The roots opened beneath the temple like a cracked jaw, and the air that came out of it smelled like old magic and worse decisions.
Ren peered down into the dark spiral of stone and living bark, already regretting his life. Again.
Ren:
"Is Thenaia even coming with us, or does she just like dramatic exits?"
Thenaia, walking calmly behind him, didn't miss a beat.
Thenaia:
"Of course I'm coming. We're hunting the Ashrunner, remember? Or did you forget that while making friends with cursed elves and socially constipated vampires?"
Ren (muttering):
"Right. Forgot sarcasm was included in the priest package."
Veyrix snorted and pushed past him.
Veyrix:
"If she wasn't coming, I'd already be gone. I don't follow idiots into holes alone."
Ren:
"Wow, thanks. That's almost a compliment."
The dungeon didn't wait to welcome them.
The entrance led into a long, curved tunnel made of tangled roots and ancient stone. Glyphs glowed faintly, etched into the walls — not with precision, but like someone scratched them in during a panic attack.
The first chamber greeted them with a floating stone cube, spinning gently midair. Around it? Six pressure plates. Each with a different rune — none of which Ren recognized.
Ren (squinting):
"Classic puzzle room. Nothing new. Step on the wrong tile, get skewered, burned, or screamed at by the walls."
He stepped confidently forward—
And the room flickered.
Like reality hiccupped.
When it settled… Ren was alone with his hidden team.
Everything went off, feels like he's in a void.
Just... vines. Rotting stone. And silence.
Ren:
"Oh good. My favorite: magical abandonment."
Blaze immediately laughed like he was having the time of his life.
Blaze:
"Hell yeah! Sealed room? Hidden traps? No pointy-eared drama king? Best day ever!"
Frost (glancing at the moss):
"There's residual glyph damage. You didn't trigger it. It pulled us on purpose."
Space (leaning against a wall that technically didn't exist):
"Mm. Time hiccup, maybe. The floor tasted like regret. Unpleasant vintage."
Time (spinning a clock-shaped charm in her fingers):
"Ooh! He got dungeon-napped! Classic flavor. Probably an echo seal or a dead god having a mood swing."
Ren (sighing):
"You all are way too comfortable with cursed architecture."
Snarksteel (screaming from Ren's back):
"WHO CARES?! LET'S BREAK SOMETHING. SMASH THE WALLS! PISS ON A PUZZLE!"
Ren:
"Not every wall is a target for your unresolved murder kink."
Snarksteel:
"I HAVE A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP WITH VIOLENCE!"
Ren (to Frost):
"Is it still healthy if he wants to stab puzzles?"
Frost:
"Technically, no. Emotionally? It might help."
Ren (groaning):
"Okay. Let's find the others before Blaze tries to light the walls, Time eats the floor again, and Space phases through reality like a drunk blanket."
Space (already halfway inside a wall):
"Too late."
Time (grinning):
"Too delicious."
They moved deeper into the twisting corridor, surrounded by ancient carvings and a faint hum of something old waking up — something watching.
And Ren had a creeping suspicion this was just the beginning of the dungeon's sense of humor.
Elsewhere, beneath the softly glowing roots of the dungeon's upper chamber, the silence settled in like a warning.
Thenaia stared at the empty space where Ren had just been standing. One blink. Gone.
She exhaled, calm but not surprised.
"He's not in danger," she said quietly. "Just lost. Again."
Veyrix folded his arms, jaw clenched, looking like someone had personally insulted his lineage.
"He is the danger. To himself. And everyone within a twenty-meter radius."
Elsera, standing near the glyph-marked threshold, frowned.
"Something pulled him. Not a trap. A decision."
Veyrix (dry):
"Oh, wonderful. The dungeon likes him."
Thenaia:
"No. The dungeon remembers him."
They turned toward the deeper tunnel ahead, tension rising with the hum of ancient enchantment.
Veyrix (grumbling):
"If he dies down there, I'm not writing the eulogy."
Thenaia:
"If he dies down there, this whole world might follow."
And with that, the silence closed in again — a little tighter, a little colder.
Ren wandered deeper into the corridor — a tight, looping spiral that looked like someone had designed it after licking mold and failing architecture. Moss crawled up the walls. The air tasted like wet stone and regret.
Every path looked the same. Every turn ended in a wall that felt too close. Too quiet.
Ren (muttering):
"Okay. Classic labyrinth enchantment. Very cute. Been through worse. Not panicking."
Blaze (behind him, loudly):
"You say that every time you get lost. Want me to melt a path?"
Frost (dry):
"Let him try walking first. He hasn't tripped yet. That's progress."
Ren:
"Appreciate the faith. Assholes."
He turned a corner — and stopped dead.
Floating three inches above the cracked stone floor was a figure.
Draped in a black robe that looked like smoke stitched with grief. No face — just a shadowed hood swallowing light.
In one hand, a broken sword, crusted with something that definitely wasn't rust.
In the other, a cracked white mask, jagged like it had been screamed through.
The figure didn't move. Didn't speak. Just hovered.
Then:
??? (in the dumbest voice imaginable):
"Hey... uhhhh... you didn't happen to see, like... a glowy thingy, right?
Y'know... crest-sparkle? Flamey-shiny? Pointy bit of doom? Super bright? Maybe cursed?"
Ren stared.
His brain gave up.
Long pause.
No blinking.
Just internal screaming with a side of visible disbelief.
Ren:
"...Are you seriously asking me about the Crestflare right now?
Looking like the ghost of a bargain-bin villain cosplay?"
??? (tilting its head):
"Wait—what? What's wrong with my outfit?"
Ren (gesturing vaguely):
"You're floating. Holding a sword that's visibly crying. Your mask looks like a trauma diary. And your vibe is haunted but casually unemployed. I don't trust any of this."
??? (cheerfully):
"Oh, yeah. It's the robe. People always say that.
Anyway, if you find the shiny, could you, like, let me know? It's... super important. Might be a revenge thing. Or lunch. Honestly can't remember."
Blaze (whispering):
"...Did we just get hit with a haunted side quest or a sleep paralysis demon?"
Frost (quietly):
"Both. He reeks of fracture magic and idiocy."
The figure floated sideways — not walked, floated, like a leaf riding ghost wind — and phased straight through the stone wall.
No sound. No ripple. Just... gone.
Ren blinked. Slowly.
Ren:
"...Yeah. No. I'm officially done pretending this place makes sense."
Blaze:
"Should've let me light the hallway. Demons hate fire."
Frost:
"Not demons. Something else."
And somewhere, deeper in the labyrinth, the walls breathed. Whispered.
Something ancient stirred — half-forgotten, half-awake.
And somewhere close...
Something still wanted its shiny thing back.