The dungeon was never scary to Pilgrim. The darkness of the great corridors, the cold that settled on their skin, and the presence of creatures that were not of this world were what they knew best. Perhaps that was why they had found a place in one of the guilds so easily, something Pilgrim only learned later, when they had already sat down with the others in the vast hall of the quarters to listen to the council. This daily routine was a slow-growing torment for them. Life on the surface turned out to be completely different than Pilgrim had expected. Much more difficult. Bright, loud, and complicated. How on earth did other coursers manage to live like that? 

"I know more coursers like you," Crispin, a courser with skin as pale as milk, told them one day. "You are not the only ones who come from here. And it is becoming increasingly difficult for each of you to function in our world.”

Pilgrim did not need the company of others to descend into the dungeon. Meeting Crispin below the surface was purely by chance. The older and experienced courser reminded them of the founders of the guild. In his manner, conversation, and intelligence, he behaved similarly to Husein, Melchior, Osmond or Passenger. To Pilgrim, they had a lot in common.

“Just because we come from the dungeon does not make us the same. We may exist here, understand this world better than you, and even have similar traits, but I believe that each of us came here for a completely different purpose.”

“And what is your purpose?”

Pilgrim had to think. A similar question fell from the lips of everyone who wanted to exchange a moment's thought with them as soon as they appeared in the guild hall. Always one word. What are you looking for here? What do you want to achieve? How did you survive so long in the dungeon alone? But Pilgrim's memories were faded. Covered in a thick, milky fog that prevented them from reaching deeper into their own mind. Pilgrim simply came into being one day. There was no past or future, only what was happening now. Their understanding of life was completely different than most coursers, so this absence didn't affect them in the way it should.

To them, this nothingness seemed normal.

"All I know is that all this happens for a reason. My goal is to find my purpose."

Wandering spirit floating next to them was looking at gray courser without any expression, just like his owner. Crispin didn't seem convinced by this answer. The same confused face and unreadable expression was the reaction Pilgrim get used to. It was no news to them that so many coursers did not understand their words and Pilgrim… Pilgrim found it increasingly difficult to explain all this.

“Hide.”

The words of the older courser alarmed Pilgrim. They raised their head higher, when unexpectedly leaving the dark corridor they found themselves in a huge, fog-shrouded clearing, which was illuminated by the rays of the blood moon in the dark sky. Pilgrim allowed themselves to stand in the light of this glow, which completely absorbed their skin. Like sunbathing in the red moon of Harvester, they allowed it to show them in its entirety. For them, the moon's disk was like a lens and it completely absorbed them.

“There is nothing to hide from. Here, below the surface, the dungeon remembers your every step.”