It had happened with every group. He had hoped that this one would be different, that it would be the one. He had hoped that this group would fulfill the destiny for which he had brought them to the Realm for.

He had looked into the Ranger's eyes and seen what he what had been in the eyes of countless other leaders. Frustration at being unable to go home. Anger at the situation, at Venger, at his own failure, and at Dungeon Master.

Dungeon Master knew he could not force them to understand. If only the problem had been such a simple one. He was forbidden to simply tell the groups what they must do. In order to set things right, they had to figure out the solution by themselves.

Venger had to be stopped, or he would eventually destroy the Realm. Saving the Realm, however, did not mean that Venger had to be killed. In fact, that was the last thing that Dungeon Master wanted. What man wanted to see his own son destroyed? Even if Venger had made poor choices, he was still his son.

Dungeon Master was still his father, and he still saw that essential spark of goodness deep within Venger. If it had been within his power, he would have sacrificed himself to save his only son.

It was not.

It was only within his power to bring those here who could try to solve the problem. He had tried many groups, and all of them had failed. Some had perished in their attempts, other groups had been broken and released from their quest. Some of the survivors remained in the Realm, although they were forbidden to offer any aid to the group currently on the quest. This group was the youngest group he had ever brought to the Realm in the hope that their innocence would be the factor that tipped the scales in their favor. The weapons they carried gave them the ability to fight and survive, but he hoped that their innocence would help them realize the answer did not lie in physical strength, but inside their hearts.

When they asked how to get to the Dragon's Graveyard, he had to tell them. Dungeon Master hoped they would understand that when he said that they carried the way with them, he meant more than just their weapons. They carried the key to the Realm's salvation within them, but they had to learn that for themselves. Mercy and compassion were greater weapons than any he had given them.

If only they could understand it before it was too late.

If only he could help them.

xxxx

Tiamat, who hated and feared Venger, was one of the wild cards of the Realm. She cared nothing for Dungeon Master's desire to save his son from his own evil choices. She wanted only to remove Venger as a threat. Many of the groups who had tried to kill Venger had seen Tiamat as either a weapon or ally. They had learned that the five-headed dragon was a force of nature and that Venger feared her. As he cautioned the Young Ones, Tiamat might help if asked, or she might not. He had not said that the "or not" might involve the Young Ones being burnt to a crisp. Dungeon Master knew that telling them would not dissuade them.

He had been pleased to see that the dragon had been in a helpful mood, and that the Young Ones lived. Some groups had come to the Dungeon's Graveyard and found only death. Here, in the place where their weapons had been forged, they would be at their strongest. If Venger made a mistake, they would be able to make him regret that mistake for eternity.

Dungeon Master watched the fight, watched them bring Venger to the point where the Ranger held their enemy's fate in his hands. He stood there, the string of his energy bow drawn back, and Dungeon Master could see that he was less angry, less certain. He hoped that he knew what part of the Ranger's heart would win. There was no question that whatever target he chose, his shot would hit it.

"It's up to you, Hank." There was no scorn or teasing in the Cavalier's quiet voice, only acknowledgement that his leader had to make the decision himself.

When the arrow flew, Dungeon Master watched the others. He saw the gentle Thief turn her head away, saw the others waiting. Did they know how much their fate rested on that arrow's flight, he wondered. He hoped that Hank knew that there was an answer that didn't involve more destruction, more death, more unhappiness.

The arrow hit home, freeing Venger's wrist. The Ranger followed the shot with another that freed the other wrist, and Dungeon Master watched his son drop to his knees, confusion etched on his features. Venger, who would never have shown any mercy to his victims, and who had shown no mercy to the six Young Ones, had been given mercy.

"Why did you not finish me?" Venger asked.

"If I did, we'd be no better than you are. We've beaten you and you know it. You understand, Venger? I didn't do it for you, I did it for us." The Ranger still stood ready, and Dungeon Master guessed that he had not quite let down his guard.

Dungeon Master used his magic to cross the chasm that separated Venger from the Young Ones, looking at his son. With Venger kneeling, they were close to the same height. The two men looked at each other, and although Venger said nothing, Dungeon Master thought that he saw a spark of the good man inside looking out.

"Rise, my son," he said quietly, too quietly for the others to hear, and cast a spell that would take Venger back to the Realm.

There were many things he could not tell them. He could not thank them for their mercy, could not give them any explicit clues. They had to discover the truth of their quest by themselves. So Dungeon Master gave them the only clue that he could.

"Know this. You have taken your first step home."