"Kill it! Kill it with fire!" Kael shouted, as the slime erupted into a fiery, gooey mess against the stone walls.

“Man, my arrows don’t do anything against these things,” Silvester complained, frustration etched on his face.

Kael raised an eyebrow and shined his torch over him. “Well, yeah. You’ve got to strike the slime’s core to kill it.”

“There’s another one. Ready yourselves,” Elron said as he moved slowly in front of the group, his flaming bastard sword casting flickering shadows on the dungeon walls.

A green cubic slime oozed toward them, its translucent body revealing suspended bits of rock and bone alongside its core. Silvester aimed for the core, the gleam catching in the torchlight, but his arrow missed, passing right through the gelatinous mass.

Kael quickly followed up, casting a mana bolt that blasted a decent-sized hole in the slime. However, the real damage wasn’t done until Elron stepped forward, slashing and stepping back, over and over. With each strike, the slime began to catch fire, slowly melting into a smoldering mess.

As the small flames flickered out, Sylra wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ew, that smells awful,” she muttered, pinching her nose against the stench.

Kael, also pinching his nose, nodded. “Yeah, but fire’s the most effective way.”

The group picked up the slime’s core and carefully stepped over the slimy remnants until they reached a crossroads inside the dungeon. The dim light from the torches only allowed them to see about thirty feet ahead, making it difficult to choose a direction. Elron and Sylra paused, waiting for Silvester, their guide, and the one with the sharpest vision, to catch up.

Sylra crouched down, peering into the right hallway. “I think this way is safest,” she suggested.

“You want to go left,” Silvester countered, tossing a rock down the right hallway.

The rock clattered against the stone floor, bouncing along normally until it disappeared into the darkness, followed by the distinct sound of a splash.

“See?” Silvester said, smirking. “We’d all be drowning if we went that way.”

Sylra huffed, storming down the left hallway. “Whatever,” she muttered, not looking back.

Elron jogged ahead to catch up with Sylra and said, “You see, we need him.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her pace never slowing. “I get that, but the human still bugs me.”

The other two caught up as they continued navigating the dungeon, descending deeper and deeper into its depths. For nearly an hour, they traversed the dark corridors without any encounters. Eventually, they decided to rest at an intersection.

Kael dropped to the ground with an exaggerated groan. “Why am I carrying everything? This is exhausting.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, looking defeated.

Silvester shot him a wiry grin and shrugged. “I’m the navigator. Navigators don’t carry things.” His tone was laced with smugness as he tapped the map strapped to his belt.

Kael’s face tightened with frustration, but before he could speak, Sylra chimed in. “I don’t carry anything either. I need to be able to dodge, and it's narrow enough in here without a pack slowing me down.”

“I’ll carry it for a while,” Elron offered, scooting closer to Kael to grab the pack.

Kael put his hand on the pack and looked up. “No, my princ—” He stopped himself quickly. “It’s fine. I’ll manage.” He slung the pack back onto his shoulders, his pride preventing him from accepting help.

Elron decided to break the awkward tension with a question. “So, do we think we'll find anything besides slimes in these ruins?”

“More than likely not,” Silvester replied, nonchalant. “But there could be loot or something of historical value.”

Kael’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “You think there’s gold? Or maybe magical items?” He wiggled his fingers with anticipation, his enthusiasm impossible to contain.

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Sylra shoved him lightly, her expression deadpan. “Don’t get all giddy for nothing, you doofus. We need you sharp.”

Elron chuckled softly and stood, gripping his sword. “Looks like we’re ready to move again. Let’s get going.”

The group rose to their feet and resumed their march, forming a new order—Silvester took the lead, followed by Elron, Kael, and then Sylra bringing up the rear. As they progressed, the walls began to look more worn, the signs of age undeniable. Ancient sigils carved into the stone became more prominent, and the air grew heavy with the smell of mildew.

“We’re almost there,” Silvester said, running his fingers along the wall as they walked down a narrowing corridor.

Sylra, unsettled by his actions, called out, “Watch what you’re touching up there!”

“The opening should be right here,” Silvester said confidently, tapping a specific spot on the wall.

Suddenly, a loud click echoed through the corridor. Before anyone could react, a section of the wall shot out, pushing both Silvester and Elron into a hidden pocket room.

Sylra immediately rushed forward, shoving past Kael. She started banging on the stone wall that had just closed infront of them. “No! Elron!”

She pounded on the stone with her fists, but it was futile.

Inside the pocket room, Silvester stood with his arms wide open, a sly grin on his face. “Looks like we’re stuck, my prince. What a shame.”

Elron, groggy from the impact, staggered to his feet. “How did you—”

Before he could finish, Silvester delivered a swift roundhouse kick to Elron’s chest, slamming him back against the wall. Bricks crumbled around him as he collapsed in a heap.

“You see, Elron,” Silvester said, circling him like a predator, “your queen sent me to murder you.” He pulled out a chair and dragged it to the center of the room, the legs scraping ominously across the stone floor.

Elron coughed, blood dripping from his mouth. He reached for his sword, but Silvester kicked it away effortlessly. “You should’ve listened to your friends. Now we’re going to have some fun.”

“Why?” Elron wheezed, struggling to sit up, pain wracking his body.

Silvester turned his back, inspecting a table filled with cruel-looking tools. “Why, you ask? Because I like money and torture.” He picked up a large, barbed hook and examined it with relish. “And when I get both, well, that’s when I’m happiest.”

Elron’s eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that could help him stall. The room was sparsely furnished—just a chair, a table, and a few candles flickering weakly in the corners. “You planned this… from the start,” he muttered, forcing himself to his feet.

Silvester chuckled, tapping the hook against his palm. “Every bit of it. The story about the ruins, the people you met, even the villagers who turned a blind eye. All of it was part of the plan.”

Elron made a desperate move toward the hidden door, but Silvester was faster. He grabbed Elron and forced him into the chair, strapping him down tightly.

“Not so fast,” Silvester sneered, clamping a pair of pliers in front of Elron’s face.

Elron spat blood at him. “You’re a monster.”

“Monster?” Silvester shook his head. “Nah, I’m an ascendant. We’re like the high elves to elves, or whatever.” He then clamped the pliers down onto Elron’s finger and ripped off a nail with brutal precision.

Elron screamed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. One by one, Silvester pulled each fingernail, dropping them into a cup with a sickening plink. “Such a lovely sound, don’t you think? Royals always scream the best.”

Silvester then poured a milky pink elixir over Elron’s hands, and to his surprise, the pain subsided. His fingers began to heal, the nails regrowing almost instantly. Elron looked at at him wide eyed, and jolted as an attempt to break his bonds. That’s when the panic began to creep in.

“Oh, this is just the beginning, little lord,” Silvester taunted, reaching for another tool.

As the torture dragged on, Elron’s mind began to fray, slipping further with each agonizing minute. He yelled, and Silvester laughed—his laugh a cruel twisted sound. Elron fought to stay silent, to deny the man the pleasure of his suffering, but in the end, his resolve broke. He screamed for help, he screamed threats, he even screamed for it all to end at one point. But no matter what he screamed for, the man continued, unfazed, savoring every moment of Elron's torment. Somewhere in the haze of all of it, as consciousness wavered, he heard a voice.

“You suffer,” the voice rasped.

Elron’s breath hitched. “Help me,” he begged, his voice weak.

“For a price,” the voice grated.

“Anything! Just save me!” Elron cried, his voice cracking with desperation.

Silvester turned, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Talking to yourself now? Oh, you’re breaking much too soon. We’ve barely started,” he said, running a blade along Elron’s cheek.

The voice in Elron’s head grew louder. “My hate will be yours,” it said.

Elron screamed as Silvester cut deeper, blood trickling down his face. “Hate!” he cried out, attempting to clutch onto anything besides the pain.

“Recite the boundment ritual,” the voice demanded.

Elron, with a trickle of hope remaining, began to chant the ancient words, his voice trembling with every syllable.

Silvester laughed, dismissing him with a wave. “That won’t do you any good. No weakling spell will save you.”

Elron continued chanting, his voice low and steady, even as Silvester plunged a spike into his stomach.

With one final word, Elron completed the ritual and fell unconscious.

Silvester pulled the spike from Elron’s body and shrugged, disappointed. “Really? You’re just going to pass out now? We were just getting to the good part.”