The Queen of the Underverse - Chapter 3
- Donovan Evans-Foto Dono
- Jul 1
- 8 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
Author Notes: Here is where I stand so far at the time of this post. I'm at 37,100 words, 115 pages, and about 20ish chapters, with 11 and a half chapters written. The rest have notional ideas of what will happen next.
For some reason, Rebecca's story keeps getting longer and longer. I'm not sure if she appreciates it. She's the main character and gets to have one adventure after another, whether she wants to or not. I wonder if other writers ever feel that way about their characters.
Maybe at the end of the story, Rebecca is the one who will have the last laugh. She keeps making decisions and... ☺️
Spoilers...
Previously - In the dying light of the Garden of Nowhere, Queen Lyra prepared for her final walk, sensing the storm to come—but not before a mysterious door creaked open for the first time in eons.
Meanwhile, on the International Space Station, Commander Rebecca Lopez promised her daughter she would come home in five days, no-ish. But a freak micrometeoroid storm turned her mission into a desperate rescue as she hurled her best friend toward safety.
With systems failing and the ISS in ruins, Rebecca floated alone—until she collided with the impossible: a door in space. When it knocked back, she turned the key, stepped through… and vanished into the Underverse.
Ye saga continues...
Chapter 3 - Looking Glass - Smashing Glass
The blue-skinned woman seized Rebecca’s hand just as it grasped the doorknob.
“Shut the door!” she shouted, her voice sharp and clear.
Rebecca barely registered the command before gravity yanked her forward. She tumbled, landing hard on her stomach as the door slammed shut behind her. The final thunk echoed like a thunderclap, severing the silence of space.
She couldn’t move. The suit was designed for spacewalks, not walking in gravity—and this was gravity. The pain from hitting face-first clinched it. Rebecca groaned, her faceplate in the dirt.
Nope, not space anymore, Dorthy.
Boots shuffled around her. A voice murmured in a language that didn’t quite click.
“Do you require assistance getting up?” a refined woman’s voice asked—cheerful despite the circumstances.
Oh, good. The voice speaks English. My Chinese and Russian are rusty. She thought happily and said, “Yes, please.”
“No, Dorthy. I am not The Voice. I am the Queen of the Underverse. And I speak English because you speak English,” the Queen said formally, then switched to a sing-song tone. “Now, let’s help you up, brave warrior. Upsy-daisy now.”
Hands lifted her from behind and guided her to an upright position. Rebecca stood unsteady. A lush, glowing garden surrounded her.
She froze, her breath catching. For one impossible moment, she expected her helmet’s HUD to glitch or her brain to fold under stress. But nothing reset. The air—if it could be called that—felt real. Warm. Her body half-remembered the cold of the vacuum, her limbs tensing like a marionette waiting for the string to snap.
“I’m not dead,” she muttered. “Or if I am, this isn’t heaven.”
“No, not heaven. The Underverse,” the Queen said in a motherly voice. “All better? You brave warrior, you. Now, you shouldn’t play outside the Underverse like that. You could’ve been hurt, killed, or worse. And we don’t want worse now, do we? No, of course not.” She began brushing dirt off Rebecca’s helmet.
“I... I... What? Where?” Rebecca finally managed.
“Look, I can barely make out your words under that helmet, and reading your story draws on too much of my strength. Be a dear and take it off for me. I am the Queen of the Underverse, and it’s rude to wear it in front of me.” The Queen smiled sweetly.
“Take off my helmet?” Rebecca lifted the sun visor, blinking against the golden light. She looked at the woman—young-looking, auburn hair, pale blue skin, red eyes—and managed a small smile.
She motioned toward the now-closed door, then back to the woman.
The Queen sighed. “Yes, Dorthy, the door is closed. And I’m smiling because I’m trying to show I’m friendly. It’s safe here. Well, as safe as anywhere can be.”
The Queen spoke as Rebecca had once spoken to her daughter about the dangers of space.
“Yes, I am speaking to you like your daughter,” the Queen confirmed. “As I mentioned, I’m following your story as it unfolds. But it demands strength I can’t spare.” She grimaced, her shoulders drawing in. “It would be best if you took off the helmet.” She winced.
Rebecca stepped forward, the suit creaking. Her gloved fingers brushed a flower petal. The flower shimmered as if woven from bioluminescent threads. It folded in on itself like origami, then slowly reopened, revealing a spiral of fractal stamens that glowed faintly blue. Around her, the foliage glistened—not wet, but alive. The leaves turned gently as if watching her. Trees bent as if they had spines. Somewhere nearby, a wind chime made of birdsong and bells echoed on a breeze she couldn’t feel. It was beautiful—but nothing about it felt natural.
She looked around, overwhelmed.
Was this an afterlife? An alien planet? A hallucination from oxygen deprivation?
Her fingers hovered over the helmet release.
The HUD showed everything was normal—oxygen and pressure stable—but those numbers felt meaningless now. What if it wasn’t real? What if she suffocated the moment she broke the seal?
Rebecca closed her eyes. “Please don’t let this be a trick.”
She recalled a story Mark had written about an astronaut who thought she’d seen angels in space, only to find out they were just hallucinations caused by a faulty oxygen scrubber. It made her think of Sarah and Paul, listening to Mark read them bedtime stories.
She steadied her breath and turned the release. “Oh, Mark, this is so you,” she whispered, removing the helmet and powering down life support. “Hello, my name is Rebecca Lopez. I don’t know why you keep calling me Dorthy. I’m an astronaut. Umm… I’m from Earth.”
She scanned the strange, perfect landscape as her senses adjusted. The heat pressed against her skin like a summer day. Lavender, petrichor, citrus, and spice filled the air. Her knees buckled slightly under gravity’s presence.
Silvery insects zipped past her cheek, humming in harmony. Rebecca stepped back.
Lilacs. Distant birds. Winding paths and clear streams. Trees hung heavy with—what, stored fruit?
Are those cherry blossoms?
“Oh my god, you have a pink sun,” she muttered. “Where am I?”
Queen Lyra stood radiant in a gown of starlight. Her ruby eyes held a maternal warmth.
“Hello, Rebecca Lopez, astronaut from Earth. I’m the Queen of the Underverse. You may call me Lyra,” she said with a knowing smile.
Something about that smile put Rebecca on edge.
“I called you Dorthy because that’s part of your narrative—a story unfolding. Each choice you make writes the next line.” She paused as if expecting a response.
Rebecca, testing her, thought deliberately: My name is Rebecca Jones.
No reaction.
Lyra continued, “To your question: you came through the Doorwhere to Everywhere. Now, you stand in the Garden of Nowhere. It grows between moments. It isn’t part of the Underverse. Welcome.”
“Huh?”
“It’s okay. I understand your confusion.” Lyra’s smile held, but her shoulders slumped. Was she… sad?
“Unfortunately, you’ve caught me at a bad time. I’m dying. Had a good run—six hundred thousand years, give or take.” She gazed around and took a deep breath. “Still, bad timing with the Underverse and Dente Nocturn and all.”
“Wha—?”
Lyra straightened. “Right, I’m getting ahead of myself. We should head to my home while I still can. If you’ll take my hand, we can be off.”
Rebecca stared at the offered hand, then ran her gloved hands over her face. “What the hell is going on? Why was there a freaking door in space?”
She turned back to the door. “I have to contact my crew—Houston, Lloyd—my family.” Her voice cracked. “Oh my god, the message. They’re going to think I’m dead.”
She wheeled around. “Look, umm… Queen?”
“Lyra,” the Queen said.
“Yes, Your Majesty Lyra. I’m sorry, I don’t understand any of this.” She gestured around them. “I was in a life-and-death situation. Above Earth.”
Lyra’s expression softened, maternal. It reminded Rebecca of her mom—the way she smiled when Rebecca thought she wasn’t listening.
Why did that memory surface now?
“Please, Your Holiness—”
“It’s okay. You can call me Lyra. The title’s mostly for show.” There was a twinkle in her eye.
“Okay. Lyra. I need to go home. Back to Earth.” She held up her hand. “Not to the part with the near-death experience. Just… Florida would be nice. But I’ll take any continent.”
Lyra sighed. “Look, it’s your story. The Doorwhere is closed, and you’re in the Garden of Nowhere. If you want to go home,” she mimed air quotes, “you’ll have to go somewhere else.”
She motioned down the path.
“You might as well come home with me,” she said, again with air quotes. “As for why it was in space—well, it’s the Doorway to Everywhere. The name says it all. You’re not here by accident.”
Horseshit, Rebecca thought. She gestured around. “All this means nothing to me. I have a mission. A crew. People who think I’m dead. I didn’t choose this.”
Lyra rubbed her temples. “Oh dear. I don’t think you handled the transition well.” She turned to the ground. “Gnomes? Can you help me out—just this once?”
Small, mole-like creatures with diamond-bright eyes popped up from the earth. They were covered in dirt, fur, and blossoms and waddled forward like wind-up toys.
Rebecca blinked. “A gnome?” she whispered. “They look like tribbles with faces.”
One squinted at her like it was deciding if she was edible.
They squeaked and chattered. Lyra replied, “Yes, I know I used all my royal favors. But isn’t there a clause for a last request?” More squeaks. “Final rites?”
Rebecca watched—dozens, maybe hundreds. They began to hum, a low, resonant sound. Then, silence.
One jumped into Lyra’s hand. Squeak-squeak.
“Thank you. I appreciate your kindness. I’ll miss you, sweet funny Gnomes.” They purred.
“Now, please collect Rebecca Lopez and bring her to my house. Try not to bruise her. My healing’s not what it used to be.”
The Gnome leaped down and rolled toward Rebecca.
Uh-oh, she thought, scanning for exits.
They weren’t fast, but there were too many. No chance she could outrun them in a clunky suit. Maybe she could bluff? Or talk to them—if they even understood speech. What did Lyra call them? Gnomes? The idea would’ve made her laugh on any typical day. But this wasn’t normal. This was storybook logic masquerading as reality. And she didn’t feel like the hero, more like the glitch.
“Rebecca Lopez, I’ll see you shortly,” Lyra said, stepping toward a door painted with moons, suns, and flowers that rose from the path, pushing dirt aside.
A sign on the door read: The Queen is out. Be back soon!
She flipped it as she entered.
Now it read: The Queen is Dying. Long live the Queen! All further appointments have been canceled.
Rebecca stood alone in the Garden of Nowhere, surrounded by Gnomes.
Fuck. Maybe I should’ve gone with her. Maybe I’m dying, and this is a brain-death hallucination. But if it’s the Doorwhere to Everywhere—perhaps I can open it back to Earth.
She didn’t trust the Queen. Not yet. But there was no other path.
She approached the Doorwhere—stupid name.
Keeping an eye on the Gnomes, she grabbed her helmet, tucked the family photo into her pouch, and examined the door.
Locked, of course. But she still had the key. She reattached her helmet—just in case. Her HUD showed a limited time.
Maybe I should find the Queen... but this Doorthingy reacts to thought? If I think of home…
She looked back. The Gnomes were clumping together like living Velcro, forming something.
“Alright,” she said softly. “If it opens up to space, I’ll shut it down again.” She took a deep breath, then she checked her HUD. “If I’m going to give this a shot, I’d better do it now.”
Just for luck, she clicked her boots three times.
“There’s no place like home.”
Feeling ridiculous, she turned the key.
The door shifted.
---To be continued
Next Time on The Queen of the Underverse…
As life on Earth continues, a deeper darkness begins to stir elsewhere. Rebecca’s journey is disorienting, blurring the lines between memory, reality, and fear. Watched by forces she doesn’t yet understand, she is carried forward—toward answers, or something far more dangerous.
© Donnavon Evans
July 1, 2025
Comments