My eyes jolt open.

"Hah... hah... hah..."

My breathing suddenly quickens and steadily slows to a normal pace.

My chest expands with each breath. I'm sitting up against a wall. I must've passed out and somebody propped me up against the wall.

Wait. Passed out? Is that possible here? In the...

I try to move my arm - it hurts. I look down and see the dressing and bandages around it, made with a mixture of soft leather and cloth from a mish-mash of dungeon apparel. My teeth grit weakly. I move my eyes around. Only then do I realize I can't see with my left eye - a good chunk of my head's been bandaged as well. I feel around the rest of my body and likewise, there are bandages all around me - my torso, my abdomen, my arms, my legs. Accompanying the new look is a boatload of pain. I feel as if I've been hit severely in all places with something big and blunt and definitely painful, and I'm recovering from the immediate shock. The world shakes and my view spins in a flurry of dizziness. I can't... seem to focus on anything. My body's sluggish and numb all around.

I gasp.

I can barely move from my current position. I'm afraid that trying to experiment will knock me off my balance, leaving me with little way to get back up. I weigh logic and reason within my mind and eventually decide it better to leave it alone and give up. I try to investigate around with my usable eye to the best of my ability. Everything's uncomfortably hazy.

Wait a second... Something's wrong, and it's not necessarily my injuries. I feel like there's something I'm...

Oh, oh, yes! I can't believe I forgot! The ending to the... And the... I... what?

Where am I?

No no no, didn't I just..?

Who am I?

Is that the question I should be asking?

That seems irrelevant right now... What matters not who am I or where am I, but where's Graham?

Where's Jonathan? Where's Barry? Where's Archie? Where's the... little girl?

Little girl? Did I forget her name too? Did I ever know her name? Do I really know the previous names? All these names are just words under an empty frame in my mind. But these names... they're important, I know. But I know not specifically why. It's somewhere in my head, on my tongue, but I can't seem... to piece anything together. I feel as if the weight of the world is on my mind, like the weight of several thousand tons of metal crushing me...

Something of great importance, I'm sure.

Very, very peculiar.

Questions swirl in my head like a vortex. I can be sure of one thing - my head hurts... a lot. Thinking only makes it worse.

I look at the walls. Torches line the walls very eerily. With each breath, I smell a distinct earthen scent. Am I underground? It's plausible, but I feel that's not the case. Somehow, I just feel it. The wall behind me feels cold - like stone. I don't really know how I know it's stone or how a cold surface correlates immediately to stone, but similarly, I just feel it is. Somehow. I don't want to twist my head back to check for sure. Up above is a ceiling or lack thereof shrouded in darkness. A sky of black that stretches to no end. A roof that may or may not exist.

This is one strange place. Very reminiscent of a dungeon, a dungeon I'd definitely have to say; so much so, I'd bet my life it's a dungeon.

Again, I do not know why. It's a somehow type of feeling.

I wonder what I'm doing in such a place? I feel oddly detracted to this place. It feels uncomforting and I feel I don't belong. This too feels very familiar. I feel very much right now like an enigma - like a soul that transported into the body of an unsuspecting host - much in the same way this host of mine feels this most likely dungeon is an enigma to him. Or her...

No, him. I know it. I think...

It's peculiar, all of this. What could I - or maybe this host of mine have done to find himself in this situation? Bandaged, bruised, and practically almost dead, propped up somewhere against the wall of a cold, mysterious, yet fascinating dungeon room, that's not underground..? It feels unreal. I can't put together many pieces, but these awfully large pieces of a puzzle with no form feel to obviously not fit. It feels like a dream.

A dream? Dungeon?

My head pounds immensely. I clench the left side of my head, over my eye, with both hands as I slump and tightly close my eyes as I writhe in immense pain. Aghhhh...

I finally open my available right eye and squint at the ground. It's no use. Better to save myself the pain and just not think about it, or anything.

As I rest against the wall, I hear subtle footsteps approach me.

I freeze. For some reason, every hair on my body not covered in bandages stands up, every cell screams danger. I can make a silhouette shrouded in black slowly approach me. I instinctively look around on the floor for a weapon, quickly and hastily, possibly unnecessarily so. I notice on the floor a blade, a sword, and an extremely long one at that. I would have to guess at least 5 feet long. On one side of the blade it's dull and flat and on the other, it's extremely sharp and pointed - so much so I think if I were to even just tap it with my finger with minimal pressure it would cut effortlessly - I'm certain, but like with everything else, I'm not certain why. It's a good distance away, and I helplessly and frantically try to reach it, but due to my disabled state and my impeded range, I can't reach it. Closer and closer the silhouette inches towards me slowly yet surely.

My heart rate rises and I stare with caution. Sweat runs down my face, and my head pounds like a jackhammer bringing so much pain it's hard to even keep my eyes open and focus. But I do, and the closer the figure gets the more rapid my breaths become, which doesn't help my already sorry state.

Torchlight slowly illuminates the figure with decreasing darkness and a lamp-shade-at-night sort of warm hue to accompany. My eye persists to stay hazy. I've given up trying to retaliate or think of ways to retaliate in case something happens. I try forcefully calming myself to no avail.

The figure is now close enough for me to make finer details even with my unreliable vision.

Wait.

Huh?

A figure that appears to be a girl emerges from the shadows. She seems to be wearing... pajamas? I think cat pajamas, at that. In her right hand is a curved blade, with a mini skull design on the handle. She has long dark hair, tied up in a ponytail.

This... This is...

She walks up to me. It's then that I notice her arms, her hand, and part of her face.

She's drenched in...

blood...

Blood?

I drop my jaw.

"Cheryl?" A word unknown yet painfully familiar comes out my mouth. I do not recognize my voice, yet it feels familiar but moreso than that is the word that came out of my mouth. I take no more notice towards my physical pains plaguing my body and focus on the girl. I can't turn my head. My eye is locked onto the girl.

For some reason, I fill with an incomparable sorrow. Sorrow as deep the deepest lake, as if the depths of my soul were a pitiably small but terrifyingly sorrowful void. And in that void is nothing but sadness. My singular available eye gradually changes its focus towards the long blade on the ground. Suddenly, feelings of hatred assault and overtake me. My stomach churns and my body throbs with anger. What anger? And what sadness? Why am I crying?

I feel confused at it all. Emotions are attacking me without rest and I haven't the slightest as to what the cause may be. It's forced on me as abruptly as I was forced to awake to consciousness without any memory. Actually, it's just that. I have no memory of really anything. Or maybe I have but I've forgotten. I have no clue.

The girl pauses confusedly then hastens her pace. She gets closer to me to a distance close enough for me to clearly see, but unfortunately, my bad vision and occupied and confused mind won't allow it.

"Are you okay?" she speaks.

"Ah... ah..." I choke on my words.

"Are you okay?" she repeats with increased alarm now.

This time, no sound comes out of me. I clench my dry throat in an effort to make something, anything, out.

"Ely, are you okay?" Suddenly, the voice becomes deeper and masculine.

"Huh?" Finally, something escapes me.

I blink twice, and suddenly, the girl in front of me became a man. The cat pajamas shift into a minimalistic robe with an odd design, an insignia I suppose. The skeleton blade disappears into an intricately designed golden staff with a subtle glowing ball of beautiful, dazzling, bright fluorescent lights the size of a fist floating snugly at the end, encapsulated by an intricate web of thick golden string attached to the staff with artisan detail, with the light peeking out through the gaps, save for a side, exposing the magical wonder. The staff is long and imposing, carrying with it a refined air. The only thing that doesn't change is the warm, nightlight hue and the distinguishable blood stains on the robe. Because of the bloodstains, I have a hard time making out the real color of the clothing.

My head resumes pounding immensely, this time with much more weight and pain than all the previous throbs combined. I cough up blood. Slumped over and clutching my face, it clicks.

Everything comes back to me.

I gasp, no more blood choking me, and I look up hurriedly.

"Graham!" I yell. I finally remember it all. The battle, the result... the deaths - everything.

"Ely! Don't yell and don't move. You just coughed up blood and you're in a lot of pain right now. I did my best to patch you up and I hastily fed you a whole healing potion that's still taking effect. Relax and let the potion work its magic," Graham says.

I ease my tension and do as he says - I relax... somewhat.

Graham awaits me, allowing me to recover.

"What... what happened?" I ask weakly. I again remember and realize the aching, pain throbbing throughout my entire body.

"..." Graham remains silent for a while, contemplating.

"You're wondering what happened afterward," Graham says. "Well, after the little girl absolutely demolished the metal monster, I found myself confused on the floor for a short while. I couldn't do anything for a while. I was frozen." Graham looks away sadly. "It was rather unsightly.

"Once I snapped back into my senses, I quickly realized I was the only one left standing - or, rather, slumping - and that there were three unconscious people surrounding me. Or so I hoped...

"I quickly attended to you all. You and Jonathan were relatively okay. You were badly injured, but it wasn't immediately life-threatening, and Jonathan only fainted from 'mana exhaustion' combined with moderately heavy injuries. But the little girl was different. She was in severely bad condition. I have little expertise in all things medical, but I could easily tell she was in danger of dying any second then. I quickly remembered the existence of the 'reward chest' and to my luck, I found a variety of potions, including one high-grade healing potion. I quickly revived her, as well as rather forcefully healed Jonathan and you as well with the other regular potions. Forgive me, I was panicked." Graham stops talking and stays silent afterward, awaiting my reaction.

"No no, it's fine. Thank you... You saved my life, Graham. Sincerely. But, the little girl... I-Is... is she fine?" I ask worriedly, my words breaking into fragments.

"Yes, she is. In fact, she's over there." Graham points towards a direction ahead of me. I vaguely make out an outline of a short figure. It's still and unmoving, crouched up against the wall somewhat.

"She's... still a bit shy. It's best if we leave her be for now. Let's allow her to move at her own pace. It's hard to imagine she's just a little girl. The horrors she's seen must've been monumental. I have no idea how she was able to save us all, but regardless, I'm very very thankful." Graham sighs remorsefully. "She's more or less recovered, both physically and emotionally, which tells a lot. I can tell she's gone through much worse than we have these past three weeks - you can see it in her eyes." Graham's voice starts to shake slightly, his voice level rising subtly. "It's traumatizing, it all. Yet she can just return to her quiet nature just like that?"

Graham grits his teeth and puts on a pained expression. "And... And I can't even calm myself down properly. Seriously, who's the adult here? Haha..."

I might be just imagining it, but I feel like tears are forming at the corners of his eyes. It might just be my imagination.

Graham slams his fist against the wall weakly. "I can't even save one person... I..."

It's not. Two single tears flow from his face.

Two almost transparent lines. Downward. Slowly.

Graham looks at me pitifully, fully revealing his entirety. Any room for doubt that Graham is tearing is erased by this one scene. I do not need good vision to clearly see his sadness. A sadness that flows not like a river, not a deep lake...

But an ocean.

You can see it in his eyes.

And his tears.

"Graham... you've saved Jonathan and I. Without you, we'd..." I trail off.

Graham looks at me bewilderingly, starting and quickly recovers, sniffling and rubbing his eyes hastily, trying to conceal the immediate occurrence. He clears his throat. "Ahem. I apologize. I was just venting. Thank you, Ely. Pay that no mind."

"It's fine," I try to reassure him. "It's good to vent once in a while."

"Yes... Once in a while." Graham smiles weakly.

Graham... he's really shaken. The strong and great and steadfast Graham whom I've come to know is unraveled in front of me. He's lost his seemingly everlasting cool. And for good reason.

It's painful and sad.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes, Jonathan," Graham continues. "He's umm... He's doing fine. He recovered not too long ago as well, just before you woke up. Here he comes."

Another figure approaches me. This time my vision's improved slightly, thanks to the healing potion working over the duration. The familiar slender and skinny build, deep eyes, and dark, messy dirty-blonde hair. The same level of nervous determination and resoluteness is painted on his face. Not very tall, and not very short, with a young complexion that spells developing adolescence, Jonathan walks up to us.

"Hey, Ely... How are you doing?" Jonathan asks anxiously.

"I'm fine," I say. "Doing better than when I initially woke up. Thanks. And you?"

"I'm doing well also. I feel good enough to get up and walk..."

An uncomfortable silence follows.

"Archie," Jonathan reminisces, breaking the silence, "was a really good person. He volunteered as the leader and guided both Barry and me through this nightmare. He took it upon himself to lead us and encouraged us to fight and survive properly as a group. On multiple occasions, we were so close to death - so close I couldn't imagine. But Archie... he kept us together and we survived strong, somehow. I... I was so scared," Jonathan begins shaking. "I... I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to fight. I wanted to hide. I didn't want death but death followed me through every room I progressed and passed without rest. But Archie worked hard to not allow it. He was the brightest person I've ever come to know. He wasn't very strong, nor all that strategically intelligent, but he had endeavor. He cooperated with complete strangers and committed to keeping us alive as well as any possible survivors.

"If you remember, it was Archie who decided to check the lower levels for others just in case. Barry tried arguing against that, though, saying it was risky. You never know who might be hostile and who might not, especially in this environment. I agreed. Yet, he still carried through. With strong will, he tried his best to progress down the dungeons despite the risks. He led. We followed. His words proved true when we found the little girl - lost and abandoned to despair in a rather bloody room. We don't know what happened, but something absolutely terrifying happened; so terrifying I threw up."

Jonathan starts tearing up, his voice waving ever more, revealing his distress.

"Even Barry - please don't hold what he did against him. He's not a bad person, trust me. He was just under a lot of stress. His wife died recently in her sleep - probably due to the dungeon - the day after we all came to. I know that won't forgive his actions back there, but he's not all to blame. He did well to hide his emotions; his stress, his pains. He may have seemed a bit unpleasant, but please, forgive him!"

Jonathan drops down to his knees and starts prostrating beggingly. I look at him in astonishment. Graham puts a hand on his shoulder and lifts him up.

"He's not a bad person, I promise... He's not..." Jonathan trails.

"Jonathan, it's fine. I won't harbor hatred," Graham reassures him. "If there's anything to blame, it's the dungeon." Graham looks down and away.

Jonathan looks at me nervously and questioningly with a worn complexion.

"Jonathan. I have to be honest." I slowly lift myself up, using the wall to aid me. Graham leaves Jonathan to support me up. "I... I can't. I can't easily forgive him for what he did to the little girl. I just... can't. Not right now. Maybe not ever."

Jonathan stares at me painfully, mouth slightly agape. He looks down with regret.

"But," I continue, "I won't hate him. Not one bit. Barry is not to fault for much of this, I believe. Like Graham said, it's the dungeon. Although I don't agree with Barry's actions, I won't hold any of this against him. I promise. I want to believe he's a good person, too." My head's clearing up. Although I still feel a good amount of pain, it's much more bearable now.

"T-T-Thank you, Ely." Jonathan smiles weakly but sincerely. He looks up with a deep look in his already deep looking eyes. "... I was thinking: the sad thing is that none of this will escape the dungeon. Barry and Archie's deaths - they only exist in the dungeon. Nobody in the real world will have known and experienced their final moments. Everything's contained and there's no escape. I wish... I'm not saying I'm giving up or anything - rather, I'm more pumped to fight, to avenge their deaths with the power I have - but... I wish this dungeon never would've existed. A lot of pain could've been avoided that way."

Graham and I look towards Jonathan with remorse.

Graham speaks up, "Jonathan, that's not true. We're here. We've seen them and we've known them. You and the little girl especially. Their legacies aren't lost on us, and their family members. But especially, we're here and we carry their torches." Graham falls to silence afterward.

Jonathan dips his head with great sadness. He smiles. "You're right."

It's all confusing. Here we are together connected by our dreams in a dream dungeon of death and despair with no explanation. It's hard to believe but here we are. I don't feel like I'll ever come to terms with our circumstances. It's too bizarre and too awful and too confusing.

It's all one big dream. It has to be.

Nobody here deserved this.

"Ely, let me reiterate," Graham returns his attention to me and states, "are you sure you're holding up? I didn't want to ask this earlier and rush you, as you were and still are recovering, but, you looked especially and distinctly pained and hurt back there, moreso than Jonathan and I. And I'm not talking about your physical injuries." Graham folds his arms and frowns, looking aside, oddly trying his best to hide his obvious worry.

I forgot myself, honestly, on the spurs of those deep moments. Touching my face, I can clearly feel the stress marks due to constantly holding an apparently tense expression. A tense expression, as Graham referred and as I know well, very separate of my bodily misgivings during recovery. I look to Jonathan, who's fidgeting oddly and awkwardly, glancing with concern as well. I did not know I appear so obvious and easily readable.

"I'm fine Graham, and Jonathan. I was just a bit confused due to the rapid effects of the potion and my deep injuries," I explain. "I just had a little amnesia. My thoughts were jumbled and unordered. I'm much better now. My proper mind's returned and with that my bearings. Thank you Graham, again, for everything. I can't and won't say it enough." I smile reassuringly. Or at least, I try to. I'm still very bad at trying to smile naturally.

Graham looks at me insinuating I'm hiding something, suggesting there's more to the story, glancing briefly at Cheryl and then back at me. I thought for a moment he was going to open his mouth. It's just a few looks, though, as he then tilts his head up and closes his eyes into deep thought, still crossing his arms and standing imposingly. After a brief period, he nods. "Good," he says, "I'm glad you're okay." Finally, he smiles with relief. It's a sort of relief still mixed with uncertainty, but nonetheless honest relief. Graham evidently eases his shoulders and relaxes somewhat more.

"I'm... glad you're good..." Jonathan weakly says, visibly relaxing as well. I suppose he was still regarding me as an object of concern, but now that Graham's softened, he does likewise. "Mmm... At least, we're all here and kicking. Right, at least... A-at... l-least..." Jonathan releases his pent up frustrations and sorrows. He lets his overdue tears flow. Sobbing, Jonathan covers his face.

Jonathan starts mumbling imcomprehensible words, but neither Graham nor I need to understand to feel his sentiments. Both of us pay our respects with a moment of silence, silent besides the heartfelt wailing of Jonathan, who knew both Archie and Barry well, or at least well enough. Both of them are deceased - their bodies without trace, their blood seeped into the ground and metal. A splotch of red shine glimmers somewhere.