Descending from the stairwell, my ‘dear guests’ would find themselves at the base of a stone tower, surrounded on all sides by grey fields of endless flowers, their shape a five-petaled star repeated on and on into the horizon.

The dark was deep, tenebrous, an inky almost-solid presence that weighed down and drank up the tiny torches and lanterns they would bring. In the tiny sphere of what they could view the trees would loom as skeletal silhouettes, and if they approached, they would see the weeping faces carved in the salt, the way the red iron underneath shone through the cloud crystal in streaks. Vines of flesh would curl around the branches, and a fruit of nightvein would tempt them.

Of course, one of the vines was a serpent, coiled in hibernation. I had simply turned its scales to a deep bloody red, and of course improved its venom. One bite - one unwary hand reaching for that first fruit - would be their doom.

That would be how my second layer introduced itself.

The first plateau was largely empty, choosing instead to rely on the way the field of flowers stretched over the gap between islands, their roots interlocked to form a floating canopy over the pitfall. I would let them discover that the hard way.

Once they found the bridge across, they would arrive at my second island; here I was adding elements, upping the challenge. This island would be focused not on keeping invaders out but keeping them in. I wanted them to come far enough into my little world to have no hope of retreat.

This was the lair of the rock spiders. I made them sensitive to a particular sound, trained them to rise up from their disguise as mere boulders and go into a savage frenzy at the note; the sound of feet crossing the second bridge. Once the adventurers started to move to the third island, the way back would suddenly be cut off, a surge of angry stone-spinner spiders blocking their way.

They would have no choice but to continue.

I laid a second trap near the bridge, a skeletal corpse. While making live humans was beyond my power, making dead ones was simple enough. Lying by the corpse was a scattering of coins and an emerald brooch. Or what looked like one.

It was in fact a disguised snail, a deadly soft-bodied horror with a radial, gaping mouth lined by sharp little injector-teeth meant to pump a numbing poison into the unwary. The coins were normal enough- since the damned humans made theirs out of dark iron I couldn’t fit anything inside without it dying almost immediately.

But again, I counted on greed. I had scattered these little beauties throughout my Dungeon, and while they might not attract much attention at first, seeming obviously a trap, as real treasures and very genuine sets of bones began to litter the ground it might become tempting to test one’s luck and take from the corpses of adventurers past.

But what kind of monster would I be if I stopped there?

The third landmass would be where the ground itself turned against them. Step in the wrong place, and a fluttering swarm of hypnotic butterflies would erupt. Razor sharp vines would wrap around your leg with clutching thorns. Pitfalls abounded, and here I had a genius idea. I made shallow, survivable falls, but layered them with a new species of my Somnolent Bloom Schema, more deadly then before. Bone-white and thin as silk, the brushing little hairs would cling like little suckered octopus feet to whatever touched them, dripping a steady adhesive.

So the prospective victim would fall and be caught fast, screaming for their companions. And if the brave heroes rushed to the hapless fool’s aid, they would drink in the invisible, thin cloud of sleeping spores the fall and subsequent struggling had stirred up into the air. Not enough to fell a grown man quickly, but enough to slow his reflexes.

In this way one fool who took a misplaced step could drag his whole team down

As for creatures, it was time they met serious resistance. With the way back barred by angry stone-spinners, more of the goliath spiders would swarm from the front. At the center of the island I would build another gazebo, this one made of white salt.

It would guard the entrance of a set of concealed tunnels that spread throughout the island, allowing minions to pop up and vanish through holes too small for a grown human to follow.

As for who would take up position, I chose Aurum’s kobold as a base. This was a floor that emphasizes skill and wits over brute force, and better yet, their dextrous hands allowed them to wield ranged weaponry for harassing and skirmishing. I made seven to begin with, one after the other blinking their wide yellow eyes as they came into existence from collapsing clouds of Mana.

I made each of them a little different, some skinny and quick, others bulky and strong. One I gave the slimy coating of the lamprey and the abyssal shark. A scorpion’s tail, four eyes, a spider’s climbing hairs, chameleonic skin.

For them I made long spears, and hollow blowpipes with poisonous darts. The latter was… a mistake.

The smallest of the kobolds lifted the hollow wooden tube, blowing through it. An empty puffing note burst out. Delighted, it continued to puff away, making an awful little racket. I had made a musician.

And oh, I could only regret it.

Argent was scuffed, shaken, but unharmed. She watched nervously over the breach, as humans swarmed around the new hole in the Maker’s works.

It was clear that many of them were angry. The breach had ripped down nearby houses, cut a street in half, claimed lives as people fell into the spreading destruction. Guards in shining breastplates and high plumed helmets came to seize the mages who hadn’t been pulled under by the catastrophic expansion of their spell, dragging them away.

Men were posted around the gap, a cordon established. It became more and more clear that the city hadn’t ordered this. It had been the work of runaway adventurers, too eager for riches and glory.

They had gotten what they deserved, in the end.

One of her best lieutenants had managed a leap from a half-collapsed roof down to the top of the governor’s carriage, as the man himself arrived to survey the damage. Even for humans he was a giant; tall and round-bellied the man was bald as an egg, walking with the help of a cane, his fingers laden with rings that clicked on the walking stick’s golden grip.

He held a silk handkerchief to his face to hold back the slow drift of dust from the ruined homes. The air was thick with ash and smoke from fires that had sprung up under the ruins.

Nevertheless he coughed, bending so far forward that his men seized his arms to keep him from going over the edge as he hacked and spat. “I- oogh- I want Voglin, where is he?”

The captain of the men stepped forward and present himself, plumed helmet tucked under his arm respectfully.

“Prepare an expedition force. If this thing is going to live under our city and cause trouble, we should make some profit from it all, don’t you think? And tell Eyfrae. No, don’t ask her, just tell her.“ The governor shook his head, hocking a ball of spit over the edge of the crevasse. “This whole business, disgraceful. Brought out the animals in people.”

He shook his head, disgusted.

Trivelin and Umi slid to a stop. Their bellies were empty, their heads started to ring and swim from the demands for food. They felt like hollow people. It was all they could do to keep walking, their fingers trailing along the left-hand side of the walls, endlessly.

And in their stupor they turned the corner and were presented with a treasure vault.

A gleaming, beautiful abundance of coins and jewelery, piled high on either side of the hallway so that they walked through a valley canyon, surrounded by walls of gold. In all his life, Trivelin had never seen so much wealth.

Umi turned to him, her eyes stern. “Your turn, fat man. I don’t get my food and you don’t get the gold.”

Trivelin barely bit back a number of responses, chief among them that if you eat, you’re hungry tomorrow, but if you steal, oh, if you steal you’re fed for life. Very few people appreciated his philosophy on the matter of theft, despite how true it was.

Still, odds were this poxy gold would vanish as soon as he left the Tower.

Reluctantly dropping the few coins he’d already slipped into his hand, and nervously chuckling as Umi glared at him, he plodded along behind her as they carried on through the vault, watching priceless treasures - a glass and silver recreation of the imperial palace, an octagonal seal carved of lapis-lazuli with a golden dragon perched atop, a falcon of onyx lined with precious jewels for every feather - slip him by.

And as they turned the corner, they came face to face with a grisly creature.

It had no skin, and no blood, only pale pink muscle like a gutted fish. It might have been human once, but its arms were incredibly long and its fingers were curved blades that scraped the ground as it sat, with knees curled to its chest and those terrible claws pressed to each cheek. An expression of horror.

It didn’t move. It was quite still, maybe dead, but Trivelin’s heart had already skipped several beats. His breathing only resumed when Umi grabbed his hand and tugged him forward, whispering, “Come on!” in a rushed hiss.

They picked their way carefully and fearfully around the thing where it sat, and started to run, the gold canyon continuing on behind the beast. Ahead of them a door loomed.

And Trivelin had a thought.

If there was no guardian, then the treasure itself was the challenge. Definitely, if there was no guardian, he couldn’t take any treasure.

But since there was a guardian…

Didn’t that mean the treasure itself wasn’t trapped? That it needed guarding?

The door was just ahead of them. They could make it through in a heartbeat.

Casually reaching out, he snatched up a golden telescope ringed in emeralds and patterned with tortoiseshell marks. The kind a captain of esteem should have.

Umi spun around and glared at him- and her face went from a feral snarl, ready to yell, to a slack, pale look.

Trivelin spun around. The guardian was gone. Nowhere to be seen. Just vanished.

“Go!” He roared, and they both dived for the door. It refused to budge. As his hand caught the knob and turned, a hidden panel dropped back and rotated away, revealing a hidden lock- an eight-sided socket.

“Fuck!” They shouted in unison.

And that was when they heard the chiming of thousands of coins crashing to the ground.