The dungeon did not change after the offering.
That was the first thing Marron noticed.
No new light. No swelling warmth. No sense of approval or progression. The dais remained stone. The space remained quiet. The absence she had accepted did not lift in response to her choice.
If anything, the silence felt deeper.
Marron stood where she was for a long moment, hands hanging at her sides, waiting for the familiar sensation of something settling into place. It didn't come.
She flexed her fingers instead.
They felt the same. A little stiff. A little sore. Hers.
"All right," she said again, more firmly this time.
She turned back toward the work area.
The food she'd made earlier was gone. Not removed—simply finished, reduced to clean stone and a faint scent that lingered close to the floor. Her stomach was empty again, but calmer than before, as if it had learned the rhythm of this place.
She knelt by the fire pit and began preparing it without ceremony.
