Magical items, such as plumbing pipes, can be infused with gravity magic to increase water pressure and carry liquids over long distances.
However, it is often the unique magical items that are found in dungeons. Dungeons are rare anomalies that seemingly sprout from nowhere. One case noted that a dungeon sprouted in an old man's living room, a tree stump whose base opened, revealing a ladder that led to a basement whose reward was a collapsible ladder.
Not very exciting, but there are rumors that far greater things lie within these dungeons.
Good luck finding them.
Excerpt from Magical Items, Gadgets, and Weapons.
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Gwyn woke with a start from a loud rumbling beside her. She turned her head to notice Elise snoring. Very loud.
Wasn't there magic to fix that?
Gwyn smiled to herself. She reached for her water on the nightstand, but it was empty. A sigh left her lips.
"Thanks, Elise."
She put on her glasses. Her vision drifted towards the elven woman. She looked peaceful, although her snoring would make others think she was fighting some sort of nasal demon.
The snores reminded Gwyn of her sister, who was the only one in her entire family to snore. Her sister was incredibly insecure about her snoring and would punch you if you made fun of her for it. Sometimes her snoring kept Gwyn up at night when they shared a room.
Those were simpler times.
She searched through the pile of clothes and found a pair of red lace underwear.
Gwyn rolled her eyes, slipping it on. A snug fit, an entire step above what Gwyn has worn before. She continued searching and picked up a dark red nightgown with black trim, instead of white, which was quite flattering. She liked it a lot.
I guess the Kosmairians do have some taste.
She gave one last glance towards Elise and brushed aside a piece of pink hair that was trying to fall into her mouth. The copper-haired woman thought about kissing her, but wasn't sure whether that was okay. She hesitated, then decided against it, inches from her face.
With a light foot, she crept out of the bedroom and into the hallway and down the stairs. She hadn't noticed the creakiness of the stairs before, but in the middle of the night, it was suddenly a chorus of moans, and not the ones she had just experienced.
Inside the kitchen, she poured the remaining water from the pitcher on the counter into her cup. She took a long drink, savoring every moment.
She then stared at its transparent nature, which was clear and flawless. However, a purple glow emanated from the cup.
Strange.
She lowered the glass. The purple persisted. It wasn't coming from the cup; it was coming from the living room.
I would've noticed something like that coming down the stairs.
She placed the half-empty glass of water on the counter.
The sapphire robe was hanging on a coat rack by the door. A pocket glowed so brightly she could see the purple light through the fabric. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the brass locket covered in purple vines. It illuminated the whole room in a dark violet glow. Panicked that someone might see, she wrapped the robe over the locket and hurried upstairs.
She placed the locket on the desk. It still glowed just as brightly as in the living area. She closed the curtains and inspected it closely.
Elise slept unknowingly just a few feet away.
Nothing had changed about the locket except the fact that it now glowed.
This actually might be a bomb.
She could feel the heat rising in her hands, whether intentionally or not. The locket was getting hotter. The dark purple turned a soft lavender color as Gwyn set the thorns aflame. They burned and fell from the brass contraption.
Gwyn fumbled the locket in her hands, nearly dropping it. She hadn't meant to set the vines aflame. But the fires spread among the vines until they were consumed entirely. Ash fell like snow.
The locket could be opened.
How did I do that?
She inspected the locket closely. It was plain on one side, with a crude and chaotic symbol on the other. She pressed the button at the top, and it sprang open.
The locket then wrenched itself from her hands with little struggle. It slowly floated down to an empty spot on the floor.
The locket's mirrors faced her, and it began to project a solid image of a knight in pitch-black armor. The armor seemed to have more spikes than smooth surfaces. Small white dots were where their eyes should be, unblinking. He looked like a walking nightmare.
The knights' arms were crossed, and eventually, they spoke.
"Chosen One number twenty-five." Their voice was deep and ethereal, as though ghosts were tugging at every word. "I am the King of Terror."
That's the King of Terror?
"Holy fuck. Holy fuck, I am too—"
"I knew your arrival would be soon. My death ravens watched as you were birthed from the storm. You alone are capable of viewing this message."
Death ravens?
Her mouth went dry as she imagined what a bird with that name might look like. She looked towards the bed. Elise slept peacefully.
"This plague is not what the elves say it is. It is all-consuming by nature, and it must feed. Delaying the inevitable only hurts us all."
His voice boomed, sending shivers up Gwyn's spine. The mask covering his helmet seemed like a monstrous animal. Horn-like vines protruded from the helmet's head, scattering a soft blue.
The very sound of his voice brought terror to her; she realized at that moment how fitting his title was. His beady, white eyes seemed to follow her as she nervously shifted.
He opened his palm. Red magic appeared.
"You have to abandon the elves and discover another way to defeat the Red Death."
Gwyn didn't know how she knew, but his magic was violent and full of hate.
"Seek my guidance. If you support the elves, I have no reason not to destroy you. Make your choice soon. The elves cannot be trusted."
The message ended abruptly as the King of Terror was consumed in a red flame. Glass shattered. Gwyn stood frozen as though someone had cast a spell on her. But no one had.
His presence seemed to loom like smoke after a fire. Gwyn didn't move until long after the message finished—his words echoed in her mind.
The elves cannot be trusted.
She shook her head.
Was this a reliable source?I mean, his name is literally "King of Terror."
He was just implanting fear in her, or perhaps it was a spell that was cast once the locket opened.
When Gwyn fully collected herself, she picked up the locket. The mirrors in it had shattered, rendering it worthless as a magical item.
"What the fuck just happened?"
She placed the locket on the desk.
Elise let out a snort. Gwyn jumped, held her chest and tried to calm her heart. She then quietly stepped towards the bed, lying beside the princess.
She gazed into the elf's sleeping face.
"Did you hear any of that?"
A snort as a response.
"I'll take that as a no."
Up close, the elf was beautiful. The time they'd spent together was fun, but truly, Gwyn couldn't believe someone like Elise found any interest in a young, human woman with zero talent.
Gwyn looked at her hands.
I cast magic. Real magic.
A slight feeling in her throat rose to the surface, and it made her mouth dry. She really wanted to kiss Elise again, the desire growing the longer she gazed at her. But she stopped herself once again, filling herself with disappointment.
Gwyn stopped admiring the woman and then turned over, staring at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, but all she could see was that black armor and those white eyes behind the helmet. They were like stars in the night sky, but instead of filling her with wonder, they terrified her.
The Chosen One opened her eyes, and then she swore she saw him standing in the shadows, the beads of white bearing a hole through her.
The King of Terror had lived up to his name. She was certainly feeling his presence, and now she couldn't sleep—even if she wanted to.
"I can't fail that test tomorrow."
She flipped back to her other side. But the looming anxiety wouldn't fade. She was now wide awake, whether she liked it or not. The young woman looked back at Elise.
Should I tell her right now? Or should I wait until the morning? Did she hear any of that?
But the questions repeated; instead of her inner monologue, it was the deep and ethereal voice of the King of Terror.
"No more opening lockets before bed."
Gwyn joked to herself, letting out a weak laugh. But when she closed her eyes, there was the King of Terror. The helmet's face was so… strange. It was burrowing something deep within her brain—a feeling of dread.
Her eyes shot open. She removed her glasses, rubbed her eyes, and then placed them on the nightstand.
With a cautious embrace, Gwyn wrapped one arm around Elise. Her skin was smooth and delicate; tracing her hand along its surface brought her some comfort. The sleeping elf leaned into her touch and smiled in her dreams.
This calmed Gwyn for a moment. She opened her eyes, and the King of Terror encompassed her vision just on the other side of Elise, staring down at Gwyn.
The deep voice still bellowed in her head.
The elves cannot be trusted.