79.- The Dinner in Family

The return to the fourth floor from the second floor's lake was a quiet descent, though the echo of chaos still lingered in Sebastián's mind. The warm air of the lower level enveloped him, thick with the earthy scent of black vines and the faint, sharp tang of Fire Blossoms flickering along the mossy walls, their crimson glow casting soft shadows over the dark stone. He tucked the jagged tooth of that monstrous fish into his green tunic, stained with dirt and lake water, and adjusted the makeshift fishing rod slung over his shoulder—a gnarled wooden stick with a braided line he'd crafted with care in the garden. Kaili strode ahead, her six iridescent wings folded tightly against her back, the purple shimmer of her feathers glinting occasionally under the red orb's light hanging from the ceiling. Aevia followed at his side, her steps light and silent, almost as if she floated over the uneven floor. Her long corset and calf-length skirt, elegant and modest since Kaili's arrival at the lake, swayed gently, the tiny golden gears along the edges clinking with a subtle sound that filled the stillness.

"Still thinking about that fish, little gardener?" Aevia asked, breaking the quiet as they descended the final steps carved into the living rock. Her resonant voice was gentle, stripped of the flirtatious edge she'd wielded before, and her feline eyes, swirling with red sand, gazed at him with a calm curiosity.

Sebastián turned his head toward her, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he scratched the back of his neck with a free hand. "A little," he admitted, his rough voice steady but relaxed. "Not every day someone rides a giant fish and then… well, you know." He paused, recalling the heat of her bare skin pressed against his, but let it drop there, shaking his head. "It was wild."

She nodded, her hands clasping together in front of her skirt with a delicacy that seemed out of place in a dungeon like this. "It was noisy," she said, her voice soft and thoughtful as she glanced at the hallway opening before them. "Your time is always noisy, little gardener. But I like it."

He chuckled, a low sound that echoed off the walls. "Noisy?" he repeated, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "You'll have to explain that to me someday. What's so noisy about cutting plants and fishing crazy fish?"

Aevia tilted her head, her short hair—a shifting cascade of black, red, and violet—falling over one shoulder. "It moves," she said, her tone sweet but firm, as if stating something obvious. "It grows, changes, makes sounds that time keeps. Not like still things. It's… alive."

"I guess so," he said, shrugging as he adjusted the rod. "But now we're going for something calmer. How about a dinner?"

She looked at him, her eyes lighting up with interest. "Dinner?" she asked, her resonant voice carrying a genuine curiosity. "What's a dinner, little gardener?"

Sebastián stopped at the entrance to a small chamber off the main hall, a nook he'd turned into an improvised kitchen over the years. A rough wooden table dominated the center, scarred with countless cuts, surrounded by mismatched stools carved from twisted dungeon roots. A fire pit glowed in the corner, flames licking at a blackened pot, and shelves woven from vines held jars of dried herbs, shadow roots, and luminous mushrooms he'd gathered from the lower floors. "This," he said, leaning the rod against the wall and turning to her with a warm smile. "It's a human thing—eating together, talking, being with people you care about. No riding fish or speeding up plants, just… good, normal stuff."

Aevia stepped into the room with a grace that felt oddly domestic, her movements elegant and measured like those of a homemaker focused on her task. "Eating together," she repeated, her tone thoughtful as she surveyed the table and tools with keen attention. "Why do humans do it? Does it make the food different?"

"Not really," he replied, pulling a basket of shadow roots from a shelf and setting it on the table. "It's more about feeling connected. You share a meal, you share time, stories, whatever. It's simple, but it means something." He grabbed a knife and started peeling a root, his hands moving with practiced ease. "Have you ever tried it?"

She shook her head, stepping closer to watch him work. "No," she said softly, her resonant voice tinged with a quiet sweetness that caught him off guard. "Time doesn't eat with me. It has no hands, no mouth, no… company. But I'd like to try, little gardener. What do we make?"

"Something easy," he said, slicing the root into thin strips and tossing them into the pot. "Shadow roots, luminous mushrooms, maybe some herbs. A stew, I guess. Warm, filling—perfect for this place." He waved the knife around the chamber. "You can help, if you want."

Her eyes brightened with a spark of enthusiasm, and she nodded with a small, earnest smile. "Yes," she said, moving to the shelf with a fluid elegance that made her seem more caretaker than cosmic entity. "I'll wash the mushrooms. How do I do it?" She picked up a handful of luminous mushrooms, their pale light pulsing faintly in her hands, and carried them to a water basin he'd set up near the fire.

"Just rinse them," he said, stepping over to show her. "Like this—gently, so they don't break." He took one, dipped it in the water, and brushed off the dirt with his fingers, then handed it back. "See? Easy."

Aevia mimicked him, her movements careful and precise, her skirt swaying slightly as she leaned over the basin. "Easy," she echoed, her voice soft and focused as she washed each mushroom with a tenderness that made him pause for a moment. "Do they eat too, little gardener? Like your plants?"

He laughed, shaking his head as he returned to the roots. "Not quite," he said, his tone patient. "They grow, take in nutrients from the soil or air, but they don't sit down to eat like us. They're alive, though—in their own way."

She looked up at him, her hands still in the water, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Alive in their own way," she murmured, as if the idea pleased her. "Like you."

"Like me?" he said, slicing another root with a raised eyebrow. "I hope I'm a bit livelier than a mushroom."

"You are," she replied, her tone sweet but steady, no flirtation—just a calm observation. "Your time breathes, moves, does things. It doesn't stay still like mushrooms or plants. It's… warm."

Sebastián grinned, tossing the sliced roots into the pot with a quick flick. "Warm, huh?" he said, his voice light but appreciative. "I'll take that as a compliment. Keep washing—those mushrooms are the star of this stew."

The chamber's quiet was shattered by the sharp sound of a knife cutting through something tough. Kaili stepped in from the hallway, her purple skin gleaming under the red orb's light, golden and red runes pulsing on her tight armor like living veins. Her six wings were folded, casting faint purple glints, and her dark eyes narrowed as she dropped a bundle of shadow roots onto the table with a thud. "I'm here so you don't poison the Reina, gardener," she said, her tone sharp as she drew a dagger from her belt and sliced a root with a swift, precise stroke. "What's this nonsense now?"

Sebastián looked up, his grin widening as he set another root on the table. "Dinner," he said, pointing to the pot with the knife. "Something normal after the fish mess. You in?"

Kaili snorted, her runes flaring for a moment as she kept cutting with a precision that belied her attitude. "Normal?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and Aevia have no clue what that word means. I saw the lake disaster—first giant fish, and now what? A stew that chases us?"

Aevia glanced at her, straightening with an elegant poise as she placed a cleaned mushroom on the table. "It doesn't chase," she said, her resonant voice calm and serene. "Just eating together. The little gardener says it's good."

Kaili's eyes flicked to Aevia, a slight frown creasing her brow as she watched her. Playing dumb again, she thought, her sharp mind slicing through the scene like her dagger through the root. Asking him basic things like she hasn't lived millions of years. And that juvenile form—soft, sweet—strange, even for her. I've seen her shatter worlds with a glance, not wash mushrooms like some mortal. What's she after with him? But she didn't say it aloud. She'd known Aevia since the dawn of time, and though this behavior puzzled her, she sensed no threat—just a curiosity she wasn't about to probe. She shrugged, cutting another root with a sharp thud. "Good for him, maybe," she muttered, her tone dry. "I'm not eating your dirt soup."

Sebastián laughed, stepping toward her with an exaggerated bow. "Kaili, my esteemed warrior," he said, his voice theatrical as he extended a hand toward her, "I know you think I'm a useless mortal, but will you honor me with your skill? We need those roots cut—even, perfect, like only you can do. You're the best with a blade."

She glared at him, her dagger pausing mid-cut as she fixed him with a withering look. "Ridiculous, gardener," she snapped, but a faint smirk tugged at her lips, almost imperceptible. "Fine—I'll cut something without killing you. Don't expect me to enjoy this nonsense." Her hands moved with surprising precision, the roots falling into uniform pieces, a hidden elegance beneath her arrogance that caught him off guard for a moment.

"Thanks," he said, genuine warmth in his voice as he watched her work. "See? You've got a knack for this."

"Don't test my patience," she shot back, her tone sharp but her runes softening to a golden glow, betraying a flicker of satisfaction she wouldn't admit.

A sudden flutter broke the rhythm of their work. The mushrooms in Aevia's hands twitched, then sprang to life, glowing brighter as they leaped from the basin and darted around the room like frantic fireflies. "Oh!" Aevia exclaimed, stepping back with a startled grace as one buzzed past her face. "They're alive, little gardener!"

Sebastián groaned, grabbing a net from the shelf with a quick motion. "Aevia, not again!" he said, lunging for a mushroom as it zipped overhead. "Did you speed them up?"

"No," she replied, her voice calm as she watched them with wide eyes, her hands clasped neatly in front of her skirt in a serene pose. "They just… woke up. They're like you—full of life."

"Full of trouble, you mean," he muttered, swinging the net and missing, stumbling against the table. "Help me catch them before they eat the dinner!"

Aevia stepped forward, her movements elegant as she gently cupped a mushroom in her hands. "Shh," she murmured, her voice soothing like a mother calming a restless child, and it settled, glowing faintly in her palms. "They're just excited."

Kaili sliced a mushroom midair with a flick of her dagger, pinning it to the table with a sharp thud. "First fish, now flying mushrooms," she said, her tone sharp but tinged with amusement. "What's next, gardener—a stew that eats us? This is your fault."

"My fault?" he countered, snagging one with the net and tossing it back into the basin with a quick flick. "She's the one waking things up! I just wanted to cook."

"They don't wake up," Aevia said, her voice soft as she placed another mushroom in the basin with care. "They just want to move. Isn't it good that they're alive?"

"Not if they attack me," he said, dodging one that buzzed near his face. "Kaili, do something!"

"Me?" she said, cutting another midair with an elegant swipe. "You brought them, you deal with them. I'm not your babysitter."

A soft melody rose from the corner, cutting through the chaos. Terrón, the little clay golem, waddled in, its chubby hands outstretched as it emitted a sweet, calming sound. The mushrooms paused, floating back to the basin one by one, their glow softening under the golem's influence. Sebastián sighed, dropping the net with a tired gesture. "Thanks, Terrón," he said, ruffling the golem's head with one hand. "You're better at this than all of us combined."

Kaili sheathed her dagger at her belt, crossing her arms with a snort. "Better than you two, for sure," she said, her voice dry but with a hint of amusement. "You're lucky I didn't let them eat you next time."

A warm presence filled the room, and Aurora entered with a serene step, her green hair spilling like a gleaming river over her pearlescent shoulders. Her shadow armor shimmered softly, more decorative than protective, and her amber eyes sparkled with a quiet mischief. "Need help, my gardener?" she asked, her melodious voice slicing through the lingering chaos as she approached, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek that left a trail of warmth.

Sebastián grinned, returning the kiss with a natural affection. "Always," he said, his voice low but full of fondness. "You're just in time—the mushrooms tried to escape."

Aurora laughed, a sound like soft bells, and placed a hand on his shoulder with a light touch. "I see," she said, turning to Aevia with a knowing smile. "And you, my Throne? Keeping things lively?"

Aevia nodded, her posture elegant as she set the last mushroom down with care. "Yes, Mother," she said, her resonant voice soft and sweet, as if sharing a small treasure. "The little gardener says it's good to eat together. I'm learning."

Kaili snorted, her wings twitching slightly as she sliced another root with a sharp thud. "Learning," she muttered, her tone skeptical but restrained. She's known more than him for entire eons, she thought, her sharp mind dissecting the scene with surgical precision. Dumb questions, that juvenile form—so soft, so sweet. It's not the Aevia who razed worlds with me. What's she playing at with this mortal? But she kept it silent. She'd lived alongside Aevia since the birth of the cosmos, and though this behavior intrigued her, she sensed no danger—just a curiosity she chose not to pursue.

Aurora settled beside Sebastián, watching as he stirred the pot with a slow motion. "Feed me, then," she said, her voice playful as she leaned closer, her hair brushing his arm. "It's more fun this way."

"Seriously, my Reina?" Kaili snapped, her dagger pausing mid-cut as she stared at her with disbelief. "Can't you eat on your own?"

Aurora raised an eyebrow, smiling with a spark of amusement. "I can, Kaili," she said, her tone teasing but warm. "But where's the joy in that?"

Sebastián chuckled, spooning a bit of stew and offering it to her with a calm gesture. "Here," he said, his voice warm as she tasted it, her amber eyes lighting up with pleasure. "How's that?"

"Very good," she replied, her smile widening as she leaned slightly against him. "What's in it?"

"Shadow roots, mushrooms, some herbs," he said, stirring the pot again with a steady motion. "Simple, but it works. What do you think?"

"It's warm," she said, her voice soft as she looked at him. "Like you."

He grinned, turning to Aevia with a question. "And you—what do you think, slow or fast?" he said, nodding at the pot. "How should this taste?"

Aevia picked up a fruit from the table, rolling it between her hands with a delicacy that felt almost maternal. "Does this taste better slow?" she asked, her voice gentle as she slowed its time, watching it ripen before their eyes with a curious gleam.

"Probably," he said, his grin growing. "But let's eat it fresh tonight. No speeding things up for now."

Aurora nodded, her gaze softening as she looked around the table. "Tonight's for celebrating," she said, her voice filled with a serene warmth. She paused, her tone shifting for a moment. "The Frost Claw came at a cost, you know. It wasn't easy. But that's for another day."

Kaili glanced up from her roots, her runes flaring briefly as she sliced with a quick motion. "Better than cooking a universe, I guess," she said, her voice dry but carrying an echo of that cosmic talk from the lake, a reminder of Aurora's vastness she'd shared with him on the second floor.

Sebastián stirred the pot, his mind drifting for a moment to that conversation—Aurora as a conscious universe, Kaili as a god-slayer. "Yeah," he said, his tone thoughtful as he watched the stew bubble. "This is simpler. More… ours."

The stew bubbled, filling the chamber with a rich, earthy aroma, and they gathered around the table, the air thick with warmth and the sound of their voices. Sebastián ladled it into rough clay bowls, passing them out with a steady motion as Terrón waddled over with a handful of broken petals, dropping them like a clumsy gift. Aevia smiled, taking one with a delicacy that felt almost reverent. "Thank you, little guardian," she said, her voice sweet and elegant as she placed it beside her bowl.

Kaili took a bowl, sniffing it skeptically before taking a spoonful. "It's a mess," she said, her tone grudging as her runes softened to a golden glow, "but… it's not that bad. Could be worse."

Sebastián sat, his bowl in hand, and looked around—at Aevia's quiet grace as she arranged the petals with care, at Kaili's sharp edges softened by a rare moment of calm, at Aurora's serene glow as she watched him with affection, and at Terrón's awkward loyalty as it stumbled near his feet. This crazy place is my home, he thought, a deep calm settling in his chest. It was chaos, no doubt, but it was a chaos he'd come to love, a chaos that had found him and made him its own after a century in this dungeon.

Aevia leaned a little closer, her voice a soft murmur only he could hear over the crackling fire. "Your time makes me want to stay, little gardener," she said, her tone tender and sincere, no flirtation—just a simple truth that slipped from her like a gift.

He looked at her, his smile growing as he held the warm bowl between his hands. "Good," he said, his voice low and warm. "Stick around then—we've got plenty more to cook together."