Chapter Text
Caution their key, Essek leads the way into Dagen’s Door with his eyes best suited for its welcoming darkness.
Quiet crunches of pebble on stone and crisp ice echo through the narrow passage, not from Essek’s own feet, of course, but from those belonging to the friend trailing close behind. To Caleb’s credit, Essek likely would not notice the sound at all if he were not spending half a mind’s worth of attention on his proximity. He’s not close enough for Essek to feel the ghosting warmth of his face, the brush of his breath, but Caleb is certainly within what most would deem ‘personal space’.
For the sake of safety and certainly nothing else, Essek can’t bring himself to mind.
They pad a careful path through the twenty feet it takes for the space to open up again, pausing in lingering silence once it does. Nothing stirs aside from the slight shift of fabric as they breathe.
So far so good, a hopeful beginning.
Essek drifts forward again with confidence, Caleb following in his metaphorical footsteps.
They continue on for another dozen paces when Essek suddenly realizes Caleb is now moving in near pitch black. That is far too unsafe, far too much trust in Essek’s capabilities alone. So he rubs the pad of his thumb along fingertips with a flick, summoning motes of lilac light that shine cold on patches of dirtied frost.
Caleb’s voice rustles a murmur through the quiet.
“Appreciated, but no need at the moment.”
Essek looks back with a raised brow. Caleb reveals his banded stone, and the dark of his blue eyes reflects Essek’s lights.
So that’s how he has kept from tripping and colliding while still keeping so close. A new ability? Clever, regardless.
Essek drops his lights despite the strange twang of disappointment within his ribs, stealing Caleb’s color away.
What was Essek thinking in the first place? Caleb can and will create his own light if he needs to.
Essek knows this.
He shrugs on.
The hall progresses through narrowed pinches and columned icicles, and they eventually find themselves at the entry of the crawlspace, another beginning. This one, there will be no easy retreat from.
Settling into a kneel to peer through, Caleb then looks up to Essek.
“How should I go down?”
There’s an odd quality to Caleb’s question: the fact that he's asked it in the first place. Caleb is rather capable in situations such as this, if experience says anything.
Essek tries to put some humor into his tone.
“I don’t think I need to provide you such options?”
“Ah, I only thought- if you had other ideas.”
Caleb seems to deflate some, hunching in just slightly.
That won’t do.
So Essek supplies a reply he hopes is taken in earnest.
“I’m more inclined towards tried and true methods. Feather Fall should suffice if you have it ready. If not, I do- unless you’d prefer being a spider.”
But- ah, right. Essek really should provide some guidance in this circumstance, having spent far more time studying this exactly.
“On second thought, perhaps refrain from Polymorph again, or anything else too strong- for the time being.”
Tipping his head, face neutral, it’s Caleb’s turn to arch an eyebrow.
“We agreed to set the tower not five minutes ago.”
A thumb kneading his opposite fingers, Essek quirks a corner of his mouth.
“I know.”
Satisfied he’s captured Caleb’s curiosity, Essek feels his smirk deepen.
“I’ll elaborate when we’re in a more secure spot. Give you something to look forward to, hm?”
Caleb narrows his eyes, crinkled to a grin.
“You don’t need to try so hard for that.”
He draws a black feather from his component pouch.
“Feather Fall it is.”
Then he waves a hand to the crawlspace.
“After you.”
Before Essek can join his level, Caleb rushes an unnecessary explanation.
“In case the mold has grown back. You can handle that better than me, and I’ll be losing darkvision when I cast.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’d rather be bolstered against the cold.”
Smart, safe.
Essek hooks a genuine grin.
“Very well. Follow close.”
No more dignified than the first time, Essek inches his way through the tunnel, suddenly grateful for the layers of coat and cloak surrounding him. Behind him, really, as Caleb seems very keen on following his advice.
It’s fine. There are worse ways and places to be, surely.
Soon enough, the drop-off comes into view. A quick glance over the area and a hearty tug to the affixed rope, and Essek calls back, voice low.
“The rope seems secure, still.”
“Good, good, the Tomb Takers didn’t take it down with them.”
Ah. That’s right.
“Jester’s symbol- it’s entirely expended now, correct?”
“Why, you don’t want to say the password?”
“Caleb.”
Caleb’s laugh echoes quietly around him.
“Ja, it’s gone. Otherwise it would have zapped you all when you rushed in to try finishing them off.”
A pause.
“I think. Jester insisted it would be gone by now last I asked, at least.”
How long ago did Caleb ask her that? Could have been any point in the last half-year, at least.
Either way, Essek holds the password at the back of his begrudging mind. Just in case.
“Shall I?”
“Go ahead.”
Taking the rope loosely in hand, Essek slips himself over the edge, letting his sure grip on gravity dictate his slow fall.
Yet another first step, or a lack thereof.
A moment passes silently as he descends into the darkness, and then he floats past the wall-jutted door.
Simply a dead-end entrance, nothing else.
A second more, and Caleb incants quiet behind him, followed by a finger-snap as gentle amber light fills the drop, much warmer than Essek’s prior.
Farther down, farther down.
There is no sense of looming magic at the back of Essek’s mind, and he acknowledges that Jester was correct. Of course she was right. He has no reason to doubt her, of all people. Since departing from Caduceus’s home, she’s the one with whom he’s had the most contact.
The only one.
Until Caleb appeared yesterday, with him now.
Looking down, Essek doesn’t fight a smile against the dark.
So this is much less nerve-wracking than before, Essek considers as his descent continues into the cavern’s mouth.
Knowing what should be below him, knowing with certainty what is above.
Maybe there’s even some comfort to be found in the concept.
Essek clears the ground directly beneath him of brown mold when he drifts within range; it has indeed grown back to encompass the landing, and his frost overtakes a few unnervingly familiar slumps at the base of the rope.
How different things could have gone had these three not fallen.
Essek’s float catches the floor, and he is still.
Immediately after, Caleb alights golden under his globules and glances a look around, his back turned to Essek’s.
A pause in icy air; the cavern glitters like sunstone.
Their independent breaths drift ethereal, ephemeral.
Caleb whispers.
“Anything?”
“Just the mold, it seems.”
Essek continues to clear it away.
Once there is a traversable path through the rubble and ruin, they begin to wander, loosely side by side. Essek checks the immediate area over for any distinct changes from his memory, and he assumes Caleb is doing much the same.
Until Caleb breaks the silence.
“What’s the difference between Polymorph and the tower? Both are pretty powerful, the tower more so, and I’ve already cast both.”
Essek hums, purposefully nonchalant, drifting past a craggy-shattered column.
“Polymorph served as the safest transport here, and the tower is worth the risk at the moment, inhabiting its own demiplane as it does.”
And if Essek thought he had Caleb’s attention above, he certainly seems to have it tenfold now.
So he allows himself to bask, if only a little.
Then, undoubtedly in range of Caleb’s next steps and shaded from the light, Essek catches sight of a darker fuzzy patch within a deep nook of rubble that he must have missed on his first pass.
The moment unfolds slow enough to act.
Essek reaches to pull Caleb away, despite knowing the touch will burn.
But he is not fast enough to fight off a flinch, and a moment’s hesitation is a moment too long.
“Ach-!”
Caleb grunts a grimace while his breath fluffs into an opaque cloud, as if he is the heart of a blizzard.
Essek immediately freezes the offending mold away, mentally chiding himself.
He wasn’t careful enough; he should have paid more attention rather than attempt to distract and tease. It is not safe here.
The rustle of Caleb’s sleeves fills the air as he runs his hands over them.
“Th-that one blended in really good. I didn’t notice it either.”
Clearly Caleb didn’t notice, but Essek did, early enough to have caused Caleb harm through inaction.
“I’m sorry.”
Essek hadn’t flinched in far more dire circumstances, so why now?
“I am alright, my friend-.”
A shallow bubble pops through the self-reproach in Essek’s mind, indicating something murky is waiting to surface.
He ignores it as the chatter of Caleb’s smile gradually lessens.
“Better suited for cold, remember?”
Unconvinced, Essek looks on.
Caleb sighs, his breath now a regular thin mist.
“I’m fine, Essek. Set the tower here, or a little farther in?”
Essek really isn’t fit to lead here. Caleb has his own light to guide him anyway.
“Do you remember the layout in detail?”
“I’ve revisited the memory over the past months and made copies of Beauregard's notes, kept it fresh enough probably.”
Caleb has been thinking about this for quite a while then.
Well, so has Essek, but thought and action are separate concepts.
Caleb points to the crumpled archway leading deeper into the ruins and Essek notes a distinct lack of salty soot on his fingertips.
“The arch says the Praesidis Ward, Convocation Grounds, and Central Deliberations are through there.”
Now he’s just bragging.
Essek huffs a chuckle.
“I’ll trust your guts.”
He works to smother the quiet guilt simmering in his own.
Caleb blinks away with a smirk, eyes up as if in thought.
“Mm, salamander hall intersection, then. There’s that offset dead-end.”
“Alright.”
Essek clears mold as they go, perhaps a little excessively this time.
Creeping along through the ever-eerie metallic tunnel, it seems as though nothing new has taken up residence in this section of the corridor.
They tuck aside into the dead end after it has been thoroughly cleared of mold, and Caleb sets up his components for the tower. Remaining nearby, Essek still hovers at a fair enough distance, drawing a preparatory healing potion from his bag.
Ten minutes pass, and the tower’s door shimmers into place, a portal into collapsed stone.
Seemingly without issue.
About to tuck the potion away, Essek’s stomach is caught by the clear surprise Caleb’s voice suddenly carries.
“Oh- ah. Huh.”
He immediately drifts closer as Caleb turns to face him.
And then Essek claps a hand over his mouth to keep a guffaw from shattering the cautious quiet.
The good news is, Caleb seems unharmed.
The, well, not bad news, necessarily, but the other news is that his beard has… changed.
No longer tidy-trimmed and ginger, it’s shifted into a downy-brown texture and lengthened such that it now reaches his midchest.
Patting a hand to his new feather-beard, Caleb chuckles.
“Well, this is something.”
Then his eyes catch on the bottle Essek still holds.
“Essek, I am fine. The mold is no trouble. Save your potions.”
“I-.”
This was not for the mold.
But he nods and packs it away.
Looking Caleb over again, Essek fights back another laugh behind a fist.
“Try sneezing.”
“What?”
“It may help.”
“Ja, sure, make a fool of me already.”
“I mean it- I have seen exactly this before.”
Caleb narrows his eyes, but he reaches into his bag without breaking eye contact.
“Turn around, then, or cover your eyes. Something. It’ll be bright for a second.”
Essek complies, palms set over his eyes, holding in yet another laugh with pressed lips.
There’s a rustle as Caleb seems to have retrieved something.
“Fajar.”
Ah, the driftglobe. Essek can just barely notice its light limning the borders of his hands, certainly too bright for his eyes.
A brief pause, and then-
“Hatschi!”
A sniffle.
“Well, would you look at that. Gesundheit to me.”
A cleared throat.
“Fajar.”
Essek lowers his hands to see a usual-faced Caleb now before him, currently tucking the driftglobe away.
“You sneeze at the light?”
Caleb doesn’t look up from his pack.
“You say that as if you don’t.”
Caught off guard again, Essek finally breaks into a short laugh. Anything that might have heard him would already be here after the sound Caleb made anyway.
Heavier feathers have already fallen, but a few wispy plumes remain hanging in the air, and Caleb chuckles.
“Now that that is out of the way…”
He opens the door to his tower, its warm amber light pouring into the cold hall.
The brown down still drifting around Caleb suddenly glows gold like flamecaught petals in the sun.
Backlit brilliant, he gestures a hand to the doorway, his smile just as warm and wide, his bright blue eyes crinkled kind in complement.
“Willkommen.”
Finding himself at a sudden loss for words, Essek blinks a moment before falling back to ingrained manners.
A polite nod, a requited smile, and he enters.