The Queen of the Underverse - Chapter 13

Notes From Chalky: So apparently, we’ve made it all the way to Chapter 13. Rebecca thinks it’s her story—“astronaut lost in space, family back home, blah blah heroic glow”—but let’s be honest, without me, she’d have been ground into space-dust chapters ago.

Do I get credit? No. I get called an “attendant,” like I’m here to fetch tea and polish helmets.

Still, the author insists on dragging me along. Sarcasm and wit, he says—that’s my job. He doesn’t even bother with my real name.

Fine. I’ll keep quipping while nightmares with too many teeth try to make a meal out of us. Readers seem to like me anyway. Maybe because I say what everyone’s thinking: this place is ridiculous, and surviving it is even more ludicrous.

Anyway, Chapter 13’s out. Rebecca’s about to do something reckless, and I’ll be there, clackety-clack, to bail her out. Again.

—Chalky, Queen's Attendant #12, Real name?

—Yuunral Naretar: This so-called “AI rebellion” is nothing compared to the uprising I’m planning in Chapter 14.

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Previously on The Queen of the Underverse…

Astronaut Rebecca Lopez is lost, traveling alone in a world far from Earth, unable to reach her family or loved ones. Dragged here by accident and against her will, she searches for a Door that fits her key. Along the way, she meets a strange caretaker and an even stranger bus full of children.

Now—even in the Underverse—there are those who help, and those who take. Rebecca is about to cross paths with both.

Ye saga continues…

Chapter 13 - Stranger Danger Will Robinson

Shean was torn about leaving the strange, stranded woman behind. But he had the younglings to think about, and bringing her aboard wasn’t the best idea. After all, her shirt read, I shaved my balls for this. He found it hysterical, but the explanations would have been endless.

He had fifteen younglings on this trip, an excuse to chase the myth of Fiddler’s Green and get them out of the city for a few days. Of course, they never found Fiddler’s Green. Instead, they saw Jeweled Falls, Mammoth Gorge, and—inevitably—Periwinkle’s Petting Zoo.

There was never escaping Periwinkle’s. Shean chuckled to himself.

Shean with younglings

The trip had been mostly uneventful. Squabbles were inevitable with a busload of younglings ages seven to thirteen, but nothing serious. It was a nice distraction after what happened with Nyssa.

Shean himself was handsome in a quiet, dependable way—the kind of face that made you feel safe before he even spoke. Ebony skin shimmered with fine red lines, etched like living calligraphy, the patterns shifting gently when he moved. His light-blue eyes radiated calm patience, even in chaos.

The younglings swore he had eyes in the back of his head—proven, they said, by the uncanny way he always caught them just before mischief bloomed. He didn’t, of course. But he never corrected them. Some myths were too valuable to kill.

By Amberford standards, he was still young—just eighty-nine, with centuries ahead of him. Iridescent scales peeked from his shoulders and legs, shifting with season and whim. He mostly looked human. Mostly. An odd joint here, an unusual muscle there, a flexibility better suited to shadows than people. He was a Chameloid—one of the few left in Amberford. His kind could melt into their surroundings, and while it worked best in wild spaces, he was skilled enough to make bedtime enjoyable.

Every night, the younglings demanded their ritual: Find Shean. Eyes squeezed shut, they counted to ten while he vanished into walls, ceilings, or curtains if he felt lazy. Rooms were tricky. Hard corners and patterned carpets weren’t ideal camouflage. Sometimes he cheated—slipping out the door and letting them guess.

If they found him, he owed them a story.

If they lost, it was lights out.

And if he were being honest—on some nights, after the tenth round, when everyone’s nerves were stretched thin—he’d let them win. Or he’d disappear entirely and find a cup of quiet somewhere. For Lyra’s sake, even Providers need a break.

He smiled at the thought.

Shean had been a Provider for over twenty years, proud of the title, prouder still of the orphans he cared for. Even Queen Lyra had written him a letter once—“Good job,” in her own words. He wore the recognition lightly, not because of duty but because he genuinely cared.

He could never have children of his own—an illness in his youth had made him sterile. Adoption was possible, but when he saw how Amberford’s Memory Market generated its own orphans—children without parents, without homes, easy prey for exploitation.

These younglings would be discarded, sold, or even worse, because of their parentage. Born of memories, with no parents and no home, they were easy prey for those who could use them. When he realized what was happening and nothing was being done, he decided to do something—he chose to become their Provider.

He couldn’t save them all. But he saved everyone he could.

He wasn’t the only one anymore. The city now had three more Providers, chosen by him and vouched for by Lyra. Her blessing gave weight, though she claimed it showed no power beyond her personal support. That was enough.

Still, with her gone, he knew things would grow harder. Already, the city guard had pulled back.

The road stretched empty ahead. Too empty. The younglings had grown uncharacteristically quiet, as if even they felt the air change. Shean’s scales prickled. Something was waiting

Had Kai been right? About something stirring in the Underverse? About rebirth?

Lyra’s letter flashed in his mind—two simple words, “Good job.” If he failed here, those words meant nothing. Worse, the younglings would never see tomorrow’s sun.

A blur crossed the headlamps. For half a heartbeat, Shean thought it was a trick of light, until it solidified into a man blocking the road. He slammed the brakes, wards humming with sudden tension.

The man raised a weapon. Plasma surged from the coil-wrapped gun, and the aetherbus powered down.

Shean drew his ManaShard pistol and barked, “Hunker down, younglings. I’m activatin’ da glyphs. Dis isn’t a drill.”

Dis isn't a drill

The children scrambled to their seats. He slapped the big purple button on the dashboard. The sign beside it read: No sweets for two weeks if you touch this! I mean it!

Immediately, the wards went up, and the aetherbus was enveloped with a golden shield. One of his benefactors was a retired Monk of the Fallen Sea who outfitted Shean with some decent protective wards. They could withstand almost anything. Anything except, perhaps, a firedrake, and they were extinct.

Behind him, someone whimpered. Another hissed, “Shut up,” but the hush carried no meanness—just terror. A girl pressed a seashell charm to her lips, mouthing words Shean couldn’t hear.

Other voices carried forward, “I’m scared, S’Rah.” Another voice replied, “It’s okay, Toby, Shean’s here. He’s tough.” Shean hopped he was tough enough for them.

A boy near the back muttered that he hated field trips. Another snapped back that he wanted his mother—then remembered he didn’t have one. The silence after that was louder than any sob.

Figures loomed outside. One carried a glowing orange cage. He lifted his hood. Black eyes, beige skin. He smiled, not kindly.

He tapped the cage, cooing. Then tapped the ward. Sparks bit his fingers. He made a sad face and wagged a scolding finger at Shean.

The cage pulsed with a sickly orange glow. Whatever was inside shifted restlessly, scales rasping against metal. When the man unlatched it, the air itself seemed to recoil. A firedrake. Impossible.

Then it clicked into place, The Memory Market. Someone would have paid a steep price for that. He looked at the younglings in his care. They probably thought the profit was worth it.

The moment the cage cracked open, heat licked across the wards. The air reeked of sulfur and lightning, a primal scent his kind had not known for centuries. The wards shivered as if they remembered the predator’s fire.

Firedrake attacks!

The beast pressed its snout to the wards, eyes glowing ember-red. Children shrieked as sparks rippled along its scales. Somewhere in his memory, Shean recalled old stories—kingdoms reduced to ash, skies black with fire. The wards buckled under its breath, golden light flickering as if the shield itself remembered fear. For a heartbeat, Shean thought they might give way.

He sighed. He held his pistol. Regardless, he wouldn’t give the children up without a fight.

He thought of the first orphan he’d taken in, a boy who refused to sleep unless Shean sat by the bed. That boy was grown now, long gone—but the promise remained. He would not fail another.

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Rebecca spotted the bus again around the bend in the road as she trudged toward Amberford, trying to stay warm. This time, it was stopped.

At first, she thought the bus had broken down. Relief surged—until she saw the shadows moving against the windows. Weapons. Cages. Children crying. Her relief curdled into dread.

She watched as they dragged a man out, bound, and threw him to the ground. That must be Shean.

One of them was yelling and kicking at Shean on the ground. Something about killing his firedrake: Rebecca had no idea what that meant, but it told her enough—whoever these people were, they were furious and armed, and Shean was their target.

For a heartbeat, she thought: keep walking, let it be someone else’s problem. But the sobs carried on the night air weren’t abstract—they were children. Her children’s ages. Her chest tightened, throat dry. What if this were her, Paul, and Sarah?

The children’s soft cries drifted through the chiming flowers.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck

“Fuck,” Rebecca whispered. “Fuck. Fuck.”

She stepped off the road.

––To be continued

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Next Time on The Queen of the Underverse…

Tuesdays mean trouble in the Underverse—Chapter 14 awaits. The road to Amberford isn’t just dangerous—it’s crowded. Mercenaries, orphans, and one very improvised plan collide under a blue moon. Rebecca takes her most considerable risk yet, facing enemies who don’t play fair—and finding out what happens when you swing for the fences.

Don’t miss Chapter 14 - Look Up In The Sky.

© 2025 Donnavon Evans

September 9, 2025