12. Chapter 12 - Theron
Someone began calling the teams together.
“No,” Theron said quickly.
Every eye turned toward him.
“We do not move yet.”
Vale frowned. “Explain.”
Theron listened to the mountain for several moments before answering.
“It surges in cycles. The last one has passed.”
“Meaning?” Matt asked.
“We have a window.”
His gaze swept across the exhausted faces around the chamber.
“You have wounded. Ammunition to redistribute. Water to refill. Food to eat. None of you have slept.”
Silence settled over the chamber.
“How long?” Vale asked.
“About an hour.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then exhaustion will kill more of you than the First King.”
No one argued.
The chamber settled into the quiet efficiency of practiced soldiers. Weapons were cleaned. Wounds were dressed. Watches were assigned. Those still able to sleep claimed patches of ancient stone and surrendered to an hour of uneasy rest.
Theron never intended to be one of them.
Sleep had abandoned Theron long before the others closed their eyes. The camp remained quiet beneath the ruined arches illuminated only by the weak amber glow of dying lanterns and the occasional sweep of flashlight beams from distant sentries. Most of the wolves had surrendered to exhaustion.
Theron sat motionless for several minutes beside the cold stone wall, listening to the mountain breathe around them.
Water moved somewhere deep below the ruins in slow underground currents. Wind drifted through narrow fractures overhead with low hollow whistles that sounded almost like voices if one listened too carefully.
And beneath all of it lingered the awareness he could not escape.
The First King’s attention no longer searched for him. It had settled on him, a constant pressure at the edge of his thoughts that only seemed to grow heavier.
He needed distance from the others for a little while, but from Matt most of all, because Matt’s presence somehow made the pressure easier to bear.
Theron found that far more unsettling.
Theron crossed the edge of camp toward the supply crates the Valker teams had stacked beneath one of the ruined arches. Most of the agents remained asleep, though Baptiste sat awake near the outer corridor cleaning a sidearm beneath the lantern light.
The older wolf glanced up as Theron approached.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Baptiste asked softly.
Theron ignored the question. “Do you have spare clothes?”
Baptiste studied him for a moment before jerking his chin toward one of the unopened duffels nearby. “Third bag. Clean thermals and towels.”
“Thank you.”
Baptiste’s gaze lingered a second longer than necessary, sharp enough to suggest he noticed more than Theron preferred. Still, he said nothing as Theron gathered the supplies and disappeared into the lower tunnels beyond camp.
The air grew warmer farther down.
Theron moved through the lower passages without needing to search.
He knew the mountain’s hidden chambers, its forgotten routes, and the places where even the corruption rarely reached.
Eventually the tunnel opened into a secluded cavern beyond the main corridors.
A narrow underground pool stretched across the center of the chamber, fed by a small waterfall spilling down smooth black rock.
Mineral-rich steam drifted above the water’s surface while pale blue crystals embedded throughout the walls cast a soft glow across the cavern.
For the first time since he could remember, the silence felt peaceful instead of oppressive.
Theron set his things aside near the edge of the pool and crouched long enough to test the water with one hand.
It was pleasingly warm, which alone felt almost surreal after so long spent cold, filthy, and exhausted. He removed the outer layers of his tattered clothing and stepped into the water.
Heat wrapped around him, loosening muscles that had remained clenched for far too long. He exhaled as the warmth settled across scarred skin and old injuries alike. The water reached just above his waist near the center, deep enough for him to duck beneath the surface entirely.
For a long moment, Theron simply stood there beneath the drifting steam before glancing down at himself.
The change was subtle at first.
The dark veins that had once crept visibly beneath the skin along his ribs had faded almost completely.
The roughened patches of skin across his shoulders, marks left behind after decades spent too close to the mountain’s corruption, had softened back toward flesh instead of stone.
Even the faint distortion along his hands had lessened, leaving them looking more human than they had in years.
Theron stared silently at the reflection rippling across the water.
He had almost forgotten this version of himself.
For so long the mountain had taken from him piece by piece, reshaping him so gradually that he had stopped noticing the losses as they happened.
Now something was giving those pieces back just as slowly.
He did not know whether that realization should have filled him with hope or fear.
For several minutes, he simply stood there with his eyes closed while water moved gently around him. The mountain remained distant here, not silent, but quieter.
Theron reached for the soap near the edge of the pool and worked it across his skin.
Dirt, old blood, and months of neglect dissolved beneath the mineral water, revealing the map of scars beneath.
Some had faded with centuries, pale remnants of battles fought long before most kingdoms now standing had even existed, while others remained newer and far angrier, carved into him during far more recent years.
“You know,” Matt’s voice echoed lightly from the tunnel entrance, “most people just say they want alone time instead of disappearing into mysterious underground bathing caves.”
Theron closed his eyes briefly. He should have been annoyed that Matt had followed him. Instead, the sound of his voice eased something tight inside his chest, and Theron found that far more unsettling than the interruption itself.
Matt stood near the mouth of the cavern with a towel over one shoulder, trying and failing not to stare openly at Theron standing waist-deep in the water. The effort might have been more convincing if his ears were not turning red.
Theron found his attention lingering on the faint flush spreading across Matt’s ears before forcing himself to look away. “You should still be resting,” he said.
Matt leaned one shoulder against the stone wall. “You have a bad habit of disappearing whenever the conversation gets too close to you.”
Theron dipped water across the back of his neck. “I needed to think.”
“Uh huh.” Matt’s mouth twitched faintly. “And the dramatic glowing cave spa was part of the thinking process?”
Despite himself, Theron felt a quiet laugh threaten.
Matt noticed instantly. “There it is,” he said softly, smiling now. “I’m getting better at making that happen.”
The honesty in the statement unsettled Theron more than the teasing itself.
Matt pushed away from the wall after a moment and glanced toward the water. “You mind if I join you? Because I’m pretty sure I smell like fear, dust, and dead things.”
Matt reached for the buckles on his tactical vest, but his hands slowed before he released the first one.
For a long moment he simply stood there, rubbing the back of his neck with an expression Theron had not yet seen on him.
It was a kind of uncertainty that looked strangely out of place on a man who had walked toward monsters without hesitation.
Theron watched him. “What is it?”
Matt let out a slow breath and laughed under it, more at himself than anything else. “I probably should've mentioned this before I followed you into the magical underground spa.”
Theron waited.
Matt's smile faded into something more thoughtful. “I've never done this before.”
Theron's brow furrowed. “You have never bathed?”
That drew a genuine laugh from Matt.
“No. Not that.” He looked down at the stone for a moment before lifting his eyes to Theron's again. There was no humor left in them now, only quiet honesty. “I've never been with a man.”
The words settled between them as steam drifted lazily across the surface of the pool.
“I've thought about it,” Matt admitted after a moment. “Wondered what it would be like. But I never met anyone who made me want to find out.”
His gaze never left Theron's.
“Until you.”
Theron simply stared.
Of everything he had expected Matt Reynolds to say, that confession had not even occurred to him as a possibility. It carried no embarrassment or apology, only trust, and Theron found himself almost overwhelmed by the weight of it.
After a long silence, he spoke. “You still wish to come into the water?”
Matt nodded without hesitation. “If you'll have me.”
Something warm settled in Theron's chest, chasing away a little more of the mountain's cold. He held Matt's gaze for another long moment before inclining his head. “I would.”
Only then did Matt begin stripping off his outer gear near the edge of the cavern. Theron tried very hard not to watch him.
He failed spectacularly.
Matt's body carried its own collection of scars beneath the dirt and exhaustion.
Some were old and faded pale with time, while others looked newer, earned somewhere between the mountain and whatever life Matt had lived before it.
Bruises darkened one shoulder where falling debris had clipped him earlier that night, spreading ugly purple beneath damp skin.
Theron found himself wondering about the older scars despite knowing he should not.