The group prowled forward, remaining as quiet and cautious as they could whenever they crossed into a new room. They had traversed three chambers so far, each one growing darker as sunlight dim and sparse. They were searching for an area with stairs, as that would lead them to the peak of the castle where the dragon presumably resided. Rep had ignited a flame of his own, not satisfied with Fran being the single source of light in the darkened corridors.

Yelsa had made her way to Fran and was clinging onto her tunic, wanting to remain close to the light that repelled the cave crickets that they still occasionally witnessed. They saw the insects less frequently the deeper they traveled, likely as the lack of food was causing it to be harder to proliferate as a species within the walls. Zalan continued analyzing what he could in the dancing shadows of the rooms they passed through, trying to put together the story of what happened to the people. There were chairs and small chambers where dozens of servants probably lived, but no sign of them. He even looked for skeletons to no avail.

He suddenly realized that he might be the only one wondering. The others might have known the history of the castle and assumed he knew as well, despite their promises to treat him as a fool that knew nothing.

“What happened to the Castle of Docrun? It looks like there used to be so many people,” Zalan asked.

“Docrun himself is what happened,” Gorb said gravely.

Zalan waited a few seconds before realizing that Gorb thought that was somehow an adequate response.

“What did Docrun do?” Zalan prompted.

“King Docrun was a decent ruler with a good kingdom. His people tolerated him in such a way that some might even say they enjoyed his rule. He was not known for saying unkind words or being unfair to others. But they were not steadfastly loyal. And he was incredibly vain. He saw others in his kingdom that had Elemental Powers and said that he wanted the power himself. He said, ‘What kind of ruler is weaker than his people?’”

“Plenty of them,” Fran answered cynically from the front of the group.

“Be that as it may,” Gorb continued. “He sent his people out in search of an Elemental that would give him unrivaled strength. One finally returned with word of an Elemental that he may be interested in. A Dark Elemental. They and the Bright Elementals are notorious for immensely difficult challenges. His people begged him not to accept the challenge. But he was arrogant. He could not be powerless. The challenge was severe. The Elemental sent a dragon to this castle for him to defeat.”

“Alone?” Yelsa asked, stunned.

“Indeed. An Elemental’s challenge must always be taken on alone. Worse yet, when Docrun failed, the dragon remained behind. It decided that the hoard room would be its home,” Gorb said.

“So people lived in the same castle as a dragon?” Zalan asked.

“Far from it. The people left after having attempted to gain access to the king’s treasures. But no one could touch the treasures of Docrun, even after he died in combat with the monster. The wealth of the castle was locked up, protected by a monster that no one had access to. In addition, Docrun was very protective of his wealth, known for setting traps to stop intruders. Even his closest advisors had no advantages in obtaining his riches. As a result, no one knew exactly how much he had. There was much speculation that he wanted an Elemental Power because he was running out of wealth and needed another way to keep order. They said that perhaps he died poor, but never wanted his kingdom to be made aware. No one thought it was worth the trouble to defeat the dragon. Instead, the castle’s people took what they could of the castle’s furnishings and left,” Gorb said.

Zalan took another look at the threadbare surroundings and was finally able to understand the circumstances of this setting.

“How long ago was that?” Zalan asked.

“I do not know,” Gorb replied.

“How long do dragons live?” Zalan followed up.

“I do not know.”

“Is it possible this is the same dragon as in the story?” Zalan asked.

“I do not know.”

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“All right, good talk, thanks Gorb,” Zalan sighed, defeated.

Zalan took another glance around the hall they were walking through and could see the evidence of the place being looted by people leaving. Things that were high on the walls were left behind, but things like cushions on the chairs had been removed, and even some chairs were broken apart to be taken in pieces and sold for scrap. It didn’t look like there was a tragic event that emptied the castle because it was much simpler than a major tragedy. People just left their home when it was clear that it wasn’t safe to stay any longer. The empty halls felt lifeless and lonely. Everything was shrouded in such prevalent darkness. He felt a sour pit in his stomach when he realized that was the same state he felt in his own apartment back in the real world.

He threw the idea out of his mind. Things were fine back home. Especially with him so close to being able to get back, he wasn’t going to waste his time building regrets toward something he knew he wanted. Home was great. He would visit Mom.

A tiny frown formed on his face at the last thought.

Fran stopped abruptly in front and the others looked ahead tensely to see what had halted their progress. Fran was looking up at the ceiling intently. The others followed her gaze, preparing themselves for a fight.

There was nothing above them.

“What is it?” Gorb asked her.

“The ceiling is curving upward. I believe there are stairs there. We should go into the room on the left rather than the one at the end of the hall,” Fran replied.

“Very well,” Gorb replied as the others released the edginess in them, loosening their stances and breathing easier.

They opened the doorway to the new room and were pleasantly surprised to see it lit modestly by windows at the top of the high ceilings. There were stairs carved along the round walls leading to the next floor. Zalan looked up to appreciate the size of the room, then stared in shock at something floating at the top of the stairs.

“What—” Zalan’s mouth was clamped over by Gorb’s hand, who was also watching the monster.

The creature was a mass of torso, and two arms, floating in place at the top of the stairs. There was no head on the creature, nor were there legs to be seen. It looked like a grotesque mass of body that was desperately missing essential parts of its wrinkly form. Only a meshy skin-like torso and arms hanging off the side. It had adjusted its body when Zalan made noise, but it wasn’t clear if it was looking at them due to its lack of eyes. From just beyond the upper end of the stairs, two more of the creatures appeared, creeping aimlessly over the upper floor in their ominous, silent floating.

Gorb hesitantly took his hand off of Zalan’s mouth and looked to Fran. Fran shrugged uncertainly and looked to the others for direction on what to do. Yelsa drew her bow and nocked an arrow just in case, but shrugged her shoulders. Zalan waved for them all to lean in.

“What are they?” Zalan whispered, so quietly he could barely hear himself speak.

Everyone looked upward to make sure the creatures didn’t move, then went back to their huddle. Each of the travelers looked to one another, waiting for some clarity on what the headless, legless creatures were. No one had any information.

“Should we face them?” Fran asked quietly.

“No!” Rep hissed immediately. “What if they are dangerous?”

“What if they are harmless? We can kill them and quickly be on our way up,” Fran asked.

“Or they could kill us the moment they come into contact with us,” Rep rebutted.

“How about Yelsa fires an arrow at one of them? If we see it has no effect, then we get out of here. If it looks like we can take them on, we move forward,” Zalan whispered.

Rep shook his head, but the others nodded in unison. Rep wanted to get another word in edgewise, but Yelsa was already pulling her bowstring. Rep ducked his head down as the arrow sailed through the air and struck one of the monster’s torsos toward the top of its body.

Immediately, as though strings were cut when the arrow inserted itself, the body fell straight down and crashed into the castle floor, not moving. Yelsa fired another arrow into the inert body to make sure it was dead. It remained still. Then they looked back up at the other two bulbous monsters to see how they reacted. There was no change in their behavior, they floated over the edge of the stairs silently.

“That was easy enough,” Yelsa said aloud, not whispering in the face of what seemed like weak creatures.

The two creatures flinched at the sound of Yelsa’s voice. They both zoomed toward the party of travelers, floating with their arms extended. Behind them, four more creatures floated over the edge, their arms reaching forward as well. Yelsa yelped and went to draw another arrow, but couldn’t get a grip on her quiver. Her fingers kept stumbling over her ammunition until she gave up and sat down, looking up at the six incoming monsters.

“What are you doing?” Fran asked, concerned as she drew her blade and imbued it with flame.

Fran raised her free hand as if to blast them away with flame, then lowered her hands a second later, a listless look in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Zalan asked, looking over toward both Fran and Yelsa.

But they were gone.

He was alone, sitting on a chair, his weapon gone. He was in a hospital, sitting across a room that he didn’t recognize but immediately knew. He wasn’t supposed to be here. There was no reality where he should be sitting where he was sitting. His heart had gone wild and he knew nothing but dread as he looked at the room he feared. Next to the door was a patient room sign with a name written: Haya Umalasif.

His mom’s hospital room.