The battle at the lake left the air heavy with the stench of ichor. Blackened grass smoked where the corrupted goblins had fallen, and the soil itself looked wounded.
The villagers gathered at a distance, too afraid to approach, though their wide eyes spoke volumes. Children clung to their mothers' skirts, whispering as the adventurers wiped their blades clean.
The elder shuffled forward, his cane pressing deep into the damp earth. His voice trembled with both relief and dread.
"You saw it with your own eyes… didn't you? The lake—it's not natural."
Kaelen lowered her shield, jaw tight. "The monsters came directly from the water. That means the source is below."
The elder's gaze darkened, as if pulling from memory. "That lake… it has always been strange. My grandfather used to say it was bottomless, that its waters ran deeper than the mountains themselves. At night, he swore he heard whispers rising from it—like voices carried through the currents."
He paused, his face lined with unease. "We thought they were just tales meant to scare children. But now? Monsters crawling from its depths, land withering around it… Perhaps those whispers were never just wind."
A heavy silence followed. Lyra's usual grin was absent. "So what you're saying is… we're poking at something that was meant to stay buried."
"We don't have a choice," Kaelen said firmly. "The corruption will spread until this village is gone. If the dungeon is under the lake, then that's where we must go."
The elder looked ready to protest, but his words died under the weight of her tone. Instead, he bowed his head, weariness carving deeper lines into his face. "If you go, then may the gods guide your blades."
---
That afternoon, the party lingered in the village before retreating to the inn. Emi, restless, moved among the villagers instead of resting. She helped a mother draw water from the well, steadied a farmer's hand as he wrapped cloth around a wound, and even soothed a crying child by singing an old lullaby in a gentle hum. Her presence brought fleeting relief, like a candle burning against the dark.
Kaelen gave pointers to a few farmers, teaching them how to brace pitchforks like spears should monsters come again. Lyra, unable to resist, entertained a cluster of thin-faced children by flipping her daggers end over end, pretending to "miss" before pulling coins from behind their ears. The children's laughter rang out, thin but genuine.
For a little while, hope returned to Lintharen.
When night came, the inn's common room was dim, lit by a single hearth. Villagers murmured prayers in the corners, but most gave the adventurers space, their fear too raw to allow comfort.
Altheron sat at the table's edge, staring at the flames. He hadn't spoken much since the fight. His hand kept drifting toward his chest, feeling the faint weight beneath his tunic.
The egg.
Earlier, it had stirred again—but not like before. This time, its pulse had been deliberate, almost urging.
Across from him, Emi's gaze lingered. She waited until Kaelen and Lyra stepped away to fetch food before speaking softly.
"It moved again, didn't it?"
His head lifted sharply. "…You noticed."
Emi's lips curved in the faintest smile. "Of course I did. You always touch your chest when it happens."
For a moment, Altheron said nothing. Then he exhaled, lowering his guard just a little. "It wasn't like before. This time… it felt like it was pointing me toward the lake. As if it already knew what we would find."
Emi leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you think it's guiding us?"
He frowned, staring at the embers. "Guiding… or warning. I can't tell which."
Before they could say more, Kaelen and Lyra returned, setting down bowls of thin stew. Lyra shot them a suspicious glance but let it pass. She filled the silence with a joke, though it fell flat. The group ate quietly, the weight of their decision pressing in heavier than hunger.
---
Dawn came gray and cold. Mist clung to the ground as they made their way to the lake. Villagers gathered at the outskirts, watching with a mix of awe and dread. Some pressed simple charms into the adventurers' hands—woven grass talismans, smooth stones with markings—old protections passed down through generations.
The water was still, too still, as if it had been holding its breath through the night. A pale sun rose above the horizon, turning the mist into silver threads.
Kaelen adjusted her grip on her shield. "No turning back now. We end this."
Lyra smirked faintly, though tension edged her voice. "Jumping into cursed water at sunrise. Gods, this is going to make one hell of a ballad."
Altheron's gaze lingered on the surface, jaw tight. He touched the egg once more beneath his armor. It pulsed faintly—stronger than ever.
Emi stepped beside him, her staff in hand. She didn't speak, but the look she gave him was steady, certain.
Together, without further hesitation, the four dove into the water.
Cold swallowed them whole.
For a heartbeat, there was only silence—weightless, endless. Then the pull came, dragging them deeper than the lake's size should allow. They tumbled through shadow, past shapes that looked like ruined pillars, broken statues swallowed by darkness. Strange whispers brushed past their ears, too faint to catch, too heavy to ignore.
Altheron opened his eyes.
They were no longer in water.
Stone stretched around them, slick with moss that pulsed faintly like veins. The air was damp, heavy with the reek of decay. Roots twisted across the walls, throbbing as though alive.
And waiting ahead, five shadows stirred.
Monsters—twisted forms of once-familiar beasts, their bodies warped by corruption until they barely resembled what they had been. Eyes glowed sickly yellow, their shrieks echoing through the cavern like a chorus of hate.
The dungeon had welcomed them.
With teeth and claws.
Altheron tightened his grip on his sword, the egg's faint warmth at his chest, and muttered under his breath:
"So this is the true beginning."