It hurt to sit up. I couldn’t tell how long I was unconscious for, but it was long enough that a blanket of dust had settled on me. Around me it was pitch black and silent, aside from the pounding of my heart. I held my breath trying to ascertain where I was but after a moment, it became clear there wasn’t enough light for my eyes to adjust. Panic began to grip my chest and it took all I had not to succumb. A stream of profanities escaped me, many of which were directed towards that damned king who sent me here.

On my knees I searched for my pack, waving my hands blindly in front of me. A finger grazed the edge of the netting and I hissed as pain shot through me. My hands were badly burned. With any luck most of my things would still be intact after that fall though I was down my wrist guards. They’d saved my life by allowing me to wedge myself between the walls of the tunnel slowing my descent. Without them the friction would’ve torn through my hands; instead it superheated the metal supports inside the guards burning me in the process and raining down sparks. My soccer injury ended up being a blessing in disguise it would seem. The trap door led at least a few stories down and above was the throne room and that poser of a king I’d never heard of.

My breath hissed as I pulled the pack closer to me; the burns sent a jolt of pain up my arm. I need to bandage these. Bracing against the pain I ran my fingers along the netting looking for the lamp attached to it. With any luck it hadn’t broken beyond use and as it were, luck was on my side today. Sort of. It was still there, and the cool plastic felt almost soothing too my burning palms. The crank lamp had a cheap solar panel on top of it to charge it and a folding crank arm tucked on the bottom of it for nighttime. It held four hours of power and while it wasn’t the most efficient charging system it worked in a pinch. I had a proper solar panel packed safely in my pack that I normally used to charge my things, but I’d already drained it this morning charging the lamp and my phone. Easing the lamp off I blindly fumbled with it searching for the light. It blazed to life with a satisfactory click. Never had I loved it more than in that moment.

The room laughably resembled what you’d imagine a trap door in the king’s court would lead to, adding a comical amount of credence to his claims. Thing is, there are no castles in Canada and his blatant refusal to seriously tell me where I was… I cursed him again by name.

The walls were made of slate grey cobblestone and were in a serious state of disrepair. Whatever mortar they used to bind them together had long since crumbled away and blanketed the floor. Signs of activity was painted in the dust; swaths of it had been wiped aside. Almost like someone’s been crawling through it... Dark stains littered the floor as well, old and dry, but one trail was still wet. The trail looked like someone had been flailing and the crimson trail lead all the way to…

Something moved in the dark beyond the doorway. The trail snaked around the corner disappearing into the dark. I blinked trying to figure out if I’d just imagined it, while the sound of my rushing blood drowned out anything else. If there was something there looking to kill me right now, I was easy prey. Like a typical horror heroine. When my wits finally returned, I shook my head chaffed at my reaction. I’d just sat there waiting for anything to kill me.

Glancing around the room again, it was obvious I was no longer in Squamish. Someone parading as a king had already tried to murder me, leaving me trapped in an unfamiliar dungeon. There was blood everywhere, likely from other poor souls who hadn’t been so lucky, and something large enough to drag a human away. Maybe on that last part.

Taking a deep shaky breath, I fought back the shock threatening to shut me down, to inspect the room- It was big, circular with three total exits. Two of the exits had rusted iron bars guarding them; one looked like it was blown into the room by something strong enough to bend the inch and a half thick bars; while the other stood vigil, only slightly ajar. Both doors were well rusted adding a metallic smell to the musty stale air.

My eyes were drawn to the blown down door; the top had bowed right over, while the bottom half of the door still hung on its hinge. There were deep groves in the stone where the bottom of it had bit into the stone from the weight of whatever had slammed into it. Nothing human could’ve done that. I glanced back at the final entrance with the trail of blood. This one had no door on its frame, though on one side the twisted remnants of a hinge still clung to it. there was no sign of anything there now, so I decided it was imagined. I couldn’t have been the only ‘peasant’ dropped down here, so where were the bodies? I pointedly ignored the trails of blood and signs of things being dragged out.

Shakily rising to my feet, I strapped my pack to my back and clipped the lamp to my thigh. The ‘intact’ door’s hinges were fully rusted together, and the bottom of it dragged horribly across the floor. A good shove would probably crack it open, but I was loath to risk the noise right now. At least until I was sure there wasn’t anything else down here with me. Instead I gingerly climbed over the blown in door. It shifted but took my weight with only the slightest of a groan. Before me was a cramped hallway, every so often interspersed with another rusted iron door leaning on its hinges. Inside each of which was a medieval looking cell complete with rotten wooden bucket and what probably was once hay. They hadn’t seen use in years. Most doors were intact and ajar, but down this hall stood the remains of another door that had been bent into its cell. A layer of dust had settled over the door and floor beyond. Whatever happened wasn’t recent, but the suspicious stain on the floor was still unsettling.

I continued on trying not to worry about the two bent iron doors. There had to be an exit somewhere. After all, how would they have transported prisoners when the dungeon was in use. Why wasn’t it being used now?

The dungeon felt like it a maze. Parts of it were obviously added on as different sections had older, more crumbling stone. Others had differently shaped stones and some sections used a different stone than the next.

None of it felt real, but I was taking it in stride. If I were dreaming the burns on my hands would’ve woken me up, let alone the horrible fall I’d just had. Instead I was still here, and my hands throbbed enough that there was no way I would remain asleep. No, this was no dream. I was in some deranged Kings dungeon. There were numerous signs that the people who fell through the trap door met some sort of tragic end. I avoided considering the blown in iron doors and what they could mean.

The numbness and shock were finally wearing off and the damp cold began to make me shiver. The place smelt of stale wet air and it had a chill that pierced you to the bone. My breath formed in tiny puffs and my teeth began to chatter. Instinctively I tried to rub warmth back into my limbs wincing as pain lashed through me again. I needed to bandage these, now.

I ended up retracing my steps through multiple dead ends only to find myself in the first hallway with the trap door room on one end. Going straight this time led to a grand hallway. It had massive stone pillars two to a pair running the length of the room. Each reached up to brace the high vaulted ceiling topped with its own gargoyle in various stages of being crushed from the weight. Pleasant.

Two of these pillars had been decimated leaving rubble strewn about the floor. As I approached, long shadows danced throughout the hall and I nearly missed the small hole hidden behind one of the broken pillars. The pillar had landed directly in the doorway of one of the many larger cells that lined the rest of this hall. The hole itself was small, large enough for someone to crawl through on their stomach. My heart was pounding while I peered through checking it was empty. Inside dust thickly coated the floor.

I pushed my pack in first before squeezing myself through. Inside the semi enclosed cell, the grimy dust looked like it hadn't been disturbed at all. Too my great relief there were no suspicious stains either. The room was cold, windowless, but spacious compared to the cells along the small hallway. It was made of the same crumbling cobblestone as the trap door room, likely both were original ‘features’ of the place. Across the floor broken bricks and shards of the pillar was strewn about. The only exit was the one I had entered through making my stay here risky. It would have to do until I could figure out a plan. I was getting out.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I went about setting up 'camp’ taking care to block any light from escaping the exit with a towel draped over the slab. 'Safe’, I was now able to focus on patching up my burnt hands with anti-bacterial ointment and gauze. It was a painful process and more than once I fumbled with the bandages. After quite the struggle and more than a few curses I had both my hands wrapped. The constant throbbing gradually began to wane.

When I had decided to go backpacking alone my friend Alex had tried to talk me out of it; it’s always better, and safer, with someone else; but I was dead set on going alone. He had helped me pack and had objected at the gross amount of first aid supplies I insisted on bringing. A smirk crossed my face. I was right. I had more than enough supplies to see me through healing my hands.

I stashed my rain shell in favour of something warmer and donned my favorite hoodie I'd gotten from Manning Park. It was thick and warm and wearing it gave me much needed comfort. Gradually my shivering ceased but the chill remained ever present.  

Finally, sitting down against the wall I checked my phone. It blinded me before adjusting to the din of the lamp. Tears threatened to spill when I saw l still didn't have service, and I grit my teeth to keep them from falling. It was three in the afternoon, only about an hour since l had entered the throne room and offended the ‘king’ but it felt like six. I cringed as the memory snaked its way back. One moment I was in Squamish backpacking through a pine forest, the next, I was doubled over puking in somebody’s wheat field. I closed my eyes to reality. All the signs were telling me I wasn't in Canada anymore, I just refused to see them.

A surprised farmer had called the guards and despite my protests I was brought to the king as an Otherworlder. Thinking it was some sort of medieval reenactment I had perhaps been a bit… Rude… When they wouldn’t ‘drop the act’ so to speak. but damn. Perhaps I’d… I don’t know, been drugged and brought more inland, where the Doukhobors lived. They were a closed religion and they didn’t tolerate anyone else even driving into their communities. That doesn’t make sense though. Overwhelmed I took a deep breath and decided instead to only focus on the problem at hand. Just stay in the moment. When I was out of this forsaken dungeon and safely in the forest again, I could afford to worry about what happened.

Reluctant to move forward just yet, I decided to set about organizing my temporary shelter... I kicked the thick layer of dirt to one side and collected the stones arranging them into a makeshift wall. It was short, coming just above my knee but it wrapped around the entrance blocking out most of the light. Surveying the scene I ruled out setting up the tent. That felt too much like an admission that I may be here a while and I didn’t want to consider that yet.

With everything set there was only one thing to face. I strapped my knife, water bottle, and camel bag to my belt and set out pushing the lamp out first. I had two goals; find an exit and find a source of water. My water bottle was only half full and, apart from the empty camel pack at my hip, I wasn’t equipped to carry or store water. My trip was originally planned around setting up camp near a creek or lake where I could utilize a gravity filter or simply boil what I needed. While I had plenty of water purification tablets, they did me no good if there was no water to purify.

I had no chalk, but the scattered stones from the decimated pillar left enough white residue when rubbed against the walls that It would do just fine. I collected a couple pieces and, dragging it along the right wall, began properly exploring. like any ‘real’ castle its underbelly was a damn mess. Corridors led to many dead ends which I marked with big ‘X’s on both walls. Collapsed rooms and halls were grim reminders that the only thing keeping the earth from crushing me was crumbling apart. To top that off it was a twisting maze with no rhyme, reason, or inclination that the original builders had any clue what they were doing… Or plan for that matter. It was like they were given the task of constructing a jail and this was their best guess at what they thought that was. I had planned to find the furthest edge of the dungeon and walk along it until I found the exit but given how twisting this place was, I questioned whether the builders would’ve thought that a logical place to put an exit.

I sighed, frustrated at the mess I was in, and stopped walking. It was then that I heard it. A drip! It wasn’t an exit, but it was at least something in this god forsaken place, and I needed to find something. It took several tries, listening to sound of dripping, before I could determine which direction to head in. The hall was long, narrow, and headed straight, a stark contrasted compared to the regular twisting of the rest of the dungeon. It felt never ending and the smell of mildew accosted me. My foot splashed in a puddle causing me to jump. Further down the hall small water streams trickled down the walls. The further I went the wetter it got. Perhaps I’m beneath the moat, or river now.It was too wet for the stone to leave residue now. I stopped. It was dangerous to travel through an unfamiliar maze without leaving a trail to retrace your steps by, but at the same time the promise of water could mean the difference between life or death.

Weighing my options, I concluded I must continue. If I was underneath water it could mean there was erosion, or a perhaps a way out. Water always flows out in a cave after all. On top of that, finding a source of water would sustain me for however long it took to make it out. The risk was worth it.

The hall ended at a fork, opening up to a larger hall. It had a small creek running along the outer wall, though the water looked still. Dipping a finger in, I checked if the water was flowing. It was so minuscule I nearly missed it, but it was there. It was ice cold too. A smile tugged at the corners of my cheek. The creek wasn’t naturally formed; it had been built into the rock judging from the precise cuts in the stone. This must be the edge of the dungeon, and where there’s water there’s a way out.

The end of the line was a large standing pool in a corner chamber of the dungeon. The room it was in was massive. Half of the room had collapsed; at the water’s edge the stones had buckled, and the other farthest half of the room had sunk causing the water to pool here. On the left wall hung iron shackles chained high enough that it would force a prisoner to stand with their arms above their heads. The creek originally snaked along that wall which would’ve forced the prisoners to stand in it... In the water wooden devices rotted, some peeking above the surface. Torture tables, one I recognized, the rest, I couldn’t fathom their purpose. It would fit with the aesthetic of the place at least. Something bothered me about the place, and it took me a while to realize; there were no drips here. Perhaps we were no longer under water, but now where was the water draining too?

I crouched down and peered beneath the mirror like surface trying to gauge just how steep the incline was. A white gleam caught my eye. At first, I mistook it for the light refracting but as I shifted, it remained. Curious, I reached in. It felt smooth to the touch and well rounded. My scream echoed down the halls. It was a human skull, some skin and hair still attached. Water splashed into my face from the force of throwing it. I whipped around slamming headfirst into a solid mass of fur behind me.

I lost my balance slamming face first into the earth. The lamp was dislodged and clattered across the floor spinning to a stop on the opposite side of the room. It illuminated another iron door, the frame partially collapsed in on it. Hot breath lapped at the back of my nape making me freeze. from my vantage lying face down I could make out the outline of a paw. There was a beast in the dark with me.

Fear is an odd thing. Instead of a brilliant plan, instead of immediately running, my first thought was of something my dad once told me while I watched him play diablo as a child; “You would never truly understand who you were until you were facing life and death.” Back then I was sure I understood what he meant. Neither of us did in reality.

I carefully pulled my knife from its holster, shaking head to toe, and whipped it through the air, twisting my body to strike whatever was on top of me. Stupidly, the blade was on the wrong side, but blessedly the other end had a built-in hammer. The monster reared back, roaring in pain after it connected with its jaw. I was already scrambling for the lamp and the small gap.

The gate scratched my hips as I dove through it twisting myself around in a mad scramble to get my legs through in time. I yanked the last one through just in time to see its jaw snap right where my ankle was a moment before.

The air burned my lungs and my legs protested as I barreled my way down the hall. I wasn’t waiting to see how long the iron gate would hold and judging from the sounds behind me it wasn’t long. At the first bend my feet slid out under me sending me sliding across the wet floor. I didn’t feel it, or the pain in my hands as I pushed myself forward. Flying through the halls I slammed into the walls, using my hands to launch myself in a new direction zig zagging through unfamiliar halls. Finally, I careened into the chalk trail making sure to keep it on my left as I catapulted myself towards my camp. In the main hall there was no signs that I’d been followed. It was just me and the dancing shadows cast by the swinging lamp in my hand. No glowing yellow eyes.

I dove, lamp first into my base and shimmied as fast as I could, vaulting over the stones and nearly scattering them in the process. I slammed back first into the far wall panting hard, watching the entrance with wild eyes.

The lamp died.