Nick followed her into the water.
It was shallow—ankle-deep at first, then knee-deep, the stone floor sloping gently downward as the chamber widened. The water was clear enough that he could see every ripple his movement caused, each step sending soft distortions across the reflected light on the walls.
It didn’t feel hostile.
That unsettled him.
“Relax your shoulders,” Kelsey said without turning around.
“I didn’t realize I was tensing them.”
“You always are,” she replied lightly. “You walk like you expect the world to swing at you.”
“I’ve had a few reasons for that.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m telling you.”
She slowed slightly so he could keep pace, water swirling around her waist without splashing. She somehow moved like the lake belonged to her, each step measured, effortless, and unhurried.
Nick trudged behind her, his hoodie clinging uncomfortably to his arms, the soaked fabric dragging at him like a reminder of his poor decision.
“So,” he said, trying to keep his mind off how irritating the fabric felt, “you said you’ve cleared this dungeon before?”
“Yes.”
“Does this dungeon have any traps?”
Kelsey glanced back at him with raised eyebrows. “Nick, I told you to stop thinking of this place as a battlefield. That wasn’t me being ambiguous or mysterious. The only threat in this place is you.”
The water settled around them, ripples smoothing into glass. The chamber ahead opened into something broader—a shallow basin ringed by curved stone terraces, water spilling gently from higher channels into lower pools like a careful cascade.
There were no enemies.
“This dungeon is reactive,” she continued, her voice softer now. “It doesn’t initiate.”
She trailed her fingers through some glowing motes beneath the surface.
“When people come in swinging,” she continued, “the dungeon will push back. The constructs will wake up, the elementals will manifest, and so on.”
Her fingers stilled.
“If you’re slow and peaceful, it will stay asleep.”
Nick stared at the water.
Then he sighed.
“I get it. You’re telling me that I’m too aggressive.”
She smiled over her shoulder. “I think ‘aggressive’ might be a bit of an understatement. You’ve killed more people in the past month than some inquisitors do in a year.”
“Inquisitors?”
“Not important,” she waved his comment away. “The point is that you need to calm down. If you treat this dungeon the way you normally solve problems, your life will be hell. If you treat it calmly, the rewards will be great.”
She resumed walking.
“Come on. The first lesson’s simple.”
“Lesson?” he echoed.
They reached the edge of the basin, where the stone floor dropped away into a deeper pool. The water there was darker, light bending strangely around its depth, the surface undisturbed.
Kelsey stepped in without hesitation.
Nick stopped.
His stomach tightened.
“Absolutely not,” he said.
She turned, surprised. “You’re standing in water already.”
“In walking water,” he replied. “That’s drowning water.”
She studied him for a moment; she really looked at him this time, not amused.
Then she nodded.
“Alright,” she said. “That’s fair.”
She waded back toward him until they were standing close enough that he could see the faint glow reflecting in her eyes.
“Then we’ll do it properly.”
She gestured to the water between them. “Sit.”
“No.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I.”
“Kelsey—”
“Nick,” she interrupted. “You don’t have to cross it yet. You just have to stop fighting it.”
He swallowed, then slowly lowered himself onto the submerged stone ledge, water soaking fully into his clothes as he sat. The chill made him flinch, his breath hitching despite himself.
“Good,” she said. “Now lean back.”
His eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” she replied calmly. “I’ve got you.”
“That’s what people say before they—”
She placed a hand lightly between his shoulder blades.
It was warm and steady.
“Breathe,” she said.
Against his better judgment, he did.
He leaned back.
The water closed around his shoulders. His weight shifted, then stopped, buoyancy catching him like an invisible hand.
He froze.
“I’m not sinking…”
“You’re not,” Kelsey agreed.
His heart hammered as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling, light wavering across the stone like a living thing.
Kelsey smiled down at him.
“See?” she said. “Sometimes you just need to go with the flow.”
Nick closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
The water shifted.
Not violently—nothing so crude—but with intent. The gentle buoyancy that had held him began to slide, drawing him sideways along the stone ledge. Light bent oddly across the ceiling as the glowing veins overhead dimmed, their soft blue glow thinning like a breath held too long.
Nick’s shoulders tensed on instinct.
The water thickened.
It wasn’t heavier, exactly. It simply resisted. Every small movement dragged, as though the lake itself had grown reluctant to let him go anywhere too quickly.
“Kelsey,” he said carefully.
“I know,” she replied. Her hand was still at his back, steady but not gripping. “You’re doing fine. Just don’t fight it.”
“I’m not fighting it.”
The moment the words left his mouth, a faint heat stirred in his chest.
Not enough to manifest a flame, but still…
Enough.
The water around his ribs rippled outward in a sharp ring, the surface dimpling as if someone beneath it had flinched. The glowing motes scattered, retreating toward the edges of the chamber. Somewhere deeper in the stone, something clicked.
Nick’s eyes snapped open.
The chamber felt… smaller.
The terraces along the basin’s edge dipped lower, stone slowly submerging as the waterline crept upward by inches. Channels that had trickled gently now ran faster, currents knitting together into a slow, circling pull.
“Oh,” Nick said. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s the dungeon waking up.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“You tried to,” she replied. “That’s enough.”
The pull strengthened.
Nick slid another inch sideways, boots scraping faintly against stone. His pulse spiked, his breath hitching as old instincts screamed at him to do something. He needed to push back… to assert himself against the encroaching pressure.
The water responded immediately.
It surged.
It wasn’t a wave, but a firm, undeniable shove that rolled him partially onto his side. Cold flooded his sleeve, up his neck, over his jaw.
Panic clawed at his chest.
“I—Kelsey, I don’t like this,” he said, voice tight.
“I know,” she said, and this time there was no teasing in it.
She stepped into the current and turned with it, one foot sliding back as she caught him under the arm and redirected his momentum instead of stopping it. The water curled around them, then loosened, as though confused by the lack of resistance.
“Nick,” she said firmly. “Look at me.”
He did.
Her expression was calm—focused and intent, but not afraid. She was braced against the current with balance alone, her weight shifted just enough to stay upright without fighting the flow.
“You’re not drowning,” she said. “You’re not under attack. The dungeon is asking a question.”
“What question?” he gasped.
Her grip tightened just slightly.
“Whether you can stop trying to win.”
The current tugged again.
Nick clenched his jaw.
Every instinct he had told him this was wrong. That letting go meant dying. That power existed to be used. That hesitation was weakness.
He exhaled.
Slowly.
Then, with deliberate effort, he let his limbs go slack.
The heat in his chest receded. The pressure eased. The current softened, sliding past them instead of dragging him along with it.
The water stilled.
The terraces rose back into place, stone reemerging from the lake as if nothing had happened. The glowing motes drifted cautiously back toward the center, their lazy dance resuming.
Nick sagged against Kelsey’s shoulder, breathing hard.
“…I hate how effective that was,” he muttered.
She smiled faintly. “Most people do.”
She released him once she was sure he could sit upright on his own. The basin was calm again, but now he could feel it watching him.
“So,” he said after a moment. “I guess that’s why people fail?”
“Yes,” she replied. “They panic… and then the dungeon responds.”
She glanced toward one of the arched corridors leading deeper into the complex. The water there was darker, the light bending more sharply, as though depth waited just beyond sight.
Nick followed her gaze.
The dungeon hadn’t attacked him.
But it definitely felt like it had tested him.
And he had nearly failed.
A low vibration passed through the stone beneath them, soft… almost approving. Ahead, one of the submerged pathways brightened, the water drawing back just enough to reveal a clear route forward.
Kelsey straightened.
“Good,” she said. “You learned something.”
“Did I?” Nick replied weakly.
She stepped forward toward the newly revealed path, pausing to look back at him.
“This was the easy part,” she added. “Come on. The next chamber’s where people usually mess it up.”
Nick stared at the darkened passage, then at the calm water around his legs.
‘Wait,’ he realized. ‘I thought she was the only person who knew about this place?’
But she just said other people have messed it up.
He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
Then he followed her.
The newly revealed path was narrower than the chamber behind it, the stone walls sloping inward just enough to feel intentional. Water flowed along the center in a shallow channel, barely ankle-deep now, its surface glassy and smooth. The light dimmed as they went, the blue glow thinning into softer, more diffused veins that pulsed faintly through the stone.
The dungeon’s attention grew more noticeable.
Nick didn’t know how else to describe it.
It wasn’t watching him the way a predator watched prey, but the way a proctor watched a student during a test.
Patient.
Unmoving.
Ready to respond at the slightest hint of cheating.
He kept his steps careful, matching Kelsey’s pace. When the stone dipped, she adjusted without comment. When the current tugged slightly to the left, she angled her foot and let it slide past.
Nick mirrored her.
But that felt wrong.
He realized it when he almost stumbled.
He’d been watching her feet instead of the water.
The channel split ahead, the smooth flow dividing into three shallow streams that slipped away into separate corridors. Each looked nearly identical: the same pale stone, the same low glow, the same gently moving water. But the currents were different. One drew inward, slow and heavy. Another slid fast and thin along the wall. The third barely moved at all.
Kelsey stopped.
She didn’t explain.
She just stood there, water brushing her calves, eyes on the branching paths.
Nick waited.
Seconds passed.
Then longer.
“…Which way?” he finally asked.
She didn’t answer.
Nick frowned and stared at her. She was looking at him now, her expression neutral, open, like she was waiting for something he hadn’t done yet.
“Kelsey?”
She shook her head once. “I’m not choosing this one.”
A faint unease crawled up his spine.
“You picked the dungeon,” he said. “You know this place.”
“I do,” she agreed. “And this is where people usually mess it up.”
The water shifted.
Not violently—never violently—but enough that Nick felt it slide around his ankles, tugging his weight forward just a fraction. The three currents pulsed, each reacting differently to his presence. The slow one deepened. The fast one sharpened. The still one… felt hollow.
Nick swallowed nervously.
“You said this place reacts,” he said. “So if I don’t do anything—”
“—then it will still respond,” she finished.
He looked back at the paths.
His instincts screamed at him to analyze, to calculate. Which one felt safest? Which one felt least wrong? His mind wanted to reduce it to a problem he could solve by logic or force or cleverness.
But the dungeon didn’t care about clever.
Nick closed his eyes.
He focused on the water around his legs—the temperature, the pressure, the way it slid rather than pushed. He let himself feel the currents instead of watching them. The slow one felt heavy, patient, almost stagnant. The fast one felt sharp, demanding attention it would punish if ignored. The still one felt… empty. Like waiting without purpose.
His chest tightened.
“I think I see what’s going on here,” he murmured. “It wants me to commit. The first challenge was to not panic or rush. This time, I can’t freeze.”
The water stilled.
Not completely, but enough that the currents softened, listening.
Nick opened his eyes.
He stepped toward the fast-moving channel.
Kelsey didn’t stop him.
The moment his boot broke the edge of the stream, the water surged forward, carrying his step instead of resisting it. The current didn’t drag him; it accepted him. The stone beneath his foot warmed slightly, the texture sharpening into something more stable.
Behind him, the other two paths dimmed.
The dungeon made its preference known.
Nick let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“…Okay, I’m starting to get it.”
Kelsey gave him a small, genuine smile of approval.
“Good,” she said. “You didn’t ask permission. You didn’t wait to be told. You listened, and then you acted.”
She stepped in beside him, the current adjusting effortlessly to accommodate her.
“That’s the balance most people miss,” she continued as she walked. “They either try to dominate the dungeon, or they abdicate responsibility entirely. This place punishes both.”
The corridor ahead sloped downward, the water deepening gradually as the light shifted from pale blue to a rich, dark indigo. The air felt cooler here.
Nick glanced at the water as it crept higher along his legs.
“…You said this was still the easy part,” he said.
Her eyes flicked forward, toward the darkened bend ahead where the glow thickened and the current grew quieter.
“That’s right,” she replied.
A faint hum passed through the stone, low and resonant, like something vast drawing a slow breath.
Nick felt it in his bones.
“This is where the dungeon stops asking politely.”
The corridor opened again into a circular chamber.
It was wide—wider than anything they’d passed so far—with the stone floor split cleanly in two by a channel of deeper water. The channel ran from one side of the room to the other, slow and deliberate, its surface perfectly smooth despite the faint current Nick could feel tugging at the heels of his boots.
On the far side, the exit was visible.
A broad archway sealed behind a translucent curtain of water that hung in the air like glass, unmoving.
Nick sighed.
“Let me guess,” he said. “This isn’t as simple as crossing?”
Kelsey didn’t answer right away.
She stepped forward instead, onto the left stone walkway, while Nick remained in the shallows. The moment their weight shifted apart, the chamber reacted. The water in the channel deepened by inches, the surface acknowledging the separation.
“This one’s different,” Kelsey said at last. “It doesn’t care about balance.”
Nick frowned. “Then what does it care about?”
She looked back at him.
“Trust.”
The water stirred.
Nick stepped forward instinctively.
The dungeon responded immediately.
The channel surged, a firm wall of pressure rising between them, forcing him back half a step. The water didn’t burn or freeze; it simply refused.
“Don’t,” Kelsey said.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” she replied. “You were about to take over.”
Nick clenched his jaw.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
Kelsey studied the chamber, then stepped farther away from him, toward the far edge of the stone path on the left side.
The water between them thickened.
Nick’s instincts screamed that there was danger.
That he needed to get closer to her.
That she was too arrogant.
That this dungeon wasn’t as simple as she claimed.
He took a step toward her.
The pressure doubled.
The stone groaned as the dungeon adjusted.
Kelsey stopped and turned.
“Nick,” she said. “If you try to solve this for me, it will never let us through.”
He froze.
The words hit harder than the current ever could.
“You don’t need to protect me,” she continued. “Not here. Not anywhere. You need to let me do my part.”
Nick flinched.
Every lesson he’d ever learned told him this was wrong.
Responsibility meant acting first.
Hesitation meant death and disaster.
Trust was something that could only be given after success, never before.
Whether he wanted to be a leader or not, he could only have a chance at happiness if he took control.
Slowly, he stepped back.
The water eased.
Kelsey nodded once.
“Good.”
She moved again while Nick stayed where he was. The dungeon didn’t react violently this time. Instead, the current shifted, redirecting toward her path instead of blocking it.
Nick watched.
And didn’t interfere.
When she reached a circular pedestal halfway through the left side, the curtain over the exit rippled.
It didn’t open; it invited.
She looked back at him.
“Now,” she said. “Your turn.”
Nick stepped onto the stone path on the right side.
The water parted.
The hum deepened.
It wasn’t louder, but deeper, like something vast had shifted its attention fully onto them.
The channel between the stone paths widened another inch, water rising until it lapped just below Nick’s knees. The surface remained smooth, but the pressure beneath it grew more insistent, like a held breath.
Nick frowned.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “So what’s the actual trick here?”
Kelsey didn’t answer.
Instead, she stepped forward onto the stone path again.
The water reacted instantly.
The channel surged sideways, not toward her, but toward Nick, pressing against his legs with sudden force. It wasn’t trying to knock him down, just to move him. To correct him.
Nick staggered half a step.
“Oh,” he said. “So if you move, it pushes me.”
“And if you move,” Kelsey replied. “It pushes me.”
As if to prove her point, Nick shifted his weight experimentally.
The water responded at once, slamming against the stone path Kelsey stood on, forcing her to brace herself to keep from sliding.
They both froze.
The pressure held.
Neither side yielded.
The dungeon waited.
Nick stared at the channel, realization creeping in.
“It doesn’t want us synchronized,” he said. “But it also doesn’t want us to separate.”
Kelsey nodded.
“It’s about ‘distributed intent’.”
He groaned. “That’s annoying.”
She giggled. “This is where most parties fail. They argue.”
Nick glanced at her. “Argue about what?”
“Who goes first. Who leads. Who covers who.” She gestured to the water. “Eventually, someone decides they’re being slowed down and forces it.”
As if being summoned by the thought, the channel surged again, harder this time, the water climbing another inch.
Nick felt the old instinct flare.
He could anchor himself.
Use fire to blaze a path.
Force the channel to be stable.
The dungeon felt that thought.
The pressure spiked.
Stone groaned beneath the waterline.
“Nick,” Kelsey said sharply. “Stop it.”
He stopped.
The pressure eased, but didn’t vanish.
“So what,” he said, forcing himself to breathe evenly. “We just… take turns?”
She shook her head.
“This one took us a while to figure out. We have to act at the same time.” She met his eyes. “Just not the same way.”
Nick closed his eyes.
He thought about what he usually did in situations like this—track the variables, anticipate outcomes, position himself to intervene and save the day.
And then he did something much harder than any of those things.
He let that all go.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “You move when you want. I’ll move when I want. I won’t follow you. I won’t adjust for you.”
Kelsey studied him for a long moment.
“And?” she prompted.
“And I won’t try to correct you.”
That did it.
The pressure reoriented.
The channel narrowed slightly, the waterline dropping just enough to reveal etched stone beneath the surface. Patterns, old and worn, flowed along the floor like tide marks.
The dungeon was listening.
Kelsey stepped forward.
This time, the water didn’t shove Nick.
It hesitated.
It curled around his legs instead of striking them, pressure redistributing in slow, searching eddies. The current didn’t vanish; it shifted, redirecting its force outward as Kelsey moved deeper into the channel.
He felt it immediately.
Not a shove, but a subtle, persistent drag, pulling his balance sideways like the tide testing loose footing.
He stiffened on instinct.
The water tightened.
“Nick,” Kelsey said without turning around. “Don’t lock up.”
“I didn’t,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Right.”
She took another step.
The current surged again, harder this time, the pull sliding up his calves, threatening to peel his footing out from under him. The stone beneath his boots slickened, the dungeon responding to resistance.
“I see…” he muttered.
The dungeon didn’t want stillness. He wasn’t meant to weather the storm.
It wanted him to yield.
He forced himself to breathe out slowly and let his weight settle, accepting the drag and adjusting to it as it came.
Kelsey felt it too. She stumbled slightly as the pressure she’d been leaning against evaporated. She corrected by slowing, matching her step to the water’s new rhythm.
They were both moving now.
Not together.
Not apart.
Kelsey advanced in careful, measured steps, each one sending a wave of pressure outward that Nick had to absorb and redirect through his stance. When she sped up, the water tugged him harder. When she slowed, the pull eased—but it never vanished.
Nick continued forward at his own pace.
The current snapped toward Kelsey, yanking at her legs with a sharp, sudden insistence. She didn’t fight it. She pivoted with the flow, letting it carry her sideways for half a step before planting her foot again.
Nick felt the backlash ripple through the channel, the water surging around his knees in response.
He nearly lost his balance.
For a heartbeat, panic flared.
‘This is crazy. I should just run. If I grab her, we can make it before…’
No.
He didn’t.
He adjusted instead.
Let the water push him off-line, then stepped with it, turning the drag into forward momentum instead of resistance.
The channel hummed.
The etched patterns beneath the water brightened, lines of pale light tracing paths that hadn’t been there before, routes formed not by dominance, but by compromise.
They advanced like that for several long seconds.
Kelsey moved faster than he did, confident and fluid, forcing Nick to endure constant, sharp surges of pressure. Nick moved slower, steadier, his steps grounding the current and preventing it from spiraling out of control.
Neither corrected the other.
Neither waited.
They trusted.
When Kelsey reached the far side of the chamber, the water curtain rippled—but it didn’t open.
Nick was still only halfway across.
The pull intensified.
The dungeon pressed him insistently, testing whether he’d break form to rush, to force his way through.
Kelsey stopped.
Not to help.
To hold.
She planted her feet and let the current slam into her full force, absorbing the backlash of Nick’s movement without flinching.
Nick felt it.
The pressure first spiked, and then stabilized.
He took one last step.
The water parted cleanly.
The curtain dissolved mid-motion, spilling down in a soft cascade that drained away into hidden channels as if it had never been there at all.
When Nick reached her side, the chamber let out a sigh of relief.
The water stilled.
The hum faded.
Nick bent forward slightly, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
“Okay,” he said after a moment. “You started halfway through the chamber. That was… deeply unfair.”
Kelsey smiled proudly, not seeming the least bit tired.
“Only if you think fairness means equal strain.”
He glanced back.
The chamber was already dulling, the etched paths fading back into plain stone.
The test was over.
“So,” he said. “Lesson three?”
“Strength isn’t about acting alone,” she said. “And trust isn’t about surrendering control.”
She turned and stepped through the archway.
“It’s about knowing when not to interfere.”
Nick followed. Behind them, the water returned to stillness as if the chamber had never been there at all.
Project Knightfall 