The words "We've been ambushed!" reverberated in Prince Meron’s ears, the shock freezing him in place for a heartbeat. “What? How? How is that even possible?” he demanded, his light orange eyes wide with disbelief.
Still breathing heavily, Gulam rose shakily from his knees. His dark brown eyes were grim, shadows of fatigue etched into his sharp features. “I don’t know, my Prince. A gas, a poisonous one spread through our the area we moved through. Somehow, we were teleported here. My men… some went ahead to scout, but the others…” He paused, his voice breaking under the weight of his words. “The others are no more.”
The tension in the air grew thicker. Princess Agatha’s deep yellow eyes darted between Gulam and her brother. “Then where do we go from here?” she asked, her voice small but steady.
Gulam drew in a labored breath. “We must leave this place. The gas lingers, and the air grows fouler with every moment. Follow me.”
The group stepped out of the royal carriage, Gulam raising a magical lamp to illuminate their surroundings. The lamp’s glow spilled forth, revealing a dungeon bathed in shadows. The walls, slick with moisture, were lined with jagged stones that seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive. Vines with bioluminescent buds slithered across the surfaces, emitting a sickly green light that contrasted with the lamp’s steady golden glow. The air was damp and carried a metallic tang, reminiscent of rust and blood.
Above them, the ceiling of the cavern yawned into darkness, the occasional flicker of movement hinting at unseen creatures lurking above. Every step echoed unnervingly, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence that followed.
Prince Meron tightened his grip on his sword. “It feels like we’ve been teleported into a dungeon.”
Gulam nodded. “We have, but not one I recognize. This place… it’s unlike any dungeon near Eldo-Clearoth.”
Princess Agatha and Princess Rissane tread cautiously, their gazes flitting around the cave. The silver-grey haired Rissane finally spoke, her green eyes scanning the uneven walls. “It seems… artificial.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Artificial?” Meron turned to her, curiosity lacing his voice.
Rissane Continued, brushing a strand of her long silver-grey hair from her face. “My father mentioned something like this once. Dungeons made for training elite forces—artificial dungeons, he called them. I’ve never seen one, but this matches what he described… I think.” She shrugged slightly with a half-hearted chuckle, trying to mask her unease.
The group pressed on, the silence punctuated only by their careful footsteps and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling. The path ahead twisted and turned, the light from Gulam’s lamp barely enough to chase away the growing unease that clawed at their hearts.
Eventually, they reached a fork in the path—two tunnels, one leading left and the other right. The left tunnel was dimly lit, its walls reflecting a faint, flickering light. The right was engulfed in complete darkness, the void seeming to stretch endlessly.
The group hesitated, their gazes settling on Gulam. Despite the ache in his chest and the weight of his injuries, the knight straightened. His keen eyes studied the faint glow emanating from the left tunnel. “That light… It must be the men I sent ahead. We’ll go left,” he decided firmly.
The others nodded, following his lead as they entered the left passage. The light grew brighter as they advanced, revealing broken weapons and scraps of armor littering the ground—evidence of a struggle.
Then Gulam stopped abruptly, his lamp’s glow falling on a horrifying scene.
Bodies lay sprawled across the tunnel floor—his men. Their forms were grotesquely contorted, their limbs bent at unnatural angles. But it wasn’t just the positioning of their bodies that sent a shiver through the group.
Their heads were gone.
Bloodless stumps where their necks had been connected to their torsos gleamed in the lamp’s light. Some were missing arms or legs, their flesh torn cleanly away as though by razor-sharp teeth. There was no blood on the ground, no sign of a struggle beyond the broken equipment. It was as though the life had been drained entirely from their bodies, leaving behind only hollow husks.
Gulam’s breath caught in his throat as the lamp trembled in his hand. The prince and princesses froze, their young faces pale with terror.
“They… they’re dead,” Rissane whispered, her voice trembling.
A shiver ran down their spines, a chill that seemed to seep into their very souls. The oppressive silence of the dungeon now felt malevolent, the shadows pressing closer as if alive.
And somewhere, deep within the dungeon, a sound echoed, a low, guttural growl that promised nothing but death.