Jan and Dan took turns holding Pan and shushing him. The child was exhausted after nearly of day straight crying. The crying had begun soon after the family left the dungeon to see the sandstone canyon where the dungeon entrance had appeared. Ivira had checked the child and reassured the parents that the crying was not due to the change in mana composition. The wizard had pointed out the nearby city at the mouth of the canyon, then teleported away on wizard business.


    Dan and Jan were not confident about approaching the city. They had memorized a handful of words of the local language, enough to understand when Ivira said the child was fine, but nowhere near enough to speak to strangers about lodging or trade. Jan ranged around a bit and found a branch of the canyon that contained a river. There were caves in the canyon walls, dug out by floodwaters over centuries, and the family picked one to stay in for a few days. Dan found an acceptable area for fishing and worked to catch some dinner. Pan cried and cried and cried.


    After a few hours of trying to get the toddler to eat, Dan and Jan gave in and took Pan back into the dungeon. The child calmed quickly but hiccuped for a while and required much parental comfort.


    “I don’t want to stay in here tonight.” Dan said. “We don’t have the fence or our roundhouse for protection.” He patted Pan’s back while Jan stood with weapons ready. “He’s eaten and drunk. Let’s head back out when he falls asleep.” Jan considered for a few moments, then nodded slowly. “He can’t live in the dungeon forever.” She said. “We have to adjust to the world we have.”


    The family returned to the dungeon the next morning. The toddler had slept fitfully all night. Pan calmed enough to eat and drink before the adults took him back outside. They returned again in the evening. Dan and Jan muttered constantly about “wizards” not being “experts on children” as they fended off a few dungeon creatures. The next morning, during dungeon breakfast, a stone fist punched up through the ground near the portal to the area with such cold blizzards. Dan shouted in surprise and alerted Jan.


    As the family began to back towards the dungeon exit, the stone fist retracted, and a raven popped out of the hole. It cawed loudly and flapped into the air to fly circles above the small family. Pan clapped his hands and laughed at the raven. Jan and Dan stood, dumbfounded, looking between the raven and the hole in the ground that slowly filled with stone.


    The raven landed on Dan’s shoulder—something it had never done before—and made small croaking and trilling noises at Pan, who was held against Dan’s other shoulder. Pan spoke some of his limited words and babbled nonsense back at the bird. Jan and Dan stared at each other for a while, then turned and walked out of the dungeon.


    <hr>


    The dungeon mind space was quiet without the ghostly raven. The sensory rain continued to fall, fueling the growth of the vine. Mental energy flowed around the mushroom network, stimulating the most used instincts for defense and growth. The tree spider moon cat continued to hunt and “attack” the information bundles which were bound with mushroom network fibers. Occasional ghostly branches of memory appeared over vine branches, some dissipating, some sinking into the vine.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    A pond of sensory “water” formed near the base of the memory vine. The red rain had shifted some of the shattered remains of the foundational instincts and formed a basin. Sensory rain dripped from the vine leaves above to fill the basin. A broken red vine branch floated in the pond. The branch had curled up on itself, forming a circle. Near the unbroken end of the vine, green new-growth began to form.


    <hr>


    Violet Danderpuff rode on the back of a giant snake and sulked. He had been a green nature fairy for two weeks and had barely figured out any of his new abilities. Worse, the dungeon had stolen his music! Violet heard the snake under him humming along with the veritable symphony of flute music that played constantly in the underworld. Violet was pretty sure he recognized a lot of the parts as things he had improvised or composed during the early days, before the dungeon quarantine.


    The snake slid into a cavern and curved gracefully around the edge. Violet looked around and realized that they had arrived at the destination. He hopped off the snake onto a hard sandy floor. “Is this it?” He asked the snake. The snake hissed an affirmative. Violet looked at the root covered ceiling and saw no exit through the roof. “How do I get up?” He asked. He missed his wings. The snake hissed one word, bat, then slid away down a tunnel.


    “Bat?” Violet wondered aloud.


    A boulder stood up and turned glowing red eyes towards Violet. Violet’s new voice cracked as he yelped in surprise. The boulder grunted and stepped forward. Violet thought he saw wings behind the thing, so he raised his glowing orb higher and summoned a second, slightly dimmer orb to fill in the shadows. He considered making a third orb, but really, he wasn’t down here to paint. The light illuminated a gargoyle.


    “A gargoyle!” Violet shouted.


    The gargoyle grunted.


    “A gargoyle?” Violet asked.


    The gargoyle grunted again.


    “How are you a gargoyle?” Violet asked in disbelief.


    The gargoyle have the dungeon fairy an annoyed look, then grunted. It stomped the ground and a ladder shot up to the ceiling. Violet, still in shock from seeing a real, live gargoyle, followed the motion of the ladder to see a trap door in the ceiling. Violet looked back at the gargoyle. The gargoyle shifted its wings, uncomfortable with the staring.


    Something clicked in Violet’s head. “You’re the ‘bat’ the snake mentioned. Were you a bat before and now you evolved into a gargoyle?” He said.


    The gargoyle nodded, then hesitated, then nodded again.


    “Not a regular bat? What kind of bat?” Violet asked.


    The gargoyle pointed at the ladder, which was made of stone.


    “A stone bat.” Violet said. “You made all those obstructions in the tunnels, didn’t you?”


    The gargoyle nodded, flexing its wings again.


    “You saved the dungeon.” Violet said woodenly. “Not me.”


    The gargoyle shrugged, then pointed at the roots on the ceiling. Violet could feel some of the mana in the cavern flowing into the roots of the dungeon vine. Violet stared at the roots for a long while, sorting through his feelings. The wizard Crataz had praised Violet for doing “better than anyone could expect from a first-time dungeon fairy” and had praised Violet again for slowing the flow of mana and stabilizing the dungeon. Violet had believed that Crataz was mistaken, and now he had proof. The gargoyle and the dungeon vine had done all the work that mattered. My efforts were only good intentions or maybe symbolic or something. He thought.


    Violet dropped his gaze back to the gargoyle. “Gargoyle, do you have a name?” He asked.


    The gargoyle shook its head, looking embarrassed.