Meanwhile, deep beneath Noviel…

When he awoke he didn’t know who he was. He had a feeling that he should. That he had had a name. Had had a voice. A body. That he had been…drinking? Whatever drinking was.

His mind was fragments, shards, and when he put together that this consciousness that was him rested in a small, faceted jewel, he supposed that made sense.

Wait, why did he think of himself as a he? So far as he could tell, rocks—even sentient ones—didn’t have a sex.

Though he supposed they could have genders. And he certainly seemed to, anyway, though whether or not that was part of the fragmentary memories he had to sift through, well, he wasn’t yet prepared to say.

He had a limited sense of the space around him. He could feel cold metal—various types and shapes—in pieces that were roughly the same size as he was, or a little larger or smaller. There were a few larger shapes as well, round and pointed and made of other, stranger things he couldn’t quite identify.

Some half-forgotten part of him kept insisting that one over there was ‘leather’, whatever that was. Gold, silver, and copper, those he could feel and he was pleased once he remembered their names.

Most of the space he found himself in was lost in shadow, and his senses did not extend terribly far. It was strange, this sight, and not at all as he remembered it. Still, it was reassuring to have at least some sense of his surroundings, even if his senses were behaving—to his mind at least—strangely.

‘Hello, young core.’

A voice! An actual voice that produced actual sound! He felt it. He understood it. He tried to say something but failed.

Kind of hard to speak when you lack a voice or vocal cords or any other equipment with which to do so.

‘Send your thoughts to me. I will hear them.’ The voice sounded amused.

Hello?

‘There you are. And here I am.’

The shadows parted to reveal a winged woman fluttering before him. She was heart-stoppingly beautiful, with a wicked smile and rich amethyst eyes. Her wings were like the wings of a dragonfly but tinted black and iridescent purple.

Who are you?

‘You can call me Amaranthine. I’m your guide, young core.’

Is Core my name?

‘No. Core is your kind. Your name you will have to decide for yourself, if you cannot remember. I am told many in your situation do not.’

My situation?

‘You are a rare and precious being, my friend.’ Amaranthine pulled her legs up to sit in midair, her wings still working. ‘You are the core—the centre—of a living dungeon. As you grow, you’ll gain wondrous powers to shape the world around you. I’m here to help you learn.’

Who sent you?

‘I was sent by my mistress, the Queen of Air and Darkness, as a favour to an old friend.’

That sounds nice.

‘I’m not sure “nice” is the word most would use to describe her, but I suppose in a way what she has done is a nice thing. Certainly it will work out very nicely for you. Though you do not yet realise it, you’re in dire need of a friend, young one.’

I am?

‘Oh yes. You are rare, and therefore valuable. And you’ve come into being in a dangerous place. There are many, many beings far above you, and many, many beings deep beneath you. Many of these will want to claim you for themselves, to take your power and leash it to their will. You don’t want that, do you?’

No! I am me! My power is my own to do with as I will!

He had no idea where that flash of emotion came from, nor that feeling of conviction. It seemed a natural part of him. Therefore, it was right, he decided.

How can you help me?

‘I’ll teach you what I know of magic, what I know of how your kind interacts with the world. We’ll see about getting you defences and allies. Of course, before you can seek allies, you need to be strong enough to offer something of almost equal value in return.’

He supposed that made sense. He had a sort of instinct about the exchange of things. What it would take to, say, absorb the closest object—coin! It was called a coin! He could absorb the coin, he knew, and then could in exchange produce several more coins of a lesser sort. The silver, perhaps, or even more of the copper. Some material would be lost, perhaps, in the change, but he also sensed there were other ways to—

‘Young core, are you listening?’

What? No. Sorry.

‘Take heed! You have a great many enemies above, and a few below, who would love to find you as you are, to crack you wide and suck down the marrow of your power from within you. For now, you are hidden, safe, but soon those above will feel your power in the air and scry you out. We must be ready before that happens!’

What terrible beasts dwell above me?

‘Beasts of many kinds, some called humans, some elves, some dwarves or kobolds or gnomes or beastkin. There is a great city above you, called by those who live there Noviel. It is far more dangerous than the other dungeon that exists below and around you.’

Another dungeon?

‘Yes. One far older and more powerful than you. It too is a living dungeon, though there are many dungeons that are not. This one has a tentative alliance with the people of Noviel, so do not assume it will be your friend simply because you are of the same kind. It may be an ally, in the future, but gaining it as such will take a great deal of work.’

We should get to work then.

He had a terrible feeling that time was suddenly rushing past. That there was a great deal to do and little time in which to do it. He was afraid but also very glad that Amaranthine was here.

‘First, we need to find your name. Once I have that, there are certain powers I can teach you, vouchsafed from my lady, that will make it harder for your enemies to reach you.’

Right. A name. That seemed simple enough. Maybe he even had one floating about in one of these fragments of memory—ah!

Ruprecht. My name is Ruprecht.