The fall was surprisingly short. It was less of a fall and more like a drop into a pool of water, and it soaked the suit Hector wore. He filed it as another issue on a list of growing problems.


    It was dark; there were no sources of observable light. The warm liquid pooled beneath him. It reached his ankles. Hector stood and reoriented himself.


    There was a weight—a feeling—in the air. It was difficult for him to pinpoint the sensation. It evoked a sensation of nausea and discomfort. He was being watched.


    He held the artifacts against his chest and surveyed his surroundings, attempting to find anything in the darkness to orient himself.


    There was something. A small glowing point in the dark.


    Hector raised his leg and trudged forward through the water. The liquid clung to his feet with every step; it gripped his shoes and threatened to drag him down to his knees. He started to have doubts it was water; water was not this viscous.


    The point grew larger. Something was glowing in the dark, and it was his only source of answer and point of interest in the dark.


    Hector could make out a figure facing away from him. Someone stood in the water. They were draped in a tattered brown robe; a lantern was tied to a cloth sash around the waist. The bald head reflected the light of the lantern.


    Hector opened his mouth, then thought better of it. Intuition told him it would be a horrible idea to shout in the dark. The individual ahead of him indicated he wasn''t alone in the shallow water, and he preferred to stay hidden until he understood where he was.


    He crouched and circled the lantern. He remained outside of the light and a distance from the individual; it gave him space to move if the robed individual decided to react to his presence.


    The caution was warranted.


    The light of the lantern illuminated the front of the robed man. The man, if it could be called that, was missing his face. It had a black cavity in place of its face. The edge—the skin of the face concave inward into a pit that seemed to extend inward. It was difficult to tell if it was an illusion, or if the depth of the hole seemed impossible since the head was still relatively intact.


    Hector didn''t want to be here or to stare at that face any more than he had to, but the lantern kept his will rooted in place. He took a step forward.


    The black water reflected the light from the lantern. The man was breathing, his chest expanded and shrunk with a steady pattern. It was impossible for the man to be alive, not with a hole in his head, and yet he still breathed.


    Hector took another step. The man did not react to his presence.


    Hector waved a hand past the face. No reaction. He stepped closer until the sash was within reach. He reached out, then carefully undid the sash holding the lantern.


    The sash came undone, and the few objects it held dropped into the water. A compass, a ring, and more importantly: the lantern. He reached out and scooped the loot into his arm, then slowly backed away from the man.


    The man did not react. Hector''s body reacted before he could, and he found himself running in the opposite direction; the lantern of metal and glass rattled with each step. Sweat trailed down his neck when his thoughts caught up with his actions.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    He collapsed onto his knees, causing a ripple in the water as he caught his breath. He really did not want to be here.


    After he caught his breath and ensured his surroundings were relatively normal, he took inventory of his belongings.


    First: The lantern. It would''ve been a normal lantern, with a metal frame and glass windows if it had fire for a source of light. Instead, it had words. Shifting words occupied the interior of the lantern, causing it to glow a white light. A rune, made from an educated guess from the Source Pen.


    Second: The ring. It had the same qualities as the lantern. It was made of a metal and had inscriptions chiseled onto the surface of the flat head. Unlike the lantern, it did not glow. For all intents and purposes, it was a normal ring.


    That was what Hector would like to believe—that something could be normal for once. His belief was shattered when he slipped it onto a finger. The inscription flashed an orange red, then it floated. The inscription flowed like serpents of fire above the head of the ring.


    Against his better judgement, he pushed a palm through the floating words. It dissipated, then formed into the runes again. The letters, or letter, appeared to have one consistent symbol. He would need to experiment with the ring when he had the opportunity. He turned his attention to the compass.


    A black stone formed the shell of the compass, and it had two arrows housed under the glass. The larger, gray arrow pointed in a consistent direction. The smaller, red arrow pointed in one direction, then shifted to another, and then shifted to another direction. It was spinning rapidly, yet stopping at regular intervals.


    He moved on to his artifacts, then inspected them under the lantern light.


    The paper poppets were made of paper and cut into the shape of a human. Much to Hector''s curiosity, they remained dry, even after being soaked in water. Two of them were blank, one was not. He held the poppet in his hand and examined it.


    A black circle appeared on the head of the paper figure. The circle was darker at the center and lighter at the edges. Interesting, that would require further observation. He tucked the remaining two poppets into his pocket and kept the damaged one within reach.


    The grimoire had a red cover made from an unknown leather. The thin book had metal clasps of a golden bronze at the front and back, and it was bound shut with straps of leather. He undid the straps, then opened the grimoire for the first time.


    The first page of the book was blank. The pages were composed of a durable and thick vellum. Hector rubbed the page in between his fingers. It possessed the coarseness of processed skin.


    He skimmed through the five pages. They were all blank. Of course they would be, he hadn''t expect anything else. He closed the grimoire, then sealed it with leather straps.


    Hector took a deep breath and cleared his mind.


    He had a lantern, a magical ring, a compass, and his artifacts. Now he needs a direction, a goal, and that goal was the Obsidian Pillar. Those gold words only appeared in the stone coffin. As much as he hated being confined in that prison, the glowing script provided the information he wanted, and appeared to be a means of survival.


    The issue was that he could not navigate in the dark. The lantern cleared some of the darkness, but the darkness swallow the light after it traveled a short distance. That left one option: the compass.


    He held the compass up. The gray arrow pointed forward to the front. The red arrow spun erratically, and that made it unreliable. Thus, he followed the gray arrow.


    There was the issue of food and water. Hector didn''t believe there would be any of that in this environment; and he was uncertain if the water at his feet was safe to drink. That was another reason to find an Obsidian Pillar.


    He stepped on a stone brick. The water hid it, but it was different from the texture of the ground. Hector took another step forward. Another brick. This ground was easier to walk on. The compass pointed in the same direction as the submerged road.


    The words stated he would need a shard. He had not seen any shards since he arrived in the this dark world. He would have to figure that out as well. Where would he find a shard?


    Hector stopped. A stone arch obstructed his path.


    It was one thing for there to be a road. It could''ve been natural; he had doubts if it was really a road at all underneath the water. But a stone arch was created with intention. It indicated a civilization.


    How would a civilization survive in this environment? Food would''ve been hard to grow without sunlight, though it would not surprise him at this point if there was an alternative method. He shook his head, crossed the threshold, then stopped again. He had spotted something in the dark.


    Hector lifted the lantern over his head, illuminating the path forward.


    Another man stood on the road. This time, he was wearing something modern: a suit. He was also missing his face, like the previous one. There was an issue this time; Hector knew this one.