Despite my eagerness to revisit the dracid chamber and investigate how I could improve the insulation, Beryl orders me to eat, drink, and rest first.

I suppose that’s fair. Weariness hangs heavy in my bones, and without a source of natural light, I’ve lost all sense of time. The water they offer me has a sharp mineral taste, and the food is some chopped form of mushrooms and other vegetables I’d seen growing throughout the town. It’s bitter and far from filling, but I’m too hungry and tired to care. After I finish my meal, Nek finds me a repurposed storage shed to stay in—like the other houses, it’s a small, roughly cut cave with only a few furs for decoration—and I almost immediately fall asleep.

Waking back up is disorienting. For a moment I don’t understand where I am or what I’m looking at. Stone and glowing mushrooms overhead? Then I shift, and feel my wings beneath me, and it all comes flooding back.

Grief, wonder, disbelief, and fascination assail me all at once. How is this real? How has this become my body? Will I never see Caroline again? Magic. I can do magic. Was any of Fyreneth’s myth true? And if so, do I now wield the same cursed artifact? This ‘Dark Lord’ role attached to my name has suddenly taken on a more sinister implication. But even if the Dungeon Core is cursed, can I still find a way to use it for good? It might be able to help the people here. The dracid—they should come first.

I disrupt my jumble of thoughts as I climb out from under a pile of furs to where a small basin of water has been left for me. I cup some into my hands—my strange, taloned hands—and parch my thirst, then splash a bit over my face to freshen up. The chill brings me fully awake. My reflection swims into view as the water stills once more, and it’s only then I get the first good look at myself.

A young woman’s face stares back at me. Well, young is relative, I suppose, but she certainly doesn’t reflect the fifty years I lived as a human. Delicate feathers frame my face, and my eyes are yellow and intense, like a hawk’s. I pinch my cheeks and stretch my skin: that’s definitely me.

As I stand, the rest of the blankets fall away, and I immediately find myself shivering from the cold. Almost by instinct I call a Spark to my fingers, curling around the small flame as I warm myself. A minute later, the curtain that serves as the door to this tiny hut is pulled aside.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Nek says. “I thought I saw a light. How are you feeling?”

“Well, thank you.” I stretch out my stiff wings as much as the cramped quarters will allow and crack my neck. “Rested, as much as I can be given the circumstances. What time is it?”

“Late morning,” Nek says.

“Really?” It feels early to me. My circadian rhythm must be really messed up. “How do you tell the time down here?”

“It’s relative,” Nek explains. “I couldn’t even tell you where the sun is. We use rune circles to track time, all spelled to synchronize with each other; you’ll see them on walls and in buildings. Are you hungry?”

I think about the bitter mushroom and lichen salad and decide hunger might be somewhat relative. “I can wait a bit. I’d like to return to the dracid chamber, if you’d allow me.”

“Of course, Fyreneth,” he says, holding the curtain open for me.

The name twists my stomach. “I don’t think you should call me that,” I say, ducking out the door. “It feels… fraudulent.”

Nek frowns. “Do you have a different name you would prefer?”

I grimace. ‘Faber’ feels like it died with my body back on Earth. But I still haven’t had time to think through what feels more right. What feels more like me.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I suppose you can call me whatever you like—so long as it’s not Fyreneth. I have no claim to that name.”

He gestures to the spark of flame I’m still clutching to my chest. “Fire, then? You’ve come to us offering its warmth. It seems fitting to identify you that way.”

I roll the name around in my mind, getting a taste for it. Feels a bit on the nose. But it’s not an association I would be opposed to. If nothing else, it’s acceptable as a stop-gap.

“Alright,” I agree. “That name is acceptable.”

[Name change accepted,] Echo pipes up. [Stat sheet updated.]

Nek grins, showing off an impressive array of feline teeth, then beckons for me to follow.

The dracid chamber is a little more active than I’d found it yesterday. Some of the people are sitting up, moth-eaten rags wrapped around their shoulders. There’s more stones on the firepit, around which a few dracid are huddled. Some are being passed back and forth between the flames and the dogpile of still sleeping dracid. A few look up at my approach.

“Fyreneth! You’ve returned.”

I wince.

“She would prefer Fire,” Nek emphasizes.

I give him a thankful smile. “I’m back,” I tell the dracid. “And I’m here to help.”

Several of the dracid mumble their thanks and begin to shuffle apart to clear a spot for me at the fire. I raise a hand to stay them.

“Not quite like that,” I say. “I can help warm some more rocks for you, too. But I think there’s a better long term solution. May I?” I hold a hand out for one of the stones.

Several clawed hands shoot up, all offering me various rocks. I awkwardly choose the closest one. Then I activate my Psionic Touch.

Words burst into my mind with a dramatic cacophony of emotion. Ahhhhhhhh it’s been so long! It thought I had died! It was left to wither, alone and without any mana to feed it or anyone to keep it company for seconds upon seconds upon seconds upon seconds upon seconds upon seconds—

Hush, I tell it. I just had a nap. I’m back now.

The Dungeon Core grumbles at this and radiates clear confusion over what a nap actually is or why that should explain anything.

Doesn’t matter, I think. Here’s something you will understand. I lightly tap the stone to the Dungeon Core. What all can you tell me about this?

A tasty rock! Can it eat it?

Not really what I’m going for, I think.

The Dungeon Core is disappointed. Can it at least taste it?

I pause at that. There’s something deeper behind the meaning of ‘taste’ just like there had been something deeper behind the meaning of ‘eat.’ I could tell the latter was similar to what the Dungeon Core had done when it freed Mirzayael’s leg. The stones vanished, like they were being digested. Taste, however…

Some sort of mental switch flips in my mind. Like when I first summoned the Map Interface from my Pact with the Core, I can feel there are other features available.

Alright, I tell the Core. Go ahead and give it a taste.

Abstract concepts flood my mind. At first they’re colored by the Dungeon Core’s thoughts: Sour. Cold. Soft and crunchy. It’s tasted a lot like it before.

But when I dig deeper, when I try to pry the information that’s hidden beneath the descriptions, the analysis resolves into something more coherent.

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[Substance: Limestone. Type: Dolomite.]

[Mass: 4.13 kilograms]

[Density: 2.84 grams per cubic centimeters]

[Specific Heat Capacity: 910 Joules per kilogram Celsius]

Ahhh, there we are. Now, I’m no geologist, but I do know the lower the specific heat capacity, the easier it is to get something to change temperature. Normally this wouldn’t help me much, but I suspect my rock-eating friend might be able to fill in some gaps for me.

Core, I say, prodding its mind. Have you tasted other rocks that are… warmer? It takes me a moment to figure out how the Dungeon Core interprets specific heat capacity, but I try to steer its attention toward the metric I’m getting at.

Yes! It has tasted many, many types of rocks. Some warm, some cold, some that change slow or fast—

Great, I say, cutting off its rambling. Then let’s go through the ones you know.

More information begins to flood through my mind, and the hints of a headache are beginning to pinch my skull. Trying to mitigate the flow of data, I filter for only the specific heat capacity of the different types of stone the Dungeon Core has categorized. After a moment, I find a number I’m looking for.

[Specific Heat Capacity: 605 Joules per kilogram Celsius]

[Substance: Basalt.]

Not as low as I’d prefer, but it’s a substantial enough difference I think it will do for now.

This one, I say to the Core. Basalt. Can you change this rock from dolomite into basalt?

The Dungeon Core gets very excited by this proposal. Oh yes! It loves playing with all the tiny dots. Pull them out, put them in other places. Breaking the little vibrating clusters is very satisfying. Sometimes there’s bits and pieces left over and it likes to eat those.

I blink. Ah, are you talking about chemical bonds? Molecules?

The Dungeon Core has literally no idea what I’m talking about.

But you can do it? I ask. You can change this rock’s structure?

I receive an emphatic yes. It just needs some of my mana. Or maybe more than some. It would only take some for such a little stone, but more is better. More is always better!

I guess there’s nothing to do but try it, then. I allow the Core access to my mana, and I can feel the energy start to flow into the Core.

[Mana: 181/200,] Echo reports as the magic wicks away.

Meanwhile, the Core excitedly prods at the rock like a kid squishing their fingers through Playdoh.

[Target selected,] Echo says. [Transform targeted quantity of dolomite into basalt?]

Execute, I say, smiling to myself and feeling like quite the nerd.

The Dungeon Core gets to work.

It’s such a strange sensation to behold. Instead of breaking down the stone, like it had done before, now it feels like the rock is being pulled apart and stuffed back together again. But it’s merely a mental sensation. Physically, visually, the stone glows for just a moment. Then, it stops.

[Transformation complete,] Echo says.

It doesn’t look noticeably different. In fact, the shape and weight doesn’t seem to have changed either. Conservation of mass, I expect. The two types of rock must have a similar density, then. Even so, I give the rock a Check.

[Check,] Echo reports. [A piece of basalt.]

It did work then! Nice job, I tell the Core.

The Dungeon Core beams, and then asks for more mana.

I chuckle. In just a moment. In fact, here in a minute, I’ll have a lot more for you to work on.

The Core vibrates with anticipation.

I look up to find all the nearby dracid staring at me.

“Here,” I say, offering the stone back to the dracid I’d taken it from. It reverently takes the rock from my hand. “This should heat up faster now. However, it will also cool faster, so it will need to be returned to the firepit more often. However, given the time it takes to heat the stones in the first place, I think this will result in a higher turn over. I’m also going to work on increasing the insulation of this room.” I glance around at the few windows and the vent in the ceiling above the firepit. “We’ll need to be careful about maintaining sufficient airflow, however…”

I shake my head. One thing at a time. “Let’s see about those other rocks, first. Can you help me gather up all the ones you’ve been using for warmth?”

Nek jumps into action. “Of course, Fire!” The dracid follow significantly more sluggishly after him, but I suspect that’s as fast as they can move, given the circumstances. As the others get to work, I crouch down by the firepit and touch the stones resting there, transforming the rocks one by one.

Insulating the rest of the room requires the opposite treatment. Whereas I want the warming stones to be able to transfer heat very easily, I want the stone that comprises the room to have a low thermal conductivity.

At first, this stumps me a little. It seems the limestone that this room is carved out of already has the lowest thermal conductivity of all the stones in the Dungeon Core’s catalog. But then it hits me: air is an excellent insulator. If I can make the stone more porous, it would reduce the strength of the stone overall, but also decrease the average thermal conductivity.

This takes quite a bit of explaining to get my idea across to the Dungeon Core. I don’t want to destroy the room, and I don’t want to change the material: I just want to introduce enough air bubbles to increase the insulation. But not so many air bubbles that it can’t support its own weight. The Dungeon Core finds this idea exciting and suggests we experiment with how many air bubbles to add until the room does collapse, but I veto this idea, much to its disappointment.

As the dracid continue to pile stones up near the fire, I work on my porosity idea, taking the Dungeon Core’s suggestion to experiment on a simple rock, first. Which is a good thing, too, because as soon as I have the Dungeon Core add tons of microscopic air pockets to the rock, it nearly doubles in size. A quick Check from Echo tells me it’s the same mass, just lower density. I suppose that makes sense, but it poses a problem if I want to alter the stone of this room. I can’t do that without also affecting the shape of the room, it seems. Darn conservation of mass.

Not so! The Dungeon Core happily informs me it could eat the extra mass instead.

I shake my head. I’d rather not deal with an avalanche of sand like before. Although now that I’m thinking about it, sand might be a good insulator, too.

No, no, not like that. It can eat the stone. Store it inside itself. It doesn’t have to just break it down; it can take it away, too!

Wait, that’s right. I’d witnessed it eating some of the sand yesterday when it was freeing Mirzayael’s leg. Perhaps it could eat away the bits of stone while introducing the air pockets.

Are you sure you can do both those things simultaneously? I ask.

Yes! Of course. It can do anything!

I chuckle at its confidence. Let’s try it, then.

The Dungeon Core obliges. The stone I’m holding glows for a moment, then grows noticeably lighter as the Core makes many tasty mind noises.

But where has the stone gone exactly?

It’s like Echo was waiting for me to ask.

[0.42 kg of limestone stored in the Dungeon Core’s Inventory.]

“Oh?” I say aloud. That’s new. Focusing on ‘Dungeon Core’s Inventory,’ a new mental display pops up. There’s tons—literally—of stone of all types in here. All things, presumably, the Core has ‘eaten’ at some point in the past. I find this vaguely disturbing.

Do I have an inventory of my own? I ask Echo.

[Affirmative,] Echo says. [Inventory space: 0/1]

I snort at that. One inventory space? The Dungeon Core has literally hundreds of thousands of spaces. Ah, well. Even just one space presents interesting possibilities…

I vanish the stone into my personal Inventory, then pop it back into existence a moment later.

I smile. “Interesting, indeed.”

Yet another tool to experiment with. Later, however. Now that I know the Dungeon Core can help vanish away tiny pockets of limestone into its Inventory without compromising the structure of the room, I’ve bigger fish to fry.

Alright, Core, I say, splaying my hands over the ground. Let's get to work.

A patch of ground lights up and the Core eagerly starts chewing away at it, providing me a moment-by-moment description of how the stone tastes. (Sour and crunchy, apparently. Said taste does not ever actually change, yet it apparently feels compelled to remind me after each bite.) However, after only a few minutes of this, Echo cuts in.

[Mana extinguished: 0/200]

[Psionic Touch expired.]

Darn. I hadn’t been paying attention to my mana levels. I made it through about half the floor, but it looks like I’ll need to wait to finish it later. It’s also inconvenient that running out of mana prevents me from speaking with the Core. I think I’ll do that Psionic Link with it after all. The Dungeon Core seems far too transparent to have ulterior motives, even if it is a supposedly cursed relic. Being able to speak to it without burning through my mana is simply the most practical thing to do. Once my stores have recovered, I’ll initiate a Psionic Link.

“Nek!”

The call makes me jump. I straighten up, rubbing my neck and back as I look toward the door. Mirzayael is standing in the frame, glaring at me.

“What is she doing?” she snaps. “I told you to watch her!”

“I have been!” Nek objects, hurrying over. “She’s been with me the whole time.”

I stand up, stretching my wings with a groan. “Sorry,” I say, hoping to diffuse the situation. “I was just trying to help insulate the—”

“You were supposed to be keeping her under house arrest,” Mirzayael tells Nek. “Not letting her throw fireballs around the city.”

That seems like a bit of an exaggeration.

“You don’t understand,” Nek says, shooting me nervous looks. “She’s not what you think. The things she can do—it’s just like the legends.”

I grimace at that. “It’s not me, it’s the Dungeon Core,” I say, holding up my wrist. “I was only trying to help.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Outsider,” Mirzayael says. She turns to look down at Nek. “I’ll take custody of her from here. You may return to your previous duties.”

“But Mir,” he starts.

She silences him with a glare, and his tail and ears droop. He quietly slinks away.

Mirzayael turns her glower back on me. “I’ve had plenty of time to hear the rumors,” she says. “You fancy yourself some kind of savior, do you?”

I wince. “I assure you, I do not.”

“Good,” she says. She jerks her head toward the door. “Then come with me. I have more important work I need you for.”

Hesitantly, I follow her out of the dracid chamber. “How can I help?” I ask.

“You will show me where you came from,” she says. “How you managed to navigate our tunnels.” She stops, seizing me up with an unimpressed look. “If I like your answer, I’ll let you come back to our village.”

“And if you don’t like my answer?” I ask.

She smiles, revealing a row of needle-thin teeth. “Then you won’t be coming back.”