“GRAAAH! GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

  The bellowing cry of the burly adventurer echoed through the Room of Illusions, his voice thick with terror. Shadow watched from the darkness, a wide, sharp-toothed grin spreading across his face.

  The adventurer—a broad-shouldered brute clad in thick armor—was driving erratically, swinging his sword at nothing. His eyes darted around in unfocused panic as illusory specters swirled around him, their faces shifting between grinning skulls and grotesque parodies of his own companions.

  Another member of the party, a lanky rogue, was speeding full tilt for the exit, hands gripping the steering wheel in white knuckled terror as he fought against the overwhelming sense that gravity had turned against him. His eyes darted around the room, unable to trust whether the seat beneath him was real or another of Shadow’s delightful deceptions.

  Meanwhile, the team’s cleric was sitting in the middle of the track, whispering frantic prayers as her surroundings twisted and morphed, making her believe she was trapped inside an iron maiden, the walls closing in on her.

  Shadow chuckled softly from his perch in the rafters.

  “Oh, what a glorious way to end a dungeon run,” he mused, his voice barely a whisper in the dimly lit chamber.

  With a flick of his wrist, the illusions vanished all at once.

  The adventurers bolted for the exit, gasping for breath, their bodies trembling from the residual fear that still clung to their minds. They would recover—eventually.

  Shadow watched their carts zipping toward the exit, smirking as the big one clutched his chest, still wheezing from the terror-induced sprint through the chamber.

  He let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back against a cold stone wall.

  This… this was what he lived for. Chaos. Uncertainty. Watching fools tremble before his craft.

  As he silently slipped along the rafters, unseen, his mind drifted to the seed.

  It had been a week since he found it, left forgotten in the room after that bumbling rogue’s pack had given way. He had tucked it into a shadowed corner, waiting to see what would come of it.

  The idea of some secret artifact growing in the depths of his domain had been…thrilling.

  His lips curled into a smirk.

  “Oh, I bet it’s still just a harmless little thing,” he murmured to himself. “Maybe sprouted a bit. Maybe it’s ugly. Let’s see what our little mystery seed has become.”

  With a silent leap, Shadow landed lightly on the ground and melted into the darkness, his form flowing seamlessly from shadow to shadow as he moved toward the farthest recess of the chamber.

  But as he a pproached the place where he had left it, his grin slowly faded.

  The air…felt different.

  The comfortable, mischievous energy of his domain—normally thick with his own essence—felt tainted.

  His steps slowed.

  Something was wrong.

  He reached the corner of the room where he had hidden the seed, but instead of a small, harmless object resting against the stone, there was something else.

  Something alive.

  A twisted, coiling vine had taken root in the floor, its tendrils spread outward like creeping fingers. The thick stalk pulsed faintly, its dark, purple-tinged leaves glistening in the dim light.

  Shadow’s eyes narrowed.

  He had expected growth—but this? This was…unnatural.

  He inched closer, his senses sharp, his body tensed for any sign of movement.

  The air around it felt heavier.

  There was something watching him.

  His fingers twitched preparing his talons as he crouched, eyes narrowing at the strange, bulbous form rising from the center of the stalk.

  And then—it moved.

  Shadow’s breath hitched.

  A slow, deliberate shift, like something stretching, testing its own body for the first time.

  The vine twisted upward, revealing its grotesque, bark-like face.

  Shadow froze.

  Twin red eyes flickered open.

  The air stilled.

  For the first time in a very, very long time—Shadow felt unease creep into his bones.

  This… thing wasn’t just a plant.

  It was something else entirely.

  And he had let it in.

  His hands clenched at his sides as his mind raced.

  What had he allowed to take root in his domain?

  And—more importantly—what was he going to do about it?

  Then, the creature smiled.

  It was a slow, deliberate motion. Jagged, thorn-like teeth parted just slightly, a grotesque mockery of a grin. The red glow of its eyes pulsed in time with its movements, giving the impression that the plant itself was breathing.

  And then—it spoke, “Shadow…”

  The voice was wrong. A deep, resonating sound, much too vast, too heavy, too ancient to be coming from something so small. It felt rooted in something far beyond the physical. Something that did not belong in this place.

  Shadow’s breath hitched. A chill slithered down his spine, like ice-cold fingers tracing the curve of his back. His instincts screamed at him to run. To kill it. To tell Brent.

  But he did nothing.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  He stared, and the creature stared back, its unnatural grin never faltering. It had been waiting for him. It knew he would return. It had expected this.

  His voice came out lower than usual, a dangerous edge beneath his usual playful tone, “You know my name.”

  The plant creature tilted its head, almost… amused, “Of course.”

  Shadow’s eyes narrowed, “How?”

  The thing did not blink. Did not hesitate, “You fed me.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Shadow’s mind reeled. Fed it? How? His pulse quickened as realization clawed at the edges of his thoughts. It had been in his room for over a week. It had been lurking in his shadows. Growing. Listening.

  Shadow’s stomach twisted. Had it been feeding on him? On his emotions?

  He forced his expression to remain neutral, but his breath came a little faster.

  The creature’s smile widened, “You think about telling your Core.”

  Shadow tensed. A ripple of cold dread spread through him. The thing had read his thoughts.

  “But,” it continued, its voice almost a purr, “you also know… that would be a mistake.”

  Shadow remained silent.

  The plant leaned forward, its vines shifting across the stone floor, “He does not take kindly to betrayal,” it murmured, “does he?”

  Shadow’s jaw clenched. He hated how easily this thing was crawling into his thoughts. How much it already knew.

  The creature watched him, the flickering red glow in its eyes never dimming, “You let me in, Shadow.”

  Shadow exhaled sharply through his nose, his voice dropping lower, more controlled, “I didn’t think you’d actually do anything.”

  A low, rumbling chuckle emanated from the creature—deep and resonant, like something ancient stirring beneath the earth, “Oh, but I have done so much.”

  Shadow’s breath stilled. His mind raced through possibilities, but the creature did not elaborate. It simply watched him, waiting.

  Shadow forced his usual smug grin back onto his face, “Alright, fine,” he said, shifting his stance slightly. “Let’s pretend I’m not about to gut you where you stand.”

  The creature tilted its head, “Oh? Are you?”

  Shadow didn’t move. His fingers twitched, claws at the ready, but for some unsettling reason, he didn’t feel like he could. The plant’s smile didn’t falter.

  Instead, it leaned in closer, “I have an offer for you, Trickster.”

  Shadow’s eyes flickered. He hated how much that name felt right coming from the creature’s lips. “Oh, this should be good,” he drawled, masking his discomfort. “Let’s hear it.”

  The plant’s vines shifted, curling around themselves, “I have been watching you. Listening. You do not belong here.”

  Shadow’s grin twitched. “I think you’re mistaken,” he said smoothly, though he could hear his own heartbeat hammering in his ears.

  The plant gave a slow, deliberate shake of its head, “This dungeon… has made you weak.”

  Shadow stiffened.

  The creature’s voice was calm, unwavering, “You long for something more. Something… unpredictable.”

  Shadow said nothing. The thing was too perceptive. It was too close to the truth. It knew.

  “You were not meant to serve order, Trickster. You were meant for chaos.”

  Shadow’s claws twitched as he listened. For the first time in a very long time, he wasn’t sure what to say. The creature sensed his hesitation.

  And it smiled.

  “Join me,” it whispered. “And I will give you the chaos you crave.”

  Shadow’s heart pounded in his chest. For the first time since his creation, he felt something unfamiliar.

  Temptation.

  And he hated how much it thrilled him.

  Shadow stiffened as the creature tilted its head slightly, a slow, deliberate motion that sent an involuntary chill racing down his spine.

  "Shadow…"

  His name came in a deep, reverberating tone that seemed far too powerful for the small plant-like body it came from. It wasn’t a whisper, nor was it a shout. It simply existed, an undeniable presence that pressed into the air between them, filling the room with something heavy and unseen.

  Shadow’s fingers curled at his sides, his usual confidence wavering for the first time in… he couldn’t remember how long. His instincts screamed at him to slip into the darkness, to vanish, to unmake his presence and pretend he had never seen this thing. But he stayed. He had to. He had been the one who let this seed remain.

  The creature’s lips curled upward in something that mimicked a smile. "You seem troubled."

  Shadow scoffed, trying to shake off the feeling clawing at his insides. "Not troubled. Just… surprised. Didn’t expect a talking weed to sprout overnight."

  The plant’s form shifted slightly, its bark-like exterior creaking as it adjusted. "No… I imagine you didn’t expect this at all."

  Shadow’s breath caught in his throat. There was something wrong with the way it said that, as if it wasn’t just talking about its own growth, but something deeper. A gnawing sense of inevitability that slithered into his thoughts before he could shove it away.

  His eyes darted toward the dungeon’s core room, where Brent and the others were undoubtedly still lost in their little projects, blissfully unaware of what had taken root in their domain. He could tell them. He could warn them now and be done with it.

  "You could," the creature mused.

  Shadow’s body went rigid. He hadn’t spoken. Not out loud.

  "You could run to your master and tell him what you’ve found," it continued, its voice measured, smooth, deliberate. "And what do you think he would do? Would he praise you for your… diligence?" The red glow of its eyes flickered. "Or would he see this as your failure?"

  Shadow gritted his teeth. He hated the way its words burrowed into his skull, planting seeds of doubt where they didn’t belong. He had done nothing wrong.

  Had he?

  "You didn’t tell them about the seed when you first found it," the plant went on, unhurried. "You let it remain. You let it grow. Because deep down… you wanted to see what would happen." Its smile widened. "And now you have."

  Shadow’s tail flicked behind him in irritation. "I don’t like being toyed with."

  "I am not toying with you. I am offering you something." The plant straightened, standing taller despite its small form. "You are not like the others. You do not build. You do not seek order. You thrive in the unpredictable, in the unknown. And yet, here you are, bound to a dungeon that has forgotten what it means to be feared."

  Shadow’s claws flexed, a response he barely controlled. "Brent is building something strong."

  "Brent is building something safe," the plant countered without hesitation. "A place where adventurers laugh, where they return with stories of amusement rather than fear. Tell me, Shadow—how long has it been since you saw true terror in their eyes? How long since the last adventurer left this place not knowing if they would survive?"

  The plant’s words curled around him, sinking into places he had ignored for too long. It was true. The dungeon had changed. He had changed. He used to relish watching adventurers tremble. Now, he was part of a game, a spectacle meant to entertain.

  "You were made for chaos," the creature continued, its tone almost gentle. "Not for tricks that end in laughter. Not for illusions that vanish the moment the challenge is over. You are meant for more."

  Shadow let out a slow breath, his mind warring with itself. It had been a long time since someone spoke to him like this. A long time since he had been reminded of what he was before Brent gave him a name.

  The plant took a step forward, though its feet never truly touched the ground. Its roots barely brushed the stone, moving as if it glided rather than walked.

  "The Verdant Depths sees your potential," it said, the red glow in its eyes intensifying. "And it offers you something Brent never will."

  Shadow’s pulse quickened. "And what’s that?"

  The plant’s smile widened, its voice a whisper that filled the room like rolling thunder.

  "The Verdant Depths offers power to those that choose the old ways."