They trudged along the shale-covered paths, the only sounds the crunch of rock beneath their boots and the occasional distant screech of something inhuman. Bridget's whirled toward Valgrin, her finger jabbing at his chest. "I want to understand. Are you saying Shawin got kidnapped because of you?"

  Valgrin's shoulders slumped. "Don't know." He kicked at a loose stone, watching it skitter away. "We have some unknown pulling strings. Could be they're taking advantage or caused this as part of their plot."

  Izzy laid a hand on Bridget’s shoulder, “Don’t blame Valgrin or Malcolm. Neither of them would do something like that. Valgrin’s been ripped from his family to be brought here in a violation of Structure rules. I know he is just trying to get back.”

  Bridget's eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, met Valgrin's, “Spoke out of anger without knowing, I’m sorry.”

  "It's okay," Valgrin said, raising a palm. "I'd be looking for someone to blame too."

  The sharp edges of shale gave way beneath their boots, each step now landing with a dull thud instead of a crunch. Bridget knelt and unclasped her fingers from around Skwilly's middle, the creature's legs scrabbling against the packed dirt.

  Ahead, Litok paused at a ridge, squinting at the sun's position before turning back. "Cave's just beyond that outcropping," he called, voice carrying on the thin air. "Twenty minutes if we keep this pace."

  ###

  “If we hold here for about a minute you’ll be accurate on your ETA to the minute. Plus we can see if anything goes in or out.” Malcolm pointed out as the group rounded the corner and saw the cave opening.

  “That thing doesn’t look real,” Valgrin observed. “Way to symmetrical and seems to tick about every box of a cave opening in a cartoon.”

  “Ah, yes,” Malcolm patted Valgrin on the back. “I was trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture.”

  Litok dropped to a crouch, pressing his finger to his lips. He darted between boulders, his body melting into their shadows. The others followed, hunched and silent. With each step closer, the cave's opening seemed to swallow more light, as if drinking it from the air.

  At the threshold, Valgrin's eyes watered as he strained to penetrate the darkness, nothing. Not shadows, not shapes only absolute nothingness that pulsed like a living entity.

  Malcolm thrust his arm forward, his hand disappeared as if guillotined by the darkness. Seconds stretched like hours. When he yanked his hand back, they all exhaled in unison. "Still attached," he whispered, voice trembling. His eyes, swept across their faces. "But who knows if we'll see anything once we're swallowed whole." He paused for a couple of seconds, “In retrospect, that may not have been the smartest thing I’ve ever done.

  “I’m going in.” Bridget announced as she leapt into the darkness.

  Izzy shrugged, “ Well, I guess we’re going in too.” She strode through the curtain of black, pulling out her pouch of lightrocks while she did.

  “Skwilly, if you can handle the lighting.” Valgrin looked down at the priggy, “We need to go on in.”

  Valgrin's boot crossed the threshold, braced for endless darkness, but two steps in, his breath caught. Violet light danced across his upturned face as he gaped at the chamber. Countless tiny crystals winked from the curved ceiling arching impossibly high above them. Malcolm's whistle echoed against the polished walls, the sound bouncing through air that tasted faintly of metal. Valgrin ran his palm along the unnaturally smooth red stone, there were no rough edges, no formations breaking the perfect curve of the dome, just the cold glitter of crystals casting their light into every inch.

  “I see one problem,” Ylnah spoke in a hushed tone. “Don’t see another way out.” She took three steps backward, her shoulders tensing as her hand disappeared into what looked like solid stone. The limb vanished to the elbow before she yanked it back, flexing her fingers in the violet light. "Entrance is still there," she announced. “We need to check for other passages.”

  Litok's eyes darted from Ylnah to the rest of the group. "Wait." He dropped to a crouch, palm hovering an inch above the dirt floor, fingers splayed like he was feeling for heat. The skin of his hand began to glow with a sickly yellow luminescence that dripped from his fingertips like honey.

  The first droplet fell, sizzling as it hit dirt. Then another. The droplets connected, stretching into a thin, pulsing vein of light that carved its own path across the chamber floor. Litok rose, wincing, he started walking, boots careful not to disturb the gleaming trail. "Stay close," he whispered, following the growing tendril as it hesitated at junctions, quivered, then chose a direction. The group huddled behind him until the trail abruptly terminated at a section of wall that, to the naked eye, appeared identical to every other smooth red surface in the chamber. Litok sagged against the wall, sweat-soaked hair clinging to his brow as he exhaled a ragged breath.

  “That hurts you?” Izzy asked as she offered him some water out of her waterskin.

  “Yes, the creation of the tracking fluid and the connection to it, feels like it’s burning your insides.” He gulped the offered water then continued, “It isn’t a drain on magical resources, but the physical costs keep me from using it for long periods of time.”

  Valgrin stuck his katar into the wall, it passed right through. “Be ready, I’m sticking my arm in next.”

  Malcolm watched his friend’s arm disappear into the wall and return. “That was anticlimactic.”

  They walked through the new found opening and into a roughly carved hallway, footprints obvious on the dust covered stone floor.

  “Cave, glass, smooth, rough, stone, dirt…all within minutes. Whoever put this together wasn’t worried and continuity or anything.” Valgrin commented.

  Izzy’s brow furrowed, “You think this is a dungeon created by a Creator?”

  “Or several components from different dungeons.” Valgrin shrugged, “Not sure exactly how the EverNever works.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Ylnah cleared her throat. "According to my father, it's actually a combination of elements." She shrunk back as everyone turned toward her. "I apologize for interrupting."

  “Nonsense,” Izzy blurted. “We’re all waiting to hear what your Dad says.”

  Ylnah tugged at her hair and continued, “He says it’s mostly from ideas that came from Creators, with some thing directly imported in, and then other things are based on the magics and peoples of the EverNever.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard as well.” Izzy confirmed. “Also that a lot of EverNever’s history started with the imports and then the stories was pushed aside for the continuation of life for those pulled into the story.”

  Malcolm pointed to the prints on the floor, “As much as I’d like to learn more about the EverNever, we do have footsteps to follow and Bridget’s daughter to find. I say we table this to a later time.”

  “You’re right.” Izzy tried to glare at Malcolm, but ended up smiling. “Just don’t expect me to say that many more times.”

  The group shared a laugh as they followed the footsteps down the passageway. Stopping when they came to a pink door.

  “The footprints don’t lead in to this room.” Litok observed, “Do you want to go in, or keep following the prints?”

  Bridget's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Follow the prints, my daughter comes first."

  “Agreed,” Valgrin nodded, his hand ran over his bald head. Handle this with care, she looks about ready to explode. Understandably. “There is one thing that causes me some pause though. If I was writing a dungeon like this, I’d use a red-herring and have prints go past the correct room.” He looked back at where their prints mingled with the ones already there. “We leave prints too, so that doesn’t help.”

  Bridget stared, open-mouthed, at him. “I didn’t think about that,” her voice trembled, “I am stuck on get to Shawin and nothing else. Maybe I shouldn’t be directing traffic right now. I’ll abide with whatever you guys decide. And I apologize in advance for any more outbursts.”

  “Listen,” Valgrin put his hand on Bridget’s shoulder. “I get it, I do. If my daughter, Addy, was the one kidnapped, you’d have a hard time keeping me from running down this hall and barging into where ever it leads.”

  “Another reason to apologize,” Bridget reached up and patted his hand, “I forgot your situation.”

  Malcolm cleared his throat, interrupting whatever Valgrin was about to say. "What if we take a quick peek inside? Even if Shawin isn't in there, we might find something useful, a map, a clue about who took her. Five minutes tops, then back on the trail."

  Once everyone agreed, he grabbed the brass doorknob and twisted. “Another of those weird architectural decisions. This doorknob is like the one’s in my grandparent’s old house.” With that declared he threw open the door and stepped inside, everyone else close behind.

  Valgrin's nostrils flared at the rush of musty air that hit his face, the kind that made dust motes dance in his lungs and triggered an immediate urge to cough. His boot disturbed a femur, sending it clattering across charcoal marble that gleamed in patches where countless footsteps had worn away centuries of grime. In each corner, yellowed bone fragments jutted from heaps like broken teeth, some thin as bird wings, others massive and curved with strange ridges. Cobwebs stretched between a deer-like skull and what might have been a hand with seven fingers, the gossamer threads vibrating slightly in the draft from the opened door.

  A sharp rattle cut through the air, like a death-warning from a thousand rattlesnakes. The bones trembled, then launched upward with violent force. Femurs snapped to tibias, vertebrae clicked into place with sickening precision, mismatched skulls crowned abominations that should never exist. Each monstrosity clutched jagged bone-blades that gleamed like ivory scythes. Malcolm and Valgrin dropped into combat stances, muscles coiled tight as bowstrings.

  "Get Back!" Valgrin's voice tore from his throat.

  Panicked footsteps pounded behind him, followed by the door's desperate creak.

  "Rock wall!" Ylnah's scream pierced the chamber. "We’re trapped!"

  The skeletal horrors lunged forward, bone-blades whistling through air. Malcolm exploded into motion, sai flashing. His weapon connected with a thunderous crack that echoed like a gunshot. The skeleton didn't just break—it detonated, bone shrapnel rocketing outward like shattered glass. The explosion triggered a chain reaction, each skeleton bursting apart in rapid succession, transforming the chamber into a hurricane of razor-sharp bone fragments that sliced through clothing, skin, air.

  Groans filled the air as the dust settled.

  Valgrin stood back up, wiping blood off his face, “Roll call.” Voices called out in response.

  “Litok?” Valgrin scrambled over to the fallen man, pushing the debris to the side when he got there. He reached down and checked for a pulse, not finding one he leaned forward listening to his chest. No heartbeat, no breathing. He looked up at several faces staring back at him, questioning. He slowly shook his head. Looking over the body he found three bone slivers embedded in the dead man’s neck.

  Izzy rose from Bridget's side. "Anyone else need healing?" she asked, scanning the room for wounded companions.

  Her question worked through the adrenaline flowing through Valgrin’s body. He pulled a finger sized bone from his thigh and cast a Heal Wounds, the flesh knitted together without a trace of injury. “Good here.” He called out.

  “Sometimes it pays off to be small, I didn’t get hit.” Skwilly answered.

  “Took care of my wounds. May need to rest a bit, got a good sized bone to the left chest, think my lung was hit. But its all good now.” Malcolm said quietly.

  “If everyone agrees, taking a half hour or so to rest is a good idea.” Izzy looked around the room. “What where those things?”

  “I can answe…crap, forgot about that.” Valgrin stared down at Litok’s body. A white, chitinous film quickly grew over the body.

  “What?” Izzy gasped.

  “Litok has been claimed. His bones have become part of the other bones.” Valgrin looked over at Malcolm, “Do you remember?”

  "Yeah, I do now.” Malcolm shivered, “Not the joke they once were.”

  “Quit talking riddles and explain.” Izzy demanded.

  Valgrin turned to face her. The multiple blood stains and rips in her tunic, registered for the first time. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but frustrated.” Izzy pushed the hair out of her face.

  “ S.M.M.E.A.A.D.s, that’s what these things were.” His head dropped.

  “Smeahds? What are those.” Bridget asked.

  “There name is the first letter of each word of the description, Skeletal Monsters Massively Explode At Any Damage. I created them in my gaming world.” Valgrin looked up, tears welling in his eyes. “I only would have one in a group of skeletons attacking the group. For the game, and this will sound inappropriate, they became a running gag. Malcolm’s character seemed to find them in every dungeon, presented in places and ways where he’d forget about them and attack.”

  “Think the EverNever took it another step.” Malcolm muttered.

  “The EverNever is playing them as I created them at first, I altered them because of the fun of the running gag. The pile of bones, the reclaiming the dead, sometime soon the bone shards will magically end up in piles and over time they will become a jumble of bones again, set to repeat what we just went through. We have an hour, or more, before they fully reset.” Valgrin stared at where the bones had been.

  Malcolm walked over, scrunching a few bone fragments as he stepped, and placed a hand on each of Valgrin’s shoulders. “You had no idea and whatever is going on is not of your doing. I’m not sure it’s the Black Dove either, this kind of manipulation of the environment would be traceable. Wouldn’t it?”

  Malcolm's question lingered like the bone dust still settling around them. Valgrin's lips parted, then pressed together in a thin line as he struggled to formulate a response. The others exchanged uneasy glances, a silent game of conversational hot potato where nobody seemed to have the answer.