Dungeon of Doors

~ Vivian, Core Chambers ~

The tight space of my true core chamber is filled with the sound of shuffling parchment. I've created a stack of important documents, each one meant for Lord Fredrick. Some contain answers to questions of those resurrected. Others contain information for the man himself.

I tie the documents into a neat little bundle using some twine I made alongside the paper. These will be delivered today, but first I have some business to take care of. Lord Fredrick has politely requested some expansion of the available living space for the ghosts.

My hand slips onto the surface of my core. Mild vertigo hits me as I leave my body behind. Looking at my core reveals just how much mana I've got. Measuring my mana was a vague and confusing affair, but Lord Fredrick has already come up with a system of measurements for mana since getting his ghostly hands on the stuff. While away on my trip I should have gained one kilojul of mana—roughly enough to create a new level of the dungeon the size of green valley—but instead I have three kilojuls.

There must be something I'm missing that's giving me mana. I can sense the ebb and flow of the mana throughout my domain, but nothing is putting off such a large amount of mana. It could be something like the deaths and births of living things in the dungeon, as those are not something I can sense unless they're actively happening.

Whatever the case, I have more than enough mana handy to create a suitable expansion for the as of yet unnamed ghost branch of the dungeon.

I begin the expansion by taking a quick look at what is visible on the horizon of the ghost town's illusory sky. There are a few mountains, flat land, and a few crumbling structures. I decide to use the mountains for inspiration. The ghosts will be given access to a mountainous region with plenty of space to explore and with far more life—Lord Fredrick specifically requested a less dead area—I will comply.

My gaze moves away from the ghost town and to an untouched section of the earth's rock. The dense minerals rapidly transform into mana as I pull it away and replace it with air. Voidium deposits reinforce the edges of spherical cavity as I carve it open. Rather than using the standard one kilometer diameter for this level I give it the two kilometers. This way the ghosts will have more space to explore and expand their lives.

With the cavity cleared it is time for the terrain. Stone matching that found beneath the coarse soil in the ghost town rises up create ridges and channels. Rather than making the level a whole mountain, it is the slope of a mountain whose edges are visible through the illusory sky. Once the terrain of a grand rocky mountain slope is complete I work on the borders. Sky stone paints the walls and ceiling, painting a similar picture to that of the ghost town's illusory sky. In fact, if one was to climb high enough and look out they can make out the sky stone's mimicry of the ghost town on the far horizon.

I move on from the illusory edges of the level and onto the details. Water stone and sponge stone embedded in specific portions of the mountain make for several running streams. Unfortunately something is amiss—The water coming from the springs isn't normal. It sizzles and has an off white cloudy color to it. I imagine if I could smell it might have one. Closer inspection of the water stones reveal nothing out of the ordinary. They should be making regular water, so why is this unknown fluid being produced?

A few erasures of the water stones and replacements yield no different results. Well, the ghosts don't need to drink water, so maybe this is fine. Though I'll have to ask Lord Fredrick to look into it for me. He's a man of science after all.

Moving on from the strange streams I decide to add some plant life. Lord Fredrick requested I create more lively looking plants. I oblige, doing my best to keep patches of the mountain painted with soil suitable for plant life. In these patches of soil I plant a new type of tree alongside a flower. Both are intended to be bright and pleasant to look at for the sake of the ghost's mental health.

The flowers are first to sprout. Brilliant purple flowers with black stems and leaves spring from the ground as I sprinkle my mana across the seeds. They're beautiful, and don't appear dead or dangerous in any way. Their strangely colored stems and leaves are delightfully unique, too.

I'm pleased to see the trees sprout as I feed them mana. They quickly grow from sprouts to saplings to fully mature trees over the course of a few minutes and a hefty helping of mana. Each of the trees is a lovely rich brown color that speaks of health and life. The tree's leaves are a black, much like the flowers' stems and leaves. Luckily that odd color is balanced by lovely purple blossoms that gradually mature into some kind of delicious looking fruit. Each of the fruit is a brilliant shade of red or purple with a juicy soft skin. They're roughly the size of an apple, and occasionally bead with what appears to be condensation. Though it cannot be—the air here is quite dry.

Something about these colors and the state of the water in this level makes me pause before continuing. None of this is quite what I was imagining. I didn't want black leaves, nor did I want the fruit to be this unique. The flowers we meant to be a variety of colors, not all purple. These inconsistencies are odd on their own, but when together it is unsettling.

I decide to do a little test.

With a bundle of mana I create a single swarmer. I'm curious how the creature will behave here, and most of all I want to see if these plants are hiding some kind of secret. Once given the spark of life the swarmer is quick to rush out of the open sky and toward the nearest tree. Its hairy legs rustle the flowers as it moves toward the foot of the tree. It makes it to the trunk of the tree before suddenly stopping. I watch, confused, as it slumps down against the foot of the tree. I've never seen a swarmer do that before?

Nearly a minute passes without anything happening. I mentally sigh, taking a closer look at the creature. I discover it is not simply sitting here but rather it is dead! Something killed it, and judging by the strange black color of its internal fluids I'd say it is probably the flowers.

So the flowers kill things. I've got to assume the tree is just as deadly, too.

With these theories in mind I believe I can comfortably name the new plants. For the flowers, silent death. As for the tree? I'm not exactly sure how it kills things, but I think calling them eves is a lovely touch of irony. Bonus points if the fruit actually poisons those who eat it—but discovering that can wait. I'm sure Lord Fredrick will want to test it out himself, so I may as well let him.

While the plants are nice, Lord Fredrick wanted some animals. Something small and pleasant to have around. I create a few songbirds as well some bugs for them to feed off. They're the same species as those found in Woodrin's levels.

They were supposed to be, anyway. Upon creating them I find their shape and looks don't match what I intended. The birds are all shades of grey and black. They've got sharper beaks and larger bodies, almost resembling a sort of corvid. The bugs are different as well. Where I intended to create gnats there are strange flying bugs resembling mud daubers with stingers and erratic flying patterns. What was meant to be a collection of worms is a cluster of quick moving many legged black centipedes.

I would shudder at the sight if I had a body. There's a strange wind in this new level, a howling sound that seems to come from the wind hitting certain rock formations just right. It is an unnerving effect that undermines my attempts to make the region feel more livable. It almost sounds like distant screaming.

I think it is high time I consult Lord Fredrick for his opinions on this strange development!

~ Lord Fredrick, The Dungeon ~

Today feels different, somehow. As an undead—a term I heard from Vivian—I've yet to require any kind of sleep. That means most of time blends together, but sometimes the rising of the illusory sun in the sky feels momentous. This is one of those sunrises.

The shadows of this town we're haunting don't feel so deep anymore. I am completely unfazed by the way my fellow ghosts float around with various wounds carved into the ghostly forms. This dreary town has gone from dreary to comfortable, and I have no idea why.

As part of my daily ritual I move toward the center of the town. This is where we gather to attempt resurrections. Thus far nothing but a few strange anomalistic spirits have been raised, and each one was too violent to be allowed to live.

Today feels different. The green glow of my flesh doesn't feel so strange anymore. I lift my hand up, my other grasping my book as I flip to my notes on resurrection. The pages turn without me having to directly touch them and an illustration of the remains of the last failed resurrection greets me.

Mana swirls before me, and a few other phantoms watch on as I work. This time feels different—there's a weight to the air that wasn't there these past few sunrises. As I will those dead to return I feel an unfamiliar overwhelming pull. Dust is kicked up as green wobbling matter clumps together in front of me. The rough shape of arms and feet form for a moment before rejoining the blob. It takes my full concentration for nearly a minute to get the blob to stop twisting in on itself.

It separates, forming two separate ghastly figures. One is a thin man with glazed over eyes and a slack jawed expression. His jaw hangs somewhat unnaturally low, and his limbs twitch strangely. His stomach bulges with movement as if something is inside him. The other phantom is a boy covered in wounds and wearing torn up clothing. He's glaring at the thin man like he wants to kill him.

"Greetings, recently departed. I've brought you back from oblivion."

The one with vacant eyes and oddly moving limbs doesn't speak. He just keeps floating there in an awkward manner. The boy on the other hand is quick to jab a finger toward the other phantom.

"That isn't Geoff! He's just a puppet!"

Quiet gurgling is all the reply the accused phantom gives. I observe him closer, brows furrowing, as I pick up on what the boy is saying. The limbs hang as if relaxed, only moving occasionally. The man's stomach twists as if something is inside him. His empty eyes are completely unfocused. The man—if he is in there—isn't seeing anything.

"How strange. Well, do you mind telling me your name, young man?"

"I-It is Henry, Sir. What are you going to do about Geoff?"

What am I going to do? I could kill him, put him out of whatever damned misery he is possibly in with some kind of undead monstrosity inside him. Or I could investigate further. His existence is unique, something no other undead has demonstrated. My desire for knowledge is stronger than my worry for the man's possibly intact consciousness. He's probably just an empty shell.

"Do you know what a vivisection is, Henry?"