After Mirzayael and I return to the city, I’m ready to collapse back into bed. All I’ve had to eat all day was a handful of tough, smoked mushrooms Mirzayael had brought with us for the trek, however, so when Nek invites me to dinner, I wearily and graciously accept.

A group of townsfolk have gathered in a communal area similar to the dracid chamber. It’s a large, artificial cavern carved from the rocks, with several entrances and windows, and four rings of sunken stone divoting the floor. People are sitting within these rings, arrayed around spreads of food laid at the center.

“Come, sit with my family,” Nek says, inviting me over to one of the meal circles. A few people are already seated there, including several dwarves and a dracid, bundled in many layers of blankets.

Nek hops down next to the dracid, snuggling up close to her and nuzzling her nose.

“This is Sora, my wife,” Nek says, wrapping an arm around the dracid. She shuffles the blankets around, and suddenly two children clamber out of the folds. One is a little felis girl, and the other is a dracid boy. The kids pounce onto Nek, who falls back with an exaggerated cry.

I stare at the children for a moment, pondering the nature of their conception. Probably not something that would be polite to ask about.

Nek’s wife, Sora, looks up at me with a friendly smile as I step down into the meal circle with them. She snakes a hand out of her blankets, and I accept it.

“We’ve already met,” she says, “though I understand if you don’t remember. You gave me one of the stones you were warming. I owe you my thanks.”

“Oh,” I say, sitting down cross-legged beside them. “Yes. I’m glad to see it’s helped, then. Is that why you’re up and about now?”

Sora chuckles. “No, today was my shift to work the waters. While we may spend much of our time conserving our strength, we are not entirely helpless without your aid.”

My neck grows heated with a blush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you were.”

Nek rumbles with laughter as well, sitting back up as he sweeps each giggling child under his arms. “Bah, don’t believe her teasing. In truth, your work has already nearly doubled our efficiency.”

“With working the waters?” I ask, looking to Sora. “What does that mean?”

Nek passes the dracid child back over to Sora, who wraps him in her blankets. “Due to our water affinities, we dracid spend much of our waking time filtering the drinking water,” she says. “During these winter months, we must take careful shifts, as we each can only be active for about half the week. We’re much more energetic in the summer.”

I’d been wondering how their population was sustained, given their apparent lethargy.

“Enough work talk,” Nek says, reaching out to grab a clay bowl. His other child has climbed up his side and embedded herself in the fur around her father’s neck. “Food now. Here, I’ll show you all the best toadstools.”

Not terribly thrilled with another meal of uncooked fungus, I nevertheless find the glowing variety fascinating, and follow Nek’s lead as I fill my plate.

A shadow falls over our meal circle.

“Outsider. I see you’ve found some food,” Mirzayael says.

“Ah, yes, I have.” I nod to Nek. “Thanks to him. Is there anything I can help you with?”

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Mirzayael’s gaze sweeps over our circle, then she shakes her head. “I merely intended to confirm you received proper sustenance. You will need the energy for tomorrow.”

“Of course,” I say.

The arachnoid taps a few of her feet against the ground, and an awkward silence settles over our meal circle.

“Would you like to join us?” I offer.

“No,” she quickly replies. “I will be taking my leave. Nek, continue to ensure the Outsider is seen to.”

“Yes, Captain,” Nek says. But Mirzayael has already glided away, her dark form vanishing into the cavern’s dim.

Sora turns to me. “Well she certainly seems to like you.”

I laugh, but no one else joins in. “You’re serious?”

“She has a… subtle way of showing it,” Nek agrees. “But she came to check on you, which is something.”

“I figured she was just double checking that I still had my security detail,” I say.

Sora chuckles. “Possibly that, too. But what was this about needing energy for tomorrow?”

“I asked to visit the Catacombs,” I say. “I’d like to learn as much about this place as I can. With the Dungeon Core to help, I might be able to unearth some of the lost magics which made the city habitable.”

Nek and Sora stare at me in wonder.

“You really think such a thing is possible?” Nek asks.

I hesitate, wondering how much I should say, and how that would play into their already biased perception of me. Though I suppose it might be too late for that. Nek has already seen and heard plenty. No reason not to be honest.

I hold up my wrist, gesturing to the Core. “It’s eager to excavate, that much is clear. And I’m not sure what I’ll discover, exactly. But it seems as good a place as any to uncover more information about this place’s history.”

Sora raises a reverent hand, but doesn’t touch it. “Fyreneth’s artifact.”

I grimace. “I wouldn’t assume that.”

“No?” she asks. “It can alter the structure of the Keep, just as the legends say. It brings gifts to our people. It is even carried by a phoenix harpy—”

“Please,” I say. “I am not her.”

“Maybe,” Sora says, but her tone is doubtful. “Even so, that artifact can only be one thing.”

I frown at the jewel. I would be foolish not to have drawn these parallels myself already. But there’s a part of me that still isn’t quite willing to accept all these prophetic signs.

This is a world full of magic. Of rules and laws and nature I can’t even begin to conceive. Things that were impossible on Earth are clearly not so here. I am not blind to the assortment of data that has been laid before me. By Occam’s razor…

No. I won’t yet form a belief without first obtaining all available evidence. Evidence which might lie within the Catacombs. To do otherwise would be premature.

This is what I tell myself to deflect from the true root of my reluctance: these prophecies of rebirth and fate. If all of it were true, what would that mean for me?

This body. My mind. My identity. Would any of it truly be my own?

As Nek and Sora return to their meals, coercing their children to eat their portion of glowing, earthy mushrooms, I brush my mind against the Dungeon Core.

Do you remember Fyreneth? I ask. Do you have memories of who you worked with before we forged our Pact?

The Dungeon Core doesn’t understand. Memories? Fyreneth? Before? All very strange concepts. It is. It always has been. It always will be! But sometimes, it sleeps. Not right now, though, right now it’s very much awake! And hungry. It would love to eat some more rocks. When will I give it more food? It’s had so much more food in the past. The magical ore had given it so much power!

I massage a temple. So you do remember something. You do have some concept of the past.

Past? It doesn’t understand. When can it get more magical ore?

I sigh out my irritation. Tell me about the magical ore, I say instead. What does it let you do? Do you remember where it might be?

The Dungeon Core doesn’t know. Somewhen, it had a lair of its own, which allowed it to tap into a vast network of stone. Its veins went everywhere, through the whole mountain, deep into the earth. Some of these veins were burrowed into a magic source that that brought it life and sustained its immense, growing body.

The Dungeon Core’s thoughts are accompanied with images which flash through my mind, impressions of an enormous artificial structure—artificial, yet alive. It was connected to every stone, conscious of every pebble. It sculpted each arch and doorway, placed all the cobblestones, one by one. Complex patterns of tiles tessellated across ceilings, and basins filled themselves from the thermal springs deep, deep beneath the surface.

I blink my eyes rapidly, dispelling the visions.

“Why didn’t you mention that sooner?” I demand.

Sora looks up at me. “Sorry?”

I shake my head. “Hot springs.”

Sora and Nek exchange a concerned look.

“There’s hot springs,” I insist. “Somewhere buried beneath us.”

And if I could harness its warmth and divert it here, it would be the first step toward providing these people a real home. Somewhere they could not just survive, but thrive.