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I woke up, rubbing my head, and shoved a huge ribcage off my chest, looking back at the edge of the pedestal base, some of my blood staining the stones. Looking around, bones littered the floor near me, a giant worm cut in half next to my head. Still in my hands... well, now on my lap, was the sword, it's blade reflecting my face in the otherwise unreflective metal. By the father, I looked as tired as I felt.

Standing, I felt a tightness in my spine, and gasped from the slight pain. Feeling under my clothes, I discovered a huge bruise where my back hit the stone wall, from one shoulder to the other, down to the middle of my back. What a time to not have Azrael nearby to use his healing touch. I picked up the black blade, giving it a closer look.

the hilt was two spans long, capped with a ravens head, the cross guard was a pair of talons facing up the blade, the side following the spine of the sword extended out into another hilt, this one only one half span, made to resemble tail feathers. The blade itself was a similar design as our ancestral weapon, a single edged blade with a harpoon tip and false edge, gently curving back along the spine like a saber. The whole weapon was dark greys and blacks, aside from the jewels within the ravens eyes, and the silk wrapping of the main hilt, which were the same blue as my skin, though I could have sworn they were crimson before.

With a sigh, I hooked it to my belt as best I could, and recovered my short sword. Even if this was cursed, two weapons were better then one in this case, since I have already been disarmed once. Besides, I kind of liked it. A thought crossed my mind, and drawing the black sword, began to take practice swings to get a feel for it. This was definitely a magic weapon, because it felt as if made for my hand, the weight allowing for both single handed and two handed use, balanced two inches above the cross guard. The secondary hilt allowed it to be used in a fashion similar to a tonfa, the ravens beak sitting just beyond my elbow facing outward.

I was beginning to love this sword.

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I had been walking for just over a day as far as I could guess. Everyone at the fortress should begin looking for me some time soon, since I didn't come back last night. I wonder when they realised I was missing... did they discover my boat? Did the village report my scream? Maybe Azrael felt something, like Faea twins are supposed to be able to do. Hell, at this point I would even wish for mothers intuition to be the reason they discover something having gone wrong.

Regardless, I have to get out of this undead infested maze. Every time I come across an intersection, I wet my finger and test the airflow, following the breeze. Since the giant zombie thing, this has been really uneventful, but I've read enough stories to know better than to lower my guard. Good thing too, because I think I just heard a hiss around the corner up ahead.

Peering around it, I saw a statue, facing away with it's arms up infront of it. Walking infront of it, I saw an unnervingly detailed statue of a kinderfalk girl, face frozen in terror, arms up defensively... this was not good. Immeadiatly I turned and walked back the way I came. Fuck this, fuck whoever put me here, and fuck following this breeze in particular.

A hiss, and petrified people can only mean a basilisk, fuck that. I'm trying to get out alive, thank you very much. I don't care if it takes me a year longer because of this, I am not idiotic, brave, nor confident enough to go against a basilisk alone. I'm not even sure I would be so with fifty people helping me, forget this solo bullshit.

I heard something dragging itself closer behind me, and booked it as fast as I could, as far as I could, as long as I could keep a full sprint going. There is no way in any hell I am fighting a basilisk. Unfortunately, this led to me running, literally, groin first into another pedestal, this one holding something black, but I was too busy falling over in pain to give it a good look. I hit the corner front, center hip bone.

It was awhile before I could stand up, still sore. I looked onto the pedestal, finding black metal greaves, with intricate raven patterns made with what looked like golden acid etching. This is more then a little suspicious at this point. There was only one metal I knew of that was black, and turned gold when acid etched, but even the admiralty couldn't afford to get that made into armor. It was a mix of dragon bones, and adamantite, the process of combining them turning the material black. depending on the dragon, this alloy can be several times more expensive.

I looked at the black blade, but decided that it wasn't possible. I have only ever seen it used for daggers, and even then, only that one example of this metal at all, on fathers ceremonial dagger for the new year on the longest night. Since I wasn''t in a hurry this time, I cast a detection spell.

"Magicae Revelare"

Nothing... from the greaves, nor the sword... This is getting really weird, and suspicious. If the sword wasn't magical, then it had to have been made for me, but if that was the case, the smith had to know me to get the scales of the weapon so perfect for my arm. I had to have identified the metal wrong. This has to be a coincidence. I must be dreaming. SOMETHING has to be wrong here...

"... There is no way this is Dragon Steel... It has to be the chemicals used to etch it...", I mumbled, picking up the greaves.

I saw my reflection slowly fade onto the metal. There was no way these things weren't magical, otherwise my reflection wouldn't appear, or would always be present. Aside from my reflection, much like the blade, the surface of the metal was pitch black around the gold etching.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Sighing, I went to put the greaves on. Armor is armor, which will always be better then regular clothes in a fight. These greaves had sabatons which fit over my boots, and covered up to my knees, a metal cap covering with a metal knob, likely for making a knee kick more devastating. The sabatons had two small metal claws, and the way they sat lifted me onto the balls of my feet passively, strangely they didnt make a sound... infact, I couldn't even hear my own foot steps anymore.

Other then the gold etching, I could imagine that now I was basically invisible from the knees up. I have yet to see any light what-so-ever in this maze, so in the darkness it is possible that my legs would blend into the background, to those who do not possess darkvision at least. I looked down, after getting used to the balance of my step with the greaves, and saw that the etching had turned the same blue as my skin... Once again, I didn't like how suspicious that was...

Thinking about it, I once read that mixing mercury and copper, then painting steel with it could produce a golden color after you burned off the mercury... Yeah, that makes more sense than my finding two rather large dragon steel items in one day. Even the church can only afford mithril plating for the paladin's armor, and even then only the higher ups.

But again.... why did it change color?... My brain is cooking itself trying to figure this out. Point is that now I actually have some armor, would have preferred a breastplate, but beggar's can't be picky. It's not magic, it's too light for steel, and it's bbehaving really weirdly for a normal item... A mystery for another time.

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With silent steps, I walked the tunnels once more. A bit more confident in my ability to remain hidden now. After finding the sword and greaves, both sporting raven themes, I am convinced that there is an entire set for me to find in this place. Though I'm still dubious of whether or not I should, it goes without question that I would be much better off in armor, as opposed to my traveling clothes alone. As far as... daily routine goes, I have been staving off eating to keep from having to do so, however drinking is non-negotiable, getting a cramp in here could be life or death after all.

The pain from the bruises on my pelvise and back have dulled, though certain movements trigger it every so often. I promise to myself every time I feel a twinge of pain that I'll learn some healing spells when I get out of here, but I doubt I'd get the time. Of all the paths I could have chosen, why in the hell did I choose one where I can't have a healer somewhere within sixty strides?

I sighed, as I entered a room with a water bubbling through the floor into a sculpted fountain, this being the first source of fresh water I've seen. Plopping down on the edge of the fountain, I use one more spell.

"Venenum Deprehendere"

Nothing, perfectly good water. About time something goes my way, as I look around for a place to sleep. The room was a half sphere, with thick vegitation linning the walls and ceiling, including a collection of tree roots in the vague shape of a hammock four fifths the way of the dome, at least seven men up. Even another one of those giant zombies wouldn't be able to get me up there... Now... how do I get up there...

I looked around for a good thick climbing vine or root, I refilled my water skin, and washed the sweat and dust off my skin. I spotted a root cluster going all the way up the wall to the center of the dome, but its on the opposite side. I washed off the blood from the back of my head, before trying to make the climb.

Grabbing a hold of the biggest, most secure looking root, I began to shimmy up the tangled roots, really wishing I had some gloves as I instantly stab my hands with small hairs on the roots, pain washing over my palms as my blood stains the roots. Walking back to the fountain, I dip my hands into the water to clear away the blood.

Sure enough, I have several hair-like spines in both palms. I take my hands out of the water, and try a fire spell.

"Flamma Tactus", and the spines shriveled into ash.

Dusting my hands off, I turn to the roots again. Plants that have thorned roots spring to mind, seven of which, I pray to the father I didn't just get stabbed by. Not the least of which is the Black Aspen native to the mountains around the lake. One prick from one of those will have me dead within the hour, let alone literal hand fulls. Hopefully, since there was no pain after the initial injury, that means there was no poison.

If I use that same spell again, I could burn away the spines, but since it activates on both hands I would have to grip the roots with my legs to prevent burning the roots along with the spines. Good thing I recently got some metal greaves.

This time, with great care, I make my way slowly up the roots, burning off the spines as I go. Finally, I reached the top, just a little bit to the left of the root collection I'm after, roughly five spans away, close enough to reach. I dropped my legs down, and turned to face the root cluster, scooting along to the edge of the roots before they retreat into the ceiling, letting go with one hand, I begin to swing back and forth, before reaching for the root cluster.

Catching hold, I shift to my other hand, and try to climb into the space in the roots, the claws on the sabatons helping a bit, but the knobs on the knees making it very annoying. Finally, I rest back in the roots, setting my backpack on my stomach, and my swords at my side. I began to think over the past several hours, from the day by the gravestone of my loyal friend, to falling into this little circus of events...

Slowly, sleep claimed my mind in it's comforting darkness...

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I tried to open my eyes, but nothing happened, I tried to move, and felt pinned in place, I tried to call out, and nothing happened. This is my first experience with true darkness, having been born able to see even in the blackest of darkness. I hate it, with a vengeance, this oppressive darkness which dosen't allow me to see, move, or even scream. I felt it pressing in on all sides, trying to rip away my breath, snuff out my existence, and take me for itself.

So cold, here in this darkness. I could see a shape moving in the darkness, always just out of view, frightening, yet terrifyingly familiar. I began to feel a regular motion as time passed, back and forth, back and forth, a few times it stopped, once or twice it changed drastically. My only comfort in this dark abyss. But then, it stopped, and didn't start again.

I couldn't keep myself from panicking, this deep cold running along my body, chilling me to the core. This went on for a seeming eternity, the endless darkness pressing in on me. I can't take this, what's going on!? Did I die!? Is this hell!? I have no idea how much time is passing, no idea whats around me, I can't move, I can't call for help! I'm isolated, alone, left to be forgotten in this abyssal darkness! Let me out!

LET ME OUT!!!

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