As Ember climbed the sloped path, at some point, the walls changed. He used his phone, which had only fifty percent battery, to keep track of the time with a timer he had set just after the encounter with the goblins. So far, an hour and a half had passed, and only now was he noticing the walls had changed. They were smoother, a little more elegant in their design. Before, the walls were something you would find in a mineshaft—very rough, rocky, and full of edges. But these walls were smooth, like they were designed to have inscriptions on them, or at least to look like civilized walls.

  The torches had also slightly changed. Before, the torches were bare bones, just sticks with wood on them that somehow burned for infinity. Now, the torches were made of metal, in a pedestal shape, and the flame looked like it was mimicking a sword set in it.

  Ember didn’t hear any more sounds or screaming or clashing of metal as he climbed. It was just the rhythmic tapping of his sword on the ground as he walked.

  An hour passed, then two. Ember was starting to lose hope and was afraid the path would never end. His ankle throbbed at every step, and his limp was getting worse.

  And then the path evened out. After walking up for so long, it took him a few moments to steady himself, his legs shaking with effort. In front of him, at the end of the corridor, was a simple wooden door.

  Ember looked around. Is this a trap? Am I supposed to do something? He scanned the walls, expecting to find maybe a small indent for arrows to shoot out, or little slits for metal spikes to shoot out of the floor, but there was nothing. The walls were just as smooth as before. They weren’t black anymore like they had been before. They were now sandstone in color.

  Reluctantly, he stepped forward, carefully. He dropped to the ground and eyed the floor itself to make sure there were no indents or anything he could step on. Of course, the floor was smooth.

  With a deep breath, more akin to hyperventilating, he ran forward as fast as he could and closed his eyes, both to ignore the pain of his ankle and his impending death. Nothing happened. He crossed to the other side, and it was eventless. He let out a relieved sigh as he touched the wood of the door. Okay, no traps yet. I don’t know if I should be concerned there are no traps or I should be relieved.

  He opened the door. There was a small knob, which felt oddly normal for this place, and he slowly cracked it open, peeking inside. He wasn’t stupid enough to just open the door and walk in.

  The room was sparse. There was nothing in it besides the torches. However, there was a creature. It was seven feet tall. Its skin was the color of buckskin, and it was very pebbly, like goosebumps all over. Its arms were like tree trunks, as were its legs, but it had a small head.

  Ember immediately closed the door. Okay, that was not what I was expecting to be in that room. Is that a cyclops? I can’t see its face, but it must be something like that. His heart hammered in his chest again. Okay, so we have a cyclops. How do I get around it?

  He set the sword down and wrung his hands nervously as he looked around his environment. By this point, Ember was learning how to ignore his ankle. It’s supposed to be dumb, right? I mean, this is a fantasy world, so for all I know, this could be the smartest thing in history. But I don’t really have any other choice but to hope that it’s dumb. So maybe a distraction would get me past it. The question is, what do I distract it with?

  Ember sat and thought on it for a while. His heart was still hammering against his ribs, and his mind was somewhat muddled from fear, but he managed to force himself to focus and looked up at the torches. He stared. Maybe I could use that as a distraction. I could toss it against the far wall, and then, when he turns his back, I could sneak past him.

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  Ember nodded to himself. It’s not like I have any other choices. I can’t fight that.

  With his path set, he went over to one of the torches and grabbed the pedestal. It was something akin to a square, maybe about half a foot in length. It looked like a trapezoid. He wrenched it off the wall, and it surprisingly came off easily. He almost fell over but managed to catch himself before he did. The flame sputtered out. Ember wasn’t exactly sure how the flames worked, but maybe it was magic. Looking closer, the torch wasn’t attached to anything. It just rested on a small platform.

  He peeked through the door again. The creature was motionless. It seemed it hadn’t noticed his somewhat loud movements, or at least it didn’t care.

  Okay, we got this. Just one step at a time. Toss it on the far left wall. When he turns, sneak around him. He gripped the torch base in his hand and the sword in his left and slowly snuck into the room. His hands were sweaty, and he was honestly afraid he might drop it, but with an effort that felt inhuman, he tossed the torch to the other side. It clanked against the wall and clattered to the floor.

  The monster perked up and started to turn. As quietly as he could, Ember kept himself to the creature’s back. It lumbered over to the pedestal and stared at it.

  With a relieved inward sigh, Ember made his way to the other door.

  Just as he was about to open it, a voice carried to him. “I know you’re there, stranger,” the voice said, very deep and gravelly.

  He froze. Of course, Ember should have just opened the door and left. He was right there in front of it. But the fear in his body made him freeze like a deer in the headlights. His mind went blank.

  The creature spoke again. “I’m not going to stop you, stranger. I’ve been trapped down here in this place for decades. I have no reason to kill you. No reason to do what those people try to force me to do.” Its voice sounded frustrated. “All that I ask, stranger, is that you come back and get me out of here one of these days. I’m far too big to leave this place on my own.”

  Ember stared at the monster. It still didn’t turn toward him; it kept its back to him.

  He finally managed to squeak out, “You’re not going to kill me?”

  It rumbled—maybe the closest thing to a laugh it had. “No. Maybe if you had come a decade sooner, I would have squashed you like a bug. But now I’m just tired. And bored. I want out of this room. It’s been nothing but my own prison.” Its face remained transfixed on the object. “This is the first stimulation I’ve had in decades. The first thing I’ve seen in so long. Outside of that man.”

  It never turned its body to Ember, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was afraid he wouldn’t help if he saw its face. He wanted to ask about this man, but his desire to leave won out.

  “Okay,” Ember said shakily. “I’ll try to get you out of here if I have the opportunity to.”

  He knew he shouldn’t make promises like that, but he couldn’t help wanting to help the creature. It sounded so sad and lifeless. It kind of reminded him of himself before he came here—just existing for the sake of living.

  The monster nodded its head, and Ember slipped out of the room.

  What a bizarre encounter, he thought. But it said it’s been trapped here for decades. So that means it wasn’t born here? It doesn’t live here?

  He looked at the path. Still the same as usual. Nothing had changed. Then it was put here on purpose by someone or something. He swallowed hard. What does that mean for me? This is a dungeon, right? But it doesn’t seem to be your stereotypical fantasy dungeon.

  He shook his head. No time to think about that. I need to keep going. If I don’t get some water soon, I’m going to die.

  He cast the monster into the back of his mind, into the prison it was trapped in, and left, ascending back onto the sloped path, a slight limp to his step, his tongue dry, but mind still clear.

  Ember couldn’t help but wonder why the monster didn’t just walk out. Sure, it might be a little awkward to fit its frame through the small door, but surely it was capable of leaving. The thought passed as quickly as it came as he continued his trek.

  Another hour or two passed, until finally, something appeared that might be a way out. A ladder descended from above. By this point, Ember was dizzy and near delirious. He had already started seeing waterfalls on the walls, and vending machines lined the walls on occasion. He thought the ladder was an illusion until he half stumbled, half rammed into it.

  It looked very well taken care of. Ember glanced up. It was just darkness. But it was the only other option he had. The path continued to go up a little bit, but he couldn’t tell where it ended. The impulse to just climb the ladder was high, but it was possible this was a fake or something meant to trip somebody up.

  His thirst, however, didn’t care. Even if it wasn’t a way out, he had no other choice. It was a way out or he’d die.