Cal cast Mood Lighting, but instead of going first, he created a glowing illusion of himself and sent that down. He hoped if there were any enemies down there, they’d think he was a ghost, and they’d run, though as a rule, dungeon guardians weren’t afraid of ghosts. A lot of them were all ghosts or had close personal friends that were spectral in nature.

But the glowing Cal gave him and Gwen light. And Gwen was ready to leap forward with her Roast Beast Fork if anything attacked them.

Cal had the box of parallelograms, which he’d toss at anything that leapt out at him. Those tiny plastic blades might do some damage.

No. No, they wouldn’t.

Nothing jumped out at them. He and Gwen circled around and around, down the super-secret staircase, and into a room filled with boxes of files. Another secret filing room? What was this hidden archive? Everything had been alphabetized and was in perfect order. Except for a table. There was a box marked Box A, and Cal recognized it. Back before the Otis audit, Dave had told them they’d been pulled from the field and would be filing ever after.

They hadn’t gotten a ton of filing done, but now, the box was sitting there, in this secret room, which wasn’t as vast as the main filing room above nor the other secret archive room where Dave had set up his inner sanctum.

Cal sat the parallelograms on the floor and went to Box A. At the top was a file folder with a typed label—The Mind’s Eye.

Do DUDE had files on the mysterious organization? That was interesting.

Too bad the file folder was empty.

Okay…

Underneath, Cal found the cover sheets of TAP reports, and he recognized them immediately. They were the cover sheets of the reports that had been boxed up in the storage room and marked for immediate incineration by a dragon that was more interested in roasting red bell peppers than roasting dungeoneers.

Cal then saw notes written on papers clipped to the TAP reports. He recognized Dave’s handwriting. He picked it up, and there was the word “embezzled” circled over and over. And there was a list of worlds with Clothesvania at the top.

Cal went through the list:

* Tittikaka

* Pundit

* Rogoredo

* Glimmerpickleheim

* Mestup

* Funklaria

* Postentweet

* Ubechastan

* Elmerquandai

All the audits had been done by the same team—Audit Team One. The AT1. They’d audited over a thousand worlds during their time—one thousand, two hundred, and seventy-three to be precise. Every one of those worlds had dungeons leaking Apothos. All that energy was now gushing down into the Celestial Nodes that had been created underneath the Department’s offices. It was unprecedented.

If AT1 had done all the audits, had they gone rogue? Had they chosen their own personal power over protecting the Tree of Souls.

If those Celestial Nodes failed, including a shocking number of Heart Dungeons, then over a thousand worlds would die. Well, one thousand, two hundred, and seventy-three to be precise. All at the same time. FLEA—the Federal Life Evacuation Alliance—wouldn’t be able to help evacuate all those worlds. And there wouldn’t just be one Withering Apocalypse, there would be dozens. It would be devasting, and the Tree of Souls would lose whole branches. Worse yet, some of those Armageddons would turn into Decaisy Apocalypses. So many at the same time might put so much decay in the Tree that it might completely die. Then all of reality would fail.

Cal’s mouth was dry. Even as his eyes watered. The devastation was beyond imagining.

He then found something else—personnel files on the AT1. Barbara Starmyst’s file was on top. She was the flaky Night Centaur who was the AT1’s interior decorator. Five years earlier, she’d gotten five demerits and an official written warning concerning her cubicle space. It seemed she had decorated too much, and there had been complaints about all the fabric, pictures, and candles. And smells.

Barb had some sort of aroma magic, not unlike Kronke’s Aroma Float. She’d put a lavender curse on Cal at the victory party celebrating their work with Otis, which had saved Fidotopia. The written violation came from David Sterling Copperblade and Mr. Jord Jamalzak, the CFO. There was also a parking violation for several carts she’d parked in VIP spaces. The biggest incident concerned something about DUDE’s Employee Forevergreen Festival Craft Fair. The Department used to host a holiday market where employees could sell stuff they made. It seemed that Barb had created a stench, and there had been so many complaints, she’d been forcibly removed.

Yikes.

“The vanilla candle,” Cal whispered. Dave had a vanilla candle on his desk. And Cal remembered his new pendant had smelled so good. That had to be the source of the mind control.

He returned to the documentation.

Barbara’s file was nothing compared to Amorfo’s, Inke’s, and Cardiganna’s. All were fat with violations from across their long and storied careers.

Cal didn’t know what his file looked like, but it was clear—the AT1 had always played fast and loose with the rules. But how could that be? At the same time, they had the best reputation in the Department. They got all the best assignments, went to the cushiest worlds, and were known far and wide.

Cal was pouring over Dave’s notes when he realized he felt a breeze, and the whole place was far brighter. He glanced around. Where was Gwen?

“Gwen?” he shouted. He couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. “Gwen? Where are you?”

Dang, but he sounded pathetic. His mind whirled. They were going to have to face the AT1. They hadn’t been kidnapped. They were behind the embezzlement, the five new Celestial Nodes, and Weavelord’s mind control.

Cal smelled freshly baked cookies, and he felt better. Kronke was close by.

Gwen called to him. “I’m right here, Cal! Found another secret door. Guess what? Led right to Weavelord’s inner sanctum. Probably need to seal that off.”

Cal stuffed a few of the parallelograms into Box A and carried it through the shelves and into a large passageway—a big bare concrete hallway—that took him back to Dave’s filing room inner sanctum.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Cal lugged the box into the inner sanctum and down a row of shelves. Why did the secret inner sanctum filing room have shelves and boxes while the super-secret archive had the large metal filing cabinets?

Gwen had the same question. She was with Dave, by the pedestal, with Helga, Hurricane, and Kronke. Fullgeers, Daphne, Karl, and Shrimpie weren’t there. Where were they?

Cal was too upset to ask.

Dave was looking a bit better, though not much. He was still pale, and many of his eyes were bruised shut. Bandages covered some of his legs, while others looked broken beyond repair.

Gwen kept talking. “Yeah, Dave, why are there all these secret archives? What are you all trying to hide? And were the Electronic Abacuses really so terrible? They had to be a better system than 10,000 years of haphazardly filed paperwork.

Dave responded immediately, talking through his guardian form. His core gem floated above the pinball bumper pedestal, glowing brightly. “I know all about those dang Electronic Abacuses. A couple years back, we tried to use them again. They were so buggy. They either didn’t work outright, or they were too slow to use. They’d crash right when you needed them the most. To use them, you had to wear these token rings, but the token rings would get hot and burn your fingers. No. Terrible. Terrible. And the printers? Never worked. You have no idea how much money was wasted on fixing the copier machines. Don’t mention them around Perkle. He'll have a nervous breakdown.”

Right then, Cal didn’t care about the ancient technology. He slammed the box down in front of Dave, and started tossing out the file folders, the notes, the TAP cover sheets, all of it. “Dave, it’s the AT1. They were behind every one of the thousand or so audits that are draining the Heart Dungeons of Apothos. And you said it yourself, you created the best dungeon of your life because you had the power. Well, the AT1 are going to have their best dungeons as well, and we have to stop them. We can’t let them win.”

Dave opened his mouth.

Cal was too upset to let him talk. Before he knew it, he was kneeling in front Dave’s guardian form, gripping the Spidercrat by his red tie, which curled around Cal’s wrist. “And why are the AT1 the number one audit team? I glanced through their files, and they have all sorts of violations and censures. And when did DUDE stop giving out demerits? We never got demerits, and you hated us, Dave. And you never wrote us up. But you hated us, right? You would yell and yell and yell. We must have huge files. I can name you any number of departmental guidelines we ignored, and several laws we broke. There was so much paperwork we didn’t do, and I love paperwork, Dave. I love it!”

Dave took the tongue-lashing well.

Kronke came over and eased Cal back. “Okay, Cal. Let boss answer.”

Helga agreed. “Easy, lad. There’s nae need to get all worked up. We’re in this business together.”

Dave massaged his throat and coughed. “Mr. Illudere, I…I yelled, yes, and I did hate you. You weren’t dungeon guardians. You were former dungeoneers. And yes, my troublesome daughter was part of your cohort. It all made it impossibly complicated. But I never gave you demerits, and I never wrote you up, because, Mr. Illudere, Gwen, Helga, Kronke…you were so very committed to the work. I saw that. I admired it. I didn’t show you my appreciation, but I did. And when I discovered that someone was embezzling Apothos from any number of worlds, well, I wanted to work with you and your team. Because I knew you’d help. You helped Otis and Mimi, and you would help me.”

Cal was stunned. He found himself sitting on his butt, blinking, mouth open. Then he was shaking his head.

Gwen laughed. “Dear old dad. Messing with us right to the very end. Where are our files? I bet they’re inches thick.”

“They’re not.” Dave then glanced at the paperwork around him. “Wait. Where did you find these? A super-secret archive? On this level? I didn’t detect it. I’m still not detecting it.”

“Because of the parallelograms,” Gwen said. “We found this marketing swag that someone named Melinda Xanderinski threw together. Does that name ring a bell?”

Dave shrugged. “She was a consultant, right? Before my time. That was back during the bad Phil Phairy business. Mr. Jamalzak talked about Phil and Melinda. Villains, both of them.”

Cal grabbed a file folder and shook it at Dave. “Why did everyone love the AT1 so much if they were so much trouble?”

Dave let out a long, slow sigh. “Because they were good. They got results. Their success rate gave them freedoms most other teams didn’t have. Yes, they were mavericks, but you all know the stories—it’s the mavericks that everyone loves. If you’re brilliant, you can get away with murder, and the higher-ups didn’t care. And all the dungeon guardians they worked with not only loved them but loved the Department. Talk about a successful PR campaign. Sending the AT1 onsite guaranteed favorable reviews, incredible survey results, even some donations. Melinda never got us an eighty percent favorable ranking in the surveys, but the AT1 did. All the guardians they worked with loved them.”

Gwen held up a hand. “Those douche bags? Really?”

Dave nodded. “Even I held them in high esteem. Sure, I’d write them up, give them demerits, but that all just, I don’t know, seemed silly. They were amazing. They were an amazing team. Even Jamalzak loved them. He’d wink at me, when I’d bring him a violation for him to sign, and joke that those mavericks were a handful, but they made us all look good.”

Gwen got one of her trademark smirks on her face. “Riiiighhhhtttt. And magic wasn’t involved. You, Jamalzak, and every one of those dungeon guardians they worked with were ensorcelled. I would imagine Cardiganna has some sort of beguile charm spell as a Sweater Wraith. And Amorfo is handsome, for a Dudusa. His gaze might have some sort of love component. I have to say, I find him hot, snakes and all. I don’t feel good saying that out loud.”

“Nay, Gwenivere,” Helga said proudly. “I’ve thought he had a certain charm to him.”

Cal thought about something he’d read at some point. “Inke has tattoo magic he can throw onto other people. Inke might have a tattoo, a tiny one, that he can put on other people to win their hearts and minds.”

The troll paladin grinned. “Inke called Kronke pretty that one time. Kronke still remember. Feel warm. In my heart.” He put a big green hand on his chest.

The elven accountant then made a fist. “No. It’s Barbara Starmyst. She has her aromatherapy stuff. She must’ve used a vanilla candle, or whatever, that made people like her.”

Dave let his head fall. “That does make sense. Maybe they all have their charm magic. They certainly charmed me. It’s why I joined their side. But if my mind could be controlled, maybe the AT1 is also under someone’s control. This Vanilla Master. We don’t know.”

“We don’t,” Cal agreed.

Then he looked around. “Where are the breakroom cores?”

Helga folded her arms across her chest. “I grew weary of waiting out in that hallway. We put them by the main staircase as our first line of defense.”

Gwen touched her earpiece. “Wait. I’m getting something from Shrimpie. The metal-mouth bats are coming up from the second level.”

Helga helped Hurricane to his hooves. She then clambered onto the battle goat’s back. “By my father’s gallbladder surgery, it looks like we’re under attack. Kronke, you are with me. We shall repel these invaders.”

“Hold up,” Gwen said. “I think I can hold them off with Shrimpie and the breakroom cores. Give them a chance. If the bats break through, we’ll need our fighters here to protect the Node.”

Kronke sigh. “Pinkerton sad that we no murder. But maybe that for best. Kronke and Pinkie get break. Murder later.”

Dave’s core gem flashed. “We have no time to lose. Cal, I’m still weak, and there’s still so little Apothos flowing through this Node. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can manage the Dungeon Meld. I do think I might be able to fashion some kind of dungeon, using old office equipment and supplies, but I’ll need your help. Inke’s bats are probably running recon for an impending attack. Inke may be evil, or he might be under the Vanilla Master’s spell, but either way, we have to stop him from taking this Celestial Node back. I don’t know much, but I do know that the Vanilla Master needs all five cores for his plan to succeed. We have to defend it, no matter what.”

Cal was exhausted. It was past one in the morning, and if they didn’t have more information for Ji-Soo by noon, they all might die. If only they had more power. Not only could they create a better dungeon, Cal could get more practice with Dungeon Meld.

Then the heroic elven accountant had a crazy idea.

With the fate of a thousand worlds hanging in the balance, it was the time for crazy ideas.