Chapter 3

The morning light warmed my skin as I stepped out from the half-built shrine, its rough stone walls etched with pale runes that shimmered faintly in the dawn. Every block felt familiar now, as though the shrine had existed forever and I was only rediscovering it. Nad stood at the center, arms crossed, watching two laborers lift a carved lintel into place. His grin was equal parts pride and mischief.

I joined him on the flagstones, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. "It's nearly complete," I observed, the absence of pain in my joints reminding me how deeply Nad's dungeon healing had worked. I still couldn't believe that illness which had haunted me for years was now only a memory.

"Perfect timing," Nad replied, nodding toward the open ground beneath the shrine. "Once they finish the roof, we break ground on the cellar."

As if on cue, one of the laborers tapped the beam, and with a rumble, the wooden supports shifted. The other man sprang back, startled, but Nad simply raised a hand. The timbers stilled, and the beam settled gently into place. He winked at me. "Divine mortar," he said softly. "I might have added a pinch of blessing."

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. "Your idea of blessing and mine differ drastically."

He laughed. "True. You want safety rails; I want secret doorways."

By midday, the shrine's exterior was nearly finished—stone pillars standing straight, runes glowing at each joint, and a slender arch marking the entrance. Subtle as it was, an aura of calm radiated from the stones. I felt it when I placed my palm on the nearest column: a gentle pulse, like a heartbeat.

We moved to the open earth behind the shrine. Nad produced a small pickaxe and handed me a shovel. Each swing revealed more of the soil's dark richness and the broken pottery shards from previous occupants. I recalled his promise: beneath this foundation would lie a hidden dwelling—our home—and the secret entrance to Nad's Dungeon.

When we reached the depth he'd marked, Nad traced a rectangle in the dirt with his foot. "This is the cellar," he explained. "Living quarters for now—later, a dungeon vestibule."

I knelt at the edge, peering into the shallow pit. "It's cozy," I said wryly. "I hope you like narrow hallways."

He grinned and jumped down. "Cozy is good. Keeps out unwanted guests."

With spade and pickaxe we worked in companionable silence, the shrine's new silhouette behind us. Sweat and dust mingled on my skin, but there was something invigorating about honest labor. Each rock I pried free was a stone removed from my past. Each spade of earth cast aside was a memory laid to rest.

As afternoon slipped toward evening, the cellar reached its final form: a low-ceilinged chamber with rough-hewn walls and a flat floor. I dusted off my leggings and looked at Nad. "Your turn."

He withdrew a small vial of crushed monster crystal powder and a length of chalk. Carefully, he began to draw a circle on the hard-packed earth at the center of the room. The chalk lines glowed faintly as he worked—loops, sigils, interwoven patterns that made my head spin.

"Magic's got a personality when you use enough of it," he said, kneeling. "Mine's a troll." He chuckled at his own joke, then frowned in concentration.

I watched the circle take shape. Every line thrummed with latent energy. When he finished, he opened the vial and sprinkled the crystalline dust along the innermost glyph. The powder hissed and sparked, then coalesced into a faint emerald glow.

Nad tapped the circle's edge with the pommel of his dagger. "Watch this." With a swift strike, he shattered several larger crystals on the stone floor. The shards dissolved into dust, swirling into the circle's heart. In an instant, the dust condensed into a small orb no larger than a tennis ball, beating with a luminous pulse.

"Dungeon Core," he declared, lifting it into the air. The orb's glow reflected in his eyes. "My first dungeon-heart."

I stepped closer, awed by the gentle rhythm of its light. "It's alive."

"Just barely," he admitted. "But strong enough to power the floor above."

He led me up the rough stair they had carved earlier, toward the partly finished floor of what would become Floor 1. The walls here were bare rock, but when he placed the Core on a simple stone pedestal, Nad arranged more crystal dust in a larger circle around it.

"Step in," he invited. "Here, my godly power recedes. The crystals do the work."

I stepped into the circle, the Core's glow bathing me in soft green light. Nad placed his hands on the outer runes and murmured words older than any language I knew.

Energy surged through the floor beneath my boots, traveled up my legs, and settled warm in my chest. The rock walls shivered, then shifted and smoothed, new torches kindling along the corridor. The air smelled of fresh-cut stone and magic.

When I opened my eyes, the corridor looked as if it had been hewn and finished by master craftsmen. Smooth walls, sturdy ceiling, and flickering sconces lined the path into shadowed depths.

I turned to Nad, breathless. "You did this?"

He bowed with mock solemnity. "Your humble dungeon architect."

In the Core's pulsing light, I felt the last vestiges of my illness release me. My breathing came easily. The hollowness in my chest had vanished. Pain, once a constant companion, was now a distant memory.

Nad placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Only here can I channel this magic without drawing on my divine reserves. The crystals feed the spells. I just guide them."

I flexed my fingers. Solid. Strong. Alive. "I feel... whole."

He smiled, eyes soft. "Troll magic with a heart."

The glow faded to a steady hum. I stepped out of the circle, shoulders squared. "This must remain secret. No one can know of the Nad-Dungeon until they prove themselves."

Nad nodded. "Discretion is key. We'll keep this hidden until a member earns the right."

"Months."

"Months," he agreed, extending his pinky in a childish promise.

I hooked my pinky around his. "Divine honor."

His grin was victorious.

He retrieved a small satchel heavy with additional crystal cores. "We need more of these. Stronger dungeon, stronger spells. I want Floor 20 quality next."

I inhaled, determination surging. "I'll go."

His eyes lit up. "That's the spirit. But be careful—Floor 20 isn't forgiving."

I sheathed my sword, feeling its familiar weight. The shrine's entrance loomed above us, a promise of sanctuary behind, and the yawning mouth of the Dungeon before me.

I stepped toward the stair back to the surface, then turned. "See you soon."

He watched me go, Core satchel in hand, and called after me, "Bring me back a story—and crystals."

I laughed, the sound echoing against the stone. "And try not to break the shrine while I'm gone."

He saluted. "No promises."

I emerged into the daylight, heart steady. Below the half-finished shrine lay a secret that would change everything—and above, Nad waited, trusting me to return.