Dense text filled the pages, clearly promising the power, authority, wealth, and knowledge the contract holder would possess—exactly as the book had described. Dazzlingly beautiful patterns adorned the pages, seeming to crawl slowly when gazed upon for too long. The blank space in the lower right corner beckoned Tasha to fill the void, to complete the final flaw with her own name and achieve perfection. Tasha instinctively gripped her pen tighter, as if not doing so would cause it to fly toward that empty space of its own accord.
"What must I give?" Tasha asked.
"We're discussing what you can gain," the Dungeon Book said, its voice dripping with temptation.
"Then let's discuss the cost now," Tashan said. "I don't believe in free lunches."
"No cost—if I said that, I'd be lying," the book replied. "But what difference is there between an insignificant cost and 'no cost'? For instance, the witches of the Northland require a dragon's breath for their potions, yet a single breath is trivial to a dragon; The nails the witches trimmed cured a dragon disease that caused scales to fall off. Healing this fatal ailment for young dragons was but a trifling task for them. Think of me as a merchant, acting as an intermediary between clients who cannot communicate directly. All I ask is a small token of gratitude."
The page curled a corner, elegantly gesturing "a little." For the first time, Tasha realized a book could possess such rich body language.
"Give me your name, and that shall be the price," the book declared. "You shall possess the dungeon, and the dungeon shall possess a master—equivalent exchange. A dungeon without a master is but a ruin. Look around you! Who could bear to let a treasure trove crumble to dust as time passes?"
Tasha pondered, not responding immediately.
"Think about it—a dungeon!" the book urged. "It will bring endless riches, and you will become the master of a city, even a nation. Your power will make this world tremble. I, the Book of Dungeons, will also share my knowledge with you forever..."
"I think..." Tasha said, "No, thank you."
The pages froze for a full second.
"What?" the voice in her mind asked, stunned. "Pardon?"
"I said no," Tasha replied. "I rather like my name. I don't want to give it to you."
"No, no, no—you've misunderstood," the book insisted. "Of course you can keep your name! Why wouldn't you? But you must sign it over—right here, see? Sign it, and you'll gain a dungeon, an underground kingdom, a fountain of knowledge! Don't you want to know who you are? Don't you want to uncover your past, to solve the riddles haunting you?"
"It doesn't really matter," Tasha said. "I think things are fine as they are."
"Fine?" the Book of Dungeons exclaimed in disbelief. "You're dead! You're a ghost who'll vanish in a few years, your mind empty of memories, utterly ignorant of your situation, doomed to drift aimlessly underground. And you think that's fine?!" Now you have a chance to return to the living world, to one day bask in the sunlight again, to seek out those you love. This is your only chance for a future!"
"Since I remember nothing, what good would any of that do?" Tasha said.
"Don't you want to explore other possibilities? To find some joy in your final days?"
"No."
"..."
The voice fell silent for several seconds. The next time it didn't speak—words appeared on the page instead: "So what do you intend to do next?"
"Let me think," Tasha paused theatrically. "Probably just keep wandering until I fade away. Come to think of it, I've been roaming this area for so long and never encountered another ghost. What a pity."
"Fine. Fine." A gritted voice said, "I hate doing this. You forced my hand."
The room suddenly flooded with light.
The patterns on the floor blazed brightly. Tasha's body sank downward, unable to move. The patterns came alive, each looping into the next like a swarm of snakes, coiling around the ghost's form. The ethereal mist that made up its form was bound by these strange ropes, unable to move. Tasha gasped. The room gasped. Every star on the dome suddenly blazed with light, like tiny suns.
They were burning.
Stars meant to burn for centuries consumed their lifeblood at breakneck speed, forcibly awakening this dormant chamber. Tasha began to tremble uncontrollably as bursts of light exploded in her vision, the shock dimming the ghostly form. For an instant, she glimpsed a magnificent library. Countless volumes filled every shelf, treasures chronicling endless ages whispering secrets from every time and space—lost knowledge, mysteries, tales... Gazing upon them was like looking up at an infinite starry sky, enough to make any scholar weep with joy.
"Come now, write your name!" the Book of the Dungeon said wearily.
It reverted to its previous form, brimming with text save for the blank space in the lower right corner. The pen stuck to Tashan's palm, and the patterns climbing her body pressed her toward the book.
"Wait!" Tashan managed to speak against the wind pressure. "What do you want?"
"To fuse with your shallow soul, open the Abyss Gate, and return me to where I should have been four centuries ago!" the book snapped. "Foolish dead woman! You turned a splendid bargain into a low, vulgar farce! Damn it, I'll be mocked for centuries!"
"Rest assured," Tasha said. "You won't get the chance."
The ceiling collapsed.
Three massive stones crashed down, thudding loudly against the ground. Unfazed by the impact, they scrambled upright the instant they landed and lunged simultaneously at the Book of Dungeons suspended midair. Startled, the book rose higher, evading one pair of claws but not the other two.
Tasha's mole creatures pinned the book firmly to the ground. While Tasha negotiated with the Dungeon Book, the three miners had received orders to dig downward without pause. They'd been mere claws' depth from this spot minutes earlier, and when the Dungeon Book revealed its true intentions, it was their moment to act.
"Goblins?" the book exclaimed in shock. "How is that possible?"
"Why not?" asked Tashan.
"Impossible!" screamed the Dungeon Book, its pages fluttering beneath the mole's claws, nearly breaking free. Tashan signaled one mole to sit on it. The moment its dust-covered rump touched the pages, the Dungeon Book emitted a piercing shriek that made heads ache.
"Get off!" its voice now stripped of harmony, a hysterical hiss. "You filthy lowly creature! I command you to move!"
"Three and Four, I command you to squeeze your butts on too," Tashar said. She didn't really need to speak aloud; she did it just to annoy the book.
Now all three moles sat upon the pages, encircling the book and pinning it down.
"Impossible!" the Dungeon Book roared in fury. "I am the Dungeon Book! Without me, how could you possibly gain access to the dungeon?!"
"I don't need access to the dungeon," Tasha said. "I am the dungeon."
The Dungeon Book's greatest mistake was not realizing that Tasha wasn't a ghost.
From the start, Tasha had been wary of this book. Life experience taught her that things plastered with overly generous advertisements were usually scams—like fruit left untouched by the roadside, they were bound to have traps hidden inside. A book actively promoting itself for a contract? Doubly suspicious, right? Tasha wasn't some schoolgirl from Harry Potter who'd gleefully chat about teenage troubles with a book that replied on its own.
At first, she'd been genuinely startled, thinking it knew her origins, understood why she'd crossed over. But as she continued probing, she discovered the Book of Dungeons wasn't nearly as all-knowing and omnipotent as it pretended to be. The Dungeon Book possessed knowledge Tasha lacked, but she held her own trump cards: a ghostly body she could discard at any moment, and her identity as the Dungeon itself. The book's final move ironically sealed its own defeat. When this chamber activated, Tasha's consciousness ignited within it—no mole-like creatures needed to break through barriers.
Once this chamber was triggered, it fell under the Dungeon's jurisdiction. It belonged to the Dungeon, and thus it belonged to Tasha.
The Dungeon Book's struggle ceased. Tasha wondered if those yellow eyes would widen in shock.
"Nest Mother... you are the Nest Mother..." the book murmured. "But why can't I sense the Abyss? This is impossible! When the Dungeon Core activates, the Abyss should connect to this place!"
Its voice sounded almost pitiful. Tasha suggested, "Seems a lot happened these past four centuries. Like... the Abyss being destroyed?"
"Absurd!" The Dungeon Book snorted coldly. "You might destroy a cloud, but how could you destroy the entire sky? Even if every god fell, the Abyss would remain immortal!"
"Then why can't you sense it?" Tasha asked earnestly.
The Book remained silent, instead muttering to itself in a language Tasha couldn't understand.
Tasha first halted the burning stars on the dome ceiling—most carved from blue ore—and watched half of them consume themselves in mere moments. The thought was heartbreaking. She waited longer, but the Book of Dungeons showed no sign of acknowledging her. So Tasha spoke again.
"You said I turned an exquisite transaction into a crude, tasteless farce. Now I'll give you another chance to speak." "Tasha commanded, directing the mole creatures away from the tome and instead aiming their sharp teeth and claws at its pages. "You see, I am the dungeon itself. I have no need for a Dungeon Book to add unnecessary embellishments. So why should I keep you—dangerous and useless—alive, rather than reducing you to a pile of worthless paper?"