“Vysala!” a voice boomed, warm and friendly. It immediately drew both Zaria's and the witch’s attention. The Bronze group had arrived, and at the forefront was an Urkin in jet black scale mail. He was a good head taller than any of the surrounding humans, with the curved horns of his species, but his complexion was a dustier grey rather than the greens Zaria had seen before. Although his manner was casual, Zaria couldn’t help but notice his immense two-handed sword was unsheathed - and covered in runes. Zaria pulled up his nameplate.

Name: Lurbok

Tier and Rank: Bronze Wyrdcore 2

Class: Runeknight

Mastery: Mourneblade.

“Lurbok, you rat bastard!” Vysala responded, a smile on her lips. “You still owe me ten gold. When the Hungry Night did you hit Bronze?”

“About a month ago.” He shifted, eyeing Zaria carefully. “You’ve got one hell of a mount there, Vys.”

Vysala laughed. “Zaria, mind getting closer to the ground?”

Instead of responding with words, Zaria just bent her knees. All five members of the Bronze group stepped back involuntarily. “Gods of the Hungry Night,” Lurbok whispered. “They weren’t kidding. A dungeon that walks.”

Vysala leapt from Zaria’s porch when the ground was close enough. She had spoken to Zaria beforehand, and they’d agreed to let Vysala take most of the conversational duties. She knew these people. Zaria would speak up once it was needed. For now, Vysala continued the conversation. “A dungeon that walks and fights. Saw her stomp an Elite fiend like it was a toothless snake, and her mobs did a number on the demons.” Her voice softened. “We would have lost the town if not for her.”

“And you?” Lurbok asked. “Are you well?”

Vysala nodded, although there was a hesitancy to the motion that neither Zaria nor Lurbok missed. “It was a rough few seasons. Had some close calls.”

Lurbok clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Well. You’re back now. You have plenty of time to rest. And maybe get that rank up. I see you’re only Tin Eight?” Although the question was friendly, there was a slight note of judgement to his voice.

Vysala set her jaw, but kept her tone pleasant. “No dungeons around to bootstrap me up two full tiers, unlike some people. No shards meant I had to rely on experience gains, but since I was the only person defending the bloody town with a core… System automatically counted me as part of the town, since I couldn’t form a party with a bunch of irons. Killed my gains.”

Lurbok grimaced. “I didn’t mean-”

Vysala sighed and shook her head. “Lurbok, it’s been a long few days. Means I’m not in the most pleasant mood.”

“Are you ever?”

Vysala showed him her teeth. Technically, it was a smile, in the same way a noose was an embrace. “I don’t know. Ask me when someone isn’t trying to imply I’ve been lazy in my advancement.”

Lurbok sighed heavily. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Vysala’s smile softened into something that actually deserved the word. “It’s been rough out there. Sunbearer’s radiant scrotum, Lurbok, I think you were right to take a couple years of dungeon duty.”

“Maybe. But…you also had a valid point. This isn’t my original party,” Lurbok said softly. “They’re good people, all of them. But… I’ve lost a lot, too, Vys.”

“Maybe we can swap sob stories over a few beers,” Vysala said. “I’m thinking at least ten gold worth.”

Lurbok laughed, and the earlier tension seemed to be diffused. For now. He turned towards Zaria, who was glad to finally be included. He bowed, which she liked even more. “Cestmir informed us that you can see us here, Zaria, the Walking Dungeon. Apologies for my rudeness - I was hoping our interpreter would have arrived by-”

“Sorry, sorry!” the voice didn’t have a source Zaria could see at first, until she noticed the streak of light approaching. She pulled in her vision to look at the speaker.

The woman had grown since Zaria had last seen her. Well, except she hadn’t seen her in person - but the woman had grown since the memory Cestmir had sent Zaria. Now nearly a foot tall, the tulip wings and rose hair was still unmistakable. “There’s so much going on, sorry.” She repeated herself, then flew up to Zaria. “That’s quite the neat boss you have there. Hello, I’m Penara. Cestmir’s wisp. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Since you don’t have a wisp of your own, the Coven summoned me to speak to you.”

Zaria’s eyebrows furrowed. “Is it rude to speak directly to a dungeon?”

Penara rocketed back like Zaria had just readied an attack. Lurbok’s party shifted, preparing their weapons and spells.

Vysala laughed. “Did I not mention she can talk? I forgot to mention she can talk. Silly me, slipped my mind.”

“That shouldn’t be possible!” Penara said. “Cestmir said she was only Tin. In fact.” The Wisp’s eyes flashed. “She is only Tin.”

“She is also not overly fond of being spoken of like she isn’t present,” Zaria said, looking at the Wisp.

“Fine then. You. You are only Tin. You should not be able to possess a mob. How? Even if you were taking the Dungeon Lord path, that’s Copper - minimum. So. Explain yourself.” Penara crossed her arms.

“Mutant,” Zaria said, giving Penara a shrug.

“That doesn’t answer-” Penara caught herself and paused, hovering midair on wings that beat so fast they looked like a blur. “Wait. It does, doesn’t it? Mutant cores.” Penara took a deep breath, seeming to get herself under control. “Apologies. That was a stupid question to begin with, because what did I expect, you to just read the ability to me?”

“Didn’t Cestmir tell you I could speak?” It was Zaria’s turn to cross her arm, studying the little Wisp. So far, the Wisp’s flustered nature was… underwhelming. A far cry from the self assured woman she’d seen in Cestmir’s vision.

Penara sighed heavily. “No, he did not. Which he probably thinks is hilarious.”

Amusement laced every single word.

From the way Penara rolled her eyes, she had heard Cestmir’s voice. To Zaria’s surprise, she responded telepathically.

Cestmir just laughed, but his presence faded away.

“Sorry about that,” Penara said. “Cestmir doesn’t get one over on me often, and he revels in every chance he can. Now. I was late because I was talking to the current Commander of the Tower. Most of the high tiers are away right now, trying to seal a Hardness 5 Fissure.”

“The manual I was given said that Hardness 4 should be left alone,” Zaria said. “Higher, I’m guessing, is even more risky. Is that not right?”

“The manual is poorly worded. It was intended for lone dungeons, but working with a powerful Guild like the Coven and a Silver tier Citadel, it becomes possible. That’s why they're trying. Which you would know, if you had been given a Wisp so we could contact you sooner.” Penara rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I told them that a book would be a poor replacement for the guidance of a Wisp, but did they listen to me? No, of course not. I’m just a Wisp, who do I think I am?”

“I’m guessing you think-”

“And then they won’t even listen to my testimony! They were debating if the planet should be isolated, and I’ve been here for the longest, but no. No one wants to listen. So we’ve had a few Wisps go rogue. It’s not my fault Pierre stole a token of merger, it’s not my fault Ralina decided to still be a monster, it’s not my fault Chesu… well, can’t talk about that. Like physically.”

“Okay, but-”

“And then, and then, did they listen? Even though I’ve been here for hundreds of years? Of course not. Do you know how rare it is for a dungeon to last to Platinum and stay healthy and stable? Do you think Cestmir did that on his own?”

“Okay, so, does anything I say have any bearing on this conversation?”

“Of course he didn’t. In fact-” Penara continue to rant, and Zaria tuned her out. She clearly needed to get it off her chest. From the way the Coven members were acting, this was normal behavior for her. Lurbok had called over Vysala, and was introducing her to the members of his party. That was also uninteresting. Zaria could pull their names off their nameplates if they became relevant. She took the time to feed her mimics some of the demonic meat. A fight didn’t seem likely, at this point, but one death had been enough to make Zaria cautious.

The fact that sentence was something she could say was a testament to how Zaria’s life had gone in some unexpected directions.

Penara said something that caught Zaria’s attention, drawing her back to her body. “Say that again?”

Penara blinked. “Oh, you mean from the beginning?”

“Please for the love of all the Gods, Devils, and any other beings that will listen, no. Just the last bit you said. It included the word portal.”

Penara pursed her lips, but did so. “And now I’m scrambling to find alternative means to get assistants for you poor mutant cores, but to do that I need access to a portal, and but I can’t because the only one I know of is in the hands of the Reclaimers.”

Zaria sat up straight. “So you’re telling me that if I just feed more of the Reclaimers to my mimics, I can get this portal, and I can get a wisp of my own?”

Penara bit her lip. “Not exactly. I can get you a fae to help. Not a Wisp. The Council is watching the Wisps heavily. But the Gremlins, the Brownies, the Haglings? They’re largely being ignored because they can’t travel off Wisphame on their own. But if I have a portal, I can bring them here.”

“Excellent.” Zaria rubbed her hands together, then hesitated. “Can they still… help me?”

“Oh, yes. All fae study how cores work, it’s part of our curriculum. None of them will have the advanced degrees Wisps possess, but they’ll be knowledgeable – and eager, if Cestmir is right. You can turn a Witch into a Striga with a bond?”

Zaria nodded.

“Well, if you can make a Witch into a Striga, you can make a Hagling into a Hag. Although I don’t know how you’re supposed to do that now that Witches were switched from Mana to Runes a couple major changes ago. Honestly, I’m shocked the system reactivated the Striga bond protocols for you. That feature was deprecated for a reason. But they did, and we can use that.”

“This definitely sounds appealing.” Zaria glanced at Vysala. She was talking to a member of Lurbok’s group and laughing. “What was the reason it was deprecated?”

“Balance reasons. All classes that could equal the power of a normal party – the Solo classes – were phased out unless they had other penalties. Although I’m betting if the Striga protocols have been reactivated, that means the class has gotten some correction to its power.” Penara saw Zaria’s face, and winked. “Don’t worry. Your Striga will almost certainly still be powerful. Just not ‘can one on one a dungeon boss’ powerful.”

“Fair.” Already the flustered Wisp was proving how much Zaria was missing out by not having a similar companion. She needed to get to that portal. “How well defended is that portal?”

“You’re in luck there. The Reclaimers don’t know how valuable it is. Just an old Legacy dungeon they’re using for a base of operations, with no idea what they’re sitting on. So no one there should be above Copper Tier. It’s in the middle of nowhere, just one of the little outposts they have scattered about.”

Inside, Rav licked his chops, a reflection of Zaria’s sudden hungry excitement. “I can get the portal. I just need my Striga first. And right now, she wants to stay here for a bit.”

Penara cleared her throat. “Two points of order. One is that will draw the ire of the Reclaimers.”

“I’ve already fed five of them to mimics, I’m a bit past worrying over drawing their ire.”

“Fair. And second.” She switched to telepathy, shocking Zaria for a moment.

Zaria said.

Penara frowned.

Zaria frowned. She gave the Wisp a steady gaze.

Penara said.

There was a note of genuine concern to the Wisp’s words that helped improve Zaria’s opinion of the little woman even more.

Penara nodded.

Penara said.

Penara hesitated, then glanced at Lurbok, then back at Zaria.

Zaria rubbed her hands together.

“Of course,” Penara said, switching to speaking aloud.

Zaria followed suit. “Where can I dig myself a place to rest my legs? I want to make sure I’m ready for my guests.”