There was always the sound of water, a certain drip, drip, drip echoing across distant halls and ancient corridors. The outer regions of the Stable had windows, and the feeling of movement, a fresh breeze, sunlight.

In the deeper, ancient places, however, even as the stones beneath ones feet changed and the passage ways grew wider, there always felt a sense of shadow, deep and dark, and water. Drip, drip, drip.

Kenton wished he had managed to grab his coat, before the Stable had moved him forcibly from his little office. The further inside the Stable, the further away warmth and light. And without his coat, which contained many essentials, he was much more at the whims of the will of the Stable.

Also, inside his jacket had been one of the lesser maps he had kept. Maps were very important the deeper inside the ever changing structure of the Stable one went.

"Do you know where you are going?" Asked Kenton, as he saw Shelby lead continually towards worse, and worse, passage ways. He finally spoke up right before she made the worst turn down a dangerous corridor. This was one all mappers showed new mappers. Never enter this tunnel, for unlike most of the other corridors, this next passage clearly was dangerous and actively hostile. It was like the Stable declared it off limits, antagonistic to the unwary visitors, and completely inhospitable.

"Toward the danger." she said, gesturing toward the black, gapping maw of the tunnel. "The sounds came from there."

"But there is another hallway that leads the same direction." Kenton said. "Just up ahead."

Every mapper had to traverse it somewhat, it was assumed. Every mapper had a moment or two in their career when that passage way opened before them. It was a rite of passage, what separated those apprenticed mappers from the true, golden key holding professional mappers. Every professional mapper had entered here. Not every mapper made it back.11 mappers had vanished down that tunnel over the centuries. That they knew about. No one knew how many apprentice mappers had vanished.

Kenton hated that tunnel. He would do whatever he could to avoid it.

"Running from danger doesn't always work out for me." She replied simply.

"Flanking is still a good practice!" Said Kenton, using his natural Authority as someone who had actively mapped the ever changing Stable for decades. And the Law of Fae agreed with him. "We don't need to go directly into the mouth of the beast to fight it!"

She sighed, defeated. "Okay. It will probably be longer. But fine. You lead."

Kenton looked down the changing, dark and dank tunnel that made his stomach crawl with nervousness. And then walked up one hallway, and across another, and found another hallway that often mirrored the first and led to the same group of rooms.

This one was not covered with slime and oozing, moving moss. There were no drop snakes with beast blood eyes and silvery venom. There was no cold empty voids with reaching fingers.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Every so often, they could still hear the noise of crashing, every so often. The alternative path was working!

"So..." asked Shelby, after they wandered for several minutes through dark and dripping tunnels. "You like tacos?"

Was she trying...small talk?

Impossible.

Kenton was about to scold her for speaking, when he spotted the Silver Door, entrance to the Dungeon, lurking in the shadow. It wasn't even fully attached to the wall.

"I prefer meat pies." He said, resolutely staring forward. No matter what happened, he would not go into the Dungeon. Better to ignore it completely "Or shepherds pie."

Drip, drip, drip went the water from unknowable places.

"I like potatoes." volunteered the redhaired servant girl. "Fry them, boil them, mash them. Cover them with cheese. All good options."

He wanted to listen for danger. The role of mapper was ultimately a solo affair. No music, no conversation, no dreaming of future plans. Every moment of tracing the deep parts of the Stable were meant to be fixed, permanent, completely focused. It had been exhausting on the nerves, and even then still so dangerous.

His return to the profession was not off to a good start. Especially with his forced companion rattling off her favorite ways to cook and eat potatoes.

There were a lot of ways that he didn't even consider to cook and eat potatoes.

If she had been his apprentice mapper, he would have told her to be quiet. But as he didn't even understand where she existed in the Fae hierarchy, it was always wise to hold one's tongue. Because, and he couldn't express this enough, he did not want to get involved with Fae politics!

Why had the Stable forced this strange...companionship? Where was the Stable taking him? He had always felt that the Stable favored him somewhat, but now those thoughts abandoned him.

He paused, as he came across a familiar room.

The Eastern Red Room. It's door frame seemed deeper, somehow. More intricate. There were faces of strange creatures around it, craved into the frame, with hollow eyes, staring unseeingly outward.

But what was it doing here, so deep inside the Stable? He had never seen it here before. and he had spent decades mapping the Stable.

Maybe it just looked similar. There were uncountable numbers of rooms. Abandoned animal yards. Strange care devices for creatures no longer kept. Forgotten carriages with strange contraptions. Perhaps there were similar rooms, too.

A cauldron of bats emerged from up ahead, the numerous voices high pitched cries piercing the darkness, and swarmed. The bats, some magical variation Kenton had only seen a handful of times, were terrible predators. They had always demanded meat cubes. Encountering one or three was uncommon. But a swarm...

The hair on the back of Kenton's neck rose.

And he didn't even have his jacket, where he had refilled many essentials such as meat cubes.

"Run." He said, grabbing Shelby's hand and dragging her away.

She almost didn't go with him, despite her thin frame she seemed very heavy. But she changed her momentum, and started following after him.

The bats continued to swarm past them, hundreds, no, thousands.

They came so quickly that the hall was plunged into complete darkness.

Kenton moved toward the Eastern Red Room, no longer caring that it appeared deeper inside the Stable than any previous expedition. He was ignoring so much common sense. The common sense wisdom of the mappers was flee from danger. But Kenton was concerned, as he saw the Silver Door, yet again, and almost, almost considered entering it. He had two choices, as he ran away from the swarm of bats.

The Dungeon, or the room that didn't belong.

Because that was another piece of wisdom, shared down from the mappers of yore.

If a room appears where it doth not reside

Perhaps, Braveheart, do not look inside.

Lest thy find thyself most surprised

But he couldn't go into the Dungeon. He just couldn't.

So he pulled Shelby into the Eastern Red room, hoping that somehow....everything would be okay.