The air shifted the moment they crossed the threshold.
One heartbeat, they were plunging into the icy lake. The next, they stood on damp stone, gasping, their boots sinking into moss that pulsed faintly underfoot. The walls loomed around them, slick with roots that glistened as though wet, and every so often, they twitched—like veins carrying a slow heartbeat through the dungeon itself.
The air was foul, thick with the reek of decay and stagnant water. It clung to their lungs, heavy, almost alive. Faint whispers echoed through the cavern, though no mouths spoke them. It wasn't language—more like breath, like something exhaling just out of sight.
Lyra's usual smirk faltered as her daggers slid into her hands. "This place already hates us."
Kaelen raised her shield, eyes sharp, jaw locked. "Good. Hate makes enemies easier to kill."
Emi shifted her staff uneasily, though her gaze was steady. "No… this is more than hate. The dungeon itself feels alive."
Altheron said nothing. His hand hovered unconsciously near his chest. The egg burned faintly there, not with pain—but with something sharper, stranger. Like anticipation.
The dungeon welcomed them.
And it did so with teeth.
From the shadows ahead, five shapes emerged—slow at first, then lunging with shrieks that echoed across the chamber.
They weren't ordinary monsters.
The first was a wolf, its hide split with black veins, ribs exposed as though its flesh had been eaten from within. Its eyes glowed molten yellow, foam dripping from jagged teeth.
The second, a goblin—but twisted beyond recognition. Its limbs were too long, fingers tipped with stone-like claws. Its body leaked ichor, bones fused crudely with bark and root.
The third slithered in—a serpent, scales cracked and bleeding tar. Every movement made the stone hiss beneath it.
The fourth came from above: a crow, or what had once been one. Its wings were ragged bone framed with scraps of feathers, its beak hooked and jagged like broken glass.
And last, the fifth—a hulking brute, larger than any ogre they'd seen. Its skin stretched thin over bulging muscles, half its face a ruin of fused stone.
The five spread out, circling, shrieking as though in mockery of welcome.
Kaelen braced her shield. "Formation! Now!"
The wolf lunged first, fangs snapping at her throat—but the shield slammed forward, teeth scraping metal. Lyra slid beneath, her twin blades flashing as she carved through its underbelly. Black ichor sprayed, sizzling where it struck the ground.
The goblin darted next, claws screeching against Altheron's blade as he parried. Its strength was unnatural, forcing him back a step. With a snarl, he shifted, slamming his sword into its torso. The goblin shrieked, but instead of falling, its body split apart—roots writhing where organs should be.
The serpent coiled, striking toward Emi. She swung her staff, the wooden tip cracking against its skull. Holy light burst, hissing against corrupted scales. The creature recoiled, but its tongue lashed, grazing her arm before Kaelen's shield smashed it aside.
Overhead, the crow dived, wings slicing the air like blades. Lyra spun, daggers flashing, and with a vicious grin she hooked one through its skeletal wing. "Down you go, ugly!" She yanked, dragging it into Kaelen's waiting sword.
The brute came last, slow but unstoppable. Its fists crashed like hammers against stone, sending tremors through the chamber. Altheron stepped forward, sword gripped in both hands. He parried one blow, but the force sent pain lancing down his arm. Teeth bared, he twisted, driving his blade deep into the brute's side.
It bellowed—but didn't fall.
"Focus its legs!" Kaelen barked.
Lyra darted low, slashing tendon. Emi struck with a burst of light, searing corruption from its knee. Together they brought it crashing down, Kaelen's shield smashing its skull as Altheron carved through its neck.
The brute convulsed, then stilled.
And just like that—silence.
Their breaths came heavy, the chamber reeking of blood and ichor. But the monsters' bodies didn't remain.
Instead, they melted.
The ichor hissed into the floor, seeping like water into dry earth. Where it touched, glowing veins spread across the stone. Symbols—twisting, pulsating sigils—etched themselves into the walls as if written by unseen hands.
Lyra spat, wiping her daggers. "That's new. Normally monsters stay dead."
Emi's eyes narrowed. "No… they're not gone. The dungeon absorbed them."
Altheron watched in silence. His hand pressed against his chest—the egg pulsed again, stronger this time. Not just warmth. Rhythm. Almost like it was… answering the dungeon's heartbeat.
Then, with a groan of shifting stone, the wall ahead split open. A passage revealed itself, roots peeling back like flesh from a wound.
The dungeon was guiding them deeper.
They moved cautiously, weapons ready, until they found a hollow chamber. Roots curled overhead like ribs, but the air was still—safe enough to rest, for now.
Kaelen lowered her shield and glanced at the others. "Short break. We'll need our strength."
Lyra flopped against a stone, trying to mask her trembling hands with a grin. "I'm writing a ballad after this. 'Idiots Who Jumped in a Lake and Got Eaten by a Dungeon.'"
No one laughed.
Emi leaned on her staff, her gaze drifting to Altheron. He sat apart, staring at the faint glow beneath his tunic.
Lyra's voice softened, unusual for her. "Alright, big guy. You've been touching your chest more than your sword. What's going on?"
Kaelen's brow furrowed, waiting.
Altheron stiffened. For a moment, silence stretched. Then Emi spoke quietly:
"I already know."
The others turned.
She met Altheron's eyes. "The egg. You've been carrying it since the ruins. I didn't say anything because… I trust you. But it's reacting now, isn't it?"
Altheron's jaw tightened. He slowly pulled the egg from beneath his armor. Its shell gleamed faintly, veins of light pulsing in rhythm with the dungeon walls.
"It reacts to this place," he admitted. "Guiding me. Warning me. I don't know which."
Kaelen's hand tightened on her sword. "And you waited until now to say something?"
"Would you have believed me before this?" Altheron's tone was sharp.
The silence was answer enough.
Emi placed a gentle hand on his. "Whatever it means… we'll face it together. That's why we're here."
For a moment, Altheron almost smiled.
Then the ground trembled, cutting the moment short.
They pressed onward.
The further they went, the worse the dungeon became. Roots thickened, throbbing as though pumping blood. Water dripped endlessly from the ceiling, staining the stone black. Whispers grew louder, echoing like voices carried through bone.
Sometimes the walls shifted when they weren't looking. Corridors narrowed or twisted. The dungeon wasn't a place—it was alive, and it was watching.
On the third floor, they faced skeletal deer with antlers of black crystal. On the fifth, slimes that split endlessly until Emi blasted them with light. The tenth floor brought swarms of eyeless bats that clung to Kaelen's shield in droves, their screeches enough to rattle teeth.
Each battle drained them, but each floor also rewarded them: corrupted crystals, strange herbs glowing faintly, weapons half-eaten by decay but humming with dormant power.
By the fifteenth floor, their bags were heavy with loot, yet their bodies bore cuts, bruises, and exhaustion. Emi's healing light had dimmed, and Kaelen's shield carried deep claw marks. Lyra wiped blood from her cheek, breathing hard.
She flopped onto a cracked stone bench near a glowing fungus patch, smirking despite her fatigue.
"Well, we got some great loot… but what's the point if we had to use most of it just to survive? At this rate, the dungeon's bleeding us dry."
Altheron said nothing, though his hand never left the egg. The pulsing matched his heartbeat now, steady, insistent.
At last, the corridor opened into a vast chamber.
The chamber was wrong.
An altar of twisted stone jutted from the center, carved with symbols that burned faintly red. Roots wound around it like chains, but they pulsed as though trying to keep something inside. The ground was scarred, blackened as though countless battles had already taken place here.
The egg burned hot against Altheron's chest. Almost painfully.
Shadows stirred around the altar, not with shape—but with presence. The air thickened, pressing against their lungs.
Lyra's voice cracked, just a whisper. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."
Kaelen raised her shield, eyes narrowing. "Something's waiting."
The whispers swelled, words forming now, though in no tongue they knew.
Altheron stepped forward, hand on his sword, egg blazing like a second heart.
The shadows gathered. The chamber trembled.
And then—
A roar, vast and ancient, shattered the silence.
The dungeon was awake.
And it was hungry.