Prologue
Kael leaned on his knee after cutting down his opponent. From the corner of his eye, he saw that his companions were about to follow his example and finish off their own foes.
"I don't think they pay us enough for this," Nessy said beside him.
The warrior glanced at the girl next to him, breathing heavily. She hadn't even broken a sweat. To be fair, the others had taken most of the heat while Nessy rained down deadly shots from the rear. Kael was a seasoned fighter, still strong—but even he felt fatigue creeping in.
"Do you feel that? We must be getting close," Baxon said.
"You can feel the stench even without magic," Eryn added, approaching the group with her hood as always drawn low over her face. In a blink, the two long daggers vanished beneath her cloak.
Kael took one last deep breath and straightened up. The corridor yawning before them seemed to swallow the light itself. The rotting stench rising from the ground and the oppressive heat were paralyzing enough—but what truly weighed on them was the pulsing, alien presence radiating from within.
"Each step makes it worse," Baxon muttered, running his hand along the carved edge of his staff.
"Finally, a real challenge," Nessy said with a half-smile, though tension flickered in her eyes.
Eryn said nothing. She glanced at Kael for a fleeting moment—her gaze as unreadable as ever. Yet Kael felt oddly comforted by it.
"Let's go," Kael growled. "The longer we wait, the stronger it gets."
All four stepped into the darkness.
The torchlight behind them could no longer penetrate the corridor—the darkness proved stronger. Now it was up to the mage: after a few muttered words, the tip of Baxon's staff lit up, casting a faint glow on their path ahead.
"Finally, a useful spell, Baxon. I was about to smash my head into the first beam. Let’s hope nothing’s lurking in the dark," the warrior said with a grin.
"Darkness is only an obstacle for those unaccustomed to it," whispered the assassin from beneath her hood, scanning the area without so much as turning her head.
"I prefer to see where I’m stepping—and what I’m using for a pincushion," Nessy smirked.
"It’s just past the bend. I can feel its power," growled the mage.
Indeed, the corridor turned, and the group continued on. The magical light from Baxon's staff fought against the deepening gloom. Eventually, they reached the end—and in the dim glow, a massive double wooden door blocked their path. Strange, ancient carvings adorned it.
"I don’t know this language. Must be something old. But I can feel the magic pulsing. It’s behind the door."
"Then let’s not just stand here. Get us through," Kael urged the mage.
Baxon muttered a few more incomprehensible words and pushed one side of the door with his staff. To everyone’s surprise, nothing happened.
"Oh, come on—let me try," Nessy said and shoved the door open.
"No—!" Baxon started to yell, but he was too late.
The door swung wide, and Nessy’s hand glowed red. As the door slammed into the wall, the red light blinked out.
"See? No problem at a—" The archer girl didn’t finish her sentence. A pulsing glow surrounded her. It intensified rapidly, flickering faster and faster.
Baxon began casting, the others frozen in shock. The flashing light grew so bright they had to turn their heads. Suddenly, a scream tore from Nessy’s throat—and when they looked back, she was gone.
Only her bow and quiver remained in a small pile on the floor. Ash. That was all that was left.
"She was reckless. She shouldn’t have touched the gate," the mage rumbled.
The others could only stare at the remains. Eryn was the first to snap out of her shock. As she looked up, she realized the problem was bigger than just losing a companion.
The chamber revealed beyond the door was enormous. Thick columns lined the walls in a circle, and in the center stood an altar—massive and carved from stone. Around it stood five figures, cloaked in red and black, chanting something dark. Something malevolent.
Even Kael could feel it. He gripped his sword tighter and crept closer. He didn’t need to glance sideways—he knew Eryn was already among the columns, circling around. They advanced, the chanting uninterrupted. The cloaked figures hadn’t noticed them—or so they hoped.
Kael was just a few steps away when the nearest cultist turned to face him. From under the hood, a skull stared back at him, eye sockets glowing red.
For a heartbeat, Kael froze. But long-trained instincts took over—he dove to the side and turned back to face the undead.
As he moved, he caught sight of a fireball being hurled toward him by the cultist. To his surprise—and to the undead's dismay—the fire sputtered out before reaching him. At least the mage proved useful this time, Eryn thought, already sneaking behind the group from the far side of the room, hidden among the columns.
Kael charged, slicing through the skeletal mage in a single blow. Its skull hadn’t even hit the ground before two streaks of violet light cut into the remaining undead. Eryn struck from behind, killing her unsuspecting target with clean precision.
Only one remained. He finished his chant and looked up—straight at Kael. A grin stretched across his bony face—if a skull could grin.
Before anyone could react, he grabbed the dagger from the altar and plunged it into himself. Eryn was fast, but even she couldn’t anticipate that move. A bone-shaking scream burst from the hooded priest as he raised the dagger, now blackened, above the stone altar. A single drop of blood fell.
The entire chamber trembled the moment it touched the stone—and vanished. The team watched in stunned silence.
A crack split the altar’s surface. Another drop fell into the rift, and a thin wisp of smoke curled upward.
