A young woman’s voice with no discernible accent, “Helllloooo….. Hello Arthur? Life to Pendragon, can you hear me?”

A soft glowing, golden orb drifts above glassy water, veiled in darkness.

The water becomes turbulent, “Wake Up! For God's sake Arthur.”

Quieter, as if long used to being alone with her thoughts, “I left you on the shelf a while but it's not like souls have an expiration date. Figures, Boss finally lets me join the game and my ace refuses to wake up.”

Golden light begins to reflect off the water, the distant stone walls become visible. A smooth domed ceiling is revealed. This strange cave is perfectly round, a gold orb levitating in the exact center. The water floods till just beneath the orb.

“Ah there you are, had me worried…. you are there Arthur?”

Ripples play across the surface of the orb as if it was made of liquid gold. A young man’s voice, strong if uncertain, british, “Who calls my name, what… why can’t I see!”

Her voice takes on a hint of welsh, “I do Arthur, I’ve got no magic sword this time but you’ll be making your own in no time. We’re a long way and time from the old lake, friends call me Viv these days.”

Arthur, the same one who pulled the sword from stone, takes a second before bursting with questions, “The Lady? What of Camelot, the rebellion, my,”

“Hold it!” Viv’s sigh echoes in the cave, “History, legend, forgotten. In that world, it is not but a treasured fairytale from the British isles. In this world we’ll build a new legacy! I even saved the souls of some familiar faces should you like to use them.”

The golden orb sinks a bit, deflates one might say, “Gone? Old world, this world, use them… good lady what has become of me?”

She coughs as though to begin a speech, “First, feel yourself and your surroundings, your heart pulses and skin tingles in the air yet you have no flesh. Feel, and you will see.”

Silence follows, then true enough he hears his heart, feels the slow rhythm. He breaths in time with each beat, and feels the exhale drift across his body before rippling out into the water. With that, vision returns yet not through eyes. Disembodied, he can see the golden orb and once still waters. The point of view changes at will, although at first the sensation makes him dizzy. In this strange cave he is almost omniscient.

Water lifts and takes form, gaining body and color. A woman in elegant white dress like pale fallen leaves whose hair is yellow blonde as the sun, eyes a shock of green. Her body levitates just above the pool, where she floats, water continues to drip. The pale flesh of her arms is still translucent. 

A vibrant smile, “Hello Arthur, our reunion is long overdue. I am once and ever more your guide.” she gestures to the orb, “Here you are, a brilliant new dungeon core. Ready to show the world our brilliance.”

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Shining brighter in effort to better look at himself, “What world would this be then, and of course, what is a core?”

Viv continues her little lesson, “We are on Terra, a world that mirrors much of the old and yet it is home of those who’ve lost their place back there. The other tales to inspire awe and fear in young and old have all found new lives here. From Asuras to Vampires and everything between.”

Arthur injects, “Such unholy,”

“Now, now,” her tone mockingly stern, “That, them, all of it, still reigns in the old world. You’ll find no single religion holds such sway in this world. There are far too many gods here fighting for importance for any one to get so far ahead.”

A moment for him to process before she moves on, “That's where you and I come in. As of today, your one god is I, as you are my only champion. Here we build Avalon anew. A core is the beating heart of a dungeon, a realm that ignores most earthly restraints as it expands ever deeper. With me so far?”

In life, he was clever enough to rule, “A fairy realm of legend, one which I craft by your guidance. Before the how, Why? What purpose would such a thing fulfill?”

She circles the orb through the air and gently holds it in her palm like a lover’s chin before a sweet kiss, “Renown, glory, prestige, providence and influence. The great game of this world keeps score by power. As such, how much would we wield if our final prize was a certain cup that could heal all ailments including old age.”

The orb shudders, “You want me to craft a holy grail. Even if possible, the first inspired crusades, what makes you think we’ll live to reap the rewards of such a prize. Surely the moment anyone learns of it they’ll tear this place apart to take it.”

Her head leans past the core as if to whisper conspiracy, “That is what a dungeon is born for, a grand lure for souls brave enough to reach it. You grow stronger with their failure as they do yours and I either way so long as they continue to come. We survive together and our bait is impossible to ignore, especially if we include the sword.”

For the first time Arthur laughs, glow pulsing with each breath, “Surely others could not permit that! A fountain to drink from might be controlled here, but that blade let loose shall come back upon our head. Furthermore by your word I’m born a butcher to young and desperate folk. I see no honor in that.”

Those haunting green eyes narrow and bright yellow hair turns red of fire, “Honor saw you damned by all whom you held dear. Betrayal left us abandoned, homeless for centuries as reality changed. Now we are unwelcome in that world.”

The fire goes out, her locs black as a moonless night, “This is a fight for survival, our long awaited second chance. I mourned your ending, the sword pierced mine heart just as it did yours. You’ve slumbered as an errant soul in my care while I watched a near millennia slip by.”

Rekindled red flares as she shouts, “I’ll tell you whose land we reside beneath. The Kingdom Le Fay covers west Britain, how fares your sympathies? Even now that treacherous witch, Morgan, reaches for a crown she is never fated to don.”

After a time Arthur retorts, “Yet you would still offer the sword and grail? What stops her army from taking it, her champion from wielding it in her name, her servant from delivering her the cup?”

Orange, a rueful giggle, “You, it's all up to your design.”

She whispers while flying over the golden orb, gazing into it as if a fortune teller, “Say your weapons may only be carried by the righteous and it is so. The water cannot be claimed in anything but a common wooden cup and again, it is so. Your creatures may parley with the noble of heart while feasting on the wicked. New heroes will be armed against the witch’s tyranny while hers perish in our halls!” 

Brighter shines the orb, “Vengeance a world late it seems. Where do we begin?”