The place had changed, yet somehow with the memories fresh it felt like it hadn't. Where the old fence entrance once stood, there was nothing left but bare ground, swallowed by the relentless passage of time.

  She stood there for a long moment, her eyes scanning the familiar yet unfamiliar landscape, where memories blurred with the present. The house itself loomed ahead, clearly renovated, but the outline, its bones, remained the same. Just like that dream she used to have, over and over again.

  A veranda now wrapped around the house, the only true addition. On top of the said veranda, an old man sat in a rocking chair, his gaze steady as he watched her approach. The chair creaked slowly, like the heartbeat of the place itself.

  "Welcome, Your Majesty, to my humble abode." The old man’s voice was low, weathered, as if it had aged along with him. His eyes, however, were sharp, too sharp for someone his age. "Or perhaps I should say, welcome back."

  She didn’t answer right away, her lips pressed into a thin line, staring back in silence, sizing him up from head to toe with her unblinking black eyes. He did the same. Time passed slowly between them, the weight of years settling in the space.

  "You’ve gotten old," she finally said.

  "That again?" he chuckled, his voice shaking with amusement. "You said the same thing six years ago."

  "Well, I’m saying it again because it’s the case," she replied, her gaze unwavering.

  Damian, Dungeon Master 09 had indeed aged, he looked like a man nearing the end of his long journey through life. Wrinkled skin, the deep lines of age, thin white hair, he was exactly what one would expect of someone in their late nineties. She, on the other hand, looked untouched by time, forever locked in the appearance of a woman barely into her twenties, despite having recently crossed her century mark.

  He smiled at her words, but made no further comment. Instead, he looked around the house, as if seeing it for the first time. "So... how accurate is it to your memories?"

  "Not very accurate," she teased, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Mostly because of how new everything is." She pressed her hand against the wall, feeling its solid structure. "Back then, everything looked like it was falling apart from old age. Aside from that, and of course this veranda, it’s the same. Did you have to raze everything? Or was there anything left to rebuild upon?"

  "It was beyond just ‘falling apart,’ but there were parts I could work with," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Like the old oven in the kitchen, still solid. Other than that, just wooden beams and rocks, mostly."

  "I didn’t even know there were rocks in this house," she admitted, tilting her head in curiosity.

  "Wanna visit?" he asked, still rocking back and forth, his voice casual, though his eyes suggested otherwise.

  She nodded.

  As she stepped inside, the air felt both familiar and foreign. Each room she entered seemed to echo with distant memories, reflections of a past life she once dreamed of. But it was different now, everything was newer, fresher, but she could still feel the ghost of what used to be. It was like walking through a museum built upon the bones of her own not-so-forgotten dreams.

  After the main area, the kitchen was her first stop, the oven still standing in the corner, just as he said. It looked older than anything else in the house, like a relic from a time long past. She ran her fingers along its surface, remembering meals that never really happened, at least not to this incarnation of her.

  Moving through the rooms, she recalled the creaks of old floorboards, the way the walls once groaned with the weight of their years. Now, it was all solid, carefully restored, but the spirit of the place hadn’t changed. It still felt like home. Or rather, like something she had once considered home.

  She paused at a particular spot on the floor, where a hole had once been, a hole that caused Leo, as a boy, to dislocate his elbow. She had been just ten or eleven years old then, and it was her who had put his elbow back in place. That hole was gone now, patched up along with the rest of the house.

  Stolen story; please report.

  She moved on, heading to what had once been her room. Or rather, the family room, where she, her mother, and Leo had all slept together. But it had changed. There was a bed now, clean and neatly made, most likely used by Damian who’d been staying here for the last few years.

  For ten minutes, she wandered, each step pulling her deeper into her memories. The room felt both distant and familiar, like a dream, a proper dream not a recurring one. Eventually, she returned to the veranda. Dungeon Master 09 was still rocking, but this time, there was another chair beside him. Tapping on it, he motioned for her to sit.

  She did.

  "Your verdict?" he asked.

  Instead of answering directly, she posed a question of her own. "Why did you choose to move here?"

  "Why did I move here, huh?" His smile was knowing, a smile that reminded her of another Dungeon Master, or to be exact a previous incarnation of his. "Why do you think I did?"

  "Judging by the way you keep asking me how close this place is to what I remember it being, I’m really tempted to think you’re trying to force me to relive that old nightmare."

  "If that were to be my goal, did I succeed?"

  "No."

  "I see. That’s a relief."

  Damian knew more about her than most, more than anyone other than Dungeon Master 07, in fact. He knew what this house had represented to her, how it had been the prelude to a recurrent nightmare that plagued her for years. He even knew that there was even a time when she had chosen a far more dangerous path, leading her to a one-eyed frostfang serpent, just to avoid passing by the road that would have brought her too close to this place.

  "Just in case, should I have not moved here?" he asked, his tone genuine.

  She shook her head. "No, I’m alright with it. I’ve told you before, I don’t have any issues with this place anymore. I can’t say I don’t have any regrets, but I’ve accepted it. It’s fine with me. My only question is the same though... why?"

  His smile shifted, something deeper, more serious. She could sense he was about to reveal something he had been holding back.

  "I summoned you because... I’m old. Really old. I can feel death coming for me," he explained simply. "That’s why I summoned you."

  She stared at him, not surprised, but disliking a certain implication he just made. "I know the world calls me a kinslayer and a Dungeon Slayer. I may not mind killing humans and Dungeon Cores alike, but I do not enjoy killing my actual kin. What happened with Dungeon Master 07 was because he wanted me to use his memories to help prove my innocence, and for no other reason. If that is why you summoned me here, my answer is no."

  Dungeon Master 09’s expression didn’t shift. He remained calm as he spoke. "Lucky for both of us, I didn’t summon you for that. I’m a coward, unlike Dungeon Master 07. I don’t want to die by anyone’s hand. I want a natural death."

  "A natural death…" she echoed.

  "Yes, I want a simple, boring death. I know it’s unfitting for a Dungeon Master. A waste of our time, but... in this incarnation, I want to give myself something I’ve never had, a peaceful death, of old age, surrounded by the people I love and who loved me."

  She listened, not entirely relating but understanding.

  "I’m sure you’re wondering why here exactly though?" he continued. "Well, the answer is simple, while I’m a coward, I still have my pride as a Dungeon Master. I couldn’t let any Dungeon Master see me dying like that. I needed a place away from Dungeon Master 07’s and the others’ gaze... this place was perfect."

  "So that’s why you needed me…"

  He chuckled. "How arrogant of me, right? Asking a queen to accompany me in my final days. But I couldn’t help it. I needed someone for this last journey. And who better than you?"

  She took a deep breath, gazing out toward the distant mountain ranges. "If that’s all you want, I’ll gladly accompany you."

  "Thank you," he replied. "I’m sure this isn’t what you envisioned when you offered to journey with me again, after what happened to Dungeon Master 07. To tell you the truth, back then, I wanted to go with you, but I knew I’d just be in the way."

  Hearing regret in his voice, she reached out tenderly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We can journey again, properly, in the future."

  "In my next incarnation?"

  "In your next incarnation. Just wait for me to find you."

  His eyes brightened. "Then that’s something else to look forward to."

  ***

  Just as he had asked, Arianna accompanied Dungeon Master 07 on his final journey, kin, a friend, a little brother she had known by many names over the years: Dungeon Master 09, Damian, and occasionally, mistakenly, Leo. She was ready to stay with him for as long as it took, expecting it might be years before he passed. But, as he had predicted, it didn’t take that long. Barely nine days after she had joined him, Dungeon Master 09 returned to the place where all Dungeon Masters come from.

  When the time came, she made him a grave behind the house, in the quiet, secluded spot he had mentioned before. Beside it, she made four other graves, one for Liana, another for Leo, and one for the woman she once called Mom. The last was for their beloved Bufford, their once old and loyal hound. None of them were truly buried there, their bodies long gone, but somehow, the act of placing these stones, of giving them markers, brought her some comfort. She stood there, paying her respects to them through their graves. As the wind whispered through the tall grass, Arianna straightened up, her gaze distant as she realized what her next plan of action should be.

  "He won’t like it, but I was starting to get bored of this royal masquerade," she muttered, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Time to take a break and head back home." And there was only one place that she could call home: the most dangerous dungeon of Fiendfell, the place they were "born," the Voidborne Catacombs.