Dean came to with a dull throbbing pain that permeated his entire body. A weird monkey was sitting on his chest, making noises of concern and gently rubbing a wad of leaves on a dark patch at his side. It took a moment for everything to come back to him, and he chuckled, startling the Xiaot-Out. In response, it crawled over and bonked him on the head in indignation.

  Despite the pain, he began to get up before noticing a pair of golden eyes gazing out from the nearby shadow. Dean reached for Sheila, but she was not in her sheath; he had dropped his knife before being tackled by the alpha Vipurr.

  He stared at the beast, ready to defend himself, but something was wrong. Jagged stalagmites protruded from its body, blood and viscera seeping from its many wounds. Its breathing was laboured, its eyes unfocused, and it knew this was the end.

  Dean’s stomach lurched in the realisation that it could’ve just as easily been him skewered through; he’d also never seen this level of violence outside of the few kill-or-be-killed situations he’d been in. For some reason, the violence he caused was something he overlooked, but the gruesome misfortune that had befallen this otherwise majestic creature made Dean feel sick to his core.

  Sure, the alpha Vipurr had attempted to kill him, but he could not blame it for its actions. A wild animal saw him as a threat, so it was only natural to act as it did. If anything, it was Dean’s fault for interfering and protecting the Xiaot-Out.

  He did not want the dying beast to suffer any more than it had already, but without Sheila to bring a swift end, there was no solace he could give. Instead, he carefully made his way over and sat next to it. The Vipurr didn’t even have the energy to protest as Dean placed a cautious hand on its head and slowly began to caress the dying monster with great diligence.

  They stayed like that for a long while, Dean softly petting the Vipurr and muttering reassurances until he could no longer feel its soft breath against his leg. He wiped away tears and silently climbed to his feet. The Xiaot-Out clambered up and sat on his shoulder, stroking his head as he had done the Vipurr.

  Dean finally surveyed his surroundings, stowing the emotional baggage for another time. Bright moonlight came in from a hole in the wall, about 20 meters up. The rocky pit he’d landed in was shaped like a crooked teardrop; it was 15 meters across at its widest with a gradual decline, tapering steeply at the far end; he could hear the drip of water falling from stalagmites into a pool in the same direction. He could vaguely make out a tunnel or a narrow stretch of the cave nearby, but it was low to the ground, and he was not a fan of tight spaces.

  The idea of potholing in the dark without any safety gear sent alarm bells ringing in his head. He didn’t even have a light source. He quickly considered asking Gai to create some sort of fantasy glow stick but decided to check what [Visualisation] did.

  Dean closed his eyes and tried to spread his awareness across the cave. The sound of the rhythmic drip grew steadily louder until, all at once, he could visualise the pool. He knew how deep it went. How the rough, rocky tunnel dropped steeply before opening back up onto a tunnel on the other side. The tunnel shrunk and expanded erratically but was never too small for Dean to fit through.

  More interestingly, he could feel greenery at the edge of this new, curious sense. To Dean, it felt like he was right there, seeing, hearing, and smelling the space beyond the pool, but he knew he was standing in the middle of a cave nearly fifty meters away.

  He scooped the Xiaot-Out from his shoulder and plopped it on the floor before him. “Yous hang aboot while I go for a swim, Aye?” he assured the monkey, gesturing as he spoke. The monkey looked up at him with two sets of big sad eyes in protest, but Dean crossed his arms and spoke sternly, “I’ll be havin’ none a that, awrite? I cannae climb up there,” he said, pointing at the hole they had fallen from, “so yous can either stay here and wait, or come fae a swim.”

  The Xioat-Out pouted and made grabby hands at Dean, who, despite his best efforts, dropped his serious fa?ade. He crouched down, sweeping the monkey up in the crook of his arm and used his other hand to tickle the pesky primate unapologetically. “Right! That’s it! You’re getting a name!” he began, unrelenting in his attack, “how do you feel about ‘Milo’?” The monkey, squirming in protest, suddenly stopped its theatrics and shook its head. Dean recognised the necessary stalemate and rubbed his chin in contemplation; the Xiaot-Out mimicked his action on both its faces.

  “Oh! I’m a rite dolly! Are you, perchance, a lassie?”

  Nod.

  “My bad! It’s rude of me tae have assumed. How’s about… Lulu?” Dean proposed, a little embarrassed he didn’t consider that the creature could’ve been female until just a moment ago. In response, the monkey froze briefly, and Dean was worried he’d somehow broken it. Lulu gave him the biggest toothy smile she could muster and jumped right at his face, screaming in joy as she hugged her new friend.

  Dean surfaced from the frigid, murky pool with Lulu clutching onto his shoulders. She immediately leapt from him onto the uneven floor and shivered as Dean mentally resummoned a [floating light]. It was fixed in place and would last a whole minute before winking out.

  He initially hoped the projection would follow or move as he willed it to. Still, after experimenting a few times before exploring the pool, he was slightly disappointed in its limitations. However, it was still preferable to swimming through an underwater tunnel in complete darkness.

  The tunnel was just as he had envisioned, and sure enough, just a few meters away was a patch of grass. Beyond that was something Dean did not expect. Ten meters or so ahead, the tunnel suddenly opened onto an expanse of darkness; he approached the edge and looked out into the abyss. With his acute eyesight, he could make out small fissures in the cavern's ceiling, exposing the slightest sliver of dim moonlight. After waiting for the [floating light] to come off and cool down, he activated it about 30 meters ahead and 10 meters below, banishing the void and unveiling a vast subterranean forest.

  “Ooh,” Dean and Lulu marvelled, their mouths agape.

  “Should we climb down and look around or go back?” Dean asked as Lulu mounted his head for a better look. She emphatically gestured towards the forest, slapping Dean atop the head with a wing. Not needing much motivation anyway, he resummoned his projection to light the way down. He climbed down slowly, reusing his ability twice before reaching the forest floor, some 15 meters down. They wandered a short way into the forest before Dean found a small, even clearing. Sitting down atop a mossy mound near the edge of the clearing, he began to take off his clothes and finally assess the damages.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  He was no doctor, but he was first aid certified and attended yearly refresher courses. Dean poked and prodded at the wound on his side; it was not as big as he thought and had stopped bleeding despite all the movement and having just recently submerged himself in a murky cave pool. He realised how stupid that was with perfect hindsight but figured if he weren’t bleeding, he’d survive long enough to get some sort of antibacterial ointment from Zanling.

  The injury on his back was another problem entirely; he couldn’t see it, so he couldn’t say for sure how bad it was, but the fact that it was weeping and felt numb gave him pause for concern. He wasn’t feeling weakened or feverish, so if it was infected, it currently didn’t affect him. However, it was only a matter of time before things worsened. Before he let his worry get the best of him, he decided to distract himself by building a fire.

  It was drilled into him early by his father to always prepare for the worst and have redundancies in place. He had attached a chuckmuck, a thick leather pouch with a sturdy metal frame, to his belt but hadn’t stored any tinder. So, Dean wandered the surrounding area, gathering as many twigs and any free dead wood as he could find, breaking down the larger pieces the best he could without a blade.

  Next, he set out to find tinder materials. He found some lichen, conifer needles and cones, and paper bark that he peeled from a birch-like tree before returning to the clearing and sitting on his mound near the centre of the clearing.

  He organised his kindling into a small ‘log-cabin’ style lay, starting with a teepee of the smallest kindling over a pile of tinder. Then, he lay two of the largest pieces of wood on either side of the teepee and stacked the next largest atop those, perpendicular to the ones below. He continued a few more times until he lay the last of the kindling across the top, creating a ‘roof’ to the ‘cabin’. Dean had learned that if he built it correctly, it would provide him with hours of warmth without needing to be tended.

  It took him several attempts for the tinder to catch, but with practised nursing, Dean transferred the juvenile flame to the nest of kindling and watched the campfire grow. Shortly thereafter, he found himself drifting off to sleep, curled up against the soft mossy heap with Lulu quietly snoring, nuzzled in the crook of his arms.

  Dean woke with a start to the alarmed screeching of Lulu, which abruptly cut off. Blinking through his sleep-heavy haze, he saw her struggling, ensnared in a ring of barbs that writhed like living things. He made to help, only to find himself bound by thick, sinuous vines that pinned him in place.

  A rustle nearby drew his attention, and he turned his head to see a peculiar creature. No taller than two feet, it had greasy black hair, dark, beady eyes, and a long, pointed nose that twitched as it leaned in to scrutinise him. The creature’s wiry form was hunched over, and wore a ragged grey tunic adorned with leaves and moss.

  “Awake at last, the stranger stirs,

  Bound by nature’s ancient spurs!

  Declare thy plea, oh wayward soul,

  Thy crime is marked— we’ll take our toll!”

  Its voice was melodic, lilting with a Welsh twang that carried a musical cadence. Dean opened his mouth to speak, only to find his voice had vanished. His eyes widened in alarm, and the creature's thin lips curled into a sly smile as it grinned down at him.

  “The boy is weary; his strength is spent,

  To test him now? I do resent!” came another voice, softer and more soothing, though still carrying the same rhythmic intonation. The source was out of sight, but the words resonated like a gentle breeze through hanging chimes.

  “A test! A test! The choice is clear!

  Show thy courage, or linger here!

  Three trials bound by our decree,

  Succeed, and great reward for ye!”

  The first creature hopped onto Dean’s chest, pacing back and forth with the dramatic air of a performer addressing a captive audience. It weighed almost nothing, but the smell of damp earth and decaying foliage clung to it like a second skin.

  “Enough of this, your antics grow old!

  Declare the trial, and let it unfold!”

  This voice was different—commanding, rich, and resonant, as though it came from a figure of immense power. The moment it spoke, the world fell silent.

  The first creature paused in its pacing, a bead of sweat forming on its brow. It turned abruptly to face the apparent leader. With practised flourish, it spread its arms wide and gave a bow, “prepare thyself, for the trials three!

  One, a riddle shows wit in he,

  Next is war, a leader portrayed,

  Last, a song, his heart conveyed.”

  Dean could hear the sounds of chatter, their voices overlapping in rhyme and laughter as they encircled Dean. The commanding voice rose again, silencing the others,

  “The first of trials shall now commence,

  A test of wit, of keenest sense.

  Answer true, and you may proceed,

  But answer false and worms you’ll feed.”

  The creature atop him leaned in close, its beady eyes glinting in amusement. It spoke loudly, as much for its audience as for its captive,

  “Once the traveller has learnt his place,

  I’ll give a chance! I’ll give him face.

  Once you answer, and answer true,

  From your bonds, unbound are you.

  Now begins, the first of three trial,

  a riddle for you, now prove your guile!”

  “Often a journey, or maybe a quest,

  It calls to a hero, at fates behest.”

  The words of the riddle replayed over in Dean’s thoughts, something within him sorting through all the possibilities before clarity suddenly struck. Still pinned to the ground, he opened his mouth once more and found his voice, “The first step in the hero’s journey is the call to adventure, but when destiny calls, the hero answers. So… Adventure or maybe Destiny.”

  The crafty creature’s body language shifted briefly from self-assuredness to uncertainty, and back. It shot a cold glare at Dean before cracking a smile to his crowd.

  “The traveller ponders, the answer flows,

  A clever mind is what he shows!” With the swift and graceful movements of a seasoned dancer, it leapt from Dean and landed on the grassy floor. It gave him a bow but addressed the crowd,

  “A promise kept, my word is sound,

  From this point on, you are unbound…”

  No sooner had the words left its lips did the constraints loosen and withdraw. LuLu immediately screeched and fluttered as she scampered over to Dean, who was now sitting upright and patted him down for injuries. He ruffled the fur on her heads in reassurance before the forest went silent once more, and the enigmatic leader spoke again,

  “You’ve passed this test, your wit shines clear,

  Your second trial draws ever near.

  To guide and fight, an army you’ll lead,

  But chaos will reign if your words they don’t heed.”

  Now that he was upright, Dean followed the voice but only saw the dense forest before him. Only the miniature mossy man was present, so Dean decided to politely enquire as to what was going on.

  “Oi! What tae fuck is going on? Yous lot fae or what?”

  It looked off into the distance as if hearing something that he could not. After a moment, it gazed up at Dean with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher before it replied,

  “They’ve made me your guide, though I bear their scorn,

  The Mamau Teg shun me, her child forlorn.

  We are Ellyllon Teg, not the fae of lore,

  The children of song, forgotten no more.

  “To the battlegrounds now, do not delay,

  Or all that remains will wither away.

  My life is bound to the trials you face,

  But I’ve made my peace if it’s death I embrace.”

  Without another word, the Ellyllon Teg skipped off into the trees, leaving Dean to hurry after, now with more questions than answers.