Mother had always told him that the dungeons were big, and scary, and noisy, and far too quiet. That they were a place “no son of mine” should ever find themself, or risking being destroyed and killed and murdered and eaten and hurt and lonely and bored. And he’d wanted to follow her advice! He was a good son! Very obedient! It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t - he’d just heard that some of his friends had started exploring, and that Teale and Ash thought it was cool, and Blueberry was doing it, and, really, anything that Blueberry could do, anyone could do.

But he didn’t want to be here! And yes, yes - if his friends all jumped into a hole in the ground, he absolutely WOULD follow them because he wouldn’t want to be left alone, or be seen as weird and different. Mother would probably want to make sure he stayed safe, and it was a lot harder for someone to murder him if he was in a group with others - the chance that they’d pick him was just considerably lower if they had the option to pick several others.

Why was he here by himself, though - why? He wasn’t even sure that anyone knew he was here. He was probably going to get die, or get lost, or need to get rescued, and then they would think he was silly and inept, and he wasn’t! Mother said he was a brilliant child, incomparable to anyone else, and if anyone told him otherwise it was just because they were jealous. There were several people who were jealous, but Milosh was also often jealous because they could do things he couldn’t, like make friends, and fall in love, and go on adventuring by themselves. Maybe that’s why he was here, to prove that his mother had always been right, and he was worth more than nothing, and much more than that silly, brilliant, glorious, detestable Andreana.

“I am special, and capable. After all, I am here alone, and I have not died yet. I don’t want to be here, and Mother would be so disappointed, but I am here! I will survive!” he thought to himself, the voice in his head much different than the one his throat produced.

And then he stepped in something that felt…. Gross. Ewwwwwww! He should never have come, should have been a better son and a real good friend. He whimpered slightly as he felt the gross thing move up his dark leg, frozen in what would be considered a valid expression of terror by anyone anywhere. He wasn’t weird for being frozen with fear as he felt sticky, slimy, slurpy things climb up his leg, his chest, his chest. He felt air near his ear, as though something was breathing on him, and a word whispered across his mind as though he was actually hearing it. Which he might have been, but he was truly too terrified to tell.

“Galatea” was the word, caressing his mind in a way that felt entirely too personal, though he did suppose that that creature was closer to him than anyone else had ever been, aside from Mother. And he wasn’t okay with it! He didn’t like it! No one could say that he liked it, probably! Then… why was he still here? He had feet, he could leave.

And that’s exactly what he did, his heels kicking high into the air, running through the green tunnels and getting lost only, at minimum, thrice. But he eventually made it out, the strange creature either falling or being scraped off sometime along the way, but “Galatea” still lingered in his inner ear, and he felt like he was irrevocably changed.

He’d never even wanted to go into the dungeons.