Sweat dripped down my back, quickly absorbed by the suit. My eyes stung with salt, and my lips burned where another drip fell onto the dry, caked skin. I licked it off, cringing at the super salty taste. I used my wrist to dab uselessly at my damp forehead, pushing away the soaked strands of hair from where they’d been plastered to my face. I felt drenched, as though I’d dumped a bucket of water over my head, though some of the moisture was trapped beneath my clothes rather than outside. When I breathed, the air was so thick with the humidity that I nearly felt as though I’d drown in the air.

It would have been preferable to the moist, soupy air. While the suit itself was waterproof and supposedly temperature-proof, the simple act of breathing brought the heat and humidity of the morning past that barrier, sending it burning through my veins, trapped against my skin by said suit. The longer we spent outside, the more I felt as though I were boiling.

The noise of the jungle around us rose until it was nearly deafening as the animals awoke, the humming of bugs and the sweet songs of the birds sweeping through the air. Not even Sinbad appeared to be much better off, his long hair soaked.

With one final hack of the machete, a large chunk of the final wall clattered to the empty ground beyond as we broke our way deeper into the jungle. It felt almost as though we’d stepped into another room, another era. Massive, vine-covered trees stretched from the forest floor into a canopy that hung above, blocking much of the rising sunlight and plunging us into a dusk-like darkness. In such eternal darkness, only the heartiest of plants survived, and the ground was empty except for the roots of the trees and small patches where tiny streams of sunlight managed to reach the ground, warming the earth.

The air in this area, while still heavy and humid, was noticeably cooler, insulated from the sun and the outside world by the canopy and the thick brush around the outside edge of the jungle, respectively. I took a few deep, heaving breaths, sucking cool air into my lungs. My heart rate slowly began to fall, even as we pushed forward.

“Disgusting,” Eliza complained as she fanned herself with her free hand. The rest of us nodded our agreement.

Without having to hack our way through every inch we moved forward, we progressed much faster. Over the course of the day, the humidity lessened even as the exterior air grew hotter. As such, the drier heat of the afternoon felt far more comfortable than the humid heat of the morning, and we each recovered a bit of our strength.

Around dusk, we passed on the other side of the thick jungle bush to a more open area of the island. Ahead, thick, odd-looking trees the rooks used to build their nests lay scattered out, with both floating and static platforms shaped like islands of various sizes in the distance for players to delve into open-air fights against the rooks. Much closer to us, however, was our destination–a deceptively small pool of water that acted as an entrance to the dungeon that reflected the stars of the night even during the bright light of the day. It was less noticeable during the day, but even then, at dusk, the stars in the pool glowed with their own light, a tiny hint of the magic that lay within.

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Though its starry nature indicated its special nature, the dungeon had been notorious for being difficult to find. Even once one found the entrance, which was partially shaded from above by trees, the players had to hold their breath or use special clothes to dip beneath the surface into the myriad of water-filled tunnels and pathways. Only one was the true path, leading to breathable underground paths that ran beneath the entire island and, it was rumored, parts of the ocean itself.

I’d caught some glimpses of the beauty in the rooks hideout in my dream, but supposedly, between the shifting water features and the underwater life that hung above the cavern, it was one of the more beautiful dungeons in the game, second only to the dungeon of stained glass that hung in the sky and was added in the very first patch.

If only there were a way to immortalize it…

I slipped my phone from my inventory and took a quick picture of the stunning and starry entrance before banishing the device back from whence it came, leery of leaving it out for too long lest it get destroyed. Later, perhaps I’d use the photos as a basis for my sketches to improve my accuracy and give me a better idea than memory alone could accomplish.

Eliza, Sinbad, and Cove, meanwhile, ducked back between the trees, busying themselves with building a shelter for the night. After the kraken, repairs, and the exhausting walk, none of us wanted to face the rooks before our energy levels recovered.

I gave one final glance to the dimming sky and followed suit, using the newfound skills I’d gained from Heirs and What Lies Ahead to help where I could. When the tents were pitched, and our beds were unrolled, I dusted off my hands, feeling accomplished. While I’d rather never camp in my life again, I was proud of how far I’d come from the man who’d been terrified by the cries of the coyotes.

Eliza was busying herself over a portable stove shed pulled from her inventory as Sinbad chopped local fruits and veggies for a delicious-smelling stew. Cove and I pulled over some dead tree limbs the size of logs to use as makeshift chairs, dropping down to watch their teamwork.

The top of my gloved hand tickled as something fuzzy brushed against it. My heart dropped like a stone in my chest, and I slowly craned my neck down to see a spider the size of my head looking up at me with disgusting beady eyes as it moved a second spindly leg up next to me.