Dungeon of Power

Dearest Myron,

They say the air on the ninth level is made of ghosts, but to me, it smells like the rain on the summer we met. It’s the magic, I think. The closer I get to the Heart, the more the world feels thin, like a veil ready to tear. Sister Elara says the Font of Resurrection is just beyond the final gate. She says the power required to reach back into the Grey and pull you home is immense, but I have it, Myron. I’ve saved every spark of mana. I’ve fought through horrors that would have turned my blood to ice, all so I can see the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh one more time.

"Come on Kaelen," Commander Valerius bellowed. "The path is clear, but we need you to open the door."

Kaelen closed the small, leather-bound book, his fingers lingering on the embossed sun on the cover. He tucked it into a chest pocket, close to his heart.

He stood up and dusted the frost off his trousers. The air on the ninth Stratum was not cold, but every breath turned to frost. Sister Elara said that it was the life we were breathing that was freezing. We had to hurry before the floor started to freeze the life in us.

Valerius with his flawless golden armor was standing at a metal door. Busy with the lock was a small scrawny man, Jax. Another lockpick broke and he cursed loudly as he kicked the door.

"I got this, guys." They stepped to the side to let him at the door. He put his hands on the cold door. Magic pulsed through his palms. Heat flooded the door, melting away the frost that had gathered on it. He pulled the heat toward the lock. The air started to shimmer in front of him. After less than a minute, the door had completely melted around the mechanism. It opened with a light push.

"No unlock spell? Bah, useless." Jax said as he crouched into the next hallway.

"My forte is destruction, not alteration."

He threw his long arms in the air. “No need for Jax then."

"We need you Jax, you know that my friend," Valerius’ heavy voice echoing through the hallway. His shield in front of him, sword glowing in his hand. Jax followed just behind with his crossbow. Valerius walked away without looking at Kaelen. On the sixth Stratum, they had encountered an orc settlement. Kaelen burned it to the ground, to stop them from raiding the floor and surface. Valerius seemed… upset. Ever since then, he had looked at him with disgust, pressing harder to reach the end. Jax and Elara wouldn’t tell him why.

A cold hand touched his shoulder. It felt like a dozen icicles pressed into his skin. The pain of his twisted ankle lessened, for now. He turned and saw Lady Elara. Her white dress moved in a wind he hadn't felt since they left the surface.. "We are soon at the Heart." Her voice was almost singing, at least that is what he thought. Jax seemed to hate her voice. "Then we can rest your ankle. How is your mana?"

He lifted the wristband they given him. Before they entered, it had shown eight bars. He was down to his last one. Only a couple of small spells, or one large one, maybe.

"Not much left, so let's hope we find the stairs soon."

Elara glided into the hallway. He followed her close behind, magic pulsing through his veins.

A wraith came from one of the doors, its mouth wide, ready to suck a soul. It attacked Elara. There was no golden glow of a soul leaving her body. Instead, the wraith's eyes went wide.

"Sorry my..." The wraith looked at Kaelen, then back at Elara.

"Don't be sorry dear." Elara grabbed his head and whispered something. The wraith exploded, leaving dust particles floating through the air.

Kaelen ran up to her, "Are you alright? Did it hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Kaelen, thank you."

"Did the wraith know you?" Kaelen's hand burned with fire, lighting up the dark rooms on either side. Monsters seemed hesitant to approach them now.

"Wraiths are only tormented souls. Could have been anyone, maybe someone I once knew," Elara explained, "If you remain calm, they are mostly harmless."

The next hour went by quietly, a few monsters approached, but they were either dispatched quickly by Valerius or Kaelen. Jax remained far ahead, scouting for traps.

A large white double door stood in front of them. If anything in this dungeon would scream “treasure”, it was this door. Etchings in an arch were golden leaves intertwining with elven lettering. Each door bore a lion, one female, one male..

"Are we ready?" Valerius asked, gripping one of the handles.

Jax held the other. "Yes boss. Let's get this over with."

The doors flung open without waiting for Kaelen's answer. A twenty-foot golem welcomed them on the other side. One arm ended in a massive shield, the other in a long, spiked club. It stepped toward them, club raised high.

"Let's kill this thing!" Valerius charged, shield raised. The golem swung low, its speed was faster than expected. It flung Valerius across the room. He crashed into a wall just a few feet away. "Elara! Go easy!”

She whispered something, and the golem’s movement became sluggish and rugged. Jax was hiding behind Elara, as usual.

"Go help Valerius! I got this!" Elara rushed to Commander's side. It is now or never, Kaelen thought.

He stepped into the room and raised his hands. A fireball began to form above him. He pushed every ounce of effort into it. For Myron!

He released the spell. The magics collided in a violent measure of power. The fireball exploded, filling the room with blinding steam. When it cleared, only the feet of the golem remained. Kaelen fell to the ground, his mana spent. Jax was there in a flash, catching him before his head hit the floor. The scout’s hands were as cold and distant as Elara’s. The closer they had gotten to the Heart, the colder they had become. In personality as well as physically.

They had done it. On the far end of the room were the stairs down. Down into the treasure room.

"I'm getting old for this." Valerius grunted, pushed himself to his feet. "We need something better, Elara."

"I tried." She walked to Kaelen, "Come, let's see if we can find that orb of resurrection."

Valerius and Jax followed from behind, weapons still in hand. Elara led the way down.

There was no treasure. The room was a forest of pipes glowing with a rhythmic, magical light. A low humming noise filled the air. Kaelen realized he had heard that humming every time they passed a light or found a patch of grass deep underground.

At the far end of the room was a large half-circle of white stone. It was not the arch that shocked him, but what was suspended in the middle: a husk of a man, draped in the rotted silk of a Wizard-Lord from a decade past. His skin was the color of wet ash, stretched so tight over his ribs that he looked like a harp made of bone.

Arcs of lightning jumped from his limbs, pulsing through cables into a tall machine. Much like Kaelen's wristband, the machine had eight bars. The last one was pulsing faintly.

“We are just in time.” Elara whispered. But it wasn’t Elara’s voice.

Kaelen turned around. Elara was floating, her white dress replaced by black, shredded robes that hung a foot from the floor. Her eyes were devoid of pupils. Far bigger than any wraith he knew.

Commander Valerius grew two feet taller. His golden armor split open to reveal a massive, muscular chest. A golden crown sitting on his head. Tusks erupted from his jaw and his skin turned the color of a bruised plum. He looked down at the mage with a grin on his face, satisfied with Kaelen's shock.

Jax no longer hunched; he stood straight, his skin moss-green, his ears long, and his hands bearing six clawed fingers. A small goblin.

“Welcome to the Engine.” Elara’s voice no longer sang, it vibrated deep into his bones.

The Orc pushed past him. He didn’t even look at him. "The boy's got a good heart," Valerius rumbled. "Stronger than the last one. This one might last fifteen years before he turns to ash."

The Orc stepped to the Wizard-Lord and drove a blade through his chest. He showed no emotion, no care. The humming stopped instantly. The power source was gone. The body hit the floor with a hollow thud, its frail bones breaking upon impact

Cold arms wrapped around Kaelen’s waist, lifting him into the air. He struggled, but Elara’s grasp was absolute. He waved his hands, but no spell came; he was tapped.

“No hard feelings. We just need light.” Her cold breath smelled of ancient dust. She held him beneath the arch like a holy relic—not to be worshipped, but to be used.

Jax began toggling the levers on the cylinder's base. "Fifteen? With the way he's been burning mana for his 'true love'? We'll be lucky to get a decade. But the light will be bright while it lasts."

Cold tendrils wrapped around Kaelen’s limbs. He hung there, powerless.

“Check his pockets,” Jax barked. “Any metal will interfere. We don’t want him to blow a fuse in the first week.”

Cold tendrils wrapped around his arms and legs. He hung there, powerless, his mana tapped, on purpose.

“Check his pockets.” Jax barked, “Any metal will interfere. We don’t want him to blow a fuse in the first week.”

Elara slipped off the wristband and threw it toward Jax. Valerius reached into Kaelen’s tunic and pulled out the journal. He didn't open it. He didn’t read the stories meant for Myron, he simply tossed it to the side.

“You won't be needing this, murderer.”

“Our job is done,” Valerius said, turning away. “Light will burn through our home and grow our crops. Jax, summon us when he runs low.”

The machine began to hum. A searing pain filled Kaelen’s body as the drainage began. On the cylinder, the bars shifted from a flashing, desperate red to a steady, vibrant green. One bar, then two, slowly filling with his life.

“Myron, I’m sorry,” Kaelen whispered into the dark. “There is no treasure. I am the treasure.”