Grandma dreamt. She knew it was a dream, because she was back in her old body, soft and warm and withered by long years of living. In the dream, she sat again in her wheelchair. She stroked its arms and smiled at the familiar device, her ticket to freedom when her body had failed her.

“Do you really think frogs are cute?” a voice asked behind her.

Grandma twirled, the chair moving according to her will, without even the need to push buttons or wiggle the steering stick. A large frog stared up at her, its back green and bronze with dark spots, its eyes huge and shining with curiosity.

“Yes, I really do think frogs are cute,” she told the frog with a smile.

The frog smiled back, dipping its head as if shy. “I think so too.”

Grandma looked around at the strange space. It was the dim gray light of pre-dawn, and fog swirled all around them. There seemed to be no ground beneath them, but Grandma’s chair moved over it with ease nonetheless. “This is a dream,” Grandma said.

“It is, and it isn’t.” The frog tilted its head.

“Are you the dungeon?”

“I am the ruler of this place, yes.”

“Gray told me that it takes a long time for a dungeon ruler to learn human language.” Grandma eyed the frog. “You must be quite old.”

“Gray was alone for a very long time after its mountains fell. There were no people around it for it to learn language. And even in recent times, Gray prefers to hole up in its own abode instead of listening to the world outside.” The frog’s eyes narrowed in amusement. “Whereas I’ve had a wealth of people chattering away around me for all my existence. Recently there are even scholars to the south. I enjoy listening to them very much.”

“Still. You speak much better than the other dungeon rulers we’ve met.”

“Your Pluot and Fiddler, and that child Tanner’s menagerie? I suppose compared to them, I am quite ancient then.” The frog croaked in laughter.

“So… why are you here?” Grandma asked, curious.

“I overheard your love of frogs, and wanted to meet you. I tried to hold my children back, but they move on instinct more than my direction.” The frog seemed saddened.

“We apologize for the intrusion.” Grandma bowed as best she could, bending at the waist in her chair.

“I could not manage the overflowing mana, and my children escaped to trouble the outside world. I understand your presence, and your objectives.” The frog sighed, looking melancholy.

“Gray was able to use up a lot of extra mana by creating matter and other effects using it. Enough to close its own dungeon opening. Would something similar work for you?”

“Yes, that is another reason why I have come. You have formulae such as we have never seen. Gray told me through the mana lines that you might come for me.” The frog hopped closer and offered one damp green hand.

Grandma accepted the frog’s hand as solemnly as if it had been any diplomat. Though it was a dream, the mutual acceptance of contact strengthened the mental connection, and they were able to share a great deal of information in a short span of time.

The frog showed Grandma how dungeons were born: the slow accumulation of stagnant mana giving rise to tiny pockets of self awareness, the coalescence of those myriad awarenesses into a whole that was greater than the sum of its parts, the love for the land and the creatures that live in it, the desire to protect it that led to the instinctual creation of these pocket dimensions that imitate the world outside.

“But this one dungeon–” Grandma shared the memories from the cruel place full of twisted beasts.

The frog recoiled in horror. “Yes, sometimes they grow cruel. We are all individuals, after all. But the process is the same. The magic builds up, we are born, we gather, we become one, and we form our own realm.”

“Are there any who don’t form their own realm? What happens to them?” Grandma asks?

“Some choose to leave their domains behind to become gods, performing miracles for the people, until they are betrayed and destroyed. Then the magic runs wild. The density grows too great, and the mana bursts out, causing great calamities. Even now, the excessive accumulation of mana here is causing disasters.”

“Like flooding,” Grandma murmured.

“Just so.” The frog looked satisfied with Grandma’s swift understanding.

“Why are your lands so lush and alive, but Gray’s so barren?” Grandma asked suddenly.

The frog lowered its head, sorrow weighing it down. “Gray’s beloved mountains were destroyed utterly in a disaster long, long ago. It had to recreate them with raw mana, from memory. We do not know how to make life. It is hard enough to keep alive what living creatures we attract to our domains.” 

“What was the disaster?”

“I do not know.” The frog shook its head. “Gray will not speak of it. I only know of it by delving through the memories of the land.”

“The land has memories?”

“Oh yes.” The frog smiled again. “The land remembers. The magic remembers. If you know how to read the mana flows, you can learn a great deal about the world, and its history.” The frog gestured around them, and the fog parted to reveal scenes from the marsh. “Whereas I simply swallowed up a pocket of existing marshland, and then expanded my domain around that living core. The plants and animals did the rest on their own.”

“Why are some dungeons overflowing so much worse than others?”

“Are lakes all the same depth? Are the rivers that feed them all the same width?” The frog looked amused. “Some of us are blessed to have been born in deeper wells of mana, or in pools fed by slower mana streams. The land varies in how much it can hold, and the mana varies in how it flows.”

“All right.” Grandma’s thoughts bounced around, skipping over their conversation before looping back to itself. “How do you communicate with Gray?”

The frog made a sharp, curling motion with its free hand, and the world around them reverberated, like a taut string being plucked. “We talk through the mana flows, just as you do. Only, we can reach much, much farther than you.”

“How can I learn to reach farther?” Grandma asked.

“I’m not sure it’s possible for you to reach very far. Your mana capacity is simply not large enough. If you spread yourself too thinly through the mana stream, you’ll unravel and dissipate.”

“Oh. Well. That sounds inconvenient.”

“I believe you call it dying.” The frog sounded amused again.

“What do you call it then?”

“I suppose I’d call it coming home.” It grinned up at her.

“Huh. That doesn’t sound so bad.”

They spent a few moments enjoying each other’s quiet company, watching the shapes coalesce and dissolve in the swirling fog. 

“I suppose now you’ll want to know about the stuff I told Gray?” Grandma asked at length.

“If you please.”

So once again, Grandma dug up all the things she remembered about quantum physics, electricity and magnetism, the periodic table, nuclear fusion and the life and death of stars. The frog was a good student, eagerly lapping up all the things Grandma could recall, and applying theory to practice.

“I was never a teacher of any kind, mind you, and I didn’t exactly research any of this stuff in depth.” Grandma warned the frog, just as she had warned Gray. “Magic will cover up a lot of gaps and make up for vagueness in your spells, but it will take more power to push past that. I suppose in this case, since the point is to burn mana, that’s just fine. But what kind of phenomena are you looking to form anyway? Your domain is already pretty nice.”

“I miss the sun,” the frog said wistfully. “I tried and tried, and could never replicate it. The magic took shape, but the end result was never quite what I wanted it to be. Perhaps I will try again.”

“That will for sure use up a ton of magic.” Grandma laughed. “Maybe start small, all right?”

The frog smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

One final thought struck Grandma. “If you can use the mana streams to communicate, can you use them to travel? I’m getting tired of walking around everywhere.”

“I suppose it’s theoretically possible,” the frog said slowly, tilting its head in thought. “For creatures of pure mana such as ourselves, it is simple enough. The difficulty lies in not being torn apart by the power along the way. But for you, with your physical bodies, I have to imagine it’s much more difficult.”

“But theoretically possible?” Grandma asked doggedly.

“Theoretically.” The frog fixed her with a pointed gaze. “It is an experiment best undertaken when one is ready to return home.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”