Zeni limped along, her usual spry, carefree attitude slightly dampened by the throbbing in her body. This was not how she'd imagined her grand adventure through the depths of the ancient dungeon would go. She'd imagined treasure, glory, and maybe some sexy people to rescue thrown in for good measure. Not a bunch of grievous injuries and a map that was, at this very moment, practically useless.

Her arm, sporting a wound that stretched from bicep to elbow, was the cherry on top—a macabre souvenir from the creature that had looked like it had taken a wrong turn on its way to the underworld.

The gash had been stitched up with a precision that was, frankly, unnerving. Nightingale had surprisingly nimble fingers for such a hulking brute. The stitches were neat, even, and the wound was healing quite nicely, all things considered.

It still hurts like a bitch, though, Zeni thought.

She’d spent the last few hours rubbing salves into the creases of wounds and had even pressed healing herbs against some of them; wrapped tight with bandages.

A small ball of flame hovered above Zeni’s palm, casting a warm, flickering light over the scroll in her other hand. The map, if you could call it that, was getting more and more frustrating with every step. The path they were currently stumbling through was noticeably absent from it, much to Zeni's chagrin.

"Nightingale, I swear this thing is broken," she grumbled, casting a frustrated glance over her shoulder at the towering figure trailing behind her. Nightingale, with his silent and stoic demeanor, said nothing. Still, there was something about his quiet presence that felt even quieter tonight. Maybe he was miffed about the map too?

"I mean, look at this! We're here, right?" She jabbed a finger at a blank section of the scroll. "Or maybe here? No, definitely here... or not. Who can tell with this damn thing?!"

Zeni huffed and continued to limp along, the ball of flame bobbing alongside her casting elongated shadows that danced and twisted along the tunnel walls. She filled the tunnel with a constant stream of chatter, her voice echoing off the rough-hewn walls. There was something comforting about the sound of her own voice, even if the only responses she got were the soft echos of her own words bouncing back at her.

"Magic map, my ass,” she said. “Really, you'd think they'd have better ones. I mean, who built this place? Was there a sale on mystery and confusion when they laid out the floor plan? 'Oh, yes, let's make it as impossible to navigate as we can! That'll be fun!' Honestly..."

She paused.

“It’s possible that was precisely the idea. Or, worse, the dungeon caught wind of this handy doo-dad and decided to…I dunno, change its configuration?”

And so, they continued on their way, Zeni's complaints and the soft, rhythmic shuffle of Nightingale's steps the only sounds in the quiet depths of the dungeon.

After another while of meandering, Zeni shook her head, staring at the rough tunnel as though it had wronged her.

"You'd think they'd have signs, right? 'This way to the treasure room', 'Beware of the terrible beast', or even a simple 'Exit'. But no, we get cryptic scribbles on a piece of papyrus older than Hesira's grandma."

She looked down at her wound again and smiled, despite the ugliness of the thing. She looked over at the armored colossus just plodding along behind her.

"You've got quite the hand for needlework, you know," she remarked, fingers gingerly tracing the neat row of stitches. "Better than a surgeon, I'd wager. You ever consider a career in medicine? I mean, once we're done with this whole 'plunder the ancient, super-cursed ruins' thing."

She chuckled and heard the response once more of her own sounds. The acoustics in this place were amazing. She'd have to remember to mention that if she ever wanted to get a karaoke night going.

"Once this is all over, we could open a traveling clinic. You'd be the surgeon, obviously, and I could handle the business side of things—ooh, and the snacks! We'd be a killer team, you and I. Zeni and Nightingale, healing the sick and wounded of Kemet-Aaru."

It was only after what felt like hours, with her voice starting to grow hoarse, that Zeni paused, squinting at the parchment in her hand. A slow blush crept up her cheeks, a sheepish grin playing on her lips as she turned the parchment right side up.

"Well, would you look at that," she said. “The, uh, map was upside down.”

She held the parchment aloft, her flame illuminating the intricate lines and glyphs.

"In my defense, these things should come with a 'this way up' sign."

A soft laugh bubbled up from her. Zeni glanced back at Nightingale, her eyes gleaming with the soft light from the flame.

"I suppose you knew all along, didn't you?" she accused good-naturedly. "And you just let me blabber on like a dummy. Some knight in shining armor you are, allowing a damsel in distress to embarrass herself like that."

Stolen novel; please report.

The big brute just stood impassively.

“Yeah, you knew,” Zeni said.

She resumed walking, her limp slightly less pronounced. The levity of the situation seemed to have invigorated her, the throb of her wound momentarily forgotten.

—

Zeni found herself standing in a cavernous chamber of epic proportions, the likes of which her mind struggled to comprehend. It was filled with an endless array of basins, each one shimmering with an ethereal blue glow that cast long, dancing shadows across the room. It was like standing on the shores of a glowing sea, each basin a wave frozen in time.

"Well, isn't this something?" Zeni quipped, trying to mask her awe with nonchalance. "Dungeon designer must've really had a thing for basins...or he was a compulsive hoarder. Either way, eccentric taste."

She cautiously approached one of the basins, curious to unravel the mystery of their purpose. As she peered into the pool of light, she was taken aback. It wasn't just a basin filled with pretty lights; it was a window, a looking glass showing scenes from different parts of the dungeon.

No, she thought. This doesn’t seem like this specific dungeon—unless we’ve missed a lot of rooms.

Each basin depicted a scene from a dungeon, and she got the sense that she was seeing something she probably shouldn’t? She knew there were other dungeons, but were they all connected somehow?

In one basin, she saw an elderly man with a hunched back, shuffling down a corridor lined with scroll shelves that stretched as far as the eye could see. He was murmuring to himself, his fingers tracing the rolls of ancient documents as he wandered in his own world.

Another basin revealed a young woman, her face pale and sweat-soaked as she sprinted through a grand hall with towering pillars. She stumbled and fell, picked herself up, and continued running with a look of sheer terror etched across her face.

In a third basin, a small humanoid creature with animal features was peacefully sleeping in a room filled with glowing plants that seemed to pulse with life. The dog-tailed, lizard-scaled creature was curled up, a picture of serenity amidst the chaos of the dungeon.

Zeni moved from basin to basin, each one revealing another slice of life within the dungeon. Some scenes were mundane, others thrilling, but all of them painted a picture of places far more complex and diverse than she'd initially thought a dungeon capable of.

When she approached another basin, her heart nearly stopped. It was the Rahhalah she'd met on her first day: Tarek, Amara, and Faris.

They were in a room that looked more like a holy shrine than a part of a dungeon. It was adorned with intricate statues of ancient deities, their eyes glowing with the same ethereal light as the basins.

Faris was standing before one of the walls, studying the strange glyphs etched into the stone. His silver brows were furrowed in concentration, his lips moving as if whispering a silent prayer. Amara and Tarek were in the midst of a heated discussion, their faces intense and focused.

Zeni felt a strange wrongness to this scene—as if she was observing something private. An unintentional voyeur, seeing something without them knowing. Perhaps it was because she’d met them that she thought about how different it felt to be a spectator?

Zeni continued to watch the familiar trio, her eyes wide and her breath held. The image in the basin rippled and flickered like a captured sunbeam on water, creating an eerie, dreamlike quality to the scene.

And then, without warning, the tranquil scene of Faris studying the glyphs and Amara and Tarek's discussion abruptly shattered. The quiet intensity was replaced with an adrenaline-fueled urgency that Zeni could feel even from her distant vantage point.

Faris straightened suddenly, his eyes wide and filled with alarm. He said something, the words lost in the silence of the basin's viewing, but his motion was unmistakable. It was a warning.

Amara and Tarek turned in unison, their conversation instantly forgotten. Their eyes darted to the room's entrance, and their hands moved simultaneously to the weapons at their sides.

"Is that... trouble?" Zeni muttered to herself, squinting into the basin.

She wished she could hear them, wished she could offer some form of help. But, she realized, if they were handling things, there was nothing she’d be able to do. When she’d arrived in this world, she’d seen how strong they were, and even now, months later, she still hadn’t scratched the surface of the kind of power they’d been cultivating for years. They were better equipped to deal with whatever they faced than she would be for a long time. So, instead of lamenting, she continued observing the scene.

The room was filled with a blinding light, illuminating the ancient glyphs on the walls and casting long, monstrous shadows. The trio reacted in unison, drawing their weapons as a series of flashes erupted from the entrance. It was an attack, she realized, her heart hammering in her chest.

And then, with a synchrony born of shared battles and trust, they moved. They sprinted towards the source of the light, their weapons brandished and their faces set with determination. In a blink, they were out of view, leaving the room silent and empty once more.

Zeni stepped back from the basin.

"Well," she murmured to herself. "That didn't look good."

She glanced around her own room, her gaze skipping over the hundreds of glowing basins.All scenes, all intimate portals of viewing. But what was their purpose?

"Now, if only one of these fancy bathtubs could show me something useful," she muttered.

—

As Zeni stepped into the mouth of the enormous chamber, she felt as though she'd stumbled upon the earth's stomach, a void so vast it seemed capable of swallowing entire constellations. The ceiling soared into darkness, and the walls bowed out, disappearing into a gloom so profound it felt almost infinite. Heck, it could have been, for all she knew.

But that wasn’t even the half of it. Zeni stared in awe at the colossal gemstone that held court in the center of the room, a monolith of light that dwarfed the grandeur of every treasure she'd ever dreamed of. It was like a beacon, bathing the chamber in an ethereal radiance that pulsed with unseen power. It was probably a hundred feet tall if it was an inch, and the glow it emitted seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting as if the gemstone itself were alive.

Circling the gargantuan gemstone was an intricate network of stone platforms, suspended in mid-air, and staircases that twisted and turned on themselves like a tangle of serpentine vines. It was a floating labyrinth, an impossible architecture of hovering stones and gravity-defying paths.

"Woah," she said, her voice a mere whisper in the grandiose chamber. "This makes the Space Needle look like a child's sandcastle."

Behind her, Nightingale stood silent and still, a monolith in his own right. His armored figure was a reassuring presence, a rock in the ocean of uncertainty that was this chamber.

Zeni turned to him, pointing at the map and then at the looming gemstone.

"This is it, my guy. According to this…dubious piece of parchment, this is the final stop."

She smiled.

“All we've got to do is...uh..." her voice trailed off as she eyed the floating platforms and staircases. "... navigate that."

But no sooner had the words left her lips than the chamber came alive. The platforms shook, a seismic shift that rearranged the floating maze before their eyes. A cacophony of monstrous noises filled the air, a chorus of growls, shrieks, and the unmistakable skittering of claws against stone. It was creatures. Lots of creatures. It was like being in the middle of a wildlife documentary, if the documentary was about nightmares.

And then a voice echoed through the chamber. It was loud, booming, and... high-pitched? The unexpected timbre had Zeni cocking her head, a hand to her ear.

"You've done frustratingly well, interlopers. I’d thought you’d be appetizers, but it seems you are the main course. How delightful. Time to feed."

Zeni turned to Nightingale, her eyebrows raised in incredulous amusement. She shrugged, offering him a wry grin in the face of their grim situation.

"I mean, I appreciate the compliment, but I think our host might've gotten his courses mixed up," she said. "We're the guests here, not the entree. Some people’s kids, I tell you. Whatever happened to hospitality?"

As the monstrous sounds closed in and the floating platforms continued their ominous dance, Zeni squared her shoulders. She stepped forward, ready to face the feast or famine that awaited them in the belly of the earth.