Dungeons; realms of power, treasure, and glory. To challenge these dungeons and reap the rewards is to wager your life; those that enter na?ve or greedy often lose far more than they gain.

  Simply put, they are not places for the innocent, for children, nor the unprepared. To them, a dungeon is nothing more than a waiting tomb.

  -Penelope, First of the War Paragons

  Inside a dark hallway, a small child, possibly innocent and likely unprepared, slept peacefully on the ground. Snores echoed out from within the gloomy corridor. They came unevenly, loud and obnoxious. One moment, a tiny purr, and the next—like the rattled oink of a baby pig.

  Click, Clack, Click, Clack.

  Another noise came from down the hall—a sharp rhythm, moving monotonously. Hollow snaps came with each beat on the stone floor.

  The steps grew louder until a lone skeleton popped out of the darkness, bones rattling as it announced its arrival. A strange and awful noise had caught its attention, and now here it was, looking for the source.

  The hollow sockets within its skull gazed at the space before it. It crept closer and leaned over the noisy intruder. It looked down, and with a single raise of its finger—

  Poke.

  The small bundle stopped its loud snore. A few moments passed in silence before the low rumbling noise began again. With its ice-cold finger still extended, the skeleton pushed forward again.

  The noise stopped once more. A second later, a quiet murmur came out. Then—the bundle moved.

  Eyelids fluttered, and the small clump, wrapped in a black-and-purple-colored cloak, began to shift. It lifted, and slowly, the visage of a young girl emerged from beneath.

  “Nghh?” came the voice of the girl. She yawned and stretched her arms and shoulders. Her eyes adjusted to the sight before her. Her gaze fixated on the skeleton. Its hand moved forward again, the cold bone finger poking her squishy cheek. She scrunched her face and let out a quiet squeak from the cold sensation.

  The skeleton retracted its finger and looked at her. It tilted its head in curiosity: What was this intruder, and why had it been sleeping on the dungeon floor?

  The little girl was just as curious, and she mimicked the skeleton. It noticed her action and tilted its head the other way. She did the same. Left, right, left, right. Both their heads turned side to side, inspecting one another in a ridiculous copy-cat dance.

  The skeleton was the first to stop. It stood, several leagues taller than the short child. She still lay partly on the ground, legs fully extended as she sat. Seeing the skeleton’s motion, she mimicked its actions once again.

  She pressed her hands on the ground and pushed herself upward. However, the hem of her long, sprawled dress betrayed her, snagging beneath her palm. Her body snapped back down to the ground with a light thud. Her eyes shot up at the skeleton, whose gaze remained indifferent. She tried to stand once more, until a hand moved in front of her face.

  A moment of hesitation lingered. The cold sensation she’d felt before invaded her mind. Yet, despite the discomfort, she reached forward and grabbed the skeleton’s hand. The chill made her shudder, but she soon forgot it as she finally stood on her own two legs.

  Urged along by its pull, the two of them began to move. She followed closely behind the odd creature, and along the way, she finally took notice of her surroundings.

  Long hallways—multiple bisecting paths. Gray stone bricks covered the walls, floor, and ceiling. Dirt, mold, and even severed limbs and bones lay scattered across the ground. Oddly shaped gray pieces of… something littered the floor—some broken, others long—and the rest old and reddish-brown from rust.

  Weird creatures moved about far ahead of her. They walked with limps, their flesh melted off their bodies and hanging below their limbs with a leathery texture. The ground was stained with partially dried blood with each step they took. Small and quiet groans escaped their decayed, torn mouths. As the two of them traveled, they saw plenty more of these monsters and other skeletons in different halls.

  “Hmm… hmm… a… a…” the girl hummed. Her mind wandered as she explored the strange place she was in. Her steps contained light, subtle skips. The skeleton held her hand firmly, and the cold from its hand—it had disappeared. It wasn’t warm… but it felt warm. Not from temperature… but something deeper. Something calming.

  The sound of a screech shot down the hall in front of them. It was sharp and piercing. Both the skeleton and the little girl stopped dead in their tracks.

  Again, the screech sounded, but this time, it was quieter. Soon, the screech faded away, replaced by a new sound.

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  Deep, resonating crunches—bones snapping and breaking—the crackling sound became constant.

  The skeleton tightened its grip on the little girl’s hand and moved forward at a much more controlled pace. She followed along, pulled forward by its hold.

  They inched forward along their path, taking slow, subtle steps against the dirty stone. The clacks of the skeleton ceased as it became mindful of its own movements. Within moments, the two of them became weightless wraiths with no presence.

  As they drew closer, the sound only grew more chaotic. The crunching—it became relentless.

  They came near and found the source of the noise. To their right was a bisecting hall, and on the ground, beneath the light of a flickering torch, were small shards of bone chips.

  The two pressed themselves against the wall and peered past the corner. The little girl’s eyes widened at the sight.

  In the hallway, draped in the shadow of an unlit torch, stood the figure of an enormous beast. Four short legs and a body covered in fur. A long, segmented tail, coarse and gray, lay on the ground, twitching side to side as a snarl escaped from the beast’s head. On the ground before it was a lone skeleton, struggling—half its body already inside the monster’s mouth. Two large teeth bit down on sets of bones, and slowly, the skeleton lost its will to fight.

  The girl was mesmerized by the sight, but soon, she felt the skeleton tug at her hand. Her eyes perked up, and she noticed her skeleton companion staring back at her. Its hollow eyes told her what it wanted: they needed to leave—before that monster turned its attention to them.

  With slow shuffles across the floor, they inched out into the open. The monster’s back was turned, its gaze preoccupied with the bone meal before it.

  Soon, the two of them left the monster behind—the hallway disappearing into the dark. The sound of the monster’s snarls and the inevitable doom of the skeleton echoed out, but slowly faded the further they moved away.

  “Curse this damn dungeon architect… why does this place have to get so dusty…” came a low growl. The voice was hollow and empty, yet the bitterness was apparent all the same.

  “Why couldn’t I have died on a beach… or even in the void…” he muttered.

  In front of a random wall inside the stone hallway was a small indentation: a square room bordered by a narrow wooden countertop. Inside was a simple torch and a small square table. Another door in the back led to a small closet.

  Cleaning the countertop was a scraggy, decrepit skeleton. He was wrapped in a white cloak that was more of a tattered rag than clothing.

  His bones creaked as he wiped away the dust invading his shop. “Damn it…”

  He continued his curses, and in a whisper, he uttered a name—one he wouldn’t forget, no matter how many years he’d be here.

  As he wiped in self-pity, he finally heard it: footsteps.

  The skeleton froze, arm mid-wipe.

  Step after step, the sound of shoes hitting stone echoed down the hall. His arm reached over slowly to the other item lying on the counter: his trusted rusted iron sword. A blade he’d picked up long ago, though it hadn’t seen action for years.

  Closer and closer, the steps came. However, as the sound grew, he noticed something else—the clatter of bones hitting stone. It was unmistakable. After all, he made those sounds himself with each step he took.

  His hand gripped the handle of his blade. He waited as the echo grew louder, approaching behind him, and then—

  Fwish!

  The sword whiffed through the air in a full 180-degree arc starting from his countertop. “Who the hell are you—” he roared. His expression changed when he noticed no one was there—except for a single, lone skeleton.

  “Ah?” came a quiet squeak from below his skull.

  The small purple flames within the skeleton’s skull flickered briefly. He looked down, and before him was the last thing he would’ve expected—a small figure poking at his rib cage.

  “Ah. Ah,” squeaked the girl.

  His skull shot back up to look at the other skeleton standing behind her. “Where the hell did you kidnap a kid from?” he said, bewildered.

  Tap, Tap, Tap.

  “Will you quit that?”

  The little girl poked at the ribs of the odd-looking skeleton. Something about him amused her—maybe it was the noises he made? Or perhaps the small, fun little balls of light inside his eye sockets.

  Tap, Tap, Tap—

  The grumpy skeleton swatted the girl’s hand away.

  “Stop it, you brat,” he grumbled. His bony hand tapped her away lightly, though to her, his touch felt like a metal bar—with no soft or malleable flesh to cushion it.

  He placed his palm on top of her head, tilting her face up to look directly at him instead of at his ribs.

  “Who the hell are you? And how did you get in here?” he asked.

  She stared up at him, looking straight at the strange skeleton as his jaw clacked with each movement. He seemed to be telling her something, though she didn’t understand what. But her attention quickly shifted to something shiny—the two little flames inside its skull dancing immediately before her.

  Suddenly, she raised her hand, stood on her tiptoes, and reached for his skull, aiming to grab the small, cute flames. But the grumpy skeleton immediately swatted her hand away.

  “Stop that, you brat,” he said, unmoved. “Just tell me who you are already. Is there anyone else with you?”

  The girl said nothing, staying silent as she looked him over. She was curious. Extremely curious. Why was this skeleton different? He wore something white around him. She glanced down at herself, noticing she wore something similar—though hers was black and more complex.

  When she raised her hand again to try touching his skull, he smacked her hand away. It wasn’t a hard smack, more of a light tap, but it sent a ripple of laughter through the odd girl. She giggled and made several more playful attempts to reach his skull.

  Smack, smack, smack. Three times he smacked her hand away. She was finding this game of reach-and-swat quite entertaining.

  “Enough already!” he shouted, batting her hand away one last time. He didn’t swat her hard, but perhaps it stung a bit, considering he had no soft human flesh—just cold, hard bones for hands. Yet, it quickly became clear to him that the girl was enjoying this, evident by her new wave of irritating laughter.

  The flames inside his skull narrowed. “My name is Pell. Tell me who the hell you are,” he demanded.

  “Peh?” said the young girl. “Peh!”

  He groaned. Way to butcher a man’s name, he thought.

  “No, you idiot. My name’s Pell, not Peh or Pef or whatever—” His voice trailed off as he noticed the girl’s unwavering gaze. He imitated taking a deep breath—even though he had no lungs. Human inclinations would always be human inclinations.

  “You… you can’t understand a single word I’m saying, can you?” he asked.

  She blinked at him, unaware that the little flames in his skull had narrowed further—a look clear to her but unnoticed by him.

  “Peh!” she said, with the biggest, most innocent smile a child could muster. “PehPeh! PehPeh!”