“Once, some time ago, there was a young apprentice who found an incomplete spell scroll. All the details needed to cast the spell were there: the methods and the technique, but it didn’t say the effect. That section had been ripped away and lost to time.

Delighted, the apprentice decided to use the knowledge to impress his friends with a new spell, rather than take the scroll to his Master or, at the least, do proper testing before showing it off.

He gathered together his friends, a group of fellow apprentices, all the while telling them excitedly about his discovery. A few of his friends, smarter or more sensible than the others, objected, but only one girl was determined enough to refuse, even when the others scoffed at her cowardice, or lack of curiosity.

By the time she returned, having hurried back with her Master, it was too late.

Even before they entered where they gathered to test the spell, she began to feel faint. Her Master quickly drew her away and returned with other experts, all of them layered with protections.

The young apprentice, as well as all his friends, were dead, killed by an invisible poison gas.

I was that girl. I hope every one of you takes this lesson to heart. If you don’t know what a spell does, if you don’t know why there is a rule… then ask.

It’s better than ending up dead.”

-Headmistress Erolin, of the Tracatta Mage School, excerpt from a speech to a new crop of students.

==Zidaun==

Word spread rapidly after that, and we made no effort to stop it.

With the amount of spectacle, it was rather obvious that Caden was not trying to be subtle.

I’m not sure he likes subtle much.

The guild still advised adventurers to be careful, of course. Not just to avoid wasting the tokens, but because no one knew exactly when they would actually function.

Would they only save people from boss fights? Would they only work in the more structured tutorial-esque area before the Wandering Woods? Did they only save people who were under-leveled and accidentally bit off more than they could chew?

We didn’t know, which was the point of advising caution.

Honestly, the fact that Fjorre and his party had lost everything except their clothes, money, and tokens. probably did more to prevent stupidity than anything else.

People would do incredibly stupid things just for the attention, but having an actual cost would help ameliorate that.

There was some of the usual complaining, of course. Grumblings from groups that either didn’t have anything worth sacrificing for extra tokens, who had already sold theirs to others, or who just thought they should get more.

The only people who I felt any sympathy for were those parties who had already lost members. Knowing now that every person could get three tokens was likely to only induce guilt and despair.

There had been fewer deaths than would be expected in a normal dungeon, but now even those few felt like a tragedy.

Notably, Fjorre’s party were not among the complainers.

They had recovered a fair amount since yesterday, though their smiles still seemed a little forced.

Healers, both from the guild and Adar, had looked them over yesterday, and they were being checked again today.

I wasn’t expecting any complications, but I approved of the caution. An unfamiliar healing effect warranted appropriate caution.

I chuckled internally a tiny bit.

“Use appropriate caution.” That should probably be The Adventurer’s Guild’s motto.

Their checkup passed without incident and they were released to… well… do whatever they wanted to do.

Being the first to discover the life saving effect of the tokens, and as an incredibly important discovery, they had been well compensated. Still, though a few merchants had shown up, finding good gear for all of them was likely to be a challenge. At least until a competent human smith showed up.

I had planned to resume delving with my team shortly after, but my role as Ancient intervened.

I was finishing up some details in my office when a messenger came. He quickly spoke with Izradi, then was ushered into my office.

Great, what now?

“Urgent news, Ancient,” Izradi said, as the messenger followed him in. “One of our secrets is compromised.”

The messenger started to speak and my vision distorted with rage.

With careful control I looked at Izradi and spoke. “Summon my party. Here. Now. And summon some enforcers first.”

This better not be the fault of that damn artifact.

==Tarrae==

There was little warning before Zidaun arrived like a vengeful god. Zidaun’s party had disappeared, but that was hardly unusual.

I was performing maintenance, rubbing oil into leather, the pungent scent of the oil filling the whole room. Norana was polishing her armor, again, and the two of us were talking pleasantly. Soara added the occasional comments, flicking between topics as it suited him, his maintenance similarly scattered as he noticed elements that needed attending, switching from piece to piece. Anaath sat with us, though he talked rarely. Still, his silence had become more comfortable.

There was little warning, instead a trembling ran through the walls, accompanied by a feeling of presence. A weight settled down onto me and my teammates where we sat on the ridiculously soft couches.

Like the adventurers we were, we started to scramble into a semblance of preparedness, but Soara cut us off before we had made any progress.

“It’s Zidaun, he has some guards with him.”

Zidaun entered moments later.

I had been aware, consciously, that Zidaun was the leader of the Adar here. Unconsciously, I hadn’t been thinking of him that way. He hadn’t had the power and presence that I associated with leaders.

He had it now.

An Adar entered the room ahead of him, but Zidaun eclipsed him simply by entering.

That was a feat in its own right, as I could tell that both the guard presaging, and the one trailing, were high level. I could feel their presence, but Zidaun blazed. He brought the weight of the dungeon itself, the cold feeling that shivered across my spine when I entered. The feeling of being watched and judged. Only now, that cold watching eye had found me wanting.

The amethyst of his eyes practically crackled with power, as his gaze focused with hawkish intensity. However, above all that, he blazed with mana. I could feel it pouring through him in waves, washing into him from the air and then pouring back out in a maelstrom of potential. My skin tingled, hairs rising with shivers of intensity and foretold danger.

I could feel that mana engaging with… something. Mana caught in place like eddies behind river stones, catching against threads woven through the world, the traces left behind thrumming with slowly dissipating power, only to replenish a moment later as more burst forth in regular pulses.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

How much mana is that?

Sensing mana was hard. As a mage, I had substantial advantages, but unless I was carefully focusing, it was a subtle sense. This was anything but. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the others were sensing mana for the first time in their lives.

He could make a killing charging nobles to teach them mana sense…

My brain waved aside the instinctive thought, a reflex that told of too much time spent with my merchant family.

Somehow, I doubted that training was the primary purpose of the effect.

Zidaun’s eyes flickered over each of us in turn, before they settled on me. He raised his hand, the reddish brown skin and reddish black fingernails feeling almost sinister, and his index finger was firmly pointed at my direction.

I might have made a mistake...

Zidaun’s voice was cold and firm, nothing like the gentle familiarity I was used to.

“You, will come with me.”

Otga’s fiery hole…

“Wait, why?” Norana said, her clear voice breaking me out of my stupor.

I looked at the others. Norana and Soara both looked shaken, the display of power not lost on them. Anaath looked rather different. His eyes were filled with awe and pricked with tears, but his face held an almost indescribable sorrow and longing.

Definitely something going on there.

“Why!?” Zidaun said, his voice literally shaking the room as the power woven through the air shook in synchrony to his fury. His stark white teeth were bared for a moment before he visibly restrained himself.

When he spoke again it was soft, but it was like he was biting off each word as he spoke it, not allowing any emotion to go rampant.

“Because, he,” Zidaun jabbed his finger at me again,” decided to do something. Monumentally. Stupid. He shared something, that... Wasn’t. His. To share.”

“Wait, what? When?” Norana asked, confused.

“I don’t know for certain. Yet,” Zidaun said, the last word a threat and a promise. “However, I suspect he sent it with the rest of the reports back home. Small coded messages added for his family.” Zidaun smiled, but there was no mirth in it, just lips pulled over clenched teeth. “Not an uncommon practice, I know.”

Norana just nodded, but Soara spoke up with his own question.

“Wait, we can do that?”

There was an awkward pause, before Norana answered.

“Technically… no, but if there is extra room it is common practice. It doesn’t cost any more to add extra bits of paper to the capsule.”

Right, Norana’s family are all adventurer’s. I guess none of us bothered to tell Soara it was something that could be done. We probably would have if he had mentioned something about talking with his family...

I just nodded, now was not the time to get into it.

“Not sure who I would send a message to anyway,” Soara muttered.

Zidaun’s foot had started to tap lightly on the floor, his patience already extending further than I would have expected. The sound seemed to refocus Norana and her head snapped back toward Zidaun, her hair creating a brief halo around her face.

“Wait, what did he share that was so bad?” she said.

Zidaun glared at me, before he hissed out an answer.

“A secret.”

Zidaun’s lip curled for a moment before he let out a brief mocking laugh, continuing on with an equally mocking tone.

“Not that it is a secret anymore, is it Tarrae? You managed to spread it widely enough that the only way we are going to be able to deal with it is openly acknowledge it…”

He trailed off for a moment…

“What secret?” Norana said quietly, her voice soft.

Zidaun turned his glare on her and she flinched.

“I mean,” she said hesitantly, “you said it wasn’t really a secret anymore…”

“Sure, why not?” Zidaun said, his smile manic and his eyes too wide. “The damage has already been done, right?” Zidaun laughed but there was a frantic edge to it.

“When dungeons get old and powerful they can become fully sapient. Those are the ones we consider special,” he said. “Congratulations, you know a secret that is probably going to get far too many people killed.”

There was a dazed moment of silence from the others. I was a bit dazed myself. Well, except for Anaath, who was looking at me with a look of such murderous fury it was a wonder he wasn’t leaping over the small table and ripping into me with his bare hands.

“Wait, why is it going to kill people?” I asked.

“Dungeons are not human!” Zidaun shouted. “You all have enough trouble with us,” Zidaun gestured toward himself, his guards, and Anaath. “People will expect to negotiate and reason with them, and it won’t work. They don’t care and feel in the same way!”

Zidaun’s eyes turned a cold gaze onto me before speaking.

“There is a reason we keep secrets. I am sure some of the more powerful adventurers and leaders already knew, or suspected. Certainly, I know that we have repeatedly sworn individuals to secrecy. Why do you think they all agreed? Some of them were powerful enough we wouldn’t have been able to silence them before they shared the truth.”

Zidaun gave me a tight smile before continuing.

“It certainly wasn’t a sense of self preservation for all of them.”

Right, shit.

I had almost forgotten that I was obviously massively in trouble for this.

Zidaun must have seen my expression, because there was a hint of satisfaction in his tone as he kept speaking.

“People who get that level of power, and manage to stay alive, usually understand that some information is dangerous. The problem with information is that it cannot be taken back, and it changes how everyone acts, even if they don’t mean it to.

“Even though they already know what dungeons are like, people will treat dungeons differently. New adventurers will think of dungeons as more like animals or people, and that reaction is wrong, either way.

“Some nobles will attempt to bring political influence to bear on dungeons. The smart ones will know better, but there are plenty of stupid people. Some people will try to tame dungeons or control them, and that will be nothing but a disaster.

“And who knows what the priests will do…”

Zidaun finally trailed off. The feeling of power remained, but I could see a weariness showing through.

“Okay, sure…” Soara said, his brows furrowed, “it’s a big secret. Why do you need Tarrae?”

Zidaun shook his head, and his lips pursed.

“The sharing of an Adar secret isn’t just about the information, it’s political,” Zidaun said, saying the last word with obvious distaste. “You really don’t know the level of trouble you are in. The last time one of our major secrets was revealed en masse was well before the cataclysm.”

I perked up for a moment; records from before were rare. The accounts were conflicting and muddled. It was mostly a historical curiosity now, but I knew that for a long time Tsary and Froa had each blamed each other for causing it. There had been wars and conflicts centered around that debate.

“The world didn’t always know that all our representatives are gay,” Zidaun said. “One country found out, and they were… particularly bigoted. They denounced our representatives, decreeing that we were evil and kicked out of Adar society as a whole for our sins.”

Zidaun gave a tight smile.

“They were very very wrong, after all, our representatives eventually become our leaders. And, in exchange for both their bigotry, and their release of our secret, the Adar as a whole took action. We pulled all our representatives out of the country, and told the rest of the world exactly why we did so.”

I paled. There was a reason every surviving country in the world had a treaty with the Adar.

Zidaun smiled at me, but it was a bitter thing, and I could see the shining glimmer of suppressed tears.

“That’s right,” he said. “The entire country was wiped out by a particularly spectacular dungeon break. It completely destroyed one of the neighboring countries as well, and caused significant damage to several others.”

Zidaun’s tone was completely flat as he continued.

“Tens of millions died.”

Zidaun’s stoicism broke as he shouted again and he pointed at Norana and Soara.

“The only reason I don’t need to bring them in is that you have only known them for weeks! I don’t want to sentence all of Tsary to death!”

Zidaun continued, his voice no longer shouting, but his tone shaking with suppressed anger and grief.

“I don’t want to order your kingdom to kill your family, to kill everyone that agreed to share one of our secrets, just so we won’t sentence everyone to an inevitable death.”

Zidaun was panting, his voice strained, his eyes cast down to the floor before they closed for a moment and he breathed.

I matched him, shaking, thinking about my family. And not just them. My neighbors, friends, everyone…

Zidaun opened his eyes and looked back up at me.

“I just became an Ancient, do you think this was what I wanted?” he finished with a whisper.

What have I done?