Dungeon. ‘Castle keep’ in Middle English, or ‘Lord’s tower’ in Old French. From the Latin word dominus, ‘lord’, or ‘master’.

Chapter 1. Sparrow

A boy rushed up the stone stairs with his robes fluttering behind him and burst through the doors, startling an old man dressed in deep navy blue.

“Good gods! I told you to stop doing that Quint! I could’ve dropped something important!” berated Woggins the Wise, stroking his long, white beard to calm himself. Silvery hair flowed down from a large pointy hat, mixing almost indistinguishably into the beard. The boy could never tell where his master's hair ended and beard began.

“Sorry, master,” the boy said sheepishly.

“No matter,” sighed the old wizard, “Come and help me. It is nearly ready.” he said, waving over his young apprentice to the center of the sparsely decorated room.

There, on a cold, stone pedestal surrounded by geometric symbols drawn in chalk on the floor, was a beautiful blue orb.

It had come from a fairly young dungeon that had dug itself into an impressive maze of caves, and his master had paid handsomely indeed for it.

A dungeon core… Quint quickly glanced at the coconut-sized thing in awe before scurrying behind his master, taking down calculations his master called out that would bind him, the core, and the tower.

Woggins the Wise paced anxiously around the circles, going over calculations that had taken months and poring over the intricate chalk patterns on the floor.

Finally, the old wizard ceased and turned to his apprentice.

“Right. Are you ready, Quint?” asked the wizard.

“Everything in order, Master Woggins!” Quint replied eagerly.

Woggins the Wise nodded, his mouth pursed in a grim line. The elderly wizard then lifted his arms and began chanting in the old tongue.

Even an apprentice like Quint could feel the enormous streams of mana unraveling from the core and flooding the room.

Soon, sweat began to pour down the old wizard’s face as he warped the very fabric of reality, and Quint shivered in anticipation.

Soon, he would be apprenticed to not Woggins the Wise, but Woggins the Dungeon Master. Even the parents he had never known would be proud of him if they ever found out.

Eventually, Quint sensed the end of the spell nearing as the chants reached a fevered crescendo and the air became almost electric dense mana, and clenched his palm. Nothing could distract his master at this crucial juncture! And soon, he would be apprenticed to not Woggins the Wise, but Woggins the Dungeon Master!

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Unfortunately, that was when a little sparrow flew in through the open window of the tower and straight into his master’s eye.

“GAHHH!!!” screamed Woggins the Wise, in the middle of his spell.

“GAHHH!!!” screamed Quint the Apprentice, in the middle of his daydreams.

The moment of distraction proved fatal, as a bolt of electrified mana jumped from the Dungeon Core and smote both the sparrow and his master like the wrath of a god.

Quint was broken out of his stunned stare at the smoking remains of his master when the entire tower began to shake and groan as the mana pouring out from the core suddenly redoubled and lashed out with physical force.

Oh dear gods. Master Woggins never finished the spell! Quint realized with a start.

The trembling was getting worse by the second, and was sure to collapse the tower with him in it. Perhaps it might even explode.

Time seemed to slow down as Quint somehow managed to stay on his feet while trying to decide whether to jump out the fifth story window or hide under a table.

That was when, by a twist of fate, his eyes fell on the table and the grimoire containing the spell of dungeon binding lying on top of it.

Struck by sudden, desperate inspiration, Quint dashed to the table and frantically searched the open grimoire for the last few words that his master had so crucially failed to utter.

“Beámfleót! Gebind ríceiu dimbus dingus triplus mec!” he screamed hysterically upon finding it, pouring all of his own meagre mana and significantly more of his terror into the words.

Quint thought he felt something from the orb in the center of the storm as the flood of mana seemed to hesitate.

It’s working!

Then a bolt of lightning leapt from the core to slam into him, and everything went black.

—

Ugh…

Quint woke up with a pounding headache.

He looked around the room with a dazed look, finding that the rampaging mana seemed to have avoided him. He had gotten incredibly lucky somehow.

The rest of the room was a smoldering wreck, and much of his master’s precious artifacts and tomes of learning had been destroyed. Only the grimoire that had held the spell for binding the dungeon seemed to have escaped complete destruction.

He was alive. How? He had come so close to dying. His master had died. And he had finished the spell.

Could it be possible that… That he had bound the core, the tower, and himself together?

Had he become, no longer Quint the Apprentice, but Quint the Dungeon Master?

Quint stumbled to his feet and tried to concentrate on the core, which had shrunk to nearly half its original size.

Dear gods! Quint exclaimed mentally.

Slowly but surely, he felt a strange mental connection to the core. He could somehow sense the still incredible amount of mana still captured inside of its crystal structure, as well as a blooming awareness of everything inside the tower.

I… I’m a dungeon master!

Quint choked back an excited sob and the urge to scream ‘unlimited power!’

Despite the tragic demise of his kindly master who had taken him in as an orphan, Quint couldn’t help the smile of wonder spreading across his face.

Dungeons were rare in the Dunbar Kingdom, and dungeon masters even rarer. Most wizards who managed to bind a dungeon were either an Archwizard or very close to becoming one.

Quint was just an apprentice!

Granted, he had been riding on the coattails of his master’s significant wealth and skill, as well as what must’ve been a prodigious amount of luck.

Quint looked at the deep fried corpse of his master and felt a wave of sorrow and pity.

His master had dedicated decades to the craft of mana and more recently, the art of dungeon binding, not to mention arduously procuring the dungeon core itself.

Today should’ve been the fruition of a lifetime dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and power!

And an open window and a sparrow had taken him out.

Oh, poor master Woggins.

Quint hurriedly closed the window in case another sparrow flew in and caused the tower to explode.

What in the seven hells do I do now?

His master hadn’t discussed much of his plans after he had bound the dungeon, but surely both his allies and enemies would be looking closely indeed to determine whether or not the old wizard had succeeded…

“Oh Master Woggins… what do I do now?”

Q…u…i…n…t…

Quint screamed for the second time that day as the ghost of his master drifted up from his corpse.