“I walked all the way down these bloody stairs to get away from it all.” Reaper began, voice low. “And most of all, to get away from other living beings. Now you want to bother me, twisted imps. Today is not the day I wish to be bothered. So turn around and go bore another soul!”

That was the wrong thing to do. Reaper quickly realized that he should not have reacted at all. His ears swiveled back at more childlike chatter from the imps. They surged forward with mocking laughter and repeated what he said out loud. At first their taunting was bearable. He walked up the stairs to a lava crossing bridge like a chorus of twisted echoes, but soon their arguments turned from childlike to cruel. He barely made it to a small intersection on the stairs before the imps started their second barrage of taunts.

You’re a failure of an heir. A failure, the imps hissed. You let them leave. You had a bad feeling and let them go, you let them die just like that. Your family is dead because of you.

Shaking his head, the black and white Courser moved on. That one was easily dismissed for a simple reason only. “No. The house of Ashenstar is not dead. I’m alive and so is Thunderstepper.” Reaper scoffed.“I did not kill them. did not pull the trigger. Those murderers, they did it. And I will find them. I will avenge them.”

Even your parents? More taunting. You loved them anyway, but they ignored all of you, washing out the parts they didn’t like.

“They wanted what was best for our noble house. For the line of Ashenstar.” Reaper said. Maybe he should not. They were not good parents, but they were his. They were Coursers, alive and flawed, and he barely got to know them as Reaper- as his true self. Now he will never get the chance. “I am their heir for good or evil. I bear that legacy- and I have the chance to make it my own.”

By their blows. Such a failure of an heir you are. A noble house fallen low, being driven to ruin surely because of your desperation. The imps chattered. Their faces blended together as Reaper took another step up the stairs. He looked forward in the dark, each voice sending a pulse of painful doubt through his skull. Failure, failure.

“Two victims, two sacrifices for the greater good.” Reaper said, and took a moment to breathe. “I know my parents were the monsters in my nightmares, what I dreamed of when I was colt. But now I know that the real monsters are the Coursers that sealed my sister’s fate. Those are the real monsters.”

Like you. The imps smiled, a wall of smiles that leered at him when Reaper turned around. You fit in right here, so many monsters. Made by their demise for sure.

“I will find justice for their deaths.” He muttered. “That’s why I am here.”

That was why he was in this dungeon. He was there to find power, to find a reason for the killers. Known dungeon delvers, dungeon born who rarely left to find the surface. Hired rogues that were sent to harm. A lot of bad souls. 

Failure, the imps hissed. Their chorus of specific insults starts up again. And he loads his crossbow with furious determination. Failure, while you recovered your cousin’s father did horrible things and his sister got murdered too. Failure, because those killers are still out there, so is the one who hired them, and you’re stuck walking around in a dungeon while his friend faces danger in the town every single day.

“You’re not the monster here.” Reaper said, and stopped. He would not go back, not with the imps blocking his path. He would have to keep moving forward, deeper into the unknown. It was better than walking back to hear more of that horrid taunting. Of course, he could always show them why Reaper was his nickname. “I am.”

He turned and raised his weapon.