3 the boy under

"I don't like this."

"We're only on the third step, Careth."

"I really, really don't like this," he said, gripping on his friend's shoulder tightly. "I'm all up to reading about ghostly secret underground tunnels, but to be in one myself is rather...uneasy."

"Are you really that afraid? The stairs are just within an arm's reach," Merry said. "If you can't run fast enough, I'll just drag you with me—oh, look!" She rushed towards a dark spot, emerging a few seconds later with a lantern in hand. "It's still got some power. This'll ward off the Sullers."

A chill ran down Careth's spine. "Why is the lantern still working? Does that mean-"

The creaking of wood echoed throughout the dusty hallway, and as the children turned to the source of the sound, they watched in horror as the light slipped away from their figures, the trapdoor snap shut, and their shadows now mingled in the darkness.

"I'm dreaming. I must be dreaming," Careth chanted, a little aloof. "That did not just happen, did it? It's too comical to be true."

A glow answered him, coming from Merry who managed to get the lantern working. "I'm afraid this is not a dream. We're stuck here."

The children were silent for a moment, before Merry took another step further down the tunnel. "Well, looks like we need to keep going!"

She was expecting another snappy remark from Careth—but when she heard nothing, she faced him with slight concern. "You all right?"

"Yeah. Yes. I mean, we have nowhere else to go," he said, walking robotically beside her. "The trapdoor was activated by a mechanism. That means it would be useless to open it from here without finding another device like that black book. Even if we shout for help, I've locked the library doors and we're underground. So, our best possible option right now is to continue venturing down the tunnel, and hope we come across the device I mentioned, or some of the sorts."

Merry gaped at him in awe. "Wow. You sound awfully calm. I expected you to fret about like a panicked kid."

He gave her an iron smile. "No, you're mistaken. I am terrified out of my wits. It's just that if I show it, I don't think I can remain sound after that."

_

After a few minutes of treading, Merry and Careth found themselves standing in front of a door. In contrast to the dingy, eerie and creepy tunnel, the door had a rather vibrant colour, with its orange-red sticking out like a cartoon in a thriller movie. It even gleamed under the light of Merry's lantern.

"The contrast of the door and the environment seems unsettling," Careth noted. "And it looks like it's been cleaned."

"Should we knock?" Merry asked. The boy nodded, and he gave the door three raps.

...

He gave another three knocks.

"Could it be a storage room? I don't think anyone would live in such an environment." Merry swung the lantern around, illuminating the dreary brick walls and dusty ground.

Careth tried the doorknob, but shook his head. "It's locked. There must be something-"

The door swung open in full blast, and a figure appeared hollering, "Begone, Sullers!"

"AH!" The children screamed.

"AH!" He screamed.

Both parties stared at each other for a full second, letting their poor minds register the situation, before finally collecting themselves and ensuring that none of them were actually non-humans.

"My, sorry for being rude, you're just children—wait, how did you get here? And you're the Willdyer heir! How are you here?" The young man questioned, pointing a finger at Careth.

Careth let go of his arms around Merry's waist and cleared his throat. "We...stumbled upon a mechanism that led us down here, and now we're trapped. Do you know a way to get back to the surface?" he said, suppressing his urge to interrogate this random, seemingly obnoxious teenager who is apparently living under his home.

The person at the door snickered, saying, "Get you back up? Do you really think I'm going to help you? Looks like you have no clue who I am."

At this, Merry and Careth gave each other a cautionary glance. "Who are you?"

He turned and went back inside, leaving the door open. "Oh, but first, come in! It's not polite to keep guests at the door. Take a seat, take a seat."

Although underground, the interior of the room was brighter than Careth had ever encountered above the surface. The room was rectangular, its foundation built on wooden floors and walls. There was a dining table right in the middle, with a basket of fruits atop and two wooden chairs for guests.

The kitchen was on the left, and on the right was a study table in disarray. But ultimately, what piqued Careth's interest was the window by the sink, which displayed a vast and gorgeous view of a meadow swaying in the breeze, and the sunlight shining through it, being the primary source of light.

"How is that possible? We're under the earth," he whispered to Merry, who was taking a seat. Her eyes widened when she realized the impossible phenomenon, and shrugged cluelessly.

The dark-haired young man sat on the table, scooping up an orange from the basket.

"Tell me, what do you know of the Willdyer family?" He started, skinning the fruit with a knife. Careth stared anxiously at the sharp tool as he uttered, "it's the family that governs the whole town of Hiraeth."

"Mhm. And how do they govern the town?"

Merry took this round. "They handle all the diplomatic relationships with the neighbouring towns, the economy, and protect the town from wandering evils."

The young man nodded fervently, peeled a slice of orange and offered it to them. "So what would you say is their most important responsibility?"

Merry took his treat warily as she answered, "... keeping the town safe?"

He grinned, but it wasn't a welcoming one. "Exactly. So what do you think happens if the heir of the family fails that responsibility?"

Careth was trying his best not to feel intimidated, but it was getting more and more difficult for him to force courage. "He becomes the laughingstock of the town?"

"Oh no, that's terribly wrong." He stabbed the remainder of the orange, watching the juice leak from the citrus and sang, "he gets buried!"

Apart from his maniacal laughter, no other sound transmitted within the room. Merry was silent with disbelief, meanwhile Careth had not yet processed his words.

"... I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. If you don't perform your duties right, you'll be—" he drew a horizontal line from his neck with the knife, sticking his tongue out. "But don't worry! If you fail, I'm here to back you up. I'm the spare for a reason."

"The spare?" Merry repeated.

"Yep! Once the irresponsible heir gets disposed of, I take his place and make sure the town prospers in the right hands. Willdyers are a prudent bunch; they'll never give the rights to an heir unless there's insurance to fall upon."

Careth gritted through his teeth. "There's no need for a spare," he said testily. "I've excelled in academics, and although I'm still a bit lacking in sports, with time I'll be able to catch up."

"But what's your Talent?"

The question, although a short, straightforward one, was able to strike Careth right through his heart. It was his one weakness, one inability, and one shame.

"I...I don't need a Talent. I can protect the town even without wielding powers—"

"But that's not following the Tradition! The Tradition says that if the heir is not Blessed—at most, by the time they turn fifteen—he or she will be killed." The young man pointed the knife at Careth, his stare suddenly deadly. "You can't go against your ancestors' words, can you?"

"Stop it! You're lying!" Merry interrupted, placing a hand on Careth's shoulder. "Don't listen to him. He's crazy. He has no proof of what he's saying."

But upon seeing his face, which was contorted with horror and doom, Merry bit her lip. "We're not falling for it. Just tell us how to get back up and we won't bother you ever again."

"I am saying the truth, or else I swear my name isn't Rian!" He admitted, crossing his arms. "Why would I lie about something I'm benefiting from? I have a Talent, I can fight, and I learn quick. Give me two days and I'll be the perfect heir you spent fifteen years working so hard for."

Careth stood up abruptly, trembling with fear and anger. "I will never let you be the heir."

"That's not for you to decide." Rian smiled, gesturing to the door. "There should be a lever behind the stairs that you came from. Pull on that and it will unlock the trapdoor. You're welcome."

Merry scoffed. "So now that you're done scaring us, you only let us leave?"

"Oh no, I wasn't scaring you. I was reminding you. Your rich and preppy lives aren't for forever. There are many, many leeches waiting to suck the golden blood out of you." He circled the knife at them, smirking. "And they're all around you. Even here, underground!"

Careth strode past him, bumping his shoulder in the process. Merry casted Rian an incinerating glare as he feigned pain and wailed, but not before whispering into her ear, "and your types are the worst."