Something was off.

A feeling of oddity encircled the surroundings of the dungeon.

One that told of a wayward path.

Most dungeons were always the same planned route with only the mobs differing.

A cave would always be the same stone walls, turns, and rooms within.

Yet, this felt different.

Almost as if the realm had generated this one solely for us.

For my party alone.

Whisperings of dormant power crept throughout the halls.

My soul resonated with the dungeon.

They spoke without words

They responded in turn.

A conversation between forces unknown.

All I could do was continus as if nothing happened.

A listener with no ways of partaking between forces beyond my control.

I hoped for my sanity.

I prayed for my men.

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They felt nothing.

Slaying mobs without worry.

Looting mineral vines as we had thousands of times before.

This was just another dungeon to them.

Entering a separate offshoot of the dungeon we were met with a desecrated shrine.

It looked all parts religious and forgotten.

Moss had grown with vines of thorns surrounding the statue like a protective armor.

A maiden that looked to be holding a cross in one hand and in the other we could not decipher for the stone hand had been severed long ago.

Our breathing had turned visible.

Our hearts filling with the anticipation that always preludes fear

As we grew closer the eyes began to pulse a crimson red.

A voice archaic and aching, as if hurt, asked:

Would you like to pay tribute to relieve a maiden of her pain?

A display triggered asking if we would donate a Molten Heart.

Looking at each other skeptically.

Eyes settling on me, the leader.

How many do we got?

I asked.

Checking the bags we counted five in total.

The cost is definitely not an issue…I muttered.

Now, if anyone would not like to take this risk.

We will go back to the dungeons main corridors and continue to the end.

The group eyed one another.

Fear did not fill their hearts.

Not yet at least.

Confidence from an easy dungeon carried them forward.

Let's do it boss.

They responded.

Taking a deep breath.

Surveying the shrine once again.

Looking for anything.

Anything that would warrant turning back.

I said

Okay, let's start then.

Placing the Molten Heart before the desecrated maiden.

We waited.

Moments turned to minutes.

Minutes dragged.

Until, Wilder remarked

Don't think it's working…

A sinister feeling rushed my soul.

One that spoke of fear, of power, and of something I had experienced before…

Of death.

Before I could react.

The entrance behind us turned a pulsing red.

God damnit I thought, doing my best not to yell and cause my fear to spread like a plague to the party.

It's not that it wasn't working…

The maiden was showing us mercy.

It was giving us time to turn around and run…