Chrysalis

It was strange to be able to smell death. It seemed like the sort of thing that shouldn’t have a smell. Sure, things like decay and rot, they had a distinct scent, an extremely potent one, but those were distinct from death itself. A function of death, in a way. When a person died in front of you, or around you, there wasn’t a discernible odour, as far as Jern could tell. It wasn’t like the soul leaving the body was something his nose could detect.

Yet, as he stood on the precipice of the second stratum of the Dungeon, he could smell death.

He didn’t like it.

“It’s so cold,” Alis shivered as she stood by his side, looking down into the slowly stirring darkness.

“It’s going to be colder once we get down there,” he said.

“I don’t want to think about it. At least it’s supposed to get warmer once we reach the third.”

From what he’d heard, Jern wasn’t confident she would enjoy that heat much more than the cold. He’d conversed with a few ants from the next two layers, and it seemed to him that neither were all that hospitable. Only when they reached the fourth would they find a climate they would consider suitaboe for life.

“I never thought I’d be standing here,” he noted aloud.

Alis looked at him, and then back down the sharply sloped tunnel. The border between the first and second lay before them, a sharp border in the Dungeon. To both of them, it looked like a cloud of ink that revolved almost imperceptibly, a dark pond he could toss a stone into. After a moment, he shrugged, picked up a small shard of rock and lobbed it forward, gently, just a couple of metres.

As it fell into the ‘pond’, the flat surface didn’t ripple, it wasn’t disturbed in any way, and the sound of the rock hitting the tunnel floor reached him a second later, muffled.

“What did you do that for?” Alis asked.

“I was curious,” Jern defended himself.

and rips your head off?” she scolded

than she was, but decided against it at the last minute. Alis didn’t

her. “Beyn told us we shouldn’t be out here

“Good idea.”

tunnels. A common phenomenon, he was

ending cycle. Even so, the effects of the wave were

thing they’d been doing so much fighting recently.

Even the old ladies.

the camp, where it butted against the cavern wall. They found Beyn not far away, talking

at least a week,” Beyn insisted. “Your devotion is to your credit, Sister Myra,

protect us from the Dungeon Sickness?” the grey haired woman demanded. “Everyone is certain our lack of symptoms can be attributed to the

mandibles to shield us from much harm, of that I have no doubt,” Beyn agreed, “but for other trials, we are expected to carry the burdens ourselves. The mana thickens precipitously as we descend, and were we to

of reflection and meditation since it sounded holy enough for her liking. She thanked the priest for his time and moved away, much of the crowd going

young pilgrims approached

Jern,

the camp looking at the tunnel down. Are we really going to have to

priest looked grave and

I’m afraid we must. Even more may be necessary, though I hope that isn’t the case. The devotion of these people burns strong, and I would hate to force them to delay on their holy journey. Dungeon sickness is a very

where the ants had dug out a large space from the cavern wall and created a low-mana zone within. All of them had been expected to spend time inside, slowly letting the mana

are probably due to go back in, Alis,”

with a cough, not wanting

I thought I should do it today. I was hoping you