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

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

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

“Good idea.”

A common phenomenon, he was told. Passages between strata were much rarer than regular tunnels, so there was often a convergence when one was

Even so, the effects of the wave were impossible to ignore. Monsters would burst out of the ground inside the camp at all hours; one even emerged from just under the wall, collapsing a wide stretch as it

thing they’d been doing so much fighting recently. Pretty much

Even the old ladies.

camp, where it butted against the cavern wall. They found Beyn

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

the grey haired woman demanded. “Everyone is certain our lack of symptoms can

stretched forth their 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 advance to the Shadow

of reflection and meditation since it

pilgrims approached and Beyn smiled at

and Jern, how fare

tunnel down. Are we

looked grave

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

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 in their bodies out, then stepping back outside.

probably due to go back

it with a cough, not

said, “I need to advance my Class and I thought I should