I was on an island.

It had taken me a moment to recall how to focus my vision on the horizon. Though it wasn’t obviously listed in my abilities, and I could no longer look just anywhere, I still seemed to have something resembling my starsight. At least, I could focus on things a few miles outside my influence and enhance my view. It wasn’t quite the same as actually moving my point of view there, and I couldn’t hear anything, but I could see, which was all I needed right now.

What I saw made my hopes drop. At the edge, where there should be sea lapping at the shore, there was only a sudden drop. The land was jagged and broken, like the island had been torn from its moorings in the earth. I couldn’t fathom the massive force it must’ve taken to tear a landmass this size free.

I peaked over the edge, dreading what I’d see. The cliff dropped away suddenly, and a vast blue ocean spread out far beneath. Well, it resembled an ocean, but the blue was too… blue, and there were no waves. It glowed with its own faint light. It had to be the Aether Sea, but how exactly I was floating above it was beyond my understanding of magic. Logically, the island should be annihilated by the aether.

It was disquieting to watch. So perfectly still and serene, yet so deadly. Potentially my core could survive being submerged in aether, but I didn’t feel like testing that my immunity to aether had been retained when I’d become a Dungeon Core. Nothing else on my island would survive, all physical matter was destroyed by aether. It was an immutable fact of existence.

I retreated back to my area of influence and thought about it.

The sea had been slowly creeping across the face of the world since its appearance, consuming the land bite by bite. Had this been what Tamyris meant when she said Esiliur was already doomed? The Aether Sea had appeared … I tried to recall. Sometimes time jumbled itself up when you’d lived as long as me, and the holes in my memory weren’t helping. A thousand years ago seemed about right, give or take a few centuries. If it was spreading as rapidly as that, maybe Tamyris was right. Esiliur had only had a few centuries left, even without my fall accelerating the flow of aether through the hole in the sphere.

The island had clearly floated here for a long time, so it wasn’t in immediate danger of collapsing into the aether. That was good. But how were adventurers supposed to reach me? On one hand, I was probably fairly safe. A floating island surrounded by a deadly ocean was great for defensive purposes.

On the other hand, that wouldn’t matter if the world died in nine months. I needed power if I wanted to survive.

I didn’t know how to solve the problem, and my mind burned from pushing at my faded memories. I withdrew to my core, and tried to rest.

***

Stars shared an inability to sleep with Dungeon Cores. But I could hibernate, only half aware of the outside world, just as I had when I dwelt in the heavens. Time passed rapidly in that state, and if I wasn’t careful, I could lose years. There had been a period in the early dark age where mortals had been proving unbearably dull - so much death, plague and senseless regression. I’d decided to rest for a moment and next thing I knew, I’d lost fifty years.

This time, it was only a few days, but when I emerged, there was someone on my island.

It had been his knocking that roused me. He was pacing back and forth in front of the great bronze doors of the temple, and occasionally, he’d stop and knock his first on the metal for a few minutes. When he received no answer, he resumed trying to wear a rut into my lovely stonework.

He was an old man of indeterminate old age. Human I thought, though there are species who look almost exactly human externally, so it wasn’t a guarantee. He wore a dark robe made of a fine but plain fabric. He was a man of means then, but one with enough nous to choose something practical rather than showy. A huge tome floated lazily in his wake, held aloft by some sort of magic. It was a beautiful, ornate object, nearly the size of a man’s torso, bound in leather. The cover was set with five large orange stones, each at the point of a golden pentagram.

He had to be a mage of some sort to own such a thing. On principle, I disliked mages - magic often corrupted mortals, or at least, many of the worst mortals I’d observed had used magic to their ends. But this one had knocked, instead of just blasting down my front door, so at least he didn’t intend to kill me immediately. Or he was very polite about it.

It didn’t matter. I couldn’t talk to him anyway, and he was clearly too high level to delve my dungeon. If he was a scholar, I had no interest in being peppered with questions. If he was a treasure seeker, I had no treasure. I’d just wait until he got bored and left.

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Actually, that raised the question. How had he reached my island?

I left him pacing at the door and searched around the island. It didn’t take very long to find the creature he’d used. It was like someone had taken a lion and an eagle and squashed them together, and then inflated it to the size of a dragon. A griffin, but the biggest one I’d ever seen. A gondola was lashed to its back for comfortable transport. Right now, it was picking through the low plants at the edge of the jungle, probably searching for the small animals hiding there, and apparently content to entertain itself while its owner was bothering me.

This was good. If one person could find me, others could. I might have a chance to level up. On the other hand, if they brought more creatures the size of the griffin and next time they were hostile…

I didn’t like the thought at all. I’d have to rig up some sort of aerial defenses for the island. Perhaps there was a plant I could use for that, though I wasn’t sure what it would be yet.

I spent a moment contemplating my plant list, but no matter how I tried to puzzle it out, none of the plants I had access to right now seemed useful.

Frustratingly, when I looked back at my front doors, the mage was still there. Didn’t he know that closed doors meant no one was home? At least, I thought that was the reason mortals had doors in the first place.

I glared at him fruitlessly. Go away! Nobody is home!

As bold as every other time, he marched up to the door and knocked on it with his closed fist.

Fine. I opened the doors with more flair than was strictly necessary.

The man nearly tumbled over, not expecting the solid surface he was pounding on to suddenly retreat. He righted himself quickly and smiled broadly when he saw what lay beyond the door.

I looked at my temple again, but it didn’t seem all that exciting to me. It was still empty, because I hadn’t decided what to put there. I’d restored all the damage from my fall, so it just looked like a mustering old building, though a grand one.

The mage’s tome followed him as he strode into the temple, neck straining to take in the mosaic ceiling and eyes shining with delight. He talked to himself as he walked. “A temple to Sunxa, I think. Beautifully preserved. Perhaps the one at Alypia?”

He reached the center of the temple and made a complete turn. “Now, where are you hiding?”

I’m not hiding, I said with anger.

“Yes, you are.”

I could’ve sworn he spoke as if he’d heard me, but that was impossible. Even Tamyris hadn’t been able to hear me, and she was a god. This random human mage definitely couldn’t.

Your mother was a hamster.

He tutted. “Now, that’s not very nice. My mother was a lovely woman, and only resembled a hamster a little.”

You can hear me?!

“Yes, I can. Would you mind making a chair? It has been a long journey and my legs aren’t as young as they used to be.”

I was reluctant to do anything this strange mage asked, but if he could really hear me… maybe he could help? With a thought, I formed a chair next to the mage.

He waited until the motes of mana had finished solidifying the structure, and then sat down with a sigh of relief. “That’s better.”

Who are you?

He started to massage the back of his neck, working out a knot. “Youngsters have no patience these days.”

I’m not young. I resented the suggestion.

“Your dungeon seems plenty young.”

I’m older than your species, you little -

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your guests? Why don’t we start with introductions? I am Cixilo Brakshur, the world’s foremost scholar on dungeons, and you are?”

I toyed with not answering him, but what harm could a name do? Mizar.

He waved his hand, and the magical tome floated closer and then flipped open. Cixilo flipped through the pages, his tongue poking out as he thought hard. I tried to peak over his shoulder to read, but the text just turned into a messy blur, like someone had smudged wet ink. It had to be some sort of anti-spying charm.

After several moments, seemingly Cixilo finally found what he wanted. “Ah, yes. Mizar, the southernmost star of the constellation Tonao. I thought I’d noticed you missing.”

At least someone did. What did humans call the expression when they sulked? Pouting. I was pouting.

“It is good to make your acquaintance, Mizar. Am I the first to arrive?”

Yes.

Cixilo crossed one leg over the other, careful and precise, and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling again. “No doubt others will be close behind me. I had some advantages, but so will they. Then, as much as I’d like to rest, we’d better begin. Where to start?”

I considered the strange mage. What was he talking about? So far he’d explained very little. Yet he seemed to be waiting for an answer from me. How about the beginning?

Cixilo smiled toothily. “Marvelous suggestion.”