Inspired by The Dark Below, a tabletop role-playing game by Anna Landin.

There are many things in Valdrada, the Chimeric City, the City Above. Secrets, and gods, and ever-changing laws. Magistrates who bend reality to their whims. Families. Life.

In the Dark Below, there are only Exiles and nightmares.

And the Guide.

The Architect of the Below. The one who builds terrors, and freedom, and the treacherous paths between them. The Dark is abandoned by all gods and magistrates and laws, and so it is left to the Guide alone.

Currently, the Guide is using a screwdriver to pry at a mirror in a long, winding hall. Their grip slips, and they curse quietly and shake out their hand.

“I think it’s stuck,” a voice says from behind them.

They frown at the mirror. “It shouldn’t be. It’s meant to move, like that one.” They nudge another mirror, which slides smoothly back and sideways, opening a dark and twisting passageway.

“I didn’t know any of them were meant to move.”

Elegia, lost Scholar of the City, who unearthed forbidden history, has been Below for what feels to her a very long time. When she first passed through this hall the mirrors had been still and fractured, and her group’s reflections had walked from pane to pane, weeping.

“Only when they’ve been arranged for the puzzle labyrinth,” the Guide says, pushing impatiently at the first mirror. “Which needs to be in place before the next group arrives. And I—ah!”

They pull a shard of glass from behind the frame, and the mirror shivers and slides along its track. The Guide considers the shard, then tosses it to the shadow hound lurking at their feet.

When the time comes, this hound and its pack will chase the Exiles relentlessly, flowing through walls and tearing at flesh and shadow alike. For now, it gnaws on the glass, hollow crunches echoing through the hall. The Guide pats it absently on the head.

“There will be five of them, this time,” they tell Elegia. “I am told one is a scholar. Like you.”

She bares her teeth in what might be called a smile. “Not like me, surely.”

“You never know. He is an Exile.”

She shrugs. “They’re all Exiles. And you’re constructing their torments, as always.”

The Guide clucks their tongue almost petulantly. “You say this as though I am… malevolent. The Exiles must face challenges to earn their passage through the Gate, and they must have a guide. Whether they succeed or fail is not up to me.” They hum, thoughtful. “And I am on their side.”

“Are you?” She leans against a stationary mirror, suppressing a shudder at the cool glass, at her own memories, and crosses her arms. “Were you on mine, when I passed through the Dark, and never came out again?”

They peer down at her, eyebrows arcing in surprise. “Do you wish to leave? I could prepare you a new path. And new challenges. More matches might be difficult.”

Elegia purses her lips. Looks away. Leans down to scratch the shadow hound between the ears, and snatches her hand back before it can bite her.

“Bring them by, if you can,” she says, finally. “If it fits into your… puzzles. I never get visitors anymore. And I’ve just made a new tea—a blend from the Garden of Memories.”

The Guide blinks at that. “Have you? How intriguing.”

Photo by Ferbugs from Pexels, with additional editing.



The gates slam shut, and the Exiles are in darkness. They have only the City’s contempt, the City’s last act of mercy. They have three matches each.

A voice calls to them as their eyes try to adjust. “Ah, Exiles. Welcome to the Dark Below. I am your Guide.”