The first room of the dungeon was exactly what he would have expected for a home, but not a dungeon. A small, cozy room with a table, some comfortably cushioned seats, and a fire gently crackling in the corner. It was clean, with no sign of any monsters. More importantly, it was quiet, and the scent of simmering tea drifted throughout the space, setting his nose to tingling. There was something… familiar about the smell of that tea, he thought. But that didn’t make sense. It smelled like a fine tea, and he knew he’d never encountered any of those in his life.

  ? *In your new life, that is*, a voice whispered in his mind. *But this isn’t your new life, is it? This is home.*

  ? “Who’s there?” He called, whipping his knives out of their sheaths and crouching. Was this an illusion designed to calm him for an ambush? “Show yourself!”

  ? For a few long seconds, there was no reply to his words. Then, a door on one of the walls opened, and out walked a figure with dark silver hair. The same exact shade of his own hair, he thought. The stranger was carrying a pot and looked up as he entered, his golden eyes fixed on Grim.

  ? “Interesting,” the stranger said, blinking at him. “You’re late. Much later than Beldina predicted.”

  ? “What?” Grim asked. At the bizarre appearance, he’d lowered his knives, but now he raised them again and took a half step forward. “Who the hell are you? Why are you using illusion magic to look exactly like me?”

  ? The stranger smiled at him as if he’d made some light joke. “Oh, good one. Beldina tell you to mess with me, did she?”

  ? “Who is Beldina?” Grim asked. Now he took a step back. He’d never heard of humans existing in a dungeon before. Even if this was the dungeon’s emissary, it wouldn’t naturally have the form of a human. “I’ve never met someone by that name before.”

  ? The stranger’s smile faded, and he set the teapot down on a hook over the fire. “Curious.”

  ? The stranger vanished entirely. Grim hadn’t sensed a skill used, and the figure didn’t simply blink out, as one would with invisibility. Then he heard the man’s voice just by his left ear. “What pitiful weapons you have. Is this the standard to which the Evandross family has fallen in my absence?”

  ? Grim whipped around on pure instinct, his knife thrusting forward for the source of that voice. But the stranger simply caught his wrist, stopping the attack. Then he gently pried the knife from Grim’s wrist and held it up to his eyes, examining it closely. “Only level three. How sad. And not even a boon.”

  ? Not sure what was happening, Grim obeyed his danger sense. Something here was out of the ordinary, and he had to fight his hardest to survive. He took a step back, then dashed to the left before lunging forward again, his knife slashing for the stranger’s ribs. Again, his attack was stopped with consummate ease, and he was disarmed.

  ? “Please, no violence in the house,” the stranger said, giving him a soft smile. “Blood is so hard to get out of the carpet.”

  ? Grim might have continued attacking in spite of the loss of his weapons, using his hands and feet, but the stranger blurred out of sight again and appeared sitting in one of the comfortable armchairs by the fire, both knives in his hands, observing them. “This looks like decent work, but it’s a Rank C weapon. You should really be using boon weapons, my dear boy.”

  ? Grim spun around to face the stranger again. Teleportation? In a level three dungeon? But he knew. Every fiber of his being screamed that this stranger was not level three. He was… higher. Much higher. “What? How the… Give me back my weapons!”

  ? “In a moment,” the stranger said, his smile broadening. It was a kind smile, as if he were pleased to see Grim. “First, I want some answers. Sit down. The tea will be ready soon.”

  ? In spite of the terror gripping him, Grim felt his body relax, and he moved forward. He tried to fight it, but it was as if another entity had seized control of him. He was forced to walk calmly over and sit down across from the stranger, letting the fire wash over him. There was silence for several minutes as he fought valiantly to regain control of his body, unable to move a muscle or even look away from the stranger.

  ? “You say you’ve never heard of someone named Beldina,” the stranger continued. “This concerns me. Am I to take it that you also don’t know why you’ve been summoned back to your home?”

  ? And with that, Grim found that he could at least speak, even if his body wouldn’t obey his instructions. “This isn’t my home. I live in Beastwick, and I’m moving to Ironmarsh soon. I don’t know who this Beldina is, and I don’t care. Now, drop this illusion and let me leave this dungeon.”

  ? “This is not a dungeon,” the stranger said. Then, frowning and tilting his head to the side, he added, “Well, I suppose that’s what I’ve made it into now. But that’s just to protect our secrets.”

  ? “Our secrets? You mean *your* secrets,” Grim shot back.

  ? “I said what I meant. I know who you are, Grim. Even though I last saw you as nothing but a toddler, I recognize you. You have the same body, mind, and soul as when you left my protection. A bit more damaged than I would have preferred, perhaps, but the same.”

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  ? The stranger rose from his armchair and approached Grim, who tensed, preparing himself for an attack. Instead, the stranger gently slid the daggers back into their sheaths. “I’m going to give you back control of your body now. Do not attack me. I could destroy you in an instant, with very little effort. I am twentieth level. Please do not presume to harm me.”

  ? In spite of the fact that they were in a level three dungeon, Grim believed him. His control returned unexpectedly, and he lurched forward but remained in his seat. The stranger smiled at him. “Good. Now, we can talk.”

  ? “What is your name?” Grim asked, then frowned. That hadn’t been what he meant to ask at all.

  ? “You may call me Evandross,” he said, smiling again. He leaned back in his chair comfortably, folding one leg over the other. “It is a fitting name, as I was the first of my line. You, it seems, are the last.”

  ? Grim wasn’t sure what to do. Against a level twenty, he stood no chance. He could try to run. The door to the dungeon was a mere ten feet away. One Shadow Dash could take him there in an instant, and then he’d just have to touch the handle. Dungeons couldn’t prevent a delver from leaving if they touched the exit portal, no matter what form that portal took. And yet, somehow, he knew that would be impossible.

  ? “So,” Evandross said, carefully lacing his fingers together and staring at Grim. “Beldina. When this city fell to the dungeon floods, she assured me that she would look after you and ensure that you returned when you came of age. That was three years ago. Do you really have no idea of whom I speak?”

  ? “I already told you that,” Grim said. “Also, I wasn’t told to come here. This is just the first dungeon I found in the city. This is a part of my test to join a guild.”

  ? Evandross frowned deeply, appearing to think something through. “A short, slim woman, with fiery red hair. Had a long scratch from eye to chin here. I’m sure it would have scarred. Might have worn a silver locket with an eight-pointed star?”

  ? He lifted one finger to drag it down his cheek in demonstration, and now it was Grim’s turn to frown thoughtfully. Strangely, that description did match someone that he knew. Or rather, someone whom he had known. “That sounds like Bethia. That’s the woman who dropped me off at the orphanage. She told me who I was, and who my parents had been, before leaving me in that hole.”

  ? “I see,” Evandross said slowly, and his fingers twitched, as if closing around a weapon. “So they found out. She left you somewhere they’d never think to look, and changed her name.”

  ? He appeared to contemplate that for a minute, then leaned forward suddenly. “Tell me, boy. Is Beldina alive?”

  ? “How would I know that?” Grim asked, scowling. “I never saw her after that day.”

  ? “So then she’s dead,” Evandross replied. “Or in hiding. She’d be the last one who knew and never had a chance to tell you. That would explain your confusion.”

  ? He leveled another of those stares at Grim, his yellow eyes glowing with a soft, golden light. “I expect this will be hard for you to hear, but you are the last living descendant of one of the most powerful families in the history of Masmorra. And you have returned, it seems, to begin a grand quest.”

  ? Grand Quest. A shiver ran through Grim at the words, though he’d neither heard them before nor knew their meaning. Yet they carried significant weight, as if Evandross were referring to an entity or act, and not speaking three simple words. He leaned forward in his armchair, some of the anger and fear fading away to be replaced by eager interest. He meant only to ask the one question, but found many tumbling out of his lips without his control.

  ? “What is that? Why is my parents’ house a dungeon? Why do you look like me? Who are you and this Belinda person?”

  ? “You really know nothing? You are not acting?” Evandross leaned back in his chair in surprise, and, at Grim’s nod, frowned. He looked troubled now, more troubled than he had been in their entire interaction. “I suppose I have to tell you. I can’t explain everything with words alone, though. Well, I could, but you wouldn’t believe them. I’ll have to show you…”

  ? Grim felt a shiver in the air beside him, but when he looked, he saw nothing. Evandross took his attention again by getting up, retrieving the teapot from its place above the fire, and pouring two cups before handing one to Grim. “Drink this. It was a favorite of your mother’s, and even your father grew to enjoy it. Though… it will have different effects on you than it did for him.”

  ? Grim accepted the cup, but didn’t drink from it. “What do you mean, different effects? Is this poison?”

  ? “Please,” Evandross said, smirking. “If I desired your death, I could have accomplished it the instant you stepped inside. Drink, before it grows cold.”

  ? Hesitantly, Grim took a sip. And Evandross began his tale.

  ? “This city was once the home of a great clan of bloodlines. Two, in fact. In the earliest years, they were separate, but soon joined, successfully merging their bloodlines into one. These were Evanstan and Fendross. Together, they became Evandross. The bloodline was so pure that it created truly powerful delvers, and through them, the beginnings of a great city. One that could even rival Beastwick to the south.”

  ? “The Evandross line was known for their many gifts outside of pure delving power, the most prominent of which was the ability to form a connection with the dungeons. The most secret, ancient, and mysterious part of the world, and they could connect to it. Learn from them. *Change* them.”

  ? As Evandross spoke, Grim felt his body growing heavier and the tension leaving him. He might have felt alarmed, but the pull of this unknown phenomenon was making the world around him dim. Trying to fight it felt inconsequential, so he gave up. So what if the cup had been poisoned? It wasn’t as if his life would amount to anything, after all.

  ? “You are wrong, Grim,” he heard Evandross whisper. He hadn’t moved from the chair, nor had his lips moved, and yet Grim heard the words as if they were right against his ear. “You are meant for great things. You are meant to know, and more importantly, to *act*.”

  ? His entire body was numb now. He couldn’t even feel the beat of his heart as the weight settled down on him. It was nearly crushing, but at the same time, pleasant in a way he hadn’t experienced in a while. Like a warm embrace, pulling him away from his troubles and into the comfort that his soul had cried out for, though he had not thought to listen.

  ? “He will be fine,” he heard Evandross saying. He forced his eyes open and saw that his ancestor had turned to the left and was speaking to someone out of sight. But they were alone, weren’t they? “Your concern is warranted, but aimed in the wrong direction. Be still, young delver. All will be revealed in time.”

  ? And then he looked at Grim again and said the last thing he remembered. “Learn our history, Grim. *Your* history. It is long past time for you to know.”