While Zeroth and his companions retired to their rooms for the night within the Mage Guild, the wooden floors creaked gently beneath their weight, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the familiar walls. The distant scent of the evening meal lingered, a faint hint of warmth shared below. Yet, as Zeroth settled into his bed, exhaustion pulling at him, a peculiar sensation began to envelop him. It wasn't the usual coolness of the night air nor the comforting warmth of a well-fed stomach. No, it felt as if a subtle ember pulsed deep within his core, a heat that defied the natural order, pushing back the night's chill. The breeze drifting through his window seemed repced by an imaginary sun, casting an illusion of a warm, arid day within his very being.

  Dismissing it as lingering fatigue or perhaps the richness of the Guild’s stew, Zeroth let his gaze linger on the Fming Berserker. The axe, now a constant companion and source of both power and profound unease, leaned against his bedside, its obsidian surface unnervingly still in the dim light. He drifted into sleep, his consciousness loosening its grip on reality.

  His dreams began not with images, but with sensation – a disorienting plummet through cold, lightless gray mist. There was nothing to see, nothing to grasp, only the sickening feeling of falling endlessly. Where am I? The thought echoed in the void. Last I knew, I was in bed…

  THUD.

  The impact knocked the breath from him. He nded face-down, not on soft earth or bedding, but on what felt like rough, charcoal-colored stone. Grunting, Zeroth pushed himself up, spitting out grit. As his vision cleared, he realized he was in some vast, open space. Towering, decaying stone structures ringed the area – an ancient, ruined battle coliseum, its grandeur lost to time and decay.

  "Where am I? What pce is this?" Zeroth yelled, his voice swallowed by the immense space, his heart beginning to hammer against his ribs.

  As if in answer, colossal torches lining the inner ring of the coliseum fred to life simultaneously. Taller than Zeroth by more than twice his height, they erupted not with normal fire, but with an eerily familiar, intense, molten glow that pulsed with heat, casting long, dancing shadows across the arena floor and sending shivers down his spine despite the sudden warmth. While the torch fmes flickered ominously, a loud, gravelly voice rang out, seeming to echo from the very stone around him.

  "Ahh... Dwarf who recklessly stole... Dwarf who has sughtered... Within the axe lies power and fmes but also... A curse."

  As the voice trailed away, the fmes on the massive torches surged violently, tearing themselves free and converging overhead. They didn't just merge; they writhed and coalesced, drawing together like molten sg pouring into an unseen, colossal mold. Smoke, thick and smelling of sulfur and burnt rock, choked the air as the mass began to solidify into jagged, dark ptes. It took the shape of a giant warrior, its form not merely fiery, but seemingly forged from cooling magma and shadow. Ptes of obsidian-dark, cracked rock shifted like brutal armor over incandescent veins of pure heat that pulsed rhythmically. Spikes jutted from its massive pauldrons, sharp and menacing. Within the jagged helm, no real face was visible, only a fring fme that shrouded an eerie skull.

  The figure descended slowly, nding with the grinding weight of shifting stone and causing the floor to tremble slightly. It towered over Zeroth like a volcano contempting an ant, radiating an almost unbearable heat. The voice that boomed now seemed to emanate not just from the figure, but from the very heat shimmering around it, a sound like rocks grinding together deep within a furnace.

  "Puny dwarf," the entity resonated, the sound vibrating in Zeroth's bones. "You have taken what was once mine. The Fming Berserker battle axe. That axe and I have sin hundreds, if not thousands, of insects who believed they were my superior. Now they are nothing! Dead fools! Though crafty enough, cursing me to this hellish torment within the metal..." Its molten gaze, emanating from the helm's core, fixed on Zeroth. "Then, more years than I dare count ter, you come along. Snatch me up, not a care in the world." The figure punctuated "world" by crossing its massive, rock-and-va arms, the gesture almost reminding Zeroth of an infuriated, oversized parent.

  "Aye, I did find that axe," Zeroth retorted, forcing bravado despite the tremor in his voice. "Can you bme me, though? It was just sitting there, gathering dust, asking to be taken. How was I supposed to know it was some giant fming rock-monster's cursed home?"

  The incandescent veins beneath the entity's armor pulsed brighter, the heat intensifying violently. "Enough! I care not for your ignorance! The curse has taken hold. Those wizards may have trapped my raging essence within the axe, sealed it away in the deep dark, but they never accounted for my essence finding freedom in another, manifesting, repcing them completely."

  Zeroth took an involuntary step back, gasping. "Repce them completely? How would that even be possible?"

  Suddenly, Grimbli's voice, a distant yet familiar buzz, echoed faintly through the dreamscape, though the spectral dwarf was nowhere to be seen. "Careful, Zeroth. That entity is not to be underestimated. Its words carry more weight than you might think."

  The towering figure seemed to ignore Grimbli's warning entirely, or perhaps couldn't perceive it. Its form seemed to swell with fury, the rocky ptes grinding audibly as fmes licked higher, threatening to consume the space around it. It ughed aloud, a harsh, grating sound like shattering stone. "Oh dear dwarf, all will become clear in due time. The process has already begun, although much slower than I would like... but that will not be an issue. I have time. Millennia, if need be. It seems you will eventually run out."

  The towering figure leaned closer, the blinding light within its helm seeming to bore into Zeroth, the oppressive heat pressing down on him like a physical weight. Its voice dropped to a guttural whisper, ced with possessive hunger. "Submit, dwarf. Your essence will fuel my rebirth. Your strength will become my strength. And you... you will be but a mere echo in the halls of my newfound power."

  With a final, booming ugh that shook the very foundations of the dream coliseum, the entity erupted in a blinding fsh of light and heat. Everything dissolved back into the cold, featureless gray mist that had first intruded upon Zeroth's sleep.Within a few heartbeats, he awoke, gasping, drenched in sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs. The inn room was dim, the first hints of dawn just beginning to filter through the window.

  Grimbli's concerned voice lingered, a faint hum in the back of his mind. "Be cautious, Zeroth. That entity seeks dominance, and its promises are veiled in treachery. The battle for your essence has only just begun."

  Zeroth pushed himself upright, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. His eyes darted around the room, nding on his companions – Ardric, Varic, Tingle – still lost in sleep, oblivious. Then his gaze fell to his side. He jumped slightly. The Fming Berserker battle axe wasn't leaning against the bedside where he'd left it. It was lying beside him in the bed, its dark metal surface gleaming innocuously in the soft dawn light. He stared at it, a cold dread mixing with the lingering heat of the dream.

  What in the hells was that? Zeroth muttered silently, the entity's ominous warnings repying like a haunting melody. The dream felt too real, the figure too solid, the threat too immediate. He looked at the axe, a weapon he had come to rely on, a companion in battle. Now, it felt alien, heavy with a curse far worse than he had imagined.

  "I took a cursed weapon... fantastic," Zeroth grumbled aloud this time, running trembling fingers through his tangled beard.

  Regret warred with fear. The thought of something ancient and malevolent slowly overwriting his very being, turning him into a puppet for a vengeful god… it was chilling. He hesitated, gncing at his sleeping friends. Should he tell them? Burden them with this? The memory of the dream-warmth, the intoxicating power the entity represented, felt dangerously seductive compared to the cold terror gripping him now. No. They had enough to face with the journey ahead. This burden was his. For now, Zeroth decided he would keep the truth of the entity to himself. He carefully sheathed the Fming Berserker, strapping it securely to his back. The metal felt different now, not just warm, but somehow... watchful. As he rose quietly from the bed, he cast one st gnce at his sleeping companions.

  "Let them sleep," Zeroth muttered. "We've got a journey ahead. And I'll figure this out... somehow."

  With a deep, steadying breath, he stepped out into the cool morning air, leaving the false warmth of the inn room behind. The sun was rising, casting long shadows and painting the sky in hues of hope and defiance. A new day began, heralding not just adventure, but the start of a silent, internal war against the shadows of a curse yet to unfold.