Shadows clung insistently to the decrepit walls of the temple, my torch was barely providing enough light to illuminate my path. Every step was amplified in the silence, echoing off of the stone walls which were coated in grime and moss. This place felt ancient, like it had existed for centuries, left to rot and forgotten by the rest of the civilised world.

‘This place feels cursed,’ I thought to myself, the weight of oppressive silence was pushing down on me.

The carvings along the walls grew more defined the deeper I ventured. Depictions of grotesque, elongated figures with hollow eyes and skeletal limbs. Their hands outstretched, reaching toward something beyond the stone.

Curiosity had me moving closer to inspect them, raising my torch to reveal the details that had been obscured by shadows.

Their faces were unsettling, emaciated and yet they conveyed a deep reverence. An undying loyalty fueled their worship. Or perhaps it was fear and desperation, it was hard to tell without any context to the images.

As I continued, I reached what appeared to be an altar room. The room was circular with high vaulted ceilings that had long since collapsed in sections, faint streaks of light filtering in. Cracks ran down the walls and roots had forced themselves above ground, through the stone and curling along the walls like skeletal fingers.

At the centre of the room stood an altar made of a dark, almost obsidian stone. Polished and untouched by time and decay. Symbols covered its surface, intricately designed and reminiscent of veins. Branching out from the centre of the altar like a spider's web.

The altar was unsettling, I could feel something tugging at the back of my mind, urging for me to touch it. The altar had an unusual feeling that I would struggle to explain to anyone else, but it felt connected to the giant bats I had fought outside. It started to feel like they were tethered to this place.

Having consumed some of the bats, a strange imprint from them pulsed within me. I felt their connection, an echo of something powerful that had once inhabited this temple. And it called to me, or at least the primal darkness I had inherited from the bats.

As I lingered near the altar, memories that weren’t my own flickered to the forefront of my mind. Fragments of images springing to life. A hooded figure knelt before the altar, their face hidden but their bodies radiating awe and worship. They chanted in a low, unintelligible language, but the words seeped into my thoughts as if I could suddenly understand them.

“To the Undying Ones, our souls are surrendered.”

The image shifted. A tall, lean figure emerging from the darkness, shrouded in a billowing cloak that absorbed the light of the room. His skin was pale, almost translucent and his eyes glowed an unnatural yellow. His fangs were exposed as he looked down on the kneeling figure with a predatory smile. Exuding an aura of dread, it felt like this being was a deity, the source of the devotion.

He offered them immortality, but at a cost. The followers who pledged themselves, were transformed. Their minds dulled, lost to an insatiable hunger. They became thralls in service of their undying lord, twisted beings that absorbed the dark mana of the dungeon. They were assigned as sentries, protectors of the temple that were cursed to haunt the shadows. Over time however they were corrupted by the mana of the dungeon, eventually evolving into the bat-like creatures I had fought outside of the temple.

Their revered lord was rumoured to have mastered the art of blood manipulation, using it to maintain dominion of the lower floors. He could sense thoughts and with a mere whisper could summon his kin from any corner of his domain. The thralls obeyed him without question, and in return, they were blessed - or cursed - with immortality, forever bound to the temple.

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I shook off the intruding images, though a part of me was drawn to them as if I had been a part of this ancient ritual. The thralls I had consumed, linked me to this forsaken bloodline. I could feel the power attempting to invade, but it was no match for the power that had created me.

I was able to quell the dungeon’s influence, but it had still undeniably sharpened my senses. There was a faint tingling in my ears, an awareness of sounds I hadn’t been able to perceive before. I closed my eyes and focused, testing the limits of this new ability.

Every sound in the room was amplified, creating a mental map of my surroundings. I could sense the echoes bouncing off of the walls, each vibration painting an image in my mind. A crude, blurred form of echolocation. With a little practice and honing my own fortitude, I could see with my eyes closed. An invaluable skill I thought, given that light had already become a precious resource.

I flexed my hands, feeling the strength I had inherited from my goblin host mingling with this additional power. It integrated perfectly with the enhancements from my parasitic self, as if this new dark power was a missing piece. My strength and reflexes had been further developed thanks to the bats and whatever depraved practices they had been following in the temple to end up in their monstrous states.

I continued through the ruins. The carvings revealed more about the cult, their rituals and their worship. They were a society that had completely devoted themselves to their dark deity, sacrificing their humanity in exchange for the dubious gift of eternal life. They believed that binding themselves to his blood, allowed them to share in his immortality.

But their lord and saviour had exacted a cruel price. Those who had surrendered to him were forever marked by his blood, branded as his property. They lost their will, their freedom, and over time their minds. Only a faint memory of their previous selves lingered, buried beneath layers of obedience and devotion.

It felt both dreadful and fascinating. I had taken in part of their curse now, though my own power had already subdued it. It still left a lingering question, would I become like them too if I wasn’t careful? A mindless servant? No - I refused to follow that fate, I had my own will and my own purpose.

I took a deep breath and refocused myself, once again using my new sonar-like senses. The world around me quickly sprang to life in waves, each sound painting a further picture that bounced back at me. With enough focus it revealed more than my eyes could see alone, highlighting every crack in the stone, every uneven surface, and the faint scurrying of creatures too small to be seen.

I continued to experiment, honing my focus to narrow the range and then expanding it to encompass the entire room. It was draining but also exhilarating, I could sense my surroundings with pinpoint accuracy.

As I explored my new power, I sensed something else. Something more. A flicker of something coursed through me, a dark energy that pulsated with the rhythm of my heartbeat. I reached inwards, feeling out the power as I tried to examine it. That’s when I felt a sudden surge of understanding, this was blood magic. I could recognise it from the fragmented memories I had uncovered from the thralls. A raw power that resonated with my goblin host’s blood, I could feel it responding to my will - waiting for me to seize control.

I focused on the blood coursing through my veins, feeling it respond to my intent. Slowly I guided it, enhancing my strength and sharpening my reflexes even further. It was subtle, but I could sense the difference. As if my body was being fine tuned into a living weapon, with practice I could refine this power further.

The knowledge of what I learned in the temple weighed on me, was I corrupting this host further? To be something neither alive or fully dead? Would it turn into a thrall like the poor creatures I had fought against outside of the temple? This was definitely feeling more like a curse than a gift, a perspective they probably didn’t have considering their devotion.

I took one final look at the temple, deciding there was little else for me to learn here. What had happened occurred centuries before I arrived here, who knew what had changed since then. The leader they worshipped probably wasn’t even alive any more, but I got the impression his influence still rippled through the dungeon.

I glanced at the eerie carvings on my way out, a reminder of what had happened to these people. If they were even people to begin with. I was eager to continue exploring this floor, something told me I was just getting started.