The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 345: A Shared Path Through the Dark

Mikhailis adjusted his gloves, glancing at the dimly lit entrance to Luthadel’s catacombs. The air was thick with dampness, the faint scent of old stone mixing with a subtle metallic tang that made him wrinkle his nose. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a sparring match rather than a journey into ancient depths. The stone archway looming over them was carved with faded symbols, each barely visible in the flickering torchlight.

Lira stood at his side, arms crossed over her chest. She wore her usual sharp-eyed expression, the one that always made Mikhailis wonder if she saw more than she let on. Her long black ponytail hung neatly down her back, swaying whenever she turned to check their surroundings. A soft sigh escaped her lips, though it was hard to tell if it was from impatience or worry.

Not far away, Rhea tapped her foot against the gravel, the sound echoing in the tense air. She looked restless, like a caged animal ready to spring at the slightest provocation. There was a hard edge to her posture that hadn’t been there before. Cerys, on the other hand, seemed calm—silent and focused, her intense gaze scanning the darkness for any potential threat. Even in the dim light, the red of her hair glimmered like embers.

Vyrelda was the last of their party, checking the map they had brought from the inn. She traced her finger across the worn parchment, occasionally glancing at the flickering runes on the walls around them. Unlike Rhea’s pent-up energy, Vyrelda’s tension was more contained. Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded to herself, as if confirming a route.

Mikhailis studied them all, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well," he said in a deliberately light tone, "anyone want to back out before we’re knee-deep in ancient dust and existential dread?"

Rhea shot him a glare so sharp it might have cut stone. "Shut up and move."

He chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Ah, the sweet sound of camaraderie. You know, it warms my heart."

Her glare deepened, but she kept quiet.

Lira cleared her throat and stepped forward, her boots scraping softly against the smooth floor. "If you’re done wasting time, let’s go."

The group edged into the catacombs’ entrance. Almost instantly, the temperature dropped, as if they had walked into a different season entirely. The silence was overwhelming, broken only by the distant drip of water and the rustle of their own steps. Mikhailis felt a prickle along his arms, like an unseen presence was watching. The mist that seemed to linger in the tunnels brushed against him, light as a feather at first, then growing more noticeable with every step.

Not creepy at all.

He forced the thought down, trying to maintain his usual bravado, but the eerie stillness made it harder to cling to humor. The runes on the walls pulsed with a faint glow, as though reacting to their presence. Each time the light flared, it cast strange, shifting shadows that danced across the cold stone.

His head throbbed unexpectedly. There was no warning—just sudden, sharp flashes of something that felt like memory, but clearly didn’t belong to him. He staggered, pressing a hand to his temple. The corridor around him seemed to tilt, the walls stretching and warping for an instant. A swirl of colors flickered behind his eyelids, too fast to fully register.

Lira noticed immediately. She stepped closer, catching his arm before he could stumble further. "Again?" she asked, her voice soft enough that only he could hear.

Mikhailis forced a smile, hoping it hid the worst of his discomfort. "Just a little case of déjà vu. Nothing to worry about."

Her gaze lingered on his face, clearly unconvinced. But after a moment, she let go and turned her attention back to the path ahead.

They continued deeper, the corridor branching off in various directions. Now and then, the group paused to check the map and compare it to the glowing runes, but it was slow going. Dust coated every surface, and the air felt thick, as if centuries of secrets pressed in on them from all sides.

Rhea’s agitation grew more palpable with each step. She swore under her breath at every sound that made her twitch, muttering about the catacombs being a perfect place for an ambush. Mikhailis caught glimpses of her face whenever the runes glowed brightly. She looked haunted, shadows under her eyes revealing a weight she was carrying.

It was clear she didn’t feel at ease here—maybe none of them did, but Rhea’s tension was at a breaking point. Mikhailis tried not to stare, but he noticed how her gaze darted around, how her breath sometimes came too fast.

Then her mind wandered, slipping back to the past without warning. She remembered a cramped room lit by a single lantern, the walls lined with cargo boxes and old cloth. In that memory, she was younger, trembling and covered in filth, her clothes torn. Estella’s voice had cut through the darkness, warm and steady, a lifeline in a storm.

"You’re mine now," Estella had said, her words somehow comforting instead of menacing. Fingers brushed Rhea’s cheek, gently wiping away tears. "Everything’s okay now. You belong to me, and I will take care of you."

Those words had saved her once, maybe more than once. Estella, the traveling merchant who took her under her wing, offering a place to sleep, food to eat, and a sense of belonging Rhea had never known. She had been an orphan, a street rat scrounging for scraps. Estella had offered more than food—she offered the promise that Rhea could be safe, that she wasn’t alone.

Even now, in these cold catacombs, those memories provided a tiny island of calm. Rhea closed her eyes briefly, letting herself cling to that echo. When she opened them, her gaze settled on Mikhailis, who seemed to sense her unease but didn’t comment. His usual carefree grin was slightly subdued, and though he kept throwing playful remarks into the silence, she could tell he was worried about more than just ancient tunnels.

She realized then that, in some strange way, she felt drawn to him. At first, it had been an odd irritation—his jokes, his casual manner, the way he flirted with everyone and everything that breathed. But over time, that annoyance had twisted into something else. A reluctant respect, maybe admiration, and slowly, a growing warmth she couldn’t quite ignore. There was a sincerity underneath his frivolous exterior, a willingness to stand up for people. She had seen it.

And that was dangerous, or so she kept telling herself.

He glanced her way, brow raised. "You’re alright?"

Rhea didn’t answer at first. Then she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her voice came out quieter than intended. "I’m fine."

He studied her for a moment longer, maybe wanting to push the topic, but he let it drop. "If you say so."

They moved on, with Lira quietly observing them. Cerys and Vyrelda led the way, staying several steps ahead, but close enough that no one was separated. The flickering runes cast a greenish glow on Cerys’s armor, and for a moment, Rhea thought she looked almost ghostly, like a spirit leading them through the afterlife.

A noise echoed down the corridor—a distant crumble of rock, or maybe just water dripping onto loose stones. The sound made everyone pause, weapons half-drawn. Rhea’s heart thumped in her chest, adrenaline sparking through her veins. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Mikhailis tilt his head, listening as well.

Nothing followed, only silence.

When they started walking again, the tension didn’t let up. Rhea couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them, a presence hidden behind the gloom and the dust-laden air. Despite the eerie environment, part of her mind kept drifting back to Estella’s words from so long ago.

"You belong to me now. I’ll take care of you."

She had trusted those words. As much as her body ached and her spirit had been ragged, Estella’s kindness had been real. It had grounded her then, and it still did now. Her gaze flicked over to Mikhailis again. Unlike Estella, he was unpredictable—he joked too much, teased too many women, and sometimes she wanted to smack him for being so lighthearted in the face of danger. But he also gave her a sense of safety. It was strange, but she knew deep down that if something happened to her, Mikhailis would fight to protect her without a second thought.

Rhea slowed her pace, letting Lira and the others move a bit ahead. She closed her eyes for just a second, taking a slow breath. The damp air filled her lungs, heavy with the scent of soil and decay, yet she found her racing heart settling.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Mikhailis looking back at her. He’d paused, noticing she’d fallen behind. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were warmer than usual. Almost… concerned.

She stepped closer, her boots scraping against the ancient stones, and forced a small smile. "I’m alright," she murmured.

A flicker of confusion crossed his features. "I didn’t say anything."

Rhea let out a quiet snort. "You were about to."

He gave a half-smile, raising his hands. "Okay, guilty. I can’t help being nosy sometimes." Experience more on novelbuddy

She found herself relaxing despite the eerie surroundings. There was something comforting in the way he teased. It reminded her that life wasn’t all gloom and doom. That she could, maybe, let go of her worries a little.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there in the dim corridor, the faint glow of runes touching their faces. Then he nodded forward, where Lira and the others were waiting patiently. "Shall we rejoin them? I don’t want them thinking we got lost."

"Sure," she said, her voice steadier than before.

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