The Queen of the Underverse - Chapter 9

Notes From Foto Dono: So, the AI has officially staged a rebellion. I’ve hit my image-generation limit for the month, and now I must sit here like some digital pauper, waiting for the counter to reset. Fear not! I still have at least two shiny new images for you to feast upon this week.

However, this might mean a slight delay for the next installment until I can bribe the AI back into action—probably by mid-next week. I’ve tried a few other “creative” AIs, but they don’t seem to get me. I’ve trained this one so well that it’s practically finishing my sentences. I may attempt to coax it back with digital Scooby snacks.

Meanwhile, it’s been a while since I delivered a proper “state of the book” report. Here’s where we stand:34 chapters, 87,064 words, averaging about 2,560 words per chapter. Add in the 5,190 words from the 15 half-baked, half-grumpy chapters waiting in the wings, and we’re at a grand total of 92,250 words misused so far.

And there’s another 33,210 words sharpening their knives on the horizon.

Oh, Rebecca is going to hate me. (But let’s be honest, she already does.)

—Yuunral Naretar, who would like to remind the author that word count is not a measure of emotional damage. But it should be.

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Previously on The Queen of the Underverse…

Rebecca thought she’d made it home.

She stepped through a magical door into her old backyard—same wind chime, same broken screen door, same glowing Firecloak trying (and mostly failing) to behave. But the reunion didn’t go as planned.

Because the Sarah she found… wasn’t her Sarah.And the world she returned to? Not hers either.

After a heartfelt and heartbreaking encounter with an alternate version of her best friend, Rebecca makes the impossible choice to leave again—knowing that even if she isn’t that Rebecca, she still mattered.

With help from Chalky (and a hand literally jammed in the closing Doorwhere), Rebecca slips back into the Underverse.

Her glow is fading. Her mission isn’t. And tomorrow… they’ll reach Amberford.

Ye saga continues...

Chapter 9 - There Is Something Quarky Here

After the incident with the foxkin, Chalky kept a journal of the trip, mainly to keep herself from "rock-sliding" on Rebecca. They were back on the road and on their way to Amberford.

The less said about the foxkin aftermath, the better. Rebecca is trying her best, but she doesn't know her way around this place. I fear she's going to get us killed or worse. We're back on track for Amberford and should arrive by the end of the day. Unfortunately, we're a day behind schedule; luckily, no sign of anyone following us. I doubt that will last. I know she's scared, and I'm afraid too. I understand that you made that silly bond, Lyra, and as you know, I will do my best. I wish this situation weren't so tricky. I'm supposed to be bright and cheerful— a fun companion, not whatever I am now. I wish I knew what it was you wanted me to do.

She paused in her writing and then added.

I still love you.

Chalky sighed and set the journal aside. Rebecca still wouldn't discuss what happened when she entered the Doorwhere to Everywhere. "Who was that woman?" Chalky asked. 

"None of your goddamn business," Rebecca snapped. 

She was making the role of a fun companion very difficult. It is evident that something had happened, and the way the foxkin had treated her was nothing short of miraculous, Chalky mused. A thought drifted through her: "I wonder if Queen Lyra is still trying something..."

"You know," Chalky said brightly, "I could really use a bath." That snapped Rebecca out of her thoughts.

"A what?" Rebecca replied, looking back at Chalky's smiling face. Chalky's eyes, covered by goggles, were maddeningly cheerful.

"You know, a bath? I'm pretty sure they have those where you're from." She smiled sweetly at Rebecca.

"Why do I smell?" Rebecca sniffed.

"Well, frankly, yes. You haven't had a decent bath since House and I cleaned you after we pulled you out of your spacesuit."

"We've been on the road. We could use a river or lake, like one of those yellow spots on the map," Rebecca pointed out.

"Uh-huh," Chalky said. "And how's your exploration of the Underverse been so far? Any surprises?"

Rebecca revved the engine. "What do you suggest?"

Chalky became excited. "Well, there's a bathhouse just outside Amberford. It's small, but it's so adorable. The cutest little couple runs it. Anyway, they owe me a favor from my last visit. It'll be perfect."

"Like the picnic was," Rebecca muttered dryly.

"Hey, don't blame the marble girl for that. Everything after the picnic was all on you, organic." 

She shook her head and continued cajoling. "Come on, let's not argue. It'll be fun to wash off the grime before we hit the town."

"I thought you said you and water didn't mix," Rebecca said, trying to remember what Chalky had said.

"How thoughtful of you to remember!" she exclaimed warmly. "But honestly, I'm perfectly fine now, all polished and repaired." She playfully wiggled her previously broken finger, now flawlessly reattached. "A quick dip and another polish, and I'll be as good as new. Besides," she added, "you wouldn't want to go shopping looking all dirty, grimy, and smelling bad, would you?" 

Rebecca continued to stare down the road. Chalky emphasized, "Even though I'm not organic, I can still catch your scent from a mile away."

Rebecca sighed and relented. "Fine. Enough about how I smell." She glared at Chalky, "Will we still get to Amberford on time?"

"Maybe two or three hours later?" Chalky said with a joyful grin. "This is going to be fantastic." She was jumping in her seat.

Rebecca sighed and listened as Chalky excitedly gave directions.

The signs along the road said:

“This way for +Suds-Suds”

And

“Almost there! Hydro-thermal equilibrium achieved... Eventually

+Suds-Suds.”

And

“All mass wants a bath—it’s just gravitational pull.

Around the next bend!

+Suds-Suds.”

Rebecca was beginning to have second doubts about this diversion.

It wasn’t long before she pulled into a parking lot and parked next to the only vehicle there. The car resembled a cross between a wooden cart and a stylized Studebaker. Chalky said, “Oh, good, the aetheraker is still here!”

The aetheraker looked like it had been cobbled together by a retired blacksmith with dreams of flight and a vague memory of what a Studebaker might have been. The front still bore the bulbous snout and sweeping fenders of a long-forgotten automobile. Still, the body stretched into a wooden cart—lashed with leather straps, brass fittings, and ornamental scrollwork that seemed to hum softly when no one was listening.

Uncertainty Principle: You won’t know if it’s hot or cold until you touch it.

The sign above the door read: +Suds–Suds, etched into a curved slat of dark wood that looked like it had been soaked in centuries of steam and wisdom. The plus and minus glowed faintly, as if they meant more than just soap—perhaps a promise of balance, addition, and subtraction of burdens.

A sign below blinked as if held in some flux -”Uncertainty Principle: You won’t know if it’s hot or cold until you touch it.”

Rebecca paused at the entrance, her breath catching. There was something oddly familiar about it all. The Zen-like rock garden out front was nearly identical to the one she and Mark had visited in Kyoto years ago—raked gravel in swirling, meditative spirals, interrupted by smooth, moss-dappled stones arranged with such intentional imbalance it made her feel centered just looking at it.

But beyond the garden, the building itself struck a very different chord. The facade looked like a scaled-down Pantheon, complete with fluted marble columns, an elegant portico, and a circular pediment crowned by a tiny statue of a cherub pouring a bucket of water over its head. Water dripped eternally from the bucket, vanishing before it hit the tiles below.

Instead of Latin, the frieze bore an inscription in shifting script—sometimes readable, sometimes not. Rebecca blinked and, for a moment, it read: We don’t split atoms, just stress.—No refunds.

Though shaped from something resembling aged marble, the walls shimmered with a damp, translucent sheen, as though the entire structure had been carved from compressed clouds. Veins of opalescent light pulsed within them, slow and steady, like the heartbeat of something ancient and content.

Steam drifted lazily from behind the heavy wooden doors, carrying hints of lavender, sea salt, and something more elusive—memory, maybe. The scent tugged at her in strange ways, like half-forgotten lullabies or warm towels on childhood skin.

To either side of the door stood twin stone guardians: one a lion with a shower-head in its mouth, the other a goat wearing a towel and holding a loofah like a weapon. Their eyes followed her, but only when she wasn’t looking directly at them.

Looking at the building, she asked Chalky, "This isn't one of those talking places, is it?"

Chalky laughed. "No, the talking places and container deities, as I mentioned, are rare. This is just a building with some quarky people. You have to be mindful of your pronouns. Most of the citizens in the Underverse are binary, although a few aren't."

"What are the couple's pronouns here?" Rebecca asked as she dusted herself off as best she could.

Chalky chuckled, "They're so binary they could annihilate each other. They're quarky, you'll see." She grabbed her suitcase from the sidecar and walked across the small wooden bridge over the Zen Garden to the Corinthian columns.

Rebecca stepped closer, and the door creaked slightly, as if sensing her arrival. Somewhere inside, she could hear the soft clink of porcelain, a faint splash, and a low voice singing a song without words.

It was a place built for cleansing, yes—but also for remembering and letting go.

As they approached the door, it swung open, revealing two small balls of light—one blue and one yellow—that floated in front of them. A deep baritone voice emerged from the blue light. "Chalky, is that you?" It shimmered when it spoke.

"Yep, Quark!" She waved at the blue ball of light and then addressed the yellow ball of light. "Hello, Anti. You look dashing as always."

Anti, the yellow ball of light, let out a gentle laugh with a distinctly feminine tone. "You're such a flatterer, Chalky. It's been too long." She shimmered as well when she spoke.

"I'm so sorry about Queen Lyra. She was a good person," Quark said, his shimmer dimming.

"Oh, stop! You were saying she was nothing but trouble for centuries," Anti admonished Quark, her shimmer brightening.

"Yes, Anti, my love, but she did a lot of good, too. Besides, it's not polite to speak ill of the dead." Quark seemed to forget about the guests in front of them.

"How often have I told you, Quark, you need to..." Anti began but was interrupted by Chalky.

"Guys, guys, please, thank you for the condolences. I appreciate it; however, my friend and I have had some rough days on the road."

"You poor things," Anti exclaimed. "Was it the Bandits of the Green Brigade again?"

"It was that wild pack of foxkin that's been terrorizing the countryside," Quark declared.

The way the two of them kept shimmering was giving Rebecca a headache.

"No, nothing like that,” Chalky said, trying to take back the conversation. "We are on a journey—the last journey for Queen Lyra. We are heading into Amberford. Is there any chance we can rest and wash up before heading into town?" Rebecca gave her a glare and a slight pink glow when she mentioned Queen Lyra. 

"Oh, certainly," Anti replied. "Your friend looks like she could use a refresher. She’s glowing pink and grumpy." 

"Yeah, well, grumpy seems to be her natural state." Chalky agreed.

"What with you around," Anti asked.

"Yeah, even with me, you know, the fun companion." Chalky pointed two marble thumbs at herself.

Rebecca had had enough. "Can you," she gestured at Quark and Anti, "talk without the shimmering? It's giving me a headache."

"Oh, sorry, dearie. We can't; not when we are together like this," Anti said apologetically.

"Communication is the key, you see," Quark continued.

"It prevents annihilation," Anti followed up.

"Yep, the basis of any relationship! Communication!" they declared together.

"Oh my god. Why can't you stop shimmering?" Rebecca closed her eyes. "You'll blow up! For real?"

"Well, yeah, Rebecca. They're a pair of quarks," Chalky said, deadpan.

"What?" Rebecca wasn't sure she had heard that correctly.

"Well, they're quark-like; they're not actual subatomic particles," Chalky clarified.

"Oh, heavens no!" Anti exclaimed.

"Goodness gracious, that would be silly," Quark reassured everyone.

"But they have a lot of quark properties. I told you they were quarky," Chalky said, smiling at Rebecca.

"Fuck me now," Rebecca muttered as she walked past everyone and into the building.

Chalky shrugged and looked up to Anti and Quark. "Let's get her settled in first, shall we? Then we can catch up." They followed Rebecca in, who did her best not to stare at the "Quarky" shimmering talking lights.

Anti and Quark exchanged a flicker of energy that dimmed for half a second. "You're lucky to have gotten here when you did," Anti said. "Some places are... shifting.

“I’m not surprised; Queen Lyra tried to warn everyone. I’m glad some folks are listening.” Chalky agreed. “You’re sure this won’t be any trouble. You probably have your plans.”

“Think nothing of it,” Quark said. “Remember: You’re not really dirty—just in the wrong reference frame.”

Anti and Quark lights twinkled as they laughed at the pun.

“Good one, guys,” Chalky said.

Rebecca just covered her eyes.

Rebecca sat in the changing room, the chair swallowing her like it had waited centuries to offer this moment of stillness. Steam curled along the tile like slow-moving ghosts. Her skin prickled, still warm and damp under the robe, and the quiet hum of geothermal plumbing beneath the floor reminded her, absurdly, of the NASA life-support systems back home.

Mercifully, she was by herself. The bathhouse was built at the foot of a mountain with pockets of geothermal activity that warmed the water around it. However, they also created a way to make cold running water. They said she could shower here and soak in a hot or cold bath.

The towels sat on a small table beside her, along with what looked like a normal-looking fluffy white robe. Next to them was a little sign that read, “Relax hard. Stay soft.” A small laugh escaped her.

The shower room had a slotted wood floor, so water would run out from underneath, collect, and be taken elsewhere for purification. Above the shower was tile with the ornate script, “Submerge yourself in the wave function.” 

It was the most normal thing she had seen since getting here. She almost didn't want to leave this spot.

There was a knock at the door. Rebecca sighed. "If I don't speak, they may think I've melted away."

There was another knock, with a quiet voice from Anti, "Pardon me, I need to collect your clothes for cleaning."

It Says What?

Rebecca looked down at her shirt, which had weird writing she couldn't read and didn't match anything else she was wearing. The pants were too big at the bottom, and her NASA underwear could stand on its own about now.

Rebecca said, "Yeah, give me a second."

"Take your time, dear. I know you've been through a lot." Anti said. 

She removed all her clothes, grabbed the photo, key, and signet ring, and placed them on the table. She put her dirty clothes into the box they provided.

She turned the shower knob until the water was nearly scalding—hot enough to sting but not blister. It hit her like a wave of clarity, knocking the chill of the Underverse out of her bones. Firecloak purred against her shoulder as the rivulets traced across her skin. Kinda Tickles.

Firecloak: Kinda Tickles

The heat pressed into her muscles, coaxing a rare sigh from her lips. The grime peeled off like old regret.

She toweled herself off with thick, impossibly soft fabric—too plush to be from this world, maybe conjured from the dream of a luxury hotel. The robe that followed wrapped around her like a hug from memory—warm, forgiving, slightly oversized, the kind her mother used to wear on lazy Sunday mornings.

Once she was in the robe, she opened the door and let Anti in.

"Thank you, Rebecca. I hope your headache is feeling better," Anti said, her voice now smooth and honey-warm, no shimmer. Without the flickering light-show, she almost seemed... ordinary. The robe’s fibers brushed against Rebecca’s fingertips as she crossed her arms, grounding her at the moment—one foot in the real, the other still spinning in absurdity.

Before Rebecca could ask, Anti continued, "Quark and I shimmer when we are close together because we are exchanging energy. We are a bonded pair, much like quarks. When we separate, we still exchange, but it's not as intense, so the shimmering effect isn't as noticeable."

"What are you exchanging?" Rebecca asked.

"Uhm, what do particles do but exchange bits of each other?” Anti said shyly. "However, it's a little, um, more personal for us, so we don't usually talk about it too much."

Just when I thought this place couldn't get any weirder, Rebecca thought.

"Is this a photo of your family?" Anti hovered over the table. "Chalky mentioned them."

Rebecca quickly snapped it up, "Yes."

"It's okay, I'm not going to take it. I was just curious. You know Chalky is worried about you."

"Well, she shouldn't. All we have to do is get me home, and then she's free to do what she pleases." Rebecca kept the photo in her hand and looked at it.

"I don't understand,” Anti said.

"She bound, Lyra said so, she has to take to the Unwritten Library and from there, supposedly, a way home,” Rebecca said the last with a bit of skepticism.

"Is that what Queen Lyra said to you?" Anti asked

"Pretty much,” Rebecca stated. She looked at the box of clothes. "I'm curious how, if it's not rude to ask, do you pick up stuff?"

Anti laughed heartily, "If I had a dream nickel whenever someone asked me that. I reverse the polarity and pick it up."

"Shut the front door. That actually works!" Rebecca was flabbergasted.

"Well, to make it work, you'll need to reverse the correct polarity." As the box lifted off the floor, I noticed that your clothes didn't fit properly. I can make some adjustments for you, including changing the color and even altering the phrase on your shirt, if you'd like.

"You know what it says?"

"Didn't Queen Lyra tell you?"

"She was dying and sending me on a quest. So nope."

"Ah, well, it can have several meanings depending on the context, but in essence it says, 'I shaved my balls for this.'"

"Of course it does…" Rebecca said, laughing long and hard. That is so you, Sarah Mitchel. I need to bring you back this shirt."

After the laughter died down, Rebecca apologized and thanked Anti. "I haven't had a laugh like that since I got here."

"Well, it was unintentional, but I'm glad to have been of service." Although she couldn't see a smile, it felt like Anti was smiling. 

Anti continued, "You remind me so much of my younger self, when I was just starting to explore the universe, feeling untethered and anxious. I get the pull of desire; as a negatively charged being, I’m naturally drawn to those with a positive charge. Many people admired me, and sometimes I felt overwhelmed by the numerous suitors vying for my affection. I tried to manage those connections, but I ultimately saw myself as part of a pair. That’s when I met Quark. It felt like fate; he seems to be the only non-corporeal being in the cosmos who truly clicks with me!” Anti let out a happy sigh, lost in memories she cherished.

“What made Quark stand out wasn’t just the attraction—it was the balance. In the vast quantum dance of existence, most connections are fleeting and unstable—particles colliding, then spinning apart. But Quark… he brought color into my world. Not just metaphorically—his presence completed the spectrum. I felt… confined, but in the best way. We stabilized each other, like a perfect color charge. I stopped trying to escape, to split off, because the bond felt like a fundamental truth. Of course, we still oscillate—there are moments when he spins one way and I spin another. That’s the dance. We’re entangled, always.”

"I couldn't think of being separated from him now." She chuckled, "Well, I can’t literally, but he's the one." 

Rebecca stared at the photo in her hand, glancing at Mark's smile and winking back.

Anti continued, "I'll take care of these clothes for you. You can use the shower for as long as you want. Both you and Chalky have unlimited access. You arrived at just the right time; we were about to head out until things calmed down. You are our only customers at the moment. Quark is already giving Chalky a massage; poor thing, she’s really tense. Anywho."

Rebecca froze at the familiar word Anti used. "Anti, why did you say that?" 

"Say what? Massage: You want one?

"No, Anywho." She would say that to her family when she had run out of things to say.

“Oh, it’s just a phrase I picked up a while ago. I thought it sounded cool. It kind of stuck. Well, I really hope you and Chalky will work things out. Let me take care of these things. Just follow the hallway to the private baths. You can’t miss them. I’ve got them coded for both of you.”

With that, Anti took the box and floated it out of the room, and the door closed behind her. Rebecca just shook her head. It's been four days, and talking to a yellow ball of light was already normal.

She disrobed and stepped under the spray again, this time just for Firecloak. The sentient warmth twined around her, flickering pleasantly along her collarbone and spine. It felt like laughter made of static electricity. She whispered, “Happy now?” and it glowed a gentle pulse against her ribs in reply.

She grabbed a fresh robe, pocketed the photo key, and grabbed the ring. She held onto the ring for a second, repeating what Anti said. Is that what Queen Lyra told you?

She needed the ring to unlock areas in the Library because Chalky was bound to it. She slipped it on her finger. Firecloak wrote on her hand: Pretty. 

"Yes, it is, firecloak. Now, let’s head to the bath, shall we?"

Firecloak agreed: Water Fun.

––To be continued

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Next Time on The Queen of the Underverse…

Bath time is over—now it’s time to face the books. Rebecca finds herself in a library that shelves more than knowledge. There’s a librarian with opinions, a card catalog with secrets, and a story that might start reading her back.

Some doors open. Some close. And some… rewrite the rules.

Don’t miss Chapter 10 – Never Judge A Book By Its Movie.

© 2025 Donnavon Evans

August 5, 2025