The tunnel led into the courtyard of the fake keep. Everything looked like how she felt it should but without that personal element that made it go from a stone structure to an actual building or home. It felt wrong to her, and the feeling only grew as she explored. Empty rooms are fully furnished, yet lacking in people, and no enemies to be found. She was tempted to settle in one of the beds to sleep, yet she knew deep down something would happen if she did. The building was built as a giant cube with each floor an exact copy of the one before it, with only a slight difference on the top level. There was a command room inside it with a large table and three mahogany chairs. A tattered book and a white skeleton. She had never seen one before as the dead are typically absorbed back into the dungeons. This made her think it could be an artificial construct meant to alarm her.

Powerful dungeons like this one could make almost anything. They were only limited by the amount of energy it took to do it. It also depended on the character of the dungeon core and the first creature to grant it energy. Dungeons that were first fed by sapient life had different tendencies than those fed by animals or lesser beings. The city dungeon here people served was rumored to have been baptized in the blood of the sole surviving human princess. They attributed their luck and safety to her sacrifice. Verity thought it was a complete lie. There is no way someone would stab themselves over a stone in the hope it was a core.

This brought her mind back to the stark ivory frame sitting as if alive at the head of the ornate and beautiful table. The wood contrasted with the bones to make it seem too fitting to be real, furthering her doubt over the whole scene. However, there were no signs that any traps or ill will would befall her if she entered. Still, she decided to play it safe and chucked a plant in to see what happened.

Nothing did. She shuffled in, slowly moving towards the book that lay open before the body. The skeleton's hand lay next to it as if about to write, and she noted a decidedly un-human vibe about the structure of the bones. The hips seemed too narrow to fit the forms she was used to, and the bones were fragile and delicate. Was it a girl? She thought to herself as she looked unmoving a few feet away. The head of the humanoid was small, with sharp lines along the face of the skull. The hands, though, that was what confirmed the strange feeling she got looking at it. The hands were too long, slender, and sharp. Dead though the creature may be and picked clean of any flesh, the nails remained, and Verity appreciated that she was only meeting the skeleton. Whoever this creature was, if it had even lived in the first place, would have quite a surprise for anyone that got in range of those claws.

She refused to stand next to the creature as something inside her felt wary of being too close. Instead, she got onto the table and scooted towards the book. Sitting there, she spun the book around and realized it was no book at all; it was a journal. Sharp and crowded words were chaotically written. She was able to read it without trouble due to the writing being clean and unsmeared, but she did not know where to start. It was almost like a code, yet she felt like it was not an intentional confusion. It was similar to how her mistress would say something she felt was completely clear; only Verity had no idea what Kora was saying.

Flipping through it, she noticed that the writing stayed consistent and readable up to a few pages before the one that was open when she arrived. She could and did read to see if this had been provided for a reason or was just a remnant of a previous adventurer.

"Today, I entered the labyrinth. My family is with me, and we shall traverse this barrier to reach the holy ground inside. My kind are here. I can feel it. My daughter claims she can sense death around us, but it won't follow us here. The magic is too strong...."

She read on as the family began their journey inside. A completely different experience than her one room trip so far. About halfway on, she found a strange chapter.

"My son... He fell today to the madness. Jerica had to kill him lest he tear our family apart. Mira barely got away. She has always been such a strong little girl, though not so little now. I can't believe how long we've been trapped inside this hellhole. The challenges are getting harder, the closer we get to the heart. I think we must be almost there, yet no one has come to rescue us. I had heard the minotaurs were cruel, but they could at least have saved my children. I would fight these challenges for the rest of my life and beyond if it meant they would save my poor babies, or at least one. Mira is the strongest of us, the madness barely brushes at her. She was the first to realize her brother had given in to it, and without her, we all would have perished beneath his claws. Her sister is too young to make it, though, she may have a chance with Mira. Should I send them away? I fear my wife is about to turn. The stress from killing Mican was too much. I feel her watching me even as I write this. I no longer recall why I write... I am sure it matters. I just can't remember."

The madness. The hidden killer of the labyrinth, SHe had not known much before entering, but she had known about the way the dungeon would poison one's own minds against them and their group. This father had just watched his son die and was now trying to figure out what to do. His writing had become messier in that chapter, and just a glance at the next told her something had happened because it was practically illegible. Curiosity got to her, and she read on.

"I... My wife is dead. Mira won't stop crying, and the baby is going to starve if we can not find food soon. My own head. It hurts. The voices tell me we are going in circles and will never escape, but Mira swears we are not. Who do I believe? They scream so much louder, drowning out her perfect voice. My poor beautiful girls. They refuse to even look at me anymore. Am I so hideous to them?"

Here the writing slurred too much for her to read, almost as if tears or drool had washed away the legible portions. It seemed as if a day or two had passed since the last readable paragraph. "The girl is suspicious. I do not like the way she looks at me. The damn child in her arms keeps squeaking. My head hurts." A pause in the writing and it got clearer; Verity felt her eyes tear as she continued reading. "I feel better. No more noise to distract me. The voices are leading me towards freedom. I can feel that I am getting close."

Verity put down the book. She did not want to look at it after realizing what the skeleton had done. His son, wife, and daughters dead, and for what? The journal had been started upon entrance to the dungeon, and she still did not know why he had bothered. It seemed dangerous to write every day, but maybe it helped him with the madness while he was still sane enough to look back to see what was happening. She moved to the edge of the table and settled in one of the chairs. Staring angrily at the innocent looking skeleton. His family had trusted him, and they had all died. Her own situation may make her a hypocrite for saying this, but he should not have left whenever they had been if he was only bringing death upon those relying on him.

She continued staring and began to note scars on the bones where sharp lines could be seen. She refused to look closer and instead continued a passive examination before realizing something. This skeleton had no genitalia or obvious signs she could see, but it did not strike her as masculine. Her eyes tracked the slight build, small size, and delicate features again. This race may be smaller than she was used to, but could there be another reason? Was this Mira?

She thrust herself at the book and pulled it towards her as she did so. The next few pages were rambling from the delirious father as he followed the voice, but then suddenly, three pages before the end, a different style can into play. It was well written and focused. Not the rambling she had gotten used to.

"The challenges have ceased, and this place appears safe. I have left my father him in there to wander in circles until his legs grow too weak to carry him and his arms too decrepit to crawl. It is just me and the book that almost got us through this. He had been clever, it had almost gotten us through, but I was not enough to keep him sane in the end. I do not know why I am immune to the insanity spells that coat every inch of this god forsaken place. To whoever may read this or to myself in the future, value certainty. I came into this place certain of my place in the world, my future, and my identity. The madness tries to touch me, but there are no insecurities for it to warp with its magic. That is my guess at the immunity I have. The man who used to be my father claimed it was because of my heritage and extra tail bringing luck, yet there is no luck in my fate. That is a truth I can feel and know inside. I will die here. I just wished I had been able to get Mika to the beastkin tribes first. She could have had a bright future."

Verity flipped the worn page to see another, the second to last, and it looked as if hands had repeatedly touched this one. The paper was soft and delicate beneath her fingers. "A strange challenge met me today. I was safe and secure, but this patch of space seemed off, and I went into it and met a minotaur. The first I had ever met. He was old but cordial. He did not look as I would have expected. The hair on his body was straggly and flaked off as we talked. I tried to tell him our tale, but he refused. Said that he was controlled by the magic and could not offer aid unless I beat the challenge. I do not think it was a fair challenge. Fox kin like myself can sense deceit, and he was confusing. I felt him tell the truth when he said he could not lie once the challenge began, yet then he proceeded to lie some after. It convinced me to turn back through the dead space to return to this lonely castle. I am starving and thirsty. If my last memories are of his startled face as I turned down whatever 'amazing' treasure he had, then I can waste away content. I do not feel like this should be the end, though..."

The page ended. It left only one left, the originally open one that made her wonder if the girl had finally let herself go insane. She paused with her hand on the book and, at last, turned it pensively.

"The girl, Mira, turned down my challenge. None had ever done this before. She was unwavering and resistant to the dungeon. Not even I am able to claim that feat, and my soul is tied to it. I could not let such talent be wasted, so I broke my bonds to bring her to the heart where she may grow to manage this place. I left instructions with my replacement, a queer young boy, to continue running my challenge once the dungeon enacts its punishment for my actions. I feel resolute. This girl can make this dungeon into something greater than it was. if you are reading this, then you stumbled upon the grave of her young self and the memories of her personal trials. Only those who are worthy will be able to read this. May her bones lying here serve as a lesson on why this place is not a dungeon. it is a shield to protect us from the world. That is its purpose, and any who claim differently are idealistic fools. Leave this place and live adventurer. Do not let yourself gain the same fate as her family. "

Verity stared uncomprehensive at the page. What? Had the girl died, or was the bones like she initially suspected simply fake manifestations from the dungeon? She was more confused about this place than she had been only an hour before.