When visibility returns, nothing appears to have changed except a steep drop in brightness, as though it's the night of a New Moon. It's practically impossible to see much further than maybe 12 to 15ft ahead in any direction I turn, but at the very least, the both of us are still together, having entered the Reminiscence in the exact same positions we were in previously.

The atmosphere is oppressive, and I can feel the hackles on my back rising at the intense stares of some unseen individual, full of curiosity and malice. Horizon is understandably on edge, feeling a shiver as a chill, sheer wind washes through the clearing, carrying incomprehensible babble, distant screams of despair and maddened giggling.

"Well, shit," I sigh, "Hey, you alright there?"

"Spooked," she admits, "What the hell just happened?"

"As I said earlier, we got forcibly dragged inside the dungeon," I squint, trying to peer past the darkness ahead of us, "From the sounds of it, it's a maze-type."

"I'm not seeing any obvious hints as to where the exit ought to be," Horizon murmurs.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," I stroke my chin, "Seems like as good a time as any for a quick lesson on dungeons, if you're willing to hear me out?"

The ethereal stare intensifies, and another round of hallucinatory noises and phantom images at the periphery of my vision arises. Seems like my lack of a reaction is annoying the Remnant Will. Well, it can wait a minute.

"...You're just going to explain the answer anyway, aren't you?" she looks equal parts judging and disappointed.

"If you want to give it a go without my input, knock yourself out," I offer, "Just remember that I've got a schedule to keep to, so I can only indulge your curiosity for so long."

"I find it hard to believe you've figured out what to do already," Horizon frowns, "Impress me."

I laugh shortly, "I don't know if I'd go as far to say I've figured the dungeon out entirely, but there's still a lot you can figure out without even taking a step from where we are. To start with, dungeons almost always have a name that's indicative of the contents and context for it's formation, so just looking at what it's called can tell you a lot before you even go inside."

"That's obvious."

"It is. But in this case, it tells us that the Remnant Will responsible for this place...is a right bastard," I snort, ignoring the resultant theatrics my insult brings to bear, "And a childishly petty one at that."

"How'd you figure?" she shudders, "Also, please do not aggravate whatever the fuck that is."

"Relax, it can't do anything dangerous," I pat her shoulder, "Reminiscences typically form as the result of strong, particularly poignant emotions experienced before death, wishing that someone will be able to take on their legacy, or bring them peace by overcoming the traumatic events that took their lives. But...not everyone is going to be polite and understanding about it. Some Remnant Wills dearly wish to inflict the same sorrows on others like them, thereby consoling themselves with the knowledge that there was nothing they could have done to avert their demise."

"Misery loves company," Horizon remarks, "So, you think this is the case now?"

"The 'Despairing Wanderer' appellation implies such," I assert, "I advise special caution when a negative emotional state is used to describe the Remnant Will of a dungeon. But even innocuous-sounding titles can hide a truly sadistic spirit at the core of a dungeon."

I speak from a large amount of experience on the matter. Exactly how many dungeons I've entered, cleared and failed over the past thirty years is a number I can't begin to quantify. But I've undertaken a wide variety of challenges, from riddles, to duels, to large-scale wars. Even amongst the Merrowans, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone with as much first-hand experience in delving into dungeons, made to be at the mercy of the Remnant Wills of beggars, tyrants and everything in-between for the sake of their amusement, like a gladiator or a clown.

As much as I can empathise with some of the stories I'm exposed to, I can't help but feel a degree of resentment for being used like that, on the behalf of a stranger's selfishness. Taking out your frustrations, your sorrows on other people, and demanding they follow in your footsteps...I dislike the sentiment that we should just politely oblige the Remnant Will in exchange for trinkets and inherited power, even as much as we are required to do so in order to continue on our own Paths.

I think that it's what makes it difficult for me to truly empathise with people I've just met, knowing how shallow and petty a life can be when all is said and done. I can't forge a connection off of simple snapshots of a person's life and personality. I can't even make decent conversation.

"That's all well and good...but, what do we do now?" Horizon asks after a moment of reflection on my lesson.

"To start with, a simple test," I clear my throat, "Listen closely. HAH!"

My shout travels throughout the clearing, startling Horizon more than the Remnant Will's attempts to unsettle us. Her face turns curious, a small frown on her lips, "That's odd. The sound just cuts off after a point. No echo or anything."

"As I suspected," I nod in understanding, "Though I called this a maze-type, it's not the kind with a winding path that eventually leads to a goal once you find it. What we're looking at is...perhaps not quite an illusion, but it is rather deceptive. The dungeon is really just a small room. Anything past that threshold you noticed simply does not exist in this space, and if we were to try and leave, we'd just end up right back where we started. It's an old cliché."

"We're trapped, then?" Horizon mutters, "Or you're wrong."

"Feel free to test it," I offer, "At worst though, we'll be separated."

Though at first she looked determined to try, the prospect of leaving me behind and becoming isolated seems to temper her curiosity. Horizon instead opts to take her crossbow out, load a bolt, then fire it through the treeline - ignoring my protest. It disappears, then reappears a moment later behind her, and she ducks in advance, feeling a premonition, as the projectile lodges itself into a tree.

"Shit, almost killed myself with that," she exclaims, eyes wide.

"Perhaps when I warn you in future, you'll listen," I grunt, casting a judging look her way, "If we want to leave, we'll need to gain the approval of the Remnant Will."

"So, we figure out how to get out of here, and it'll let us go?" Horizon speculates, "That's what the notification said."

"Supposedly, that is the case, but as I've already explained, the Remnant Will here is not on our side," I shake my head, continuing to ignore the random spooks it's sending our way, "I'm not in the mood to appease it. And I don't believe it's necessary anyway."

"I don't get it," she just looks confused, "But I guess you have a plan?"

"Yes. We force it to let us go," I grin knowingly, "This thing wants to see us wander around for eternity in a panic until we lose our minds to despair. So, let's show it a taste of our will to live, shall we?"

I pull out my set of firemaking tools and gesture for her to do the same.

"You want to set the forest on fire?!"

"If we're lost in a maze, break down the walls. If we're lost in a forest burn it down," I chuckle darkly, "Why play by someone else's rules? I don't recall ever agreeing to participate in their game. We have our own wills, at the end of the day, so it behoves us to exercise them instead of surrendering to the whims of a stranger or fate. Our lives are our responsibility, not their toys."

"Hah. Put like that, I can't say I disagree," she joins me in cackling, "Let's blaze a trail, shall we?"

Perhaps panicking, the harassment of the Remnant Will reaches a new all-time high of intensity. It's hard to see my hand in front of my face, and what I can see is heavily distorted, blurring the way forward so significantly I can't tell where I'm going. The scent of rotting leaves and unwashed flesh plugs my nostrils and the howling wind flushes out all other sound from my ears.

I shut my eyes, and put my trust in my feet and memory, taking steady steps until I feel that I've reached a nearby tree at the edge of this dungeon's boundary, kneel, and begin starting a fire against the dry bark. It takes some effort, but I'm rewarded by the sensation of heat radiating from in front of me a minute or two later.

It intensifies quickly after the flames take hold, until the entire space's air temperature increases significantly, and becomes tainted by woodsmoke, making it harder to breathe. Opening my eyes, I see the wretched face of a filthy, sallow man in torn clothing in front of me, entirely too close for comfort, the cloudy eyes full of resentment and a distant sense of defeat.

"We aren't like you," I assert, unflinching, "You only have yourself to blame for losing your way."

"There's always a way out," Horizon chimes in from out of view, "Always."

I don't get to see his reaction to our words. My vision once again darkens, and I find that we are back out in the forest, as though the blaze were a lie.

In my hand, a flash of light coalesces, replaced by a weighty leather-cased Angstätter, made of notably higher-quality materials than the one we were using before which is now irreparably destroyed. Fortuitous, but perhaps not as valuable as I might have hoped from first impressions. Before rendering final judgment, I take a look at the details of the item.