Behind me, the clearing remained unchanged—a timeless pocket of the forest—but I knew I couldn't linger. With renewed purpose, I ventured down the left-hand path, the whispers of the woods guiding me deeper into the unknown.

But after what felt like only moments, I emerged back into the same clearing. My heart sank. How is this possible? This time, two ravens perched atop the ancient sign. They cocked their heads at me, their keen eyes reflecting a hidden wisdom. Without a sound, they spread their wings and flew off in opposite directions, disappearing into the canopy.

Curious and slightly unnerved, I approached the sign. New words had been carved into the weathered wood:

"Twins we are, yet never the same, Mirror reflections, a deceptive game. Choose one path and tread with care, For the other leads you back to where You began this journey, lost in time, Decide anew to escape this rhyme."

I stared at the riddle, my mind racing. Twins... mirror reflections... a deceptive game. I had made two decisions so far, and clearly, there was something about twin decisions. Was the forest looping because I chose the same path twice?

Determined to break the cycle, I decided to alter my course. Instead of retracing my steps, I would choose differently. I turned to face the direction the second raven had flown—the right-hand path, shrouded in shadows and overgrown with vines. It was the mirror image of the path I'd taken before but seemed less inviting.

Gathering my courage, I stepped onto the right-hand path. The air grew colder, and the whispers of the woods turned into hushed murmurs, as if the trees were holding their breath. I pushed forward, but once again, the fog thickened, and the path twisted back on itself.

Emerging into the clearing yet again, frustration gnawed at me. The same serene meadow greeted me, unchanged. The ancient sign stood in the center, but this time, it was covered in dirt and decay, the words barely legible.

I remembered the waterskin in my pack. Pulling it out, I dampened a corner of my cloak and gently wiped away the grime. Slowly, the faint etchings became clearer:

"Reflect upon the steps you take, In reverse, the spell shall break. The path ahead lies in your past, Walk backward now, you're free at last."

I sighed heavily. Mirror and backwards. The riddles were becoming more cryptic. I needed help.

"Any ideas, Malice?" I asked aloud.

A voice echoed in my mind, tinged with a hint of sarcasm. [I think it wants you to look into a mirror backwards.]

"Thanks," I muttered. "I'm sure that's exactly what it means." Ever since we'd reached the second floor of this dungeon, Malice had been less and less useful. It was as if the very dungeon was changing his nature, dampening his usually sharp insights.

I closed my eyes, trying to piece together the clues. Reflect upon the steps you take... In reverse, the spell shall break. Perhaps I needed to retrace my steps literally, but walk them backward this time.

An idea sparked. Facing away from the path, I began to walk backward, stepping carefully to avoid tripping. The moment I did, the atmosphere shifted. The whispers grew louder, more encouraging, and the fog began to lift ever so slightly.

Behind me, I could hear the distant clank of armor—the army was still on my trail. But I felt I was finally on the right path.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

So far in this dungeon, there had been nearly unexplainable things, even with the gods' magic flowing freely around. I wasn't sure what any of this meant exactly, but it was frustrating to deal with, especially when everything seemed designed to confuse me. Yet, with each challenge, I felt myself growing wiser, more attuned to the dungeon's peculiar logic.

"Let’s hope this works," I whispered, continuing to walk backward along the path. My heartbeat echoed in my ears, each step drawing me further from the fog’s suffocating grasp. The trees seemed different now—less hostile, almost inviting. Their gnarled branches, which had once reached for me like claws, now gently swayed aside as if offering safe passage. Sunlight filtered through the thinning canopy, dappling the ground with warm, golden light. The shadows, once oppressive, shrank away.

Was this it? Had I finally found the way forward?

The thought was a quiet whisper in my mind, a fragile hope I barely dared to acknowledge.

And then the forest vanished, replaced in an instant by a bright, sunlit clearing. My feet stumbled to a halt as I blinked in the sudden brilliance. The air here felt different—lighter, fresher, as though the clearing itself was breathing. Animals darted every which way, their forms a blur of motion in the corner of my vision. At the center of the clearing stood a stone pedestal, and atop it... a sword.

No way. Is that...?

[No way. Is that the Master Sword? Ah, man, no fair. Go see if you can lift it.] Malice's voice cut through my awe, practically vibrating with excitement. He hadn’t been this hyped since our first couple of kills, and the sheer novelty of his enthusiasm sent a ripple of unease down my spine.

But despite myself, I moved forward, curiosity tugging at my feet. The sword gleamed in the sunlight, an artifact of power and legend. Its hilt was adorned with intricate runes that pulsed faintly, as though alive with ancient magic. The blade itself seemed to shimmer, casting reflections that danced across the clearing. My heart pounded in my chest. This was it—real power, just waiting to be claimed.

I mean, it has to be important, right? Something this well-guarded, this well-hidden... It can’t just be some random rusty sword.

I reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the cold, smooth metal of the hilt. It felt solid, timeless. Taking a deep breath, I tightened my grip and pulled.

The sword slid free effortlessly, like it had been waiting for me all along. For a fleeting moment, I was triumphant, heart soaring—

—until I looked down.

My face fell as reality crashed in. The sword was... light. Too light. My stomach twisted with a sinking realization.

Oh no. Not again.

I sighed, defeated, as Malice’s voice rang out, dripping with disappointment.

[Totally useless old sword. This thing’s been stuck in the stone for, what, hundreds? Thousands of years? No wonder it’s a worthless pile of rust.]

Before I could even process his words, the sword crumbled in my hands. The once-pristine blade splintered into fine, red dust, disintegrating into the breeze as though it had never existed. I watched, stunned, as the dust swirled away, vanishing into the air.

What the hell?

And then, the world shifted.

Laughter—cold, manic, and utterly terrifying—echoed around me, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. I spun in place, heart pounding, searching for the source, but the clearing had changed. All the animals were gone. In their place were ravens—dozens of them. They filled the trees, their beady black eyes locked on me, unblinking. A chill slithered down my spine.

The laughter grew louder, more deranged, before morphing into a cacophony of caws, harsh and jarring, like a thousand voices shrieking in unison. My pulse quickened, fear gnawing at the edges of my mind.

What’s happening? Why are they all looking at me?

And then I saw it—the red and yellow smoke, rising from the shattered remains of the sword. It coiled and twisted, filling the air with an acrid, sulfurous stench. The ravens surged forward, wings beating in a frenzied rhythm, their bodies melding with the smoke as they circled above.

“Malice... umm, what is that?” My voice wavered, my feet backing up instinctively as the smoke began to take form—a dark, looming figure.

[I don't like this... Be careful.] Malice's voice, for once, wasn’t dripping with sarcasm. There was a rare edge of concern in his tone.

The figure in the smoke solidified, and wherever it touched the ground, the grass withered and decayed, turning brittle and gray. The clearing, once bathed in sunlight, now felt suffocating, as though the very air had been tainted by the presence of this being.

What have I done?