The atmosphere in the room was heavy, the faint smell of burnt copper and cinnamon lingered in the air after our encounter with the gargoyle. Magic is a mystery even among the wisest spellcasters, it’s believed that even an archmage still has a lot to turn about magic. However one thing we do know for certain, is that the mana of an individual has a unique smell.

The magic that Laira had used was still strong in the air, it may have been because of my enhanced senses now, but Laira’s mana was much more noticeable than anyone else I had ever encountered. And I had met a lot of powerful spellcasters as the Prince of Draegoth.

It wasn’t exactly the same as burnt copper and cinnamon, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

Laira was still examining the rubble as if she was trying to piece together some hidden truth from the felled gargoyle. I could feel the tension in her posture, she was now examining the shattered fragments of the magical amulet that had protected the gargoyle.

I didn’t know much about Laira - just enough to know that she wasn’t someone to take lightly. But something about the way she was inspecting the remains told me that this wasn’t just about survival for her.

“Are you planning to stare at the pile of rocks all day?” I asked, dusting off my hands. The goblin’s body has mostly recovered from the fight thanks to my enhanced regeneration, but I still felt a phantom ache in my bones from the encounter.

Laira glanced over to me, her expression was neutral and unreadable again. “This wasn’t random, the gargoyle was sent here because someone wants me dead.”

It was the first time I had heard her say something with a hint of vulnerability, although she quickly reverted back to her usual confidence in an attempt to mask it.

“Someone? Or something?” I pressed, hoping she might let something slip.

She gave me a poignant look, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You know, you ask a lot of questions for a goblin. But if you must know, this isn’t the first time I’ve been hunted.”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “By animated rocks?”

“No.” Laira smirked, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “By people with far too much power and far too many grudges.”

When Laira was done inspecting the remains, we moved deeper into the cavern. I followed Laira’s lead, expanding my senses as she navigated through the worn down ruins of a lost town or village. Her stride was full of conviction after our encounter with the gargoyle, a sense of purpose that felt unnatural.

Every now and then, she would pause, examining road signs that were almost illegible, or strange markings etched into stone walls. I couldn’t decipher them, they were in a language I had never seen before. But they clearly meant something to Laira, as they seemed to instruct her on the route we were taking.

“A lot of people think this place is a prison, you know?” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Huh?”

She glanced over her shoulder, her icy blue eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “This place… it has existed for centuries, maybe even a few millennia. There are places here that hold echoes of the past - traces of people from other worlds, who came long before us. Sometimes, if you know where to look, you can find pieces of their stories.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was speaking from experience. But the possibility that his dungeon had existed for thousands of years? That would change everything we knew about dungeons.

“So what, you’re looking for a story?” I asked, my voice befuddled as I was mulling over what she had just said.

For a moment, I thought she might ignore my question. But then she stopped walking, fixated on something off in the distance.

“There’s an artefact,” she said quietly. “It belonged to my mother. She… she used it to escape this place once. I need to find it.”

The weight of her words caught me completely off guard. She had always seemed untouchable, her sharp wit and confidence made her seem like a larger than life character. Add to that the power that emanated from her and her mystique, it felt like she was from another world.

But now there was something raw in her tone, she felt almost… human. A chink in the armour she was desperately trying to hide.

“And what happens if you find it?” I asked cautiously.

She turned to face me, her expression hardening as it felt like she was giving me her undivided attention for the first time since we first met. “That’s none of your concern, little goblin. Just keep up and don’t get yourself killed.”

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We continued in silence, the tension was palpable. I could tell there was more to her story, but I didn’t want to push my luck any further. I figured that I would have plenty of opportunities to get more details out of her down the line.

The air grew noticeably colder as we descended further into the depths of the dungeon, the stone walls had started to become slick with moisture that radiates with an unpleasant chill.

Eventually, we came to a massive chamber, the ceiling so high it disappeared into darkness. In the centre of the room stood a marble pedestal, its surface etched with intricate runes that hummed faintly. Surrounding the pedestal were statues - figures of warriors, wizards and creatures I didn’t recognise.

Laira frozen, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her blade. “Stay close,” she murmured.

“Another ambush?” I asked, sensing the alertness in her voice.

“Maybe…” She frowned, her gaze fixated on the pedestal. “But I think… this is what I’ve been searching for?”

Before I could ask anything else, she stepped forward. Her movements were cautious and deliberate, the air was rife with tension. I could feel the weight of her steps, as she edged closer to the centre of the room the pressure weighed down on me.

Laira approached the pedestal, pressing her hand against one of the runes. For a moment, nothing happened. But then the ground beneath my feet began to shake, the statues surrounding the room began to tremble as they came to life. Slowly awakening as they shed layers of dust and excess stone, as if they were moving for the first time in centuries.

The chamber came to life in a wave of ominous dissonance. The grinding of stone echoed like an echo chamber, the statues flexing their joints. A faint familiar glow of runes etched into their surfaces began to dance in a pulsating rhythm that matched the pedestal. Some brandished chipped swords, archers pulled back on their bows, and wizards raised stone pillar-like staves that crackled with faint magical light.

Laira hissed, drawing her blade from its scabbard. “Figures. These things aren’t going to let us do what we want.”

“What were you expecting?” I muttered, backing up as two warriors lumbered towards me, their footsteps sending tremors through the ground.

“Shut up and don’t die,” she snapped impatiently.

Laira surged forward, her blade flashing with crimson energy, she was going all out from the beginning. A statue swung a massive spear in a wide arc towards her, but Laira ducked under it with the grace of a dancer. Driving her blade into the joint of its stone arm, sparks erupted at the bite of her blade, but the statue barely flinched. Instead it brought its other arm around in a backhand swing, forcing Laira to leap back.

I wasn’t faring any better. The two warriors approached with their swords at the ready, but an archer had trained its bow on me. It’s first arrow cracked against the stone floor inches from my feet, I manoeuvred around the battlefield to use the warriors as cover.

One of the warriors unexpectedly raised it hand forward, releasing a torrent of blue energy that barely missed me as I threw myself to the side. The air charged where the blast hit, leaving the ground scorched.

“Any bright ideas?” I called out, skidding behind a crumbling column for cover.

“Working on it!” Laira’s frustration was clear as she clashed with another warrior, her blade deflecting its strikes with deafening clangs.

The problem wasn’t just their durability, it was their coordination. Archers kept us pinned down, forcing us into the line of sight of the warriors, while the spellcasters acted as artillery, raining magical blasts on any cover we tried to use.

Darting out from behind the column, I reinforced my goblin host again, enhancing its speed and strength beyond what it’s physical capabilities. I lunged at the nearest archer, closing the gap before it could fire another arrow. I had abandoned my club after the fight with the gargoyle, my claws proving to be much more lethal as they raked against the stone bow, snapping it in half. That’s when a fist came crashing into my chest, caught off guard and sent me flying back. I hit the ground hard, the impact dazing me momentarily.

Laira meanwhile, had carved a deep gouge into one of the warriors, severing its arm at the shoulder. As the limb fell however, another statue stepped forward to take its place, locking onto her with a keen focus.

“They’re drawing power from the pedestal!” Laira shouted as she danced around another strike.

“That’s great, how does that help?” I growled, rolling to avoid another spell that fell where I had been lying.

Laira’s eyes darted to the pedestal, her mind racing for a solution. “If I can disrupt it, the statues might lose power.”

“And what happens to us while you’re busy doing that?” I snapped, evading another arrow.

“Just keep them off me!”

Before I could argue, she broke away from the fight, sprinting toward the pedestal. The statues seemed to sense her intent, several of them shifting their attention to her.

“Of course,” I muttered under my breath.

Summoning every ounce of strength I could find, I charged at the nearest statue - a wizard preparing another bolt of magic. This time, I didn’t aim to overpower it; instead, I took a page from Laira’s book and weaved around its attacks, clashing at its legs to slow it down.

“Come on then, you oversized paperweight,” I taunted, trying to draw attention away from Laira.

I used my positioning to my advantage, moving to ensure another statue was behind me when the wizard released its spell. I stepped out of the way at the last possible moment. Causing the magical ballista slammed into the body of a warrior, disintegrating its torso and reducing it to rubble.

Laira made it back to the pedestal, placing her hands on the runes again as she began to cast an inaudible incantation that was masked by the heat of the fight.

The room reacted to her efforts, the runes flickering erratically. The statues didn’t take kindly to her meddling as a small number of them regrouped, converging on the pedestal.

“Laira, behind you!” I shouted, launching myself at one of the warriors. My claws digging into its back as I clawed my way up to its head, frantically mauling at its neck until it finally gave in and fell to the ground.

Laira was unflinching. Her blade shot out in a blur, deflecting an arrow in mid-flight. She slammed her palm against the pedestal, the runes glowing brighter but more erratic in response.

“I need more time!” she yelled, her voice strained.

“Time isn’t exactly on our side!” I growled, dismounting from the fallen statue.

My host’s body was pushed to its limits as I threw myself back into the fray. I could feel the body breaking down, stitching back together with black tendrils. My true form was starting to show, I had to do everything in my power to keep the goblin intact as it began to fall apart. I had to use every ounce of strength to keep the statues off of Laira, but they were unrelenting and overwhelming.

Laira’s voice rose as she completed the incantation, the runes on the pedestal drowning in brilliant light. The statues froze mid-motion, their runes dimming as the magic animating them was severed. One by one they collapsed, returning to their dormant positions, the chamber swelling with silence again.

The pedestal shuddered as something inside of it rumbled, the top slipped open as an ornate box adorned with intricate carvings rose up.

Laira stepped back, panting as she sheathered her blade. Her gaze lingered on the box, expressing a mixture of relief and apprehension.

“What’s in there?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

I continued to regenerate my body, repairing torn muscles and pulling limbs back into their sockets.

Laira didn’t answer immediately, she was fixated on the box. Tracing a finger over the carvings on its surface. By the time she looked at me, I had managed to restore my body.

“Hopefully, something worth fighting for,” she said quietly.

Without saying anything else, she lifted the box, cradling it as if it was the most precious item in the world. For a brief second I caught a rare glimpse of the woman behind the enigmatic warrior.

“Let’s move,” she instructed, her voice firm. “We’re not safe here.”

I followed without question, though my mind was racing with curiosity. Whatever was in that box, it was enough for Laira to risk everything so recklessly. Somehow I had a feeling that this was the beginning of something bigger.