Three Coursers, they came to a path:
One harlequin led way.
Each in muzzle held torches alight,
Until came a gust stray!

No more fire, dark it descended
Thales said, “Let's turn back.”
While Creed argued for them to stay,
Come what may in pitch black.

Jezebel did not seem to care,
Walking on with disdain.
Suddenly, there came a grinding,
This sound would be their bane:

For those old stones, they are drifting,
As platforms shift and hiss!
Each Courser must escape falling,
Cracks emerge, then, abyss!

They ran forward, no eyes to see,
Hooves beat against the ground,
Panic set in, one nearly slipped,
But they were not downed!

In middle they are, not across,
The outlook was tragic,
Now they had to decide,
With just wits, no magic:

To continue or turn around?
Forward was more danger,
Yet treasure called their names!
Peril was no stranger…

Was this same start also the end?
No more of this campaign?
Well, of course, that would be telling,
So let the chaos reign!

One thing more you may dwell upon,
You may ask, who am I?
The dungeon has many secrets,
Upon horses I spy…

I am the one who moves the stone,
I am ceiling, walls, floor.
I am ancient, buried by time.
Will you open my door?