The Cavern

A young man, no older than thirteen winters, dressed in rough wool clothing, sat in a cramped tunnel system, wondering how he had ended up there. After discovering a small cave system yesterday, he had decided to check it out today after finishing his chores on the farm. Only an hour in, he had fallen into a small crevasse that he had been unable to see in the dim torchlight. Unable to return the way he came, he had no choice but to keep exploring, hoping to find another way out. Now, a day later, he was completely lost.

Sighing, he slowly chewed on the last of the deer jerky he had brought with him, contemplating what he should do. Fortunately, he had come across a small stream and had been able to refill his waterskin. Running out of jerky wasn’t a major concern, as he had seen plenty of edible moss growing along the walls while exploring—though it wasn’t very tasty. The more pressing problem was that his torch was beginning to burn out, and he hadn’t brought a spare.

As he was ruminating on his predicament, a voice calling for help echoed from one of the tunnels branching out from where he sat.

“Heeelp me.”

He shot up in excitement—only to end up flat on his rear, clutching his now sore head.

“Damn short tunnels…” he muttered under his breath before steadying himself. He took a deep breath and carefully made his way toward the voice. It was barely above a whisper, rough as if the speaker had been crying for a long time.

If there was someone else down here, that meant there had to be an exit nearby. If not, maybe they knew the way out. Besides, his father had always said, If we can help, we should—but always be careful. So he crawled forward cautiously, making sure he didn’t fall into another hole or startle anything lurking in the dark. He had heard stories of monsters from adventurers, but being in the heart of the kingdom, he had never encountered any himself.

A faint light flickered ahead, and the voice grew louder as he drew closer.

“Freeeee meee…”

He stepped through a narrow crack at the end of the tunnel and found himself in a tomb. Sconces lined the walls, their flames still burning. He knew that tombs often meant the presence of the undead, but again—he was in the center of the kingdom.

At the heart of the chamber sat a simple pedestal, upon which rested a dagger. Runes were carved along the length of its blade, and a blood-red ruby adorned its hilt. He felt inexplicably drawn to it.

Excitement bubbled within him. With this dagger, he might have a real chance at becoming an adventurer.

He reached out and grasped the hilt.

His arms fell slack at his sides, and a vacant expression overtook his face. Moments later, his lips curled into a dark smirk as he spoke.

“A little on the young side… but it will do.”