“Syndarus!”

“Zathis! You old fool, good to see you.”

Zathis awkwardly scratched his head, looking down at her as she pushed off the many attendants trying to help her out of her mud and blood ridden armor. “Not so old or foolish as to forget your beauty, my queen.”

“Oh stop with that. Save it for your many suitors.”

Zathis coughed awkwardly, but tolerated her joke at his expense. It must be hard to be a Giant in a world of Dwarves. Or… it probably had been. The giants hadn’t been taken when the Dwarves had, and Syndarus knew nothing of what had happened to them. Perhaps they had already taken their turn with the trial. Perhaps she would meet with their king again, wherever they ended up afterwards.

Perhaps that king will have learned something by then.

With a flourish of her hand, she sent her silken hair in an elegant cascade to her back, enjoying the widened eyes as far too many of her people fought to remain stoic. The little things made life here bearable.

Nodding in farewell to her Giant bodyguard, she left him in the enormous chamber they had built for him. Ever since he had… been injured during one of the excursions, he had been despondent. Inconsolable. Her promoting him to bodyguard, and giving him that chamber, had brought him back. His eyes practically glowed with pride and affection as he watched her go.

They always did.

The way was unsealed before her, and her generals awaited her at the bottom of the cold, stone steps.

“Report.”

The woman on her right, general of her archers and scouts, led: “A scouting party of five were lost. They were led by one I trained personally. Only their weapons were found. Broken.”

Syndarus frowned. Never good news from the scouts. Her warriors were exceptionally capable of dealing with an upfront enemy, due to their mastery over magics of the soil and stone. Unfortunately, hidden enemies were much harder to deal with.

She said nothing, but turned to the burly man on her left, who spoke without further prompting: “The entirety of the area known as the ‘Rolling Hills’ has been cleared of hostile forces. Construction of the transportation tunnels proceeds at a marked rate, with our forces able to avoid possible ambushes and difficult terrain by traveling underground instead. We have found that the entities known as ‘Shades’ do not appear in the tunnels, even at night, allowing for continuous efforts and reduced need for guards.”

She gave a tight smile. “Excellent work, as always.” It was unfortunate there was so much imbalance in success. She needed both of them immensely in order to manage all that there was to do, but their competitive natures clashed when one obviously outperformed the other. To her chagrin, she had to admit she had played them against each other in the past to push their growth, but… she saw the venom in her Scout General’s eyes, and the gloating superiority in her Army General’s expression.

“As you have less need for guards to protect the caravans, you will assist the scouts in their efforts to map more of the world. We cannot continue to lose them at this rate, and those that hunt them will serve as worthy foes indeed for your soldiers.”

The gloat was gone, but the venom deepened. She couldn’t reign them both in, but she did need them to work together.

She turned back to her Scout General: “I trust you can handle incorporating the soldiers into your scout teams?”

“Of course.” There, something for both. Imperfect, but it would serve.

“Good. As you were.”

They rushed off without hesitation. Great warriors in a terrible situation. They all were.

Her steps echoed off the stone walls, piercing the din of hundreds of bodies moving, coordinating, and arguing, and the volume dropped, just slightly, out of respect for her passing. She strode confidently toward the council chambers, where she had amassed the greatest thinkers of her people to work on getting them through. They had been deliberating a new idea, a way to win without winning… she was concerned, but they had not failed her yet.

The ornate door to the chamber was closed, indicating that they had yet to reach a decision, but affording her an excellent view of the art that adorned it. And ode to her, as it were. A queen was always bound and shackled by those she ruled, and the council chamber was that idea brought to life. Many had thought she would destroy it and have the impudent artist put to death. In truth, she should have… but she couldn’t. The mural served as a reminder, to herself and to them, what she was, and what she had given up for them.

She pressed the seals into their alcoves, and the magic within the door resonated, letting them creak open…

Creak…? They never… creaked…

She opened her eyes from where she lay, covered in dust, on the floor of the empty room. Dreaming again. Dreams were all she had now. In truth, all of them were dead, and only she remained, watching over their wretched remains.

Why had she woken? There was nothing here. There was never anything here.

Zathis saw to that.

Her eternal bodyguard.

Who eternally denied her the sweet release of death.

She felt the rage claim her again, giving her the strength to push herself upright and look at the door… which was open.

The door was never open.

----

Where there was pitch darkness in the rest of the cave, that reaches new levels in this final room. It’s almost like my Perception is being forcibly altered, creating a void in the center of the spacious room. Not even Kaythe’s enhanced vision can pierce it, but my instincts scream that something is there. We haven’t cleared the dungeon yet, so whatever it is… it’s the last one.

A sliding sound, the soft clank of metal on stone, then a deep, guttural growl echoes around the chamber. I immediately hold my sword defensively in front of me, straining to see anything, but the growl, instead of escalating, turns into a hacking cough.

The momentary confusion would have been the perfect opportunity for this thing to strike, but it doesn’t. It coughs more, harder, and louder, getting to a truly deafening level by the end, doing a number to convince me that this is the actual attack before a single word materializes: “Sorry.”

“H...ello?”

The sound of something spitting, causing me to flinch, but nothing flies our way. “Been… a long time… since I spoke..” The voice started of deep, barely more than the growl we heard to start, but as it speaks, it sounds more full… and more feminine.”

“Are you… the queen of the Dwarves?”

“I… was. Am.” Its voice betrays a large amount of effort in even forming those few words.

“Could you step forward? We can’t see you in that darkness.”

The sound of something sliding again.

“A queen does not approach. A queen is approached. You may.” The voice improves by the sentence, no, by the word.

Hesitantly, I look to Lauren, who just mouths “No.” and Cerberus, who hasn’t taken his eyes off the darkness that houses the voice. I smile wryly in response to Lauren, who looks unhappy, but takes the queue that I’m going to do something stupid anyway, and moves to support me as I start walking.

My steps echo loudly in the large chamber, even cushioned as they are by dust. No words are exchanged during our approach, but I begin to vaguely make out the silhouette of a sitting figure, staring intently at me. The form is extremely thin, much like a person who hadn’t eaten in months. A long cascade of dark hair flows off its head, collecting in a pile behind it. Its arms are too long… a Dwarf’s arms. Even in the darkness I can see the telltale shape of a sword on the far side of her body. Far enough.

“We were sent here to recover something of yours, but we had been told you had died.”

“Grave robbers? I’m sure you feel that sets you far above brigands and thieves.”

“... in this place? Thievery is almost a kindness compared with what we’ve experienced. Anyway, I’m sure Zathis would rather-”

“Zathis?” She interrupts, a dangerous tone replacing the melodic tones from before.

“The…” I start to look back at my allies, in search of support, before my Combat Proficiency skill basically slaps me back to looking at the unknown, imminent threat in front of me. “-giant that guards this place? He is a good friend of ours, and asked that we retrieve a pendant he had gifted you.”

Silence drags on, with the darkness almost seeming to deepen. I can just make out the coal black voids that are probably her eyes… and I honestly wish I couldn’t.

She suddenly throws back her head and laughs a strange, haunting laugh, devoid of mirth, love, or anything positive. A laugh of hatred.

“I gave him that pendant to signify his position as my bodyguard. He gave it back when he thought to become something more. A gross error on his part, and on mine for trusting him. I know not how he cursed the pendant, but it trapped me in this eternal hell, unable to die, for… ever. I was made to stand by as my loyal allies died, rotted, and rose again down in this prison. I watched as they lost their minds, and one day, stopped opening the door to speak with me. If you are here, you must have killed them, desecrating their memories one final time.”

“We-”

“No, do not deign to speak in my presence, envoys of the betrayer.” She slams the sword into the ground, emphasizing her words and using it to push herself to a standing position. The snapping of her joints is audible from where I stand, but she gives no indication that it is painful in any way. Instead, she takes a strange position of readiness, seemingly emphasizing her abnormal reach, before whirling the greatsword to stop on a dime, horizontal, right behind her.

“Girl, do not interfere. I will duel with the wielder of my second’s blade. That he dares to possess it is a grave affront, and he must atone. Should you, or the hound, interfere, he will die.” To me, it seems as though she’s speaking to an odd lump of darkness, but I know Lauren somehow snuck over there.

“We don’t need to do this.” She seems rational enough, even if she’s an asshole. Maybe I can talk-

*Clang* The sword is almost ripped from my hands as I just manage to deflect a strike that meant to bisect me. She jumps back to her starting position, as if having made her point with action alone.

Alright. I don’t mind a bit of regicide.