Tales Of Those Stuck In A Dungeon

Dave of Stri'dir has been found in the dungeon, mutated into a monster. The Prince of Heart has been stolen away to no one even knows where. And Kanaya Maryam has just committed her first murder.

After the explosive events of the night, Karkat Vans has agreed to help bring Kanaya down to the dungeon. But that assurance isn't enough- there's still the tower in the woods which the Prince has left behind, and now that it's getting around the friend group that an expedition to the bottom of the dungeon is imminent, how can she choose who to take and who to leave?

Kanaya Maryam follows the words of a mysterious R.L. Theras into the belly of Skaia's dungeon. She may even be in love.

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And Then Came The Moment When We Saw It. The Passage Below Ceased Being A Passage, Liminally Natural And Yet Artificial, Impossible To Tell Whether The Hand Of Man Might Have Descended To Shape It. Then It Became A Proper Room; One Of Shimmering Pillars Ascending Into The Blackened Heavens And A Ceiling So High It Became Indistinguishable From The Sky. 

The Staff Which Karkat Had Been Using To Test The Way Became A Flurry Of Movement As We Descended Three Wide Steps Into The Belly Of The Beast, Ever More Wary For The Splendor Gracing Us. Again The Floor Reminded Me Of A Chessboard; Its Entire Width Made Up Of Tiles Of Alternating Black And White Marble. We Were To Become Players In This Cosmic Game, It Appeared, And We Did Not Yet Know The Stakes.

As We Could Not See The Far Wall, We Moved Forward. As We Did, I Wondered Aloud If There Might Have Been Some Magic We Could Not Detect Here.

My Companions Assured Me It Was Unlikely. Magic Carries Tells; Smells And Feelings And Impressions Of The Dire Presence. It Is Much The Same As What I Had Learned During My Ultimately Failed Schooling And Yet The Impression Could Not Be Shaken.

Perhaps It Was Simply The Result Of The Unease In My Stomach, Seeing The Faint Look Of Inscriptions Upon The Pillars Which Aradia Would Occasionally Cast Her Longing Glances Toward. Perhaps It Was The Feeling Meant To Be Inspired By The Statuary Motif Of Winged Serpents Coiling About The Far Reaches Of The Great Masts Of Stone, Showing Only Their Skull Faces, Twisted In Malice Or Despair. 

Perhaps It Is Because No Matter Where I Stepped, My Feet Landed Upon White, While Feferi And Aradia’s Landed Upon Black. 

When We Found The Prince Again It Was Too Late.

I Was Running Down The Central Nave Of Creation’s Cathedral, My Breath Freezing In The Air. If I Was Running From The Spectre Theras Or Another, I No Longer Knew- I Simply Knew That I Must Run, Or Else Something Would Seize Upon Me.

Then I Was Being Dragged Away. I Will Not Speak Of The Ensuing Struggle- Of The Kicking, The Screaming, The Hellish Tongues Whispered In False Comfort. It All Ends The Same. The Spectre Of Theras, Of Rose Lalonde, The Idol Corrupted By Death Herself, Held Me Fast In Her Arms And Would Not Release Me For All The World.

Then Came The Beast.

I Spied Its Path Through The Gaps In The Archways. The Serpent, A Massive Monstrosity Of Bright Orange Markings Upon Bands Of Black And Red, Coursed Through The Central Nave In The Shadow Of Something Altogether Unknown. It Was Here Where My Struggles Stopped, And Rose And I Simply Stood Still Against The Wall, Watching As It Moved.

The Rattle Was Expected. I Have Read Of Some Serpents Who Possess The Trait. What Wasn’t Expected Was The Rasp That Accompanied, Splintering Out As Though From A Throat Inexperienced In The Ways Of Speech.

Over And Over Came The Faint Call, Rose. Rose. Roooose…

When I Spied The Snake’s Head Moving Backwards, I Could Not Comprehend It. Would It Not Have Made Sense To Move Forward? To Go Where That Restlessly Shaking Head Lead, The Rattle Emanating From The Strange Protrusions Under Its Jaw?

It Was Then When I Realized: The Serpent Wasn’t The Head.

Our Makeshift Party Was A Little Slapdash, But No Less Well-Rounded. Feferi Would Act As Both Mage And Resurrectionist; Aradia As Back-Up Caster And Exorcist; With Vriska Taking The Role Of Party Leader And Karkat Begrudgingly Joining As Scout. I Alone Made Up The Rear Guard, Where I Was To Take This Trial By Fire By Providing Support As Much As I Was Able.

It Became Clear To Me That I Am Out Of My Depth Both In Terms Of Experience And In Terms Of Camaraderie. There Is A Certain Ease To The Roles In Which The Others Had Found Themselves In, Despite The Objections Of Any Particular Member. Karkat Led With An Ear Out And Feet Stepping Cautiously, Sweeping The Ground Of The Narrow Passage Occasionally To Forcibly Trigger Any Traps Left; Vriska Went After, Her Sword Bared, Covering The Height That Vans’ Lacked To See Farther Ahead. Feferi Stayed Safely In The Middle, Bearing The Light Magic Which Cast The Washed Out Rock In An Eerie Yellow Hue While Aradia Stayed Just A Step Behind Me And Searched For Her Ghosts.

There Was Conversation, At First. Vriska’s Bravado Melded With Aradia’s Idle Chatter And Feferi’s Forced Cheerfulness In Such A Way That My Previous Fear Had Begun To Wane. I Was In the Midst Of Friends- Albeit Not Ones I Was Particularly Close To- And Their Words Held Histories Shared Together.

But The Passage Seemed To Darken Even With The Spell In Feferi’s Hands And Soon, Things Lapsed Into Silence. We Traveled Along The Gentle Incline Of The Passage With Enough Room To Stroll Pair By Pair, Then With The Walls Brushing Our Shoulders, And Then Single File. 

More Than Sword Or Promise Of Riches There Was The Dungeon Of Skaia, This Festering Wound In The Soil. It Was the Lure To Which The Prince Of Heart Was Bound And The Very Demon Which Opened Its Jaws To Devour.

I Tried To Call Him Away. To Tell Him To Leave That Yawning Maw Of A Cavern’s Entrance, To Seek Shelter So That We Might Protect Ourselves. I Tried And Could Not Speak.

I Watched The Prince Descend Into The Black Abyss. I Stood By As His Tattered Cape Was Swallowed By Shadow. I Did Not Take My Eyes Off Of This Secret Entrance Until The Jewel In His Crown Was Finally Snuffed Out.

I Do Not Know When I Was Found There. It Could Have Been Mere Minutes Or It Could Have Been Hours. While The Trees Were Thinner Upon This Coppice, There Was No Moon WIth Which To Tell The Time And The Stars Seemed To Hide For Sorrow. 

Yet I Did Not Move.

How Might I Describe It? What Way Is There To Describe How The Shape Of A Man Ignites, Bathed In Flame And Dark Rose-Petal Tones, Hair A Mile-Long Ribbon Of Gold Tarnished To The Roots? How When His Feet Smashed Through The Mantle Of The World, Thunder Splintered The Jagged Plates Of Earth Around Him As Though To Flee?

He Arose And Smoke Peeled From The Corners Of His Lips, Suffused Of Pink Lightning Which Burned Ozone Where He Tread. Though His Height Might Seem Below Notice, His Every Step Was That Of A Giant’s. 

There I Remained, Attended Upon By The Distant Cry Of Owl And The Erstwhile Clawing Of A Beast Scratching Its Way Through The Earth, And Prayed That Nightmares Did Not Come True.

It Wasn’t As Though I Were In Any True Danger With Them. Of Those Who Took Me Away, There Were Only Four: Feferi, Speaking Of Strange Waters; Aradia, Of Strange Ghosts; Karkat, and Vriska. In Their Own Ways They Were Trying To Help, Even If Some Such Help Was More Hindrance Than Kindness. That Was Their Only True Request: Do Not Go Where They Could Not Follow.

Yet I Did Not Listen. 

I Had Tired Of The Endless Cycle Of Debate. My Temporary Companions Attempting To Warn Me Or Warn Each Other In Turns, Clashing And Lashing About, Beginning To Speak Of Ghosts, And Nightmares, And Endless Quests Of Futility. 

To Hell With Logs; With Records And Accords Drawn Up In Faith Of Any Kind. The Prince Of Heart, Who Should Have Been Relegated To The Annals Of Legend, Is Real. He’s Alive.