Two hollowed eyes of a crumbling skull now glared at me. Jolting to my knees, all of the remorse I should have had after those nights of heavy drinking came all at once. Why hadn’t I just listened to my mother? Tears burned down my cheek. If I was supposed to learn a lesson from all of this, I had learned it already. My mother didn’t deserve this. I promise I’ll make it right when I get out of here.

Stifling my tears I quickly gathered my things. Then, glimmering in the torchlight something caught my eye in the tattered clothes of the skull’s remains. A golden key strewn on an old cord. It was simple but transfixing. Picking it up, I wiped away the dust. It was like finding a pretty rock or bobble as a child. As if it was meant for me somehow. I looked back down at the skull.

“I’ll take this as repayment for you scaring me.”

It obviously hadn’t helped them and I had no expectations that it would me, but at the very least it was pretty. I put it around my neck. I finished gathering my things and took one last look at the skull before beginning my walk down the long dark hall of the dungeon.

The flames of my torch licked the walls illuminating ancient murals. Motioning the flame closer, I was face to face with a painted giant. Its red eyes were faded from time, but still horribly striking. Its long white hair cascaded down the wall and onto the floor like the roots of a tree. The giant’s jaw was unhinged and its long claws clutched tightly around what looked to be a human. At least, from what I could tell that’s what they were. The figure looked too tall to be a dwarf and had small rounded ears. In truth, I had only met a few. The elders always made a fuss about outsiders and would usually rush them out as fast as they could.

At the giant’s feet, more painted humans formed a line. The red-eyed giant was devouring them, one by one. My stomach turned the longer I looked at the mural. Moving my torch along further in hopes of a more pleasant sight, the rest of the image faded into the gray of the stone walls. Whatever history or secrets the mural held had long since been taken by time.

A shiver ran down my spine thinking about if the giant slept somewhere deep below. Among her village, it was believed that if they willingly sacrificed someone every ten years to the dungeon it would keep whatever great darkness it held locked within. Of course, as my situation proved, it was never really a willing sacrifice. No one lined up at its entrance saying, “Take me, Dungeon!” It was the job of the elders to decide who was to be thrown in. Unfortunately for me, they are a petty lot and I had ruined too many nice village events with loud behavior and a proclivity for dwarven mead. It was comforting to know that I had been a thorn in their side. If nothing else, spite might just carry me through this ordeal.

Still, Mother had warned me time and time again. But, I never thought the elders would actually do it. I thought it was her way of scaring me into good behavior. I didn’t think they would sacrifice one of their kind who had committed no actual crime. At worst if Ten Year came and no one in the village had done something heinous, the elders would simply steal away some stranger from the outside world. Not that I would have agreed with that, but I also didn’t think that the alternative was an option. Yet, here I was. They did do it and there was no criminal in sight come Ten Year to pass the punishment onto.

Ten Year was a pretty good deterrent for most so crime was a rarity. It caused a feeling of dread to linger in the air, especially come harvest time. Even on the off years, the village would place an effigy in the middle of the festivities as a reminder. Thinking back to the two Ten Years I was old enough to recall made vomit sit at the base of my throat. I could still see their faces.