The dungeon they navigated was a blend of the uncanny and the familiar, as if the boundaries between the natural world and the fantastical had been irrevocably blurred. Thorne, still adjusting to his new form, floated alongside Percy, his luminescence casting eerie shadows on the uneven, obsidian walls of the dungeon.

The terrain alternated between craggy rocks, moist, lichen-covered surfaces, and sudden stretches of mirror-smooth obsidian. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like the teeth of a gigantic beast, dripping with a viscous fluid that glowed with a sickly, phosphorescent light.

The air hung heavy with a sense of anticipation, like the quiet that precedes a storm, punctuated only by the occasional growl of unseen creatures and the echo of their own footsteps. The dungeon had its own peculiar rhythm - a slow, ancient heartbeat that reverberated within its stone arteries, whispering tales of time passed in every shiver of the rock.

“Don’t be scared, Percy,” Thorne said in as consoling a voice as he could manage. Gentleness had never been one of his strong points, but he wouldn’t let his apprentice remain in fear.

“I’m not.”

“Alright, then. Well, if you are…then don’t be.”

“I’m not. Where are we going, anyhow?”

“To answer where we’re going, my lad, I’d need a reference of where we were before. All I know is that a tiny part of this dungeon feels more comforting to me than the rest. Let’s just explore a little and try to get our bearings.”

“What if we get lost?”

“Not possible,” answered Thorne. “My part of this place seems to…call to me. We can never get lost from it.”

A flickering light ahead of them grew brighter as they approached an open cavern. Its ceiling was lost in the shadows, suggesting an incredible height. Bioluminescent fungi carpeted the floor and climbed the walls, bathing the cavern in a surreal, ethereal glow. The cavern seemed to beat with a rhythm of its own, a pulse of life amidst the otherwise lifeless dungeon.

At the heart of the cavern was the source of the flickering light - a stand made out of rock and draped in colorful, faded cloths, set up with a flamboyance that seemed entirely out of place in the dungeon's otherwise grim ambiance. Jars of unidentifiable substances, piles of mysterious artifacts, and amulets made from strange, unknown materials lay haphazardly scattered across the stand.

Behind it, a creature hovered, a gaunt figure clothed in shimmering velvet, casting long, grotesque shadows on the cavern floor. His eyes, twin pools of liquid silver, reflected a keen, unworldly intelligence, and his grin held the secret knowledge of unspoken secrets.

Thorne and Percy stood on the threshold of the cavern, their eyes wide with a combination of trepidation and awe. This was an unexpected sight in the otherwise grim and haunting dungeon – a hint of civilization, a touch of the eccentric, right in the belly of the beast.

Percy stepped forward, seemingly unfazed by the Merchant's strange appearance. “I’ll speak to it and translate for you, Master Thorne,” he said.

Thorne still couldn’t get used to the idea that Percy had this gift, and the ‘master’ part of him didn’t relish relying on his apprentice to speak for him. Nevertheless he was practical above everything else, so he stayed quiet.

"Hullo," Percy said.

Where his conversation with the monsters had sounded gruff and bestial, the language he used to speak to this creature was light and musical, like the higher notes of a guitar played by deft fingers.

The strange being looked up, his gaze scanning Percy before falling on Thorne. His silver eyes widened in interest, then a wide grin broke across his face, revealing sharp, strangely silvered teeth. "Well, what have we here?" he said, his voice deep and smooth, like the soft purr of a large cat.

Percy looked taken aback for a moment but quickly regained his composure. “We were just passing by, and we wanted to talk with you."

“Then by all means, talk.”

“Ask him who he is,” said Thorne.

The creature listened to Percy, then answered, “Well, well. A curious duo, aren't we? Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am known by many names, but you may call me Tebo.”

“Nice to meet you, Tebo,” said Percy. “I am Master Percy, and this is my apprentice, Thorne.”

“What did you say to him?” asked Thorne.

“Only that we are master and apprentice.”

“Then why are you grinning?”

“It is just a wonder, master, that I can converse with such a creature. That’s all.”

“Ask Tebo what he does here. Maybe he can help us.”

Percy nodded. “No problem, Master.”

Hearing Percy out, Tebo spread his arms, gesturing grandly to the various curios and oddities arrayed on his stand. “I am a merchant, a trader of sorts. Not your typical kind, mind you. I deal in the extraordinary, the mystical, and sometimes, the strange.”

Thorne listened to him, a hint of caution shimmering within his form. The merchant was clearly more than what he appeared to be. Thorne just hoped that his information came with a price they could afford to pay.

“Ask him what this place is, and how we might escape it. Ask him what I am. What has that arsehole of a sorcerer turned me into, and how might I reverse it?”

“That might be a lot to ask,” said Percy.

“Then let’s focus on what this place is, so at least we can understand that much. The feeling of being in a completely unknown place is overwhelming everything else, so perhaps we should start there.”

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“No problem, Master.”

Percy asked his question, and Tebo listened with great patience, before answering, “Ah, well, there's a lot to discuss, isn't there?" He tapped his nose knowingly. "But straight answers to straight questions... Well, where's the fun in that?"

Thorne bristled, his form pulsating with aggravation. "Percy, tell him that if he doesn't answer our questions, we have no reason to stick around."

“He says that he doesn’t care if we stick around, master.”

“Hmm. He says he’s a merchant. Doesn’t he want to do business?”

To this, Tebo replied, “Tell the core that I’d rather do business with a snot imp.”

“Well?” asked Thorne.

“He says he’d be delighted to do business with you, Master, but he is reluctant.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, we’ll need to convince him, or we’ll be stuck here forever.”

Percy said to Tebo, “Tebo, information about this place might help us gather or even craft interesting items, things you've never seen or dealt with before."

Tebo blinked, tilting his head as he regarded Percy thoughtfully. "An interesting proposition," he admitted, his eyebrows lifting in intrigue. "Items of novelty are rare in this place, it's true. Yet, how do I know you can deliver on such a promise? What is your guarantee?"

Percy, taking a deep breath, looked at Thorne, then back at the merchant. "Our guarantee is the master blacksmith of Ironreach. You are in the presence of Thorne, one who has crafted masterpieces from scrap and could create wonders even in a place as desolate as this, given the knowledge and the resources."

“He is but a lowly dungeon core.”

Thorne’s temper bristled, but he held it in check and instead filed away a new observation about himself; not only was he now something known as a dungeon core, but evidently, his kind were placed lower on the social ladder than others. It was quite a fall from his status in Ironreach, though he refused to let himself dwell on it. Not only would that not help him, but he had resolved to show Percy that he was still Master Thorne, and that he wouldn’t crumble when facing adversity.

“Core or not,” he said, through Percy, “I have in me the knowledge of crafts that you could only dream of. Once I regain the power to use them, I will create things that leave you in awe.”

"All right, all right... I'll trade information, but not for nothing. I'm a merchant, after all,” said Tebo.

“What can we give you?”

"I don't need conventional currency... but I do trade for more interesting things. How about... a lie that tells the truth?"

"What in the twelve hells does he mean by a 'lie that tells the truth'?” Thorne grumbled, his form flickering in irritation.

Percy, patient and thoughtful as always, said, "Maybe he means a paradox, Master Thorne. Something that seems contradictory but might hold some truth."

While Percy's interpretation did make some sense, Thorne was not in the mood for riddles. He had never enjoyed them, not even as a child. His world was that of hammers and steel, things you could depend on to act as they should. Riddles were forms of deception, and he could never answer them. This wasn’t a failing on his part; it was simply the way his mind had been forged. It was in his nature.

"This is madness! We don't have time for this nonsense. Tell him to give us a straight request!" he said.

“My master asks if there is anything else we can trade with you?” said Percy.

Tebo stroked his chin. “Hmm…how about the sound of silence?”

Percy sighed. He knew he couldn’t possibly repeat this cryptic answer to Thorne.

“Well?” asked Thorne.

“He…uh…”

“He must want something else, Percy. Maybe I can sign a contract. When my body is restored, I will craft anything he desires.”

Percy relayed this to Tebo, who shook his head. “Items come later. For now, I need something different. A lie that tells the truth, or the sound of silence.”

“Is he interested?” asked Thorne.

“He says that he would like,” began Percy, wondering how his life had put him in this position, “A lie that tells the truth or…or the sound of silence.”

Calming thoughts, Thorne told himself. Don’t lose your temper. Especially not at Percy. The lad is doing a fantastic job.

“It seems the only thing we can do is to try to fulfill his request.”

“I agree, Master.”

The next part was delicate for Thorne, as he felt childhood embarrassments swim into his mind. He remembered his lessons at school. Not the practical ones; he was always the best in his class at those. But the matters of the mind, or theory. Those lessons had always been hardest for him.

“Percy, I think this would be a good test of your apprenticeship for you to figure this out.”

“For my apprenticeship?”

“Certainly. A good smith must work on his own initiative, and adapt to all kinds of strange requests.”

“Ah. You’re right,” said Percy. He thought in silence as Tebo watched on, an amused smile on his face. Finally, he said, “This dungeon is an endless maze.”

“It certainly is,” replied Tebo.

“No, I mean that’s a lie that tells the truth. The dungeon can’t be endless; all physical spaces have an end. However, the statement still gets across the truth that this place is sprawling and confusing, and to a stranger here, it can seem to run on forever.”

Tebo said nothing fro a moment, before clapping his hands together in joy. “Splendid! Very good, Master Percy. Most excellent.”

Thorne felt himself well up with pride. “Well done, lad.”

“Thank you, Master Thorne.”

“So, will you answer our questions?” asked Thorne.

After Percy repeated this, Tebo replied, “A deal is a deal.”

Percy and Tebo conversed for a while, and Thorne felt very much left out, though he remained patient and trusted his apprentice to get the correct information.

Tebo seemed to think hard before he began his explanation, his gnarled fingers counting points off in the air. He started by confirming their suspicions that they were indeed within a dungeon—an ancient one at that, filled with both wonders and horrors in equal measure.

He mentioned that the place they found themselves in was simply one Aspect of the dungeon. Aspects, he said, became more perilous than others the deeper you went into the dungeon, with certain Aspects inhabited by creatures too terrifying to mention.

“He says to avoid a place called The Bloodless Barrens,” said Percy.

“With a name like that, I think I’d avoid it anyhow.”

Tebo also mentioned areas that might be beneficial to visit. For example, 'The Crystal Caverns' was a location teeming with magical energy, a place where Thorne might find materials to further enhance his core and abilities.

Finally, Tebo advised that escape from the dungeon was possible, but that it would rely on resources that could only be found in deeper aspects. Deeper Aspects should only be visited when Thorne and Percy were ready. Right now, they were far from it.

“Does he have any advice for me as a dungeon core?” asked Thorne.

Tebo explained that dungeon cores were like dogs; though there were commonalities between differed breeds, each was unique and possessed its own strengths and weaknesses.

Of course, Percy didn’t express this to Thorne in such terms.

“He says that you are a unique being, a splendid being, but you’ll have to find out about your skills on your own,” said Percy. “However, he says that ‘on your own’ doesn’t always mean on your own.”

“Him and his stupid bloody riddles. Anything else?”

“That’s it, master.”

“Well, please thank him for me, Percy. And my thanks to you, too. You were invaluable.”

“Thank you, Master.”

As they said their goodbyes to Tebo and prepared to head back to Thorne’s part of the dungeon, the merchant called out to them.

“He has something for you, Master. A gift to his new friends,” Percy translated.

Tebo rewarded Thorne with a smattering of glowing crystal shards. Thorne looked at it, not wanting to appear ungrateful, but also wondering what the heck it was.

“He says it is core essence, master, and you should absorb it.”

Just as with Percy’s language and with Thorne’s own improved sight, he no more had to internally question how to absorb it, then it instinctually happened. As he did, he felt a surge of power flooding his consciousness.

The synapses in what passed for a brain in his new form seemed to expand as information flowed through them. Information new and old, forgotten and remembered, secret and yet known.

Now I sound like Tebo, Thorne thought.

When the rush ended, Thorne was left with something new. An instinctual ability that had been buried in his crystal gut, which had now resurfaced.

“Master?” said Percy, questioningly.

For the first time since this ordeal started, Thorne felt himself smile inwardly. “It seems my crafting has not completely left me, Percy. We have work to do.”