A Father's Shadow...

Mahogany stood on the edge of the dungeon’s entrance, gazing down into its endless depths. The stone walls seemed to swallow the sunlight, pulling all warmth and light into the black abyss. It had been months since he last ventured here, but the memory of his near-fatal journey was fresh. The oppressive heat, the suffocating air, the molten river of lava that had nearly claimed him and his companions—it was all etched into his mind like a wound that refused to heal.

But this time was different. He was alone now. His companions had been wise enough to stay away, but Mahogany had returned. He hadn’t told his mother, not wanting to worry her more than she already was. He hadn’t told anyone. This was a journey for him, a journey for answers.

He inhaled deeply, letting the familiar scent of stone, earth, and sulfur fill his lungs. His father had disappeared in this dungeon, years ago. No one knew why he had gone in. No one knew what he had been looking for. Mahogany’s mother had always been cryptic about it, and after his father’s disappearance, she had refused to speak of it at all. Fear had taken root in her heart, a fear that had kept her far from the dungeon’s entrance, but it had done nothing to quell Mahogany’s curiosity.

The whispers of the dungeon, the pull of the unknown, the need for closure—these things had driven Mahogany back to this cursed place.

With a final glance over his shoulder at the world above—the rolling hills, the forests, the sky—Mahogany stepped into the darkness.

The descent was slow, methodical. The tunnels twisted and turned, narrowing in some places, expanding in others. The air grew hotter with each step, a suffocating heat that clung to his coat and weighed down his every movement. The torches on the walls flickered, casting long shadows that danced and writhed like phantoms.

As he descended deeper, Mahogany’s thoughts drifted to his father. He had been so young when his father had vanished. He barely remembered the day they found out—just a hazy image of his mother’s tear-streaked face, her hooves trembling as she stood at the door, waiting for news that never came. There had been no body, no sign of what had happened. Just silence. Silence and the dungeon’s looming presence.

Mahogany had grown up with the mystery hanging over him like a dark cloud. His mother had always warned him to stay away from the dungeon, to avoid the same fate as his father. But now, as he descended deeper into the dungeon’s bowels, he understood why his father had come here. There was something about this place—something that called to him, whispered to him in the quiet moments.

And yet, it was not the mystery that fueled Mahogany’s steps. It was hope. A desperate hope that perhaps his father was still alive, lost somewhere in the dungeon, waiting for someone to find him.

The tunnel opened into a large chamber, and the familiar glow of molten lava filled Mahogany’s vision. The heat was intense, waves of it rolling off the river of magma that flowed lazily through the center of the room. He had been here before—this was where he and his companions had turned back. The danger had been too great, the heat too oppressive.

But now, alone, Mahogany pressed forward.

He skirted the edge of the lava river, his hooves leaving faint marks in the scorched stone. The air shimmered around him, the heat distorting everything in his vision. As he moved, he became acutely aware of how silent it was. No sound but the bubbling of the lava, no movement but the flickering flames.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, Mahogany saw something. A shape, a figure, hunched and still, standing at the far end of the chamber.

His heart skipped a beat.

It was a horse.

At first, Mahogany thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him. The heat, the exhaustion—it could easily conjure illusions. But no. The figure was real. Slowly, he made his way toward the shape, squinting through the shimmering heat.

The closer he got, the clearer the figure became. It was a courser—a horse, like him—but gaunt, thin, as if he had been starved for months. His coat, once a rich chestnut, was matted with dirt and sweat. His mane hung in tangled clumps, and his eyes… his eyes were wide, bloodshot, and vacant.

Mahogany stopped a few feet away, his heart pounding in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat.

The horse before him looked eerily familiar.

“Hello?” Mahogany’s voice cracked as he spoke, the sound echoing in the chamber. “Are… are you all right?”

The horse blinked slowly, as if registering Mahogany’s presence for the first time. His eyes, which had been unfocused and distant, suddenly locked onto Mahogany. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the silence thick between them.

Then, the horse spoke.

“Who are you?” His voice was raspy, weak, as if it hadn’t been used in years.

Mahogany took a step closer, his breath catching in his throat. “I… I’m Mahogany,” he said softly. “I’m an adventurer. I’m… I’m looking for someone.”

The horse tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Someone? Who?”

“My father,” Mahogany whispered, the words almost too heavy to say. “He disappeared in this dungeon, years ago. I’ve been searching for him ever since.”

The horse’s expression didn’t change. He just stared at Mahogany, his eyes dull and empty.

Mahogany hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. There was something about this horse, something in the way he moved, the way he looked at him. A resemblance that Mahogany couldn’t ignore.

“Are you…” Mahogany’s voice wavered as he spoke. “Are you my father?”

The horse blinked slowly, his eyes flicking to Mahogany’s face as if seeing him for the first time. “Father?” he repeated, his voice a hollow echo. “No… no, I don’t think so.”

Mahogany’s heart sank. He had held onto a small, flickering hope that somehow, against all odds, this lost courser could be his father. But now, seeing the emptiness in his eyes, hearing the confusion in his voice, he knew it wasn’t true.

“I’ve been down here… for so long,” the horse muttered, his voice distant. “I don’t remember how long. Days, weeks… maybe years. Everything blurs together after a while.”

Mahogany swallowed hard, his throat tight. “Do you… do you remember anyone else? Anyone who might’ve been like me?”

The horse’s eyes darted around the chamber, as if searching for something. “There was… another one,” he murmured. “A horse, yes. He was here. We crossed paths… once, maybe twice. But he’s gone now. I lost him. Couldn’t find him again. Time slips away down here, you know. Slips away, and you forget…”

The words were a jumble, disjointed and confused. Mahogany could see the madness in the horse’s eyes, the years of isolation and fear that had broken his mind. This poor creature had been trapped down here for too long. Whatever he had once been, whoever he had once been, was lost to the dungeon’s cruel grip.

Mahogany’s chest tightened with disappointment, the weight of his father’s absence pressing down on him. He had come here hoping for answers, for closure, for some shred of hope. But all he had found was another lost soul.

Still, Mahogany couldn’t leave him here. He couldn’t abandon this horse to the same fate that had taken his father.

“I’m going to help you,” Mahogany said, his voice firm despite the ache in his heart. “I’m going to take you back to the surface. You don’t have to stay here anymore.”

The horse blinked at him, his expression vacant. “The surface…? I haven’t seen the surface in so long…”

“You will,” Mahogany said, stepping closer and gently guiding the horse toward the tunnel. “I’ll get you out of here.”

The journey back was slow, the horse’s steps uneven and unsure. He stumbled more than once, muttering to himself in incoherent fragments, but Mahogany kept him moving, his own strength and determination driving them forward. The heat of the dungeon began to fade as they ascended, the oppressive weight of the lava chambers giving way to cooler, fresher air. The light of the torches grew brighter, the darkness receding.

When they finally reached the surface, Mahogany squinted against the sunlight. The world above felt so distant, so foreign after the depths of the dungeon. But the sight of the open sky, the fresh air, was like a balm to his weary soul.

And then, Mahogany saw them.

A small group of horses stood near the entrance to the dungeon, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief. One of them, a mare with a silver-gray coat, gasped as she saw the lost courser stumble out of the dungeon beside Mahogany.

“Father!” she cried, her voice breaking with emotion as she rushed toward him. Tears streamed down her face as she threw her arms around the gaunt figure, holding him tightly. “Oh, Father, we thought… we thought we’d lost you forever!”

The horse blinked in confusion, his eyes flicking between the mare and the other horses who had gathered around him. “Lost?”

he muttered. “No… I was just… looking… looking for something…”

The mare didn’t seem to care about his rambling. She held him close, tears soaking his matted mane as she sobbed into his shoulder. The rest of the family surrounded them, their relief palpable in the air.

Mahogany watched from a distance, his heart heavy. This family had been reunited. They had found their lost father, their loved one. But as he stood there, watching the reunion, all Mahogany could feel was a hollow ache inside him.

His father was still gone. Still lost, somewhere in the depths of the dungeon—or maybe he was gone for good. Mahogany didn’t know. And the not knowing, the uncertainty, was worse than anything.

With a heavy sigh, Mahogany turned away from the scene, unable to bear it any longer. He had done what he could for this family, but there was nothing more for him here.

As he walked away from the dungeon’s entrance, Mahogany’s thoughts drifted to his own mother, to the fear and sorrow that had filled her heart since his father’s disappearance. He had promised her he wouldn’t go too deep, wouldn’t lose himself to the dungeon like his father had. But now, as he stood on the precipice of that very fate, he wasn’t so sure.

The dungeon still called to him. Its secrets still whispered in the back of his mind, taunting him with the possibility of answers. His father’s face lingered in his thoughts, a shadow that refused to fade.

One day, Mahogany thought as he looked back at the entrance to the dungeon. One day, I’ll find you.

And with that, he walked away from the darkness, leaving the dungeon’s secrets behind—for now.