He’d sat on the dark throne for eons, with no company but for the few lifeless bodies that silently served under him. In the depths of the Hole, in the deepest layer of the world’s most mysterious and vast dungeon, he guarded the Treasure. For ten thousand years, he watched over it.

And no one ever came.

Over the ages, the strange waves of power that occasionally emanated from the Treasure washed through him. Slowly, he changed. He grew a conscience- a mind of his own. He began to feel, and think, and understand… and he yearned. For something other than this cold room in this dark dungeon. For something, anything to break him away the dismal reality that he came to realize was the limit of his existence. But he was trapped in an unmoving body. No matter how he labored, he couldn’t lift even a finger without the assent of the Decree, overseer of the dungeon.

The Decree was law.

Only by listening to the Raven that flew down into the dungeon once every ten years did he learn anything of the outside. It brought tales of the upper world with it, tales of the sky. It told him of humans and monsters, of seasons and storms.

Of these things and many more he heard from the Raven, but he could never envision them, for he had never seen any sight other than that of the cold black walls of his prison and the few soulless husks that patrolled the surroundings. They, he imagined, were much like he was before he awoke for the first time. The difference is that they can move; he cannot.

So time passed, an almost meaningless concept to the Lord of the Dungeon but for the periodic visits he received from the Raven.

But on the ten thousand, four hundred and fortieth year since he awoke, something happened. There was movement from the entrance to his chamber.

“There’s light. Light coming through the door.”

He observed it for a moment, seeing how it brought color into the world.

“So this is what light is like.”

Someone was coming. They were entering the final room in order to face him, the final adversary.

With an ominous creaking sound, he slowly rose from the throne. He was not acting of his own will here, but by the will of the Decree. He was to face the intruders, in his full capacity as the Lord.

- - -

Minutes later, he stood over the broken and bleeding corpse of his foe. Unexpectedly, it was a single opponent that he had faced. Not a party, or a team, or even a pair. It was just one person.

It was a girl.

She hadn’t been entirely unready for combat when she entered the room. She’d carried a staff and a spellbook on her person- identifying her role as that of a mage. Though undoubtedly skilled, she could not have made it this far on her own. Perhaps she had allies who hadn’t made it to the end with her, fallen prey to the many perils of the dungeon. Maybe she was just lucky. But whatever fortune she might have had, it did not extend into this room.

The Lord was unmoving, standing in the same place he was when he had struck the final blow.

“Is this it?” He wondered. “A battle? Is this how a battle goes? It feels… odd. What is this feeling?”

Some time passed as he continued staring at what had been the only human he’d ever known. Her hair was vibrant and colorful. It gave the impression of heat and warmth, a thing that was sorely lacking in the dungeon.

“Red,” he thought.

He then asked of her a question. “Who are you?”

The corpse did not respond to his query. He could feel it already- the pull of the Decree, directing him back towards the throne, but he resisted.

“Why did you come here?” He persisted.

As the seconds ticked by, the compulsion grew stronger. He forced it away with an effort of will.

“Why is it that you are… alone?”

The pressure was becoming intolerable. Like an almighty sovereign, it commanded that he withdraw and return to his lonely seat that had borne him for so many years. If he obeyed, he would continue his watch over the dungeon, like a long-forsaken emperor, looking out over barren lands, for untold millennia.

A pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before burst inside his head, searing a white-hot line across his vision. Along with the burning agony came a tremendous weight across his shoulders, forcing him to buckle to his knees. As he fell with a thunderous crash, the stone cracked under him. The Decree was overpowering him; threatening to wipe out the awareness that had been slowly cultivating inside him for those ten thousand years.

For a moment, he wondered if he should just let it do so. It might make things easier; with no consciousness, he would not have to bear the burden of his unending vigil any longer. But as his eyes were forced downwards, they gazed upon would be their final sight- the body of the pitiful girl, who had wandered into his den, alone and unprepared.

With a struggle of almighty proportions, he forced his mouth open to ask her, one last time…

“Who are you?”

And the world abruptly turned white.

.

.

.

“What?”

His consciousness was unharmed. The pressure of the Decree was still present, but far weaker now. The same went for the weight pressing him down. He lifted his head, observing his surroundings. Everything in the dungeon was untouched, but a bright light was now bathing everything before him with a blinding radiance.

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Never had he even dreamed of such light. He could not have imagined it, as his world had been one of darkness and silence for as long as he could remember. But what could be the source of the light, he thought, but…

Feeling a sudden chill behind his shoulders, he slowly turned his head. A premonition had struck him.

“What could this be, if not…”

Before him was an orb of pure white. It levitated six feet off the ground, at eye-level with his kneeling form.

“The Treasure,” he voiced aloud.

It did not react to his voice, continuing to float unperturbed.

At only a few inches across, the Treasure was a tiny thing, odd for such a colossal dungeon. People would expect that if this dungeon contained treasure, it would be in the form of mounds of gold or jewels- wealth enough to overshadow any country’s treasury. Exquisite armor and weapons, along with ancient scrolls filled with knowledge from bygone eras wouldn’t be startling in the slightest.

But what no one knew was that this dungeon that has vanquished heroes, eaten powerful sorcerers alive, and swallowed armies, exists to protect a single treasure, one the size of a marble. And it rests in an impregnable vault behind the throne in the final chamber of the dungeon, at all times.

But now it had left. Of its own accord, it left its container and presented itself before the Lord of the Dungeon, who himself had never seen it. And he suddenly realized while trying to grasp the situation before him that it was actually interfering with the Decree. It was shielding him from its influence, allowing him to move freely for the first time in his life.

He looked down at his palm, then back up to the Treasure. Slowly, haltingly, he reached out his hand to touch it. And when the first of his outstretched fingers connected…

Dink

Blue light erupted from the point of contact, and a misty vapor spiraled out of the Treasure, whirling around the chamber. The brilliant white light that it emitted was changing. Blue streaks began to advance around its body, quickly encircling it until the entire thing had turned into a translucent azure orb. Accompanying the external changes, the aura it emitted seemed to become colder as well.

Its icy radiance gave a different feeling from before, but to the Lord, it was as if the two had become closer than before. The Treasure now gave him a sense of familiarity that was nonexistent before, and with this new connection came a tacit understanding.

The Lord grabbed the Treasure and enclosed it within his fist. Then, without a moments’ hesitation, he shoved that hand into his chest, where he released the orb. He stood up afterwards seemingly fine, with no sign that he had just punched a hole through a vital section of his body.

He spoke to the surrounding air. “I see. Then, I will take this chance to break free. But…”

Turning around, he looked again at the fallen girl. Though his inhuman face was impossible to read, it seemed like a hint of sadness was present in those eyes.

He waved his hand, and her body was restored. The injuries on the girl’s body vanished, and though she may lay as if sleeping, her soul had long since fled. He knelt down and stretched out with his hand, but stopped just before touching her face. He withdrew his arm.

Gently, he began to speak.

“I’ve heard of things from the outside world. There are many tales I’ve heard of it. Much that I have heard, but nothing that I know, and I want to know many things. I want to know the outside. I want to know the sun and the moons. What grass feels like, and how the wind sounds. The sight of mountains and of cities, of forests and deserts. I want to know people… families, friends. Lovers and strangers.

“I want to know you.”

Reaching into the girl’s pouch, he took out a small book. On the cover was a single word: ‘Rielle.’

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “Because you can no longer know these things, I am sorry.”

Frost was forming on her cheeks as the Lord straightened his back. As he began to walk towards the exit, a storm of ice was swirling around her in increasing volumes. It contracted together all at once, and when the dust settled, she was encased in a coffin of ice, her fair features still visible beneath its frosted surface.

This ice could not be melted. It would preserve her body in permanent stasis until the end of time. It was the only gift he could give to the girl who saved him from desolation.

Just before stepping out, he paused at the portal. As if remembering something, he softly exhaled.

The blue light from before burst out from every inch of his body, but more muted than it had been earlier. When it faded, standing in his place was a young man of tall stature. He had long black hair and clear blue eyes, with a strong jaw and a well-defined physique. He was not distinctively charming or excessively handsome, but his looks were far from common.

With a shrug of his shoulder, his armor turned to smoke and in its place was a dark brown cloak that slowly settled around him.

“In your place, I will go out and know many things. Sleep soundly, Rielle.”