalantar himself… anything that could help Mival offer more than soaked boots to his mother.”
He meets Mival’s gaze again—measured, but not cold.
“We go carefully. You stay with one of us at all times—no wandering, no running ahead.” “You may not be a Lord from Below anymore… but we’re still walking through their domain.”
He glances toward the shadows of the ruin ahead, his voice quieting just slightly:
“Let’s find what truth remains… and what still needs to be undone.”
"Oh, I'll be with you!" Mival assures,"I have the calling of an adventurer, perhaps - not of a suicide."
"To finish exploring this level, we'll either have to use the services of Geados, the fiendish ferryman... or swim and brave the possible dangers of the water dwellers," the Doppelganger summarizes. "Which do you prefer? I can transform into a sea elf and swim perfectly... But perhaps a boat is more convenient for you?"
What do you know of the layout of this place, Mival? What do you know of the ferryman? For tarysaas sake we may explore more but it is in my heart that you should see your mother first.
There was a similar disappearance to yours one Hedda a young woman left the village unexpectedly. Mival, what do you know of this?
"I haven't explored much beyond the ferryman's area..." Mival admits "I didn't trust myself to go too far away by myself and dealing with him made me uneasy. But objectively he never did me any harm, not even when I declined to use his services".
"Nedda Whitewhool, you say?" the young face saddens at the memory "Yes, of course, a very bad story... Like everyone else, I found Nedda nice! At the time, I hadn't yet come of age and I couldn't explain it at all. Now that I know more about what the Lords from Below can do... I admit it's not unlikely that they have something to do with it. But I didn't look into it when I came here... I was too shocked by what was happening to myself, to think of someone else who passed away some time ago... But a Doppelganger like me could very well have taken Nedda's place for some reason - and then killed Fodel for some reason. If they see reason to do so, Doppelgangers don't hesitate to resort to... drastic measures".
Ardana persists with her questioning. But would Nedda be the doppleganger or the one she killed? Who can know the truth of it now. Would a doppleganger seduce a man? Can they produce progeny that way?
"Nedda killed Fodel, not the other way around..." Mival observes "A common village girl would not have been able to kill a Doppelganger - while a Doppelganger would have had no difficulty strangling a boy. Surely, when the crime occurred, Nedda was the Doppelganger. Even more so because, we Doppelgangers revert to our 'true form', when killed - while Fodel... remained Fodel".
"A Doppelganger could seduce a man, if it wanted to..." the shapeshifter explains "but to reproduce, we must impregnate a female. We cannot give birth ourselves. So the Doppelganger who took Nedda's place must not have done so for reproductive purposes - it must have had something else in mind".
Elias watches Thetis disappear into the narrow passage, her shells clinking gently and her floral adornments swaying with her determined steps. Despite her theatrics, despite the splashings and the impromptu soakings, he is struck once more by how much weight she carries in her delicate frame.
When she returns—with Mival—the chamber holds its breath. Elias straightens, eyes fixed on the young man as he emerges from shadow into flickering light. The tension in the air sharpens.
The resemblance to Kara is there, faint but present—the slope of the eyes, the line of the mouth. And yet, there’s something else too. A hollowness, something dulled. A boy who has worn a secret too long, or perhaps has become it.
As Mival speaks, Elias listens—not as a bard, not even as a nobleman, but as someone who knows the ache of lost identity, of paths strayed from.
And when Mival says he wanted to disappear and be forgotten, Elias steps forward slowly, stopping a few paces away—not closing the distance fully, not crowding him. Just being present.
"You're not forgotten, Mival," Elias says gently. "Your mother remembers every breath you took. She still waits. She still loves. And whether you believe you’re worth that love or not..." he lets his voice trail slightly, "...you don't get to choose how deeply someone cares."
He takes another half step forward, searching Mival’s eyes.
"You disappeared because something inside you changed. Maybe something you didn’t ask for. Maybe something you’re afraid to explain. We’re not here to drag you back or bind you in chains. We’re here to understand."
He gestures gently to the group, to Woodrow, to the companions who’ve risked fire and flood.
"We’ve seen what waits in the depths. The Lords from Below. The transformations. The lies. We know you may be tied to them."
And then, voice calm and low:
"But before we judge you—before you judge you—tell us your truth. Whatever it is, we’re listening."
He says it with no magic, no bardic charm—only quiet conviction.
And then he waits.
Koran starts to say something, but Elias (naturally) beats him to the punch. The elf lowers his gaze, slightly, and waits for a more opportune time. Too much interaction pushed before the boy fully engages could end the opportunity as surely as an attack.
Mival carefully scans the group members one by one, starting with Elias... and finally returning to fix his green eyes on him: "You really think so!" It is a statement, however amazed, not a question "You really believe that my mother can accept me even if I am not... what she always believed me to be!"
"The truth, do you want?" the young man sighs "Do you really want it? Yes," he answers himself, with the same certainty as if the party had just replied to him verbally "you want it. Well... you will have it! The truth is that I... Mival Loznhosk, son of Kara Sashar (rightly nicknamed 'Tarsakh Flower')... I am born from the union between a good and dreamy woman... and a deceitful monster! And for this reason I myself am... a monster!" and as he pronounces the word 'monster' his body changes, mutates with impressive speed and naturalness, so much so that in the blink of an eye the interlocutor is no longer a man, but a sort of humanoid reptile with skin covered in a slimy and smelly excretion.
"A monster!" he shouts again - this time becoming a menacing half-orc scarred by a thousand battles "A monster!" and he becomes a frog-like humanoid with eyes that project unnatural light "A monster!" and he becomes a Bugbear with shaggy fur and a brutal appearance.
"Everything you think I am..." he reverts to the form of Mival, hard to say if by choice or instinct "is just a big lie. This is what I am. This is what I have always been. Kara... Kara has given everything and done everything for me. She doesn't deserve to know this. She shouldn't know... that the son she always loved... was actually never what she thought he was! He never existed, do you understand!? She shouldn't have this disappointment... after all... after all the love she always and continuously gave me".
With his eyes downcast, Mival, the self-proclaimed monster, is crying...
"Form does not make a monster. Choices do. Behavior does. No matter how you look, or what you can do. What you CHOOSE to do determines what kind of person you are." He locks eyes with the angry shape-shifter. "As with any of us, your history is less important than the story you choose to write as your future. You still have the option of writing a story of love and compassion, of caring and consideration. 'Tarsakh Flower' wants to help you continue the story of love that you were writing with her before you responded to this change with fear. Yes, fear. This anger looks to be driven by your fear of what you can do. I would prefer the path that overcomes the fear, but . . .. It isn't my path to choose. We can help you let go of the fear which is driving you, if you choose to. We can help you be the person your mother knows you are, if you choose to. As with all men, you get to choose whether to be a monster or not. The body is a vessel, not the definition, of who we are. I think you are Mival, a young man who still loves his mother and doesn't want to disappoint her. Your mother thinks that you are still her son. Who do you want to be?"
Ardana also comes to tears at this confession.
There are those who would call me a monster, also because of my father. But you have a mother that loves you, and that is more than I can say. Count your blessings! If you have the love of your family, cherish it and do not discard it casually. She will accept you as you are, as a mothers love should.
Elias is still as stone as Mival shifts form after form before their eyes—each transformation more jarring, more visceral, than the last. The stench, the twisted bodies, the harsh light from alien eyes—all of it a visual cacophony meant to repel or terrify. But Elias does not flinch.
Because in the trembling voice behind the roar, in the break between the rage, he hears what matters most:
grief.
shame.
fear.
When Koran speaks, Elias finds himself quietly awed. The monk's words are not lofty—they are steady, lived-in, like the foundation of a temple built one stone at a time. He watches as those words find their mark, striking at the very heart of Mival's turmoil, and he sees what Koran has always understood:
Monstrosity is not a shape. It's a choice.
Then Ardana speaks—her voice choked with the pain of knowing that pain, and Elias feels something inside him crack. He had seen the grief behind her eyes before, but now it speaks, and it stands beside Mival, not in sympathy, but in solidarity.
When they both finish, Elias steps forward—not to correct or add or even persuade—but to confirm.
His voice is low and even, the words simple, measured like a lullaby:
"You’re not a monster, Mival."
"You’re just afraid. And being afraid doesn’t make you wicked."
He approaches slowly, pausing just a few feet away.
"Your mother gave you love, and you fear you’ve betrayed it. That you were never worthy of it."
"But love isn’t something you earn, Mival. It’s something you receive. And the only way to dishonor it is to throw it away."
He looks into the boy’s eyes—the boy beneath the forms, beneath the shame.
"You’re not the lie. The lie is that love has conditions. That she only loved a version of you that doesn’t exist."
He softens.
"She loved you. Whoever you were. Whatever you were."
And then:
"So the question is no longer 'what are you?' It’s 'what do you do now?'"
He lifts a hand, offering—not commanding.
"Will you let her see you? Truly see you? Will you let her decide for herself if the son she loved is still worth loving?"
And quieter, for Mival alone:
"Or will you decide for her... and live the rest of your life hiding from a love that never stopped looking?"
Elias doesn’t press the hand closer. He just leaves it there, open and patient—an invitation, not a command.
Mival stops crying - and is astonished... Green eyes peer with gratitude and admiration that has given him hope and expressed solidarity.
"You are really very different from the Lords from Below..." he whispers "I... I never expected this! You... you convinced me! I will return to my mother Kara! You convinced me that there is hope for me - or rather for us!"
"And I want to repay my mother for all she suffered because of my hasty behavior!" The former Lord from Below declares, "Rassalantar is a true legend to Kara... She has told me countless stories of Rassalantar! And this is all that remains of that long-forgotten hero's Keep! I will help you explore it! I will come with you! My knowledge and skills may be of use to you! When I return to my mother, I can bring her knowledge about her hero - perhaps even a trinket of him, if we can find it... You need not fear for me! The metamorphic abilities of Doppelgangers like me also help in combat - I can harden my limbs upon impact - a slam from me with my bare hands is similar to a sledgehammer from a normal person! Of course, I will not take any initiatives of my own, but will obey you more experienced heroes! What do you say?" The green eyes of a potential future Doppelganger adventurer peer into those of the party members...
I welcome that plan but we really need to see your mother first.
And tell me, what of your father? Is he here?
Elias watches the exchange carefully, his expression remaining neutral but focused, absorbing both the question and Mival’s reaction to it. He knows Ardana’s tone is careful, perhaps even sympathetic—but the question is pointed. And warranted.
Once Ardana’s words hang a beat in the stillness, Elias finally speaks, his voice calm and carefully balanced.
“Ardana’s right. Before we begin speaking of ruins and relics, your mother deserves to see you with her own eyes.”
“There’s power in that. And peace. For her… and for you.”
He pauses just long enough to let the moment settle, then shifts, voice still even:
“And I’m curious as well… about your father. Not just because of what he left behind, but because we’re starting to see patterns—disappearances, strange behavior, transformations. If he’s still here, or if you know anything more about where he went, it might help us understand what’s happening now.”
He softens just slightly, not pressing, but attentive.
“But only if you’re willing to share, Mival. You’ve already shared more than most would in a lifetime.”
Elias then glances to the others—Koran, Tarysaa, Woodrow—his stance subtly inviting their voices as well. He still hasn’t spoken to whether Mival should accompany them further. Not yet. Not until the mother and the past are acknowledged.
"No, no..." Mival is reluctant to go back right away "Not like this, empty-handed like I am now. I want to be able to bring Kara 'something' that will repay her in part for what I've done. It won't take long... this was a keep, not a city! And you are an experienced team. We can probably finish exploring it during the day and come back home!"
"My father?" the Doppelganger seems almost surprised by the interest in that individual "Yes, he is one of the Lords from Below. I met him recently, here. And, like all Doppelgangers, he is not particularly affectionate... we have barely spoken. His real name is Pheryus. He specializes in playing 'heroic' roles, so he had an easy time capturing the interest of a dreamer like my mother - he was the 'Galar Loznhosk' she still remembers today. Pheryus did not do it out of love, but out of instinct... it is the instinct of us Doppelgangers: when we feel like... having offspring, we look for a female to deceive, then we let her take care of the rest. I hope..." he sighs "I hope that, when the time comes, I will know how to behave better... For now, remembering that I am Kara's son is helping me to fight natural instincts. To be more 'human' than many Doppelgangers. It is no coincidence that I chose 'Blossom', as my Doppelganger name... I was keen to never forget that I was the son of a 'Flower'!"
"True, this is the ruin of a fortified home; not a full blown dungeon space. However, it is enough to hold dangers around every curve and way too much water for proper footwear."
Tarysaa looks down at her soggy boots and sighs.
"We came to find you, Mival. We have embraced Tethis and her plight. I was tasked with finding an ancient portal if it still exists. Perhaps we can wrap all three goals into one to best accomplish our goals."
Elias listens closely, his expression composed but softened, especially as Mival speaks of Kara and his struggle against inherited instincts. There’s a quiet tragedy in the young man's voice—a boy trying to forge his own path from the pieces of a lie, clinging to the love that gave him shape more than his lineage ever did.
The moment Mival mentions Pheryus, Galar unravelled into a mask, Elias feels a flicker of vindication in his chest, quickly tempered by a chill. So it was a performance. A masterwork of deception by a creature who’s made seduction and vanishing into an art form. Kara’s heart had been prey—and Mival is the one who carries the consequence.
He says nothing of it for now. This isn't the moment to weigh down the boy with the sins of the father. Not when he's standing on the edge of redemption.
Tarysaa’s voice cuts in just as Elias draws a breath, and he turns slightly to regard her words. He nods in agreement as she lays out the full picture—three goals, not just one.
When she finishes, Elias finally speaks, his voice calm, bridging thought and emotion.
“Mival…” he begins, “if your heart is set on bringing your mother something—something real—then I won’t stand in the way of that.”
He pauses, carefully choosing his tone.
“But I ask this of you: don’t mistake doing something for being enough. Your mother doesn’t need a relic. She needs you. If we run into something that risks delaying or endangering that reunion…”
His eyes meet Mival’s with deliberate steadiness.
“…I hope you’ll remember that you are the proof of her faith—not whatever we find in the dark.”
Then he lets the moment breathe, his tone turning pragmatic.
“Tarysaa’s right. If we can find what you’re looking for, help Thetis, and uncover the truth about the portal in one sweep, then that’s where we go. Efficient. Purposeful. Measured.”
He looks down at his own soaked boots with a faint smile.
“Though yes, I do second the motion that this ruin has been thoroughly unkind to our footwear.”
Then he turns to the others, his voice level.
“We have a path. We have our reasons. And now, we have one more with us.”
“Shall we finish what we started?”
"In fact, I admit that not even my Doppelganger powers have ever stopped me from getting my boots soaked down here!" Mival laughs, seemingly excited to begin his adventure with the party "When I want to swim well or breathe underwater, I can transform into a sea elf... but my clothes don't change with me - they stay the same - and there's no way to keep them from getting wet."
"But who knows how many times has Rassalantar found himself soaking wet during his exploits?" the young Doppelganger's eyes become dreamy for a moment "And yet that has never stopped him... All we can do is be his worthy heirs!"
"So 'worthy heirs' that you can free even a 'damsel in distress'?" Tethis raises an eyebrow.
"We'll manage, Tethis..." Mival tries to reassure her "We could even find something of value and bargain with the other Lords from Below for your freedom! You are a possession of great value... but if we could offer something adequate in exchange, we could buy you - and free you, of course".
"Oh, 'a possession'..." the nereid doesn't seem too flattered by the other's word "How gallant!" she approaches and pushes her lips out as if to kiss him...
"Tethis, stop right there!" the doppelganger worries "I know your kiss can drown..."
The young girl in the skimpy dress of shells and flowers then stops before reaching him - but from her lips a jet of water suddenly originates and hits the other in the face, making him cough and spit.
"You offered to try to free me, Mival..." she sighs "How could I drown you? I'm a joker and perhaps a little touchy - not stupid" and, satisfied, she winks and returns to guard the narrow passage.
"So where would you like us to start?" Mival asks the party (once he's stopped coughing and spluttering).
Mival doesn't know what to think in the face of everyone's silence: "What's up? Don't you know where we should go either? We could choose randomly then..."
Elias watches the exchange with a mix of amusement and caution, arms crossed, eyes keenly tracking both Tethis’s watery flirtation and Mival’s good-natured but slightly panicked response. The scene is absurd on the surface—a doppelganger dodging a drowning kiss from a moody nereid in a floral shell ensemble—but beneath it all, Elias sees something that makes him almost smile.
They're alive. They're healing. They're human, in their own strange ways.
When Mival finally turns back to the group, soaked and sputtering but smiling, Elias gives a small shrug and answers with wry calm:
“Well, since you're determined to earn your muddy boots, I’d say we return to the deeper levels—wherever we haven't fully explored yet.”
He glances to Tarysaa and Woodrow, the two most focused on mapping and practical movement through the ruins.
“If I recall, we still haven’t determined the full extent of the flooded levels. And there’s the matter of the teleportation circle Tarysaa’s been tracking.” He gives the elven wizardess a brief nod of deference. “If such a thing still exists, it could be tied to the Lords’ movement… and their hold on Thetis.”
Then, turning to Ardana and Koran, he adds:
“I’d like to uncover more of the original Keep’s layout—see what might’ve survived beyond the obvious collapse. Hidden chambers, relics tied to Rassalantar himself… anything that could help Mival offer more than soaked boots to his mother.”
He meets Mival’s gaze again—measured, but not cold.
“We go carefully. You stay with one of us at all times—no wandering, no running ahead.”
“You may not be a Lord from Below anymore… but we’re still walking through their domain.”
He glances toward the shadows of the ruin ahead, his voice quieting just slightly:
“Let’s find what truth remains… and what still needs to be undone.”
((nobody else was posting...waited an eternity))
"Oh, I'll be with you!" Mival assures,"I have the calling of an adventurer, perhaps - not of a suicide."
"To finish exploring this level, we'll either have to use the services of Geados, the fiendish ferryman... or swim and brave the possible dangers of the water dwellers," the Doppelganger summarizes. "Which do you prefer? I can transform into a sea elf and swim perfectly... But perhaps a boat is more convenient for you?"
What do you know of the layout of this place, Mival? What do you know of the ferryman? For tarysaas sake we may explore more but it is in my heart that you should see your mother first.
There was a similar disappearance to yours one Hedda a young woman left the village unexpectedly. Mival, what do you know of this?
"I haven't explored much beyond the ferryman's area..." Mival admits "I didn't trust myself to go too far away by myself and dealing with him made me uneasy. But objectively he never did me any harm, not even when I declined to use his services".
"Nedda Whitewhool, you say?" the young face saddens at the memory "Yes, of course, a very bad story... Like everyone else, I found Nedda nice! At the time, I hadn't yet come of age and I couldn't explain it at all. Now that I know more about what the Lords from Below can do... I admit it's not unlikely that they have something to do with it. But I didn't look into it when I came here... I was too shocked by what was happening to myself, to think of someone else who passed away some time ago... But a Doppelganger like me could very well have taken Nedda's place for some reason - and then killed Fodel for some reason. If they see reason to do so, Doppelgangers don't hesitate to resort to... drastic measures".
Ardana persists with her questioning. But would Nedda be the doppleganger or the one she killed? Who can know the truth of it now. Would a doppleganger seduce a man? Can they produce progeny that way?
"Nedda killed Fodel, not the other way around..." Mival observes "A common village girl would not have been able to kill a Doppelganger - while a Doppelganger would have had no difficulty strangling a boy. Surely, when the crime occurred, Nedda was the Doppelganger. Even more so because, we Doppelgangers revert to our 'true form', when killed - while Fodel... remained Fodel".
"A Doppelganger could seduce a man, if it wanted to..." the shapeshifter explains "but to reproduce, we must impregnate a female. We cannot give birth ourselves. So the Doppelganger who took Nedda's place must not have done so for reproductive purposes - it must have had something else in mind".