The rhythmic sound of hooves echoed through the narrow passageway, growing fainter as the stone walls tightened around them. The air was cool, a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat they had felt earlier as they approached the depths of the Earthen Furnace. Elara trotted lightly ahead, her dappled purple coat blending into the dim glow of the dungeon. Her eyes darted from the carved reliefs on the walls to the winding path ahead, brimming with both excitement and concentration.

Behind her, Crispin’s measured pace followed in steady contrast to her quicker, lighter steps. His grayed out dunskin coat was flecked with dust from their journey, but his red eyes remained alert, scanning the surroundings with an air of seasoned caution. Though they had been traveling together for weeks now, Elara knew Crispin never let his guard down—at least, not in a place like this.

Every Courser hears the call of the dungeon in their lifetime. Elara had heard it as clearly as any. It was a pull, a whisper that had been with her since she was a filly, growing up in a family of adventurers. She had always known her path would lead her here, to the hidden depths of the Buried Kingdom. The dungeon called to her, but not in the way it called to most. It wasn’t treasure or glory that drew her, nor even the thrill of adventure. For her, the pull was something deeper, something harder to define.

Crispin’s voice broke the silence. “You’re quiet today,” he remarked. “Lost in thought?”

Elara slowed her pace to match his, offering him a sideways glance. “Aren’t I always?” she replied with a teasing smile. But her smile faded as she returned her gaze to the path ahead. “I’m just...thinking about why we come here. Why we risk so much, for what?”

Crispin raised a brow. “You’re not normally this philosophical before we’ve even found anything.”

Elara chuckled. “No, I suppose not.” She paused, considering her words. “But there’s something about this place. About the dungeon itself. I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m searching for.”

“What you’re searching for?” Crispin’s tone was curious but not surprised. He had been leading expeditions long enough to have heard all manner of motivations. “And what is it, Elara? Treasure? Adventure? Some ancient mystery?”

Elara shook her head. “No, not treasure. Not even the thrill of discovery, though I do love that part.” Her steps slowed as they entered a wider chamber, dimly lit by cracks in the ceiling that allowed thin shafts of light to pierce the darkness. The walls were lined with faded murals, worn by time but still faintly visible. She moved closer to one, running her hoof along the surface, tracing the shapes of long-forgotten symbols.

“I think... it’s knowledge,” she said softly, almost to herself. “I’m searching for something lost. Something that can tell us who we were—who we are.”

Crispin stood a few paces behind, watching her with his usual stoic expression. “Knowledge,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s harder to find than gold. And more dangerous.”

Elara nodded. “It’s not the kind of knowledge you can find on the surface. There are stories buried down here. Stories no one remembers. And if we don’t find them, they’ll disappear forever.”

She stepped back from the mural, her eyes sweeping the chamber. “Don’t you ever wonder what this place used to be, Crispin? Who built it? Why they left? I can feel it, even in these stones. There’s something here—something ancient. I don’t want it to slip away.”

Crispin was quiet for a moment, his red eyes scanning the walls as though seeing them for the first time. “I don’t usually get caught up in the ‘why’ of it all,” he admitted. “I’ve spent too many years focusing on survival. But you... you’ve always been different. You’re here for something more than the dungeon itself.”

Elara turned to face him, her eyes bright with determination. “I need to know, Crispin. It’s not enough for me to just survive down here. I want to understand. I want to leave something behind that tells future generations who we were and where we came from.”

Crispin met her gaze, and for the first time, Elara saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something beyond his usual pragmatic nature. “You might be right,” he said slowly. “Maybe there is more to this place than we realize. But chasing knowledge can be just as dangerous as chasing treasure. You know that.”

Elara smiled, a mixture of excitement and understanding in her expression. “I know. But if we don’t chase it, who will? We can’t just let the past fade into nothing. If we don’t remember who we are, what’s the point of any of this?”

For a moment, Crispin said nothing. Then, with a small nod, he moved past her, heading toward the next passageway. “You’ve got that fire in you, Elara. Just make sure it doesn’t burn you out.”

Elara laughed softly, following him. “You sound like my father.”

Crispin’s lips twitched in a faint smirk. “I’m older than your father.”

The two continued on in silence for a while, the path ahead winding deeper into the dungeon. Elara’s thoughts drifted back to the murals, to the ancient symbols etched into the walls. She had always felt a connection to the past, as if the voices of long-gone civilizations were whispering to her, urging her to uncover their stories. But it was more than just curiosity—it was a responsibility.

The dungeon called to her, as it did to all Coursers. But for Elara, the call wasn’t just a siren song of danger and adventure. It was a question, one that demanded an answer. What had happened to the world before the Buried Kingdom? What had led to its fall? And what could be learned from its ruins?

As they pressed forward into the unknown, Elara felt that familiar pull deep within her chest—the pull of history, of knowledge waiting to be unearthed. She knew the risks, the dangers that lay ahead. But she also knew that some things were worth risking everything for.

And for Elara, the answers buried beneath the surface were worth everything.