The Forbidden Dungeon—because nothing screams "co on in" like an ominous, rune-covered stone doorway dripping with atmospheric dread.
I had a bad feeling the second we set foot inside, but honestly, when have I not had a bad feeling in Mythica?
Agnos, that smug purple furball of questionable morality, strutted ahead with the swagger of soone who'd been here before.
Which, apparently, he had.
"This is where the last fragnt is?" I asked, the echo of my voice swallowed up by the oppressive silence. The air felt damp and heavy, like the dungeon itself was holding its breath.
Agnos didn't bother turning around. "Yes, Carl. I've said it a dozen tis." His tone was clipped, his usual playful arrogance replaced by sothing...different. Tension? Guilt? Maybe indigestion from those trollish piña coladas earlier.
I wasn't sure which was worse.
"And the guardian? What's their deal?" I pressed, trying to mask the growing unease clawing at my stomach.
Agnos paused mid-step, his tail flicking. For a mont, he didn't answer, and when he finally did, his voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. "His na is Landvættir. Once, he was my ally… my friend. But… things have changed."
The silence that followed was suffocating. I could practically feel the weight of whatever unspoken history lay between them. Not one to dwell on awkward pauses, I decided to lighten the mood.
"So, we're talking about a monstrous tea party kind of guy? Or, like, a 'kill you with one swipe of his giant claws' kind of guardian?"
Agnos glanced back, and for a mont, I thought he might actually smile. But he didn't. "You'll see."
That's what I was afraid of.
The dungeon's interior was exactly what you'd expect: winding corridors, flickering torches, and the distinct aroma of damp stone and regret. We navigated the labyrinth in near silence, my boots crunching against loose gravel while Agnos moved with feline grace.
Finally, we arrived at a massive chamber bathed in an eerie, pale light. At its center stood a figure so imposing it made my knees weak. Landvættir. The guardian.
He was a giant, towering at least fifteen feet tall, with a humanoid form carved from the very stone of the dungeon itself. His body was adorned with moss and glowing runes, and his eyes burned with a faint blue light that seed to pierce right through .
But it wasn't his size or his power that struck first. It was his expression.
He looked...sad. Like, deep-in-your-soul, "I've-seen-too-much" sad.
"Agnos," Landvættir rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. The sound reverberated through the chamber, making my teeth rattle. "You've returned."
Agnos stepped forward, his usual bravado replaced with sothing almost resembling humility. "It's been a long ti, old friend."
"Too long," Landvættir replied, and to my utter astonishnt, tears began to form in those glowing blue eyes. "I thought I would never see you again."
I blinked. "Wait. Is he...crying? The giant stone guy is crying?"
Landvættir's gaze shifted to , and for a mont, I felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. "And who is this?" he asked, his tone gentler than I expected.
"This is Carl," Agnos said with a sigh. "My… current associate. He's here to help."
"Help," Landvættir echoed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You an he's here to take the fragnt."
"Well, yes," Agnos admitted. "But it's more complicated than that."
Landvættir stared at for a long mont, then nodded. "Very well. But first… tea."
I blinked. "I'm sorry, what now?"
Without waiting for a response, Landvættir turned and gestured to a corner of the chamber, where a table—an actual, honest-to-gods table—sat laden with a tea set and a plate of biscuits.
I looked at Agnos. "Tea and biscuits? In a dungeon? Seriously?"
"Just go with it," Agnos muttered.
Sitting at a stone table with a giant guardian pouring tea into delicate porcelain cups was officially the weirdest thing I'd done all week.
"The biscuits are surprisingly good," I said around a mouthful. "What's your secret?"
Landvættir's lips twitched into a faint smile. "An old recipe from my mother." The source of this content ɪs novel✶fire
Of course. Because why not?
Agnos, however, was less amused. "Landvættir, this is hardly the ti for refreshnts. We need the fragnt."
The smile faded from Landvættir's face. He set down his teacup with a sigh. "You always were impatient, Agnos."
"And you always were too sentintal," Agnos shot back.
I glanced between them, feeling like I'd stumbled into the middle of a very personal argunt. "Uh, not to interrupt, but maybe we could skip to the part where you hand over the fragnt and we all leave alive?"
Landvættir's gaze softened as he looked at . "It's not that simple, Carl. The fragnt is bound to this place, just as I am. To take it would an undoing the magic that keeps this dungeon intact. And if that happens..."
"The whole place collapses," I finished for him, my stomach sinking.
"Exactly."
I turned to Agnos. "You didn't think to ntion that little detail?"
Agnos shrugged. "It slipped my mind."
"Slipped your—" I took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Okay. Fine. So how do we take the fragnt without bringing the house down?"
Landvættir hesitated, his expression troubled. "There is a way," he said slowly. "But it requires great sacrifice."
"Define 'great sacrifice,'" I said, already dreading the answer.
Before he could reply, the chamber trembled, a deep rumbling sound echoing through the dungeon. Landvættir's eyes widened.
"They're here," he said, rising to his full height.
"Who's 'they'?" I demanded.
Agnos's expression darkened. "The ones who betrayed him. The ones who want the fragnt for themselves."
The door at the far end of the chamber burst open, and a wave of shadowy figures poured in. They moved with unnatural speed, their forms flickering like smoke and shadow.
"Defilers," Landvættir growled, his voice a low rumble of fury.
I grabbed the nearest blunt object—a stone candlestick—and held it up like a weapon. "Okay, so what's the plan?"
Agnos smirked, his claws extending as his eyes glowed with a fierce light. "Simple. We fight."
And just like that, tea ti was over.
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