“So you were born here in the dungeon?” Crispin asked as the pair of coursers walked along one of the furnace’s many passageways, and he glanced back at his temporary charge. “Yes,” Victor replied simply, ears perked forward, his demeanor much calmer now that he knew Crispin wasn’t going to try and drag him up to the surface like so many well-meaning coursers before him. “Born here, lived in here my whole life — I’m not interested in living on the surface. A visit onc...

It had been easy enough to dodge the older courser that had tried to shepherd him up to the surface. Well-meaning though they were, his home was the dungeon itself, not the surface — despite their best efforts to convince him otherwise. You’re much too young still to be down here by yourself, they told the yearling, as if he hadn’t been born in the depths. As if he hadn’t been living down here this entire time. Come, I’ll escort you to the surface. It’s much sa...