I walked back and forth along the wall, looking through the mosaic while Celeste sat down and watched eagerly. Like before, the story here wasn’t a clean-cut and easy thing to follow. It didn’t seem particularly connected to the first story at all. That story was talking about a young child who had his sense of morality altered by the harsh reality of life. This story involved an older person, grown now. He might have been the kid from the first story. I decided for Celeste’s sake, I would read the story as if it was the same.

“Many years after that kid’s life changed forever, he became an explorer and adventurer. He became fascinated with finding some kind of spring, so he went on many dangerous and expensive expeditions hoping to be able to find it.”

Celeste fluttered up to the mosaic suddenly, putting her hand on the glass tiles which were organized to looking like a water spring shooting out of the ground.

“The waters of life.” She said, whispering to herself.

“The waters of life?” I turned to look at Celeste.

She blushed, turning away and fluttering back to her seat, her head down. Putting her head down between her legs, she looked like she was suddenly depressed. I stopped telling the story, watching her curiously for a few more moments.

“Please… go on…” She said although she kept her head hidden.

“He sought out the waters of life. He did this because the woman he loved was sick, and he believed that only the waters of life could save her. Someone who drank from the spring was healed of all disease. Presumably, if someone drank from it every day, they could live forever…”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I made that last part up, seeing if Celeste would protest anything said incorrectly. Well, with a name like the waters of life, it was pretty easy to guess that this story was true. How many tales were there about some mystical spring of eternal youth. This one wasn’t quite so powerful, but it did sound like a major temptation, especially for a noble with time on his hands. I continued to read down the mosaic.

“After much searching, he ended up in a very difficult battle with a group of slave traders. It looked like they had been capturing fairies and turning them into slaves. They called them… ‘house fairies’.”

Celeste twitched when I said that part but otherwise kept her head down.

“The great adventurer managed to wipe out the slave traders and save the fairies, but he was mortally wounded in the process. This is where the story stops. He collapses to the ground, bleeding to death, while fairies escape in the night sky. His last thoughts were that at least he could save someone.”

Celeste looked up. Her eyes were watery. “This story is sad.”

I shrugged. “The story isn’t over yet. The story could be really sad, or it could end very happy, but until it ends, who knows where it will go. Personally, I find it sadder to abandon a story before it’s done because it makes you feel emotions. All good stories should.”

“W-will you keep going with me? Will you help me finish the story? For some reason, I feel… I feel like it is important!”

I watched her for a moment and realized this went beyond the story on the mosaic. Dungeons were formed from an incomplete lore, a story that never got a proper conclusion. She wasn’t asking me to finish reading it, she was asking me to finish this dungeon in the way only a true dungeon diver could. If I didn’t help her finish this lore, I had a feeling her memory would never be restored, nor would she ever be able to find peace.

I stood up and looked down the staircase into the darkness beyond. “Okay… let’s do this together.”