Hela stepped inside, the scent of turned earth still clinging to her hands. Lokey sat at the rough wooden table, a crumpled guild map spread before him, marked with charcoal Xs and arrows. Artemis leaned against the wall, arms crossed, twin blades sheathed but gleaming under the lantern light.

  “Alright,” Lokey said without preamble. “Sit. This is the plan.”

  Hela dropped into a chair. “The one you teased in the garden? Better be good—I’m not dragging Artemis’s corpse out of some hole because we got greedy.”

  Lokey met her eyes, steady. “It’s not greed. It’s necessity. Short runs keep us alive. Long ones make us strong. We need to push—really push—ourselves.”

  Artemis snorted. “He’s talking extended stay. A week, maybe two… or more.”

  Hela raised an eyebrow. “No one does that. Adventurers go in three days max, come out ragged, half their supplies gone.”

  “Exactly,” Lokey said. “Because they can’t carry what they need—or what they kill. But we can.” He nodded to Artemis. “Your storage space and mine. It’s not just convenient—it’s game-changing. We load up: weeks of rations, potions, blankets, even a portable camp if we find safe pockets. Farm the upper floors for cores and gear, push deeper when we’re ready. Rest inside—no need to surface every night. We come back with enough power to face whatever’s brewing: Eastern scouts, old church holdouts. Haven survives because we don’t quit… but hopefully the enemy does.”

  Hela studied the map, finger tracing a jagged line toward the lower levels. “And the risks? Deeper means deadlier. Mana burnout, ambushes, layout shifts.”

  “Calculated,” Lokey replied. “We prep hard. Extra healing and mana potions from Toby, traps, rotation on watch. If it goes bad, we bail—my space holds escape ropes, flares, whatever. No half-measures anymore.” He paused. “Hell, maybe Artemis could ask that woman he runs the dungeon with to join, if she’s game.”

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  Artemis grinned. “I’m in. Think of the loot. My inventory’s begging for abuse.”

  Hela exhaled slowly, the knot in her chest loosening just a fraction. Lokey’s plans usually worked. “Fine. But we do it smart. No heroics.”

  Lokey nodded. “We time it right. The dungeon shifts every six months—resets floors, refreshes spawns, opens new paths. Next one’s in a week and a half. We go in just after, ride the fresh cycle for maximum gains.”

  The room fell quiet, the weight of it settling like the mist outside.

  The morning was cool, the mist still curled along the fields as the siblings prepared to leave. Armor gleamed with fresh polish, blades strapped tight, packs weighed heavy with supplies. This wasn’t just another run into the dungeon—it was the next step in claiming the strength they would need to protect Haven.

  The old dwarf stood in front of the smithy, arms crossed, his beard twitching with every grumble. “I’ve seen warriors come back from that place broken,” he said. “And I’ve seen more never return at all. Don’t mistake courage for recklessness.”

  Beside him, Tessa clung to Hela in a desperate hug.

  “A week or two?” her voice cracked. “People don’t stay in the dungeon more than three days, and they come back half-dead. Please, you can’t be serious.”

  Hela smiled softly and held her tighter.

  “Don’t worry, Tes. My brother wouldn’t suggest this if he wasn’t sure we could handle it.”

  When she pulled away, her eyes were wet, darting from one sibling to the other. Lokey met her gaze with calm determination. “We have to be stronger,” he said gently. “The world is changing—and Haven must be ready when the storm comes.”

  Artemis adjusted the straps of his twin blades, flashing that cocky grin he always wore before battle. “Besides,” he added, “if we don’t come back, who’s going to keep you two out of trouble?”

  The dwarf snorted. “Bah. Hammers swing better when there’s still arms to hold ’em. Don’t get yourselves killed chasing glory.”

  The siblings shared a look, a silent promise passing between them. This wasn’t about glory. This was about survival, about building the strength to face what was coming.

  As the first rays of sun broke through the morning mist, they turned from the smithy and their worried family, stepping onto the road that would carry them down into the depths.

  The dungeon awaited.