The core was where Shanalorre said it was.

Or rather, the pile of rocks and dirt that supposedly blocked the way to the core was where Shanalorre said it was, under the first steps of the spiraling stairs shaped into the trunk of the dome's central tree.

"I have to ask," Rian said as Lori slowly claimed the earthwisps of the obstructing rubble with her staff, breathing in evenly out of habit as she began to fuse all the rock into one mass so she could move it all out of the way, "why exactly are cores hidden? I mean, if the Dungeon Binder dies suddenly, wouldn't that be a hindrance to someone claiming it right away and continuing the demesne?"

They stood surrounded by their escort of volunteers, who were supposed to be keeping watch but were occasionally glancing at what she was doing. Shanalorre and whatever his name was since Lori was too busy to check her rock were standing nearby, speaking to the some of the local people, probably those who were part of the demesne's previous organizational structure. Lori as vaguely aware of people watching them curiously, a few pointing at her specifically.

"If the Dungeon Binder dies a natural death," Lori said, only a small part of her concentration on the conversation as she had to focus on the Whispering she was doing, "then there would have been preparations made in advance for the successor. The way would have probably been opened by the Dungeon Binder themselves, and there would have been some sort of arrangements made. I recall reading years ago of a Dungeon Binder, Dungeon Binder Molrijo of Tyuray Demesne, who arranged a grand ceremony where he chose his successor, held a hedonistic celebration that lasted for half a week, and culminated with his trapping himself and his successor in the chamber with the dungeon's core, where in front of witnesses watching through glass he took his own life."

"How could you possibly remember that name and still not know the names of people you've been dealing with for almost a year?" Rian said, sounding incredulous.

"If they trap themselves in a room and kill themselves in front of their trusted friend and all their political allies, then maybe I'll remember their names."

"No, you won't."

Lori shrugged as she softened some of the stone whose earthwisps she'd already claimed, making them flow so that their surface area would come into contact with other earthwisps she hadn't claimed yet, accelerating the process. It was one of those tricks one learned over the years that were never officially taught. "No, I probably won't. I remember it because I could never understand why a Dungeon Binder would wish to kill themselves. What kind of twisted person would simply end their own life and actually choose to lose all of that power?"

"Someone who doesn't want it and finds it extremely inconvenient to live with?"

Lori rolled her eyes at Rian's silliness. "Continuing on, if a Dungeon Binder were somehow murdered, rare as that is, than making access to the core difficult serves as a deterrent to prevent their murderer from gaining the core, as they no doubt intended to, as well as punishing the demesne for allowing their Dungeon Binder to die and not doing more to prevent it."

Rian looked back from where he'd briefly been looking at Shanalorre. "I'm a bit doubtful as to that last, but I can see why some would interpret it that way."

Several references to the Dungeon Binder explicitly arranging matters so that the demesne would suffer from their death should it come about suddenly came to mind, but trying to arrange them in some sort of comprehensible order to tell Rian took too much concentration from claiming earthwisps, and she let it go. "Thirdly, in older demesne much infrastructure equipment is built around the core, such as wire connections to bound tools to power them in perpetuity. Such infrastructure needs to be isolated from sabotage, misuse, and even just idiots who might cause accidental damage." Left unsaid was how wire connections themselves were kept equally well-isolated, to prevent the limitless power of a core from being used to power some idiot's binding, or whatever it was they were making.

"Ah, that makes more sense," Rian said, nodding. "You don't want just anyone to be able to access a dangerous industrial power source, after all. Imagine if someone idiot made a heat binding that just kept getting hotter and hotter, and connected it to a wire to the dungeon core." He tilted his head. "Do you know of any pits made of molten rock that might suggest someone did that in the distant past?"

"Thankfully, no," Lori said absently as she claimed more and more earthwisps. "Heat would be trivial for a Dungeon Binder to destroy, though it would kill anyone else. The fourth reason to protect a Dungeon Core is to make it inaccessible to dragons. Dragons have some sort of capability to destroy the cores of dungeons, and in so doing kill their Dungeon Binder."

"I think I remember stories about that," Rian mused. "How, though? I mean… aren't cores supposedly made of pure magic in solid form or something?" He tilted his head. "Not unlike beads, really, but obviously there has to be something different, what with the floating in the air and the glowing and all that…"

"No one knows." Lori gestured with her staff like she was trying to sweep a broom through thick mud as she moved all the earthwisps she had managed to claim and bind. The softened stone began to flow, anchoring to surrounding rocks and dirt for leverage as she rearranged the shape of the stone to push it up from one end to get the stone out of the way. "Historically, whatever it is manages to kill anyone close enough to see. The event is relatively rare, even in ancient history, and is suspected to be self-inflicted. Some Dungeon Binders of the demesne that were destroyed are noted to have developed an interest in dragons, with some making arrangements to try to experiment on them. Hence why any gathering of data from dragons is restricted to passive observation only. In most demesnes, an accusation of trying to experiment on dragons is a very serious charge, since it could potentially end the demesne it occurs in."

In the one recorded instance someone was known to have planned to use rousing the attention of a dragon as a weapon of war, their own subordinates had turned on them. When that rebellion had almost been suppressed, the rebels had managed to get word of the plans to neighboring demesnes, which had resulted in all their neighbors allying together against them. That had been the end of Ertalann Demesne, its name only remembered as an object lesson.

Rian hummed. "I notice you don't have that law written down either."

"I don't have a law telling people to not set themselves on fire either. Like drinking molten lead, some things are simply no longer contemplated by any sane wizard."

"That doesn't rule out the insane ones."

And what was there to say to that? Obviously? "Obviously," Lori said sarcastically. "But you can say that about any profession."

Rian nodded. "True, true… "

"And of course, the fifth reason is that some Dungeon Binders know how to destroy the cores of dungeon's not their own."

Rian stared at her for a moment. "That should surprise me, but it doesn't because there's no depth of horribleness people won't eventually sink to given enough time," he said. It was a shockingly pessimistic thought to hear, especially from Rian. "Of course people would find a way to destroy the only thing keeping people safe. Why wouldn't they? I don't suppose anyone knows how?"

Lori shook her head as more and more of the stone moved out of the way. Steps downward shaped from tree roots were revealed, and she shifted her efforts towards exposing them. A path slowly formed. "No. At best, all that is known is that way exists, and is suspected to be possessed by Frado Demesne, Elisdoder Demesne, and Relren Demesne, among others. Suspected, but not confirmed. No one knows what they really used as the only survivors of the destruction, which usually collapses a sizable portion of the Dungeon the core is housed within, were the Dungeon Binders who caused it… and sometimes not even them."

"That sounds utterly terrifying," Rian said, his voice flat. "Thank you for giving me problems sleeping tonight." He frowned. "Unless you're going to tell me those are simply scary stories that get passed around and dungeons don't actually work like that?"

From the bottom of the path Lori had made, there was a glow.

"Enough talk," Lori said, pushing the stone to the side and deactivating the binding. "I need to investigate the core." She put her staff down on the steps, and was just able to claim the waterwisps of the moisture so she could turn them into mist. She wasn't going to fall on slippery steps.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Rian asked.

Lori waved a hand dismissively. "That won't be necessary. I simply need to visually confirm the core. Binder Shanalorre, begin prepare to make the announcement of your surrender and subjugation. We will commence once I have finished my inspection."

"Yes, Binder Lolilyuri," Shanalorre said, bowing slightly. "I have already begun informing people to congregate for an announcement."

She had? Well, that explained the people she'd been talking to. Good. "Good," Lori said. "I will be back momentarily." She descended the steps, moving carefully. The steps felt solid under her feet, but there was something disconcerting about how they felt through her boots. Too many bumps and contours, where she was used to professionally planed flatness. Many of the steps were growing small roots, and even though she couldn't feel them, it felt like she should be able to, half-expecting the sensation of hairy tendrils under her feet.

And then she had reached the bottom of the steps, and there was a familiar light in front of her, a light she had last seen months ago. It filled a room that was similar to the cave she had initially lived in with her core, except the ground was made of flattened roots that looked like they had been merged and flattened with Deadspeaking. The walls might have once been smooth wood, but now they had the darkened, textured look of tree bark. Floating in the center of the small chamber, about the leng of two hands from the ceiling, was undoubtedly the core of the demesne.

The core looked similar to the one she was already connected to, and seemed of a like size, though her pride wanted to say hers was bigger. Everyone knew that size was what mattered, after all. The core floated in the air, glowing softly. Not a brilliant, radiant light, but a soft, diffuse light that emanated from its cloudy-looking surface, which had a luster like a wet tooth and lines like the grains on pale wood. From the bottom of the core, there were short growth that looked like… was that bone? It had been wrapped in with that looked like gold wire, which was secured by a band of some sort of substance that she couldn't identify but looked distressingly familiar…

Lori stared.

…

It… made sense, she supposed. When she had made her core, she had been a Whisperer. She formed it using wisps from her body, anchored to materials from her and the surrounding area that she had collected. That had included lightwisps and firewisps. The heat from the lightwisps had melted her gold and lead, leading to the appearance of melted strands in her own core, while the lightwisps had shown brightly…

River's Fork's core, however, had been made by a Deadspeaker. The life that they tamed into meanings were inherently part of materials that had, at one point, been alive. Wood, teeth, leather, bone and…

Hesitantly, Lori stepped forward, claiming some of the lightwisps in the air and binding them. She reached up to her left eye with one hand and anchored the binding to the waterwisps on her fingers, and the binding glowed with light, brightening the space. Transferring the binding of lightwisps to one of the vibrating pieces of quartz on her staff, she shined her light on the jutting pieces of bone at the bottom of the core. Hesitantly, she reached towards the strange band holding the gold wire in place, and recoiled at the smooth sensation that finally let her place what the material was.

Fingernails.

A part of her mind said quietly that blood had probably been used at some point, perhaps hair. Maybe even muscle or some other flesh…

The rest of her shivered at the thought, and firmly resolved to not think about what parts of himself the late Deadspeaker had used to form his core. Yet it was with morbid curiosity that she raised up her hand and gingerly touched its surface. Despite the pattern that looked like wood grain, that wasn't the familiar sensation she felt under her palm. Instead, the surface was smooth as glass and cool to the touch. Almost, she had thought it would be warm and alive and disturbingly fleshy—

Repressing another shudder at that thought, Lori pushed at the core experimentally. It didn't move so much as a fraction of a chiyustri, remaining absolutely stationary despite—

Lori paused and, still keeping her hand on the core, began to walk around it.

—yes, it was completely unsupported from all sides, simply hanging in the air in defiance of the weight that its size and solidity would suggest. It did not shift under her hand, neither rotating or dislodging.

She wondered how Shanalorre had managed to touch the core to claim it. Had she used a stool?

…

Probably.

…

The core was exactly when she had been told it was. She had confirmed it. By the terms of their agreement, she was now the Dungeon Binder of River's Fork.

Turning, she left the core behind, knowing it would be there waiting for her when Shanalorre was dead.