It won't work, I told her.

As with the last three times I'd informed her of this fact, Veresai ignored me.

She had awoken from her Naming new and improved; still twenty feet long, her blue scales even more iridescent, eyes gleaming with an inner light as if stars. Her blessing hummed through our shared connection; I couldn't quite tell what it was yet, though I knew it was powerful. With Seros' blessing of the depths it had initially expressed itself as hydrokinesis, even if I could feel something… more lurking beneath the surface, though he hadn't activated it. Nicau's blessing of the communer seemed to have already been revealed, able to talk to and use mana to command other sapient creatures. All beautifully useful.

Blessing of the oracle; all that is to be seen shall be seen.

What did that mean? The mystery called to me. I couldn't wait to figure it out.

But I doubted I'd be figuring that out at the moment, because right now, my lovely Veresai was working on her new powers as an empress serpent—her crown of horns gleamed a brilliant silver-blue, four eyes narrowed in concentration, as she coiled around the person at the back of her den.

Kriya, the naga-ancestry invader who, for some unforsaken reason, I had been keeping alive. Water dripped into her mouth, food for sustenance, soothing mana to keep her in the bounds of sleep—all things I had been doing with the assumption that Veresai wanted to do something with her. But.

I'd hoped she had wanted to do something successful with the captured human, instead of, well. This.

Veresai was attempting to control Kriya's mind.

In her wake, other serpents were shaking off her tests—she could slip into the minds of her followers, seeing through their eyes and issuing commands, and they would obey in a variety of levels depending on their own ability to resist her and their level of fealty. This had resulted in her killing a few serpents who were apparently only faking their devotion to her, which promptly had the rest offering extra food for her choosing. Fancy thing, been a tyrant.

But now she was attempting the same thing on Kriya, and I didn't have to be a genius—though I was—to tell her it wasn't going to work.

For all she had scarlet scales crawling over her skin, visible fangs, and a flared hood instead of hair, she was still a human. She had sworn no loyalty to Veresai, had no serpentine mind to fall under the complete thrall, and had no reason to listen to the enormous crowned serpent who had captured her. So.

It won't work, I said again.

Veresai's four eyes narrowed further. They were practically burning, spilling blue-silver light over the surrounding stone, and Kriya twitched again—not waking up, because I was doing my absolute damnedest to keep her down, but still stirring from the psionic mana pouring through her mind. If Veresai wasn't careful, she'd wake up, and then we'd both have a problem.

Unfortunately, she'd never learned the meaning of that word, and onward she pressed.

Gods above, this snake was going to be the second death of me. Funny that she was acting up only after I'd given her some of my Otherworld mana and thus couldn't afford to smite her for the offense.

Irritating.

Veresai eventually leaned back, uncoiling from her chosen target and curling her horns back. She fixed her glowing stare on a random section of wall, where it just so happened a point of awareness lurked. Her frustration filtered through our shared connection.

Want, she said, in the fumbling, unconscious way that lesser beings had to communicate with me. New to join. Strong.

If I had lungs to sigh, I would have. Yes, objectively Kriya would be an incredible boon; for all that I had the ability to heal my creatures, I could only do so once invaders had left my halls and thus weren't sucking up all my mana for their own stupid spells, and the heat of battle was when heals were most necessary. Having someone on the front lines who could heal would revolutionize battles, especially considering the increasing numbers of the ones approaching me.

But I couldn't just kidnap random invaders and force them to work for me. Dungeons would be undefeatable in that regard, or they'd be too easily defeatable; there was a reason that even with Nicau's loyalty, I hadn't shown him where my core was kept. The heart of men was too fickle.

Even if I was thinking of bringing him down to the sixth floor to stay with the evolved kobold tribe. That was a thought for later.

She hissed, a low, vicious sound that had many serpents trying to rest in other corners of the den flinching. Yes, she was aware Kriya was human, but she had scales. Surely that made her serpentine.

So did the kobolds and the spined lizard she'd killed instantly for daring to enter her floor, I reminded with only a touch of superiority.

Veresai's horns flashed. Want, she thought petulantly, and the briefest flash of Nicau raced over our connection. Mine.

Excuse me?

I'd worked in order to get a human. Ample amount of threats and rewards, and now he served me; did she want her own human just because I had one? What?

Kriya was technically starting out as more useful than Nicau as a healer—but that was before I had made Nicau powerful. He was mine, he was dungeonborn, he was Named; because of me.

And now she wanted to do the same thing.

Absolutely not. I wasn't the biggest fan of humans and that was before they had killed me—Nicau was only allowed because he was a simpering little loyalist who knew how to play his cards right and had served me from the beginning. Kriya had actively invaded my halls and tried to subjugate me.

She would not be joining my dungeon as a permanent resident if I had anything to say about it, which I did.

No, I snapped, pushing all my determination and will through our shared connection. Learn from. But you will not keep.

Veresai hissed, snapping at the air with curved fangs. But I had made her, and a tantrum would not scare me back on my decisions. She would be allowed to learn from Kriya, to puzzle out healing magic and the naga ancestry as best she could, and then she would be killing her; I would not allow a weakness so close to my core.

No, that was asking for destruction.

She stared at the point of awareness for a long time—which, a little confusing, how had she known where it was? Maybe an element of her blessing of the oracle?—before eventually turning her head to the side with a frustrated hiss. Accepting my command, though not happy about it.

Fantastic. I didn't care. It was good for the tyrant to be reminded she wasn't the largest threat around here.

Veresai slithered out of the back corner of the den, her influence spilling forth in great billowing waves; her eyes flashed as her body stilled, mind flying elsewhere as she raced through the minds of all her connected servants. It was a marvelous thing to watch—though she was still slow and fumbling through the process, so long as a serpent had sworn to her in some sort of mystical thing I didn't fully understand, she could dip into their mind and control them directly, no more room for disobeying when she had previously been limited to simply commanding them with no psionic element behind it.

Although. Hm.

Maybe the part where she could actively peer through their eyes was from her blessing of the oracle; it didn't match the description of the empress serpent when she'd evolved. Certainly a very useful power for controlling her territory.

Her horde of serpents shivered as her control swept through them, plucking at the threads until she located her target; a tall, ancient by my standards crowned cobra, one of the eldest of her army. He raised his head, hood flaring around his neck and head curled primely in; at her summoning cry, he slithered through the Stone Jungle at the center of the Labyrinth until he arrived at the den, hesitant and cautious. He'd been out hunting when she had interrupted him, and now he was arriving back without food, which was a dangerous thing. From the thoughts echoing through Veresai's connection with me, he had seen many other snakes die for such an offense.

But this time, she merely called him to her side, his own fifteen feet nearly matching hers but not in power. He kept his head lowered as she led him to Kriya's side, horns glowing as she curled her presence through his mind.

He would be the one to learn from the healer, to study her, and once he had gathered all he could, to kill her. Hopefully that would decide his evolution.

Not quite what I would have done—there was a luminous constrictor that had more of an inclination towards healing than this brute—but Veresai had, apparently, merely picked the most powerful of her followers to follow this route. Understandable, if not the most intelligent choice. I'd be curious where this would go.

He seemed hesitant himself, accepting her mission instantly but then spending a good long moment just staring at Kriya's unconscious body. How was he supposed to learn from a silent, unmoving body?

Well, not my problem, and certainly not Veresai's. She left the room with her crown of horns held high.

The crowned cobra kept staring at Kriya. His forked tongue flickered out.

I left a few points of awareness, mostly for the entertainment, and threw the bulk of my focus elsewhere. Racing up, I spiraled through the bulk of my floors—guided the jeweled jumper towards the passageway that would lead him to a hunting mantis as a worthy prey, he was so close to evolving it was actively infuriating; grew a blanket of whitecap mushrooms for the lunar cave bear adolescents; added a few silver kraits to the Hungering Reefs; checked on the reefback turtle's evolution; generally busied myself with the various goings-on that came with being a dungeon core. It was a complicated life, especially when there was something overhead that kept trembling at the stone; not nearly enough for any of my creatures to notice, but for as advanced a perception as I had, I could feel the tremors spreading down. A group maybe, or one large creature—but something was stirring in the Alómbra Mountains, and I wasn't particularly a fan.

But what I was a fan of was the footsteps rumbling at my cove entrance.

I stiffened, points of awareness flying up, but whoever it was wasn't trying to be subtle, and I could feel a connection in my Otherworld mana that had been strained revitalize. Something returning that had been lost.

Or, more accurately, returning from a mission I had sent him on and had been very impatiently awaiting his arrival.

Nicau returned to my dungeon.

Immediately, our connection restrengthened as he entered my halls, that missing piece slotting back in as I immediately sank back into his mind and our connection. He was still in his new clothing, that blue-stained leather coat and prim boots, looking all the world like a more proper adventurer. Though he wasn't, he served me, and he certainly wasn't some oil-slicked brat sniffing for gold. The dragons I'd carved onto his buttons were for that.

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Though he wasn't exactly as I'd left him. In his hand he clutched a dagger, something bright and gleaming, though a touch too long for his stunted height. Hm. I hadn't considered he needed a weapon—all my creations came with claws or fangs or talons—but I supposed I had to work more on thinking of him as a human. A proper scabbard, maybe, a few hidden daggers; most of my knowledge about pirates came from how to kill them, so I could try to outfit Nicau against that. Maybe. If I remembered.

But that wasn't all of the changes. While he still had the shadowthief rat perched on his shoulder—there was a brief internal battle as I struggled between annoyance that she'd survived and the reminder that I wanted to see the effects of eating a moonstar flower—there was someone else alongside him.

A parrot.

A beautiful, stunning parrot, with scarlet wings edged with gold, white-black beak, and clever, fierce eyes. It perched on Nicau's shoulder like it quite belonged there, which it didn't, and I likely would have assumed he had merely picked it up in Calarata as a schema for me if I didn't remember this parrot. Or, more accurately, if I didn't have someone else's memory of this parrot.

Because Nicau had encountered it before, and that had been when it had guided him out of the jungle and back to me. So.

Concerning, that.

With all the subtlety I was made of, I woke a few of my creatures—the midnight cave bear, still lingering on this floor despite all my layered suggestions he go to the Jungle Labyrinth, pricked his ears and peered out from his den. Seros, far below and swimming through the Hungering Reef on hunt for a roughwater shark despite my minor pleading that he let them evolve, glanced up and lashed his tail. Kobolds a floor below paused in sharpening their spears.

Nicau, blind little human that he was, didn't notice. Just stumbled in, arms limp at his sides and eyes half-lidded. "Hello," he said, then stiffened. "O' mighty dungeon. I, ah, return. Bearing gifts."

A bit stilted, but I welcomed it regardless. My mana poured forth, surrounding them—rooting into the entrance in case I needed to do something drastic, considering the parrot—and opening our connection. His mind jolted, that instinctual reaction to mental stimuli, but then he was peering upward with his thoughts smoothing out. The parrot?

He winced, just a hair. "It, ah. Wanted to come with me."

Right. That made sense.

I poked my way through him; nothing to heal, no bite of infection to smooth out or cuts to stitch together, and, more importantly, nothing messing with his head. Though I rather doubted the parrot was some enchanter or siren-spirit, I didn't exactly want to risk it.

But no. Nicau was under no influence.

The parrot, as if sensing my searching eyes, squawked; a distinctly ear-splitting sound that had Nicau wincing. Its feathers ruffled as it stared into the darkness of the first floor, crest flaring, until it apparently chose a point to stare at. Its beak clacked.

And something moved within it.

Mana, moving in whorls around its beak and eyes, something sharp and bright and tinged ruby-red; I could see channels, the typical patterns of a creature, but it was full near bursting, impossibly bright and burning.

And, at its heart, an ember sat; large and swollen with a mana so dense it was practically alive.

Not a normal bird.

It looked at the first floor, crest flared, and squawked. "Hello."

Right. Talking. I hated this.

I extended a tendril of mana with what would have been wariness if I was a lesser being, but was merely intelligent caution for me, prodding at the parrot's mind. No easy way to properly reach inside, considering it wasn't dungeonborn, but I was able to make a thorn of progress. Learning from Veresai had done me wonders. Hello.

"Voice," it said, which was not something Nicau had said, and judging by how the boy stiffened, he knew that, too.

Wonderful. I loved enigmas; they made my life so easy.

Not normal, I said, echoing with the force it took to communicate to this creature; its mana absorbed mine when I tried to push too far in, but I had to be close in order to talk, and what I ended up with was the mental equivalent of shouting over a ravine. Clumsy, inelegant, and presumably loud enough the echoes were spilling around to the surrounding creatures. Brilliant. Why are you here?

It bobbed its head, wings flaring at the tips and nearly bashing Nicau in the head. "Here," it repeated, talons tightening on the leather of the surcoat. "Here. Join Voice. Mission."

Now, I was quite positive neither I nor Nicau had said any of those words in its presence, which meant it had either heard them before, or was intelligent enough to know them outright.

But it wanted to join me.

Now, most creatures joined me in a messy sort of dead variety, wherein I would happily clean up their corpse and make them anew—I had the feeling that wasn't what the bird wanted. Which was understandable, but it also seemed like it thought I could easily make it become dungeonborn, which. How did it know the intricacies of dungeons?

Or think it knew the intricacies of dungeons? Because other than Naming it—which I was not doing, I'd known it for all of a second and I had much more interesting creatures to Name—there were only my experiments with removing a creature's personal mana and replacing it with my own unless they died, which had been the most common outcome. So.

Apparently, this little parrot had survived an encounter with another dungeon long enough to know that a dungeon could claim creatures, and then had come to me. Which.

Two options here, neither of which was good.

There was either another dungeon kicking around here, which even the thought sent fire down my territorial side—I was still gearing up to kick Calarata out, I would certainly not tolerate a whole other dungeon encroaching on my land—or the knowledge of dungeons had spread that birds were able to know it; admittedly, birds with the strangest mana pattern I'd ever seen, but still birds.

Worrying.

It cocked its head to the side. Squawked.

I leveled the best glare I could while being entirely intangible and invisible.

Well, if it wanted to join me, I was inclined to allow it. In truth, that would put it much closer to me, make way for a variety of increasingly dangerous ways in which it could attack me, give it access to my core, let it function as a spy–

But, well.

It was rather beautiful.

And in much the same way that I trusted Nicau now that he had my mana and only my mana within him, I trusted the dungeonborn far more than any others.

Keeping an eye on it was only another bonus. And if it betrayed me?

For all that its swirling mana hid many secrets, it couldn't hide its strength; whatever ember of mana sat in its heart was not for using, and the red-gold-grey whorls around its beak and eyes were nothing compared to my more powerful creatures. With one command, it would not be long before it was killed. Hells, I could create a greater pigeon right now and kill it even if it flew.

So. If I wanted answers, I would be welcoming it into my dungeon, which was going to be a great time.

I pushed a magnanimous tone into my voice, which was somewhat lessened by the fact I was still essentially screaming across a void in order to be heard. You will join, I said. Do not fight.

Because, ah.

I'd tried doing this before. Tried many times, actually, on various grasshoppers across my first floor. Who had contributed to my experiments with their deaths. Often of the exploding variety.

But now I had a creature who was intelligent enough to know what I was doing and fully cooperate; and if its mana didn't fight against mine, and it wasn't too powerful, then presumably I could empty it of its own mana and fill it with my own. Without killing it.

The parrot squawked its agreement, and I did a dungeon core's equivalent of a cold sweat as I reached out.

My mana diffused into a miasma around the bird, spooking it into poofing out in an explosion of feathers; but in a remarkable feat of will, it fought back its fight-or-flight response into a mere reproachful croak, fixing its glare at the nearest wall with a look of derision. I ignored that. See if it wanted to try taking over an entire living creature's mana.

I pried a sliver of mana, barely even half a point, into the parrot's head; in an almost water-like fashion, I poured my way within its very core, nesting amongst the spirals of mana coiled within. Delicacy, I had to be delicate—some part of me doubted that Nicau would appreciate if the parrot perched on his shoulder happened to explode.

Almost immediately, problems—that ember of power within the parrot. I immediately rebounded hard off it, ricocheting back fast enough I almost fell out of the bird entirely; alright, message received. That was not the parrot's mana, and I was not to touch it.

The mystery burned at me. For what possible reason would a living creature carry another being's mana, unable to use or access it, and why this creature? Why this parrot? And why had it come to me?

I was a dangerously curious being, and this parrot called to every sense of mine.

Later.

So instead I inched my way around, smoothing my passage with points upon points of mana, wasting many in my journey to be a slow and insidious infestation; I copied the spiraling whorls around its eyes and beaks, the jagged outlines of its feathers, the curls of its talons. Over and over, stitch by stitch, within the parrot I constructed a false second, mana coiling over in the same pattern as the one beyond. If anyone with a sufficiently advanced mana-sight were to look over, they would see what appeared to be two parrots living within each other. An odd sight, if I were to guess.

That was what my time with the grasshoppers had taught me; it wasn't enough to merely shove my mana into a creature; mana moved in specific pathways, in channels, and removing the mana broke those, which killed the creature. So I had to create my own, and they had to be identical as the previous, and then all at once, so the creature didn't have to handle having double channels, I had to force them out. So.

Difficult, to put it lightly.

I crept my way on, adding flares and curls as I noticed them; the parrot was starting to shift uncomfortably as my mana increased, thrumming harder and harder, and my time limit crawled steadily to a close. That ember in its heart shivered.

But eventually, I had done all I could, and if I waited any longer I risked ruining it entirely—so, my points of awareness all flying in, I grabbed a hold of my mana channels and pushed.

There was a cracking sound—Nicau yelped as mana exploded against his shoulder in a popping, hissing mess of near-fire—and a brief, heartstopping moment later, all of the parrot's natural mana was thrown free and replaced with mine. It squawked, trembling, heart beating like a drum, mana frozen and shaking—and then, with a low, quiet hum, started to flow. To beat again.

A success.

I sagged in place, relief flooding through me. Finally, finally I'd done it right, and on a creature that genuinely mattered; already I was slotting the knowledge away for when I would need to use it next. Useful information.

And then something deep within me changed.

Congratulations!

Due to your actions in reawakening lost things to fulfill your duty in Aiqith, you have earned a new title!

Welcomer

The new and the returning—a dungeon's duty is to strengthen all those who enter its halls. You can change all willing creatures to become dungeonborn.

Oh.

Oh!

Well, that was certainly an appreciated addition. It'd been so long since I'd gotten a title I'd almost forgotten it was possible—but now I felt it settle into place, great burning golden runes carving themselves along my core, understanding and power and brilliance coiling around me like the warmth of sunlight.

Extremely welcome. I cradled the new title like a hatchling. Mine, now.

I could feel the parrot now, a brief connection in the manner of all my other creatures, and I could feel its thoughts. Her thoughts, actually; she was a clever thing, shaken by the experience but already pondering her new connection, testing the flex and pull of her mana. Weak, but she would recover soon. There was a strength in her that had been tested.

…been tested a lot, actually. She was much older than I thought she would be; while parrots were long-lived, they were more likely to die around a pirate city. She was positively ancient by those standards.

And she knew exactly what the ember in her chest was, but could not tell me.

What.

Even as I scratched and burrowed for the thoughts and memories associated with it, much like how my mana had bounced off, I simply could not understand what was about those. Something dark and oil-slick kept me from understanding—from even looking—at the ember of mana.

The parrot squawked, a little sadly. From her thoughts, she wanted me to know, but couldn't. It was her burden to bear.

She was a bird. What secret could she possibly have that was too important for a dungeon core to know?

Mysteries. How I simply loved them.

But for all that it irked me, there was something to take the bite away—I swung my attention back to the wider world, points of awareness swiveling in. Nicau was waiting, a touch awkwardly. He clearly knew something had happened, considering the mana that was still singing the corners of his hair, but he didn't know what.

Well. Not the time for him to worry about that.

It was instead time for me to learn just what had been happening in the outer world.