Imprisoned in a cold stone hut, stripped of her armor and garments, Evangeline lay on the rocky floor. The subterranean darkness enveloped her, yet the horrors of her surroundings pierced her consciousness. The rough touch of long-nailed hands, their invasive and insistent exploration of areas of her body she had vowed to keep untouched as long as she lived, still lingered on her skin, a chilling reminder of the vulgar menace that she faced. Only her captors' volatile nature, a constant conflict among themselves, provided a meager reprieve from further debasement, as they fought over who would claim the prize for himself alone. They had left her here, clad in some kind of rancid skins they had draped over her, a crude replacement for her lost attire.

  The incessant babble of the creatures echoed from outside the crude shelter. Her mind spun with dreadful uncertainty, thoughts darting towards her companions. "What has become of them?" she wondered, her anxiety threatening to overcome her resolve.

  Her chance at escape lay in the cold, jagged wall against which she managed to drag herself. Ignoring the pain, she pressed her bound wrists against a sharp stone edge, gnawing at the tight knots that held her captive. Each grind against the stone sent stinging waves of pain up her arms, but her teeth remained clamped in a defiant grimace. Blood seeped from her raw wrists, soaking the crude bindings, but her perseverance paid off. The gut knot snapped, a satisfying sound of victory in the eerie silence. Her legs, too, soon shook off their bonds, liberating her from the immediate imprisonment.

  Scrambling to her feet, she paused, a sudden shift in the air prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. The oppressive darkness of the hut was no longer hers alone. Someone - or something - was sharing this black abyss with her. She squinted into the void, her heart pounding in her chest. "Focus, Evangeline," she thought, "The success of the mission rests on you." The pitch-black darkness swallowed even her outstretched hand. Despite this, she closed her hands into fists that she held before her face, widening her stance into a ready combat pose.

  Evangeline's heart pounded in her chest as the malevolent giggle reverberated through the darkness, its chilling echoes accompanied by the smacking sound of wet lips and a tongue. Guided by the sound, she lunged towards it, thinking her only advantage in this blindness was the element of surprise. She hoped, prayed, that her fists would make contact.

  The fleeting slapping of bare feet on stone was the only warning she received as the creature deftly sidestepped her assault. Her fist smashed painfully into the stone wall, and a cry of pain slipped through her lips. In her dazed confusion, she was an easy target, and the blow landed on her temple, sending her sprawling onto the cold floor. Relentless pounding began immediately, her captor taking cruel delight in her helplessness.

  Her arms were pinned painfully to the ground and she felt the hot breath of the creature on her face, its thick, knobby tongue slathering her face before forcing its way into her mouth. A gagging sound bubbled up in her throat, quickly replaced by the taste of blood as she bit down hard. The creature shrieked, ripping itself free, only to retaliate with a blow stronger than before. It hadn't been truly trying to hurt her until now. "It's only been playing," the horrifying realization flashed in her mind.

  Abrupt, rough barks echoed from the entrance of the hut, startling both her and the creature pinning her down. A growling argument ensued between the newcomer and her captor, their incomprehensible language bouncing off the stone walls. The creature atop her huffed in frustration and finally rolled off her, allowing her to gulp in a much-needed breath. Before she could even think of escape, a vice-like grip seized her ankle, and she was yanked away, dragged on the unforgiving stone floor into the unknown.

  Emerging into the cavernous expanse, Evangeline was momentarily disoriented by her sudden ability to see. Yet the sight of her own body was soon eclipsed by the nightmarish visage of the creatures pressing in around her. Their gnarled faces, twisted with feral grins, and the sickly pallor of their malformed bodies dominated her field of vision.

  She was hoisted onto a stone dais, the chilling cold of the stone biting into her bare skin. From her new vantage, the source of this visibility revealed itself as flickering light from several bonfires which had been lit near the center of the hut village. Her back was pressed against another totem, this one studded with dark crystals that seemed to absorb the faint light of the bonfires. She was tethered to the stone pillar, her hands forced above her head. Despite the painful abrasion of fresh gut ropes digging into the raw skin of her wrists, she thrashed and kicked out at the creatures swarming at her feet.

  Suddenly, a cacophony of roars filled the cavern, echoing off the stone walls. The chaotic flurry of the lesser creatures stilled, as if they were collectively holding their breath. Then, like the parting of a sea of deformities, three grotesque figures pushed their way to the front, each one radiating raw power and brutality.

  The first was a hulking beast of a creature, standing heads taller than the rest. His body was riddled with scars, a testament to countless battles, while a necklace of small bones adorned his thick neck, trophies of his past victims. A second pair of arms, smaller and more twisted than the first, extended from his sides, their clawed hands twitching in anticipation.

  The second creature was thinner but no less intimidating, his body a mangled collection of limbs, too numerous to count. A spiderlike fusion of human and monstrosity, he flexed his limbs in an unnerving display of agility and strength. His skin bore an uncanny sheen, and upon closer inspection, it appeared to be embedded with fragments of glass or gemstones, their surfaces catching the firelight.

  The third figure was the most distinctive, his head obscured by a crude helmet crafted from some monstrous skull. His body was a patchwork of clothing scraps, ranging from simple rags to torn fineries, each piece telling a story of plunder. Stolen jewelry hung around his neck and wrists, jangling with his movements. There was an air of authority about him, a palpable dominance that left no doubt in Evangeline's mind - he was the leader.

  The three titans roared, beat their chests, and flexed their muscles in a primal display of prowess. Then, unexpectedly, they began to lay items at Evangeline's feet: pelts, chunks of unidentifiable meat, and dirty scraps of clothing. Staring down at the bizarre assortment, a horrifying realization dawned on her. This wasn't a sacrifice. It was a courtship. The strongest of the clan were competing to show which one had the most prowess, and the winner would take her as his mate.

  "Or meal," she thought. "How I wish it was meal."

  The three challengers all tried to intimidate each other to back away, rushing one another only to stop within inches of their face to growl and extend to their full height. The fissures running across their flesh reddened and bulged outward as they panted.

  "Lust, aggression, desire for authority," she mused. "That's something I can use, even if the marks are not quite on the human level."

  Feigning interest in the grotesque competition for her attention, Evangeline summoned her courage and called to the monstrous suitors. "My noble champions," she cooed, her voice reverberating through the cavern, "won't you free me?" They met her plea with confusion, but she added, "I promise... I won't run." The sight of their prize willingly stepping into their territory stirred the monstrous trio into action. The one she identified as their leader grunted and ripped the bonds that tethered her to the totem.

  A warm smile spread across Evangeline's face. Slowly, she descended from the stone dais, her eyes scanning the crowd. Then she moved toward one of the smaller creatures. A hideous little thing. It had an oversized head sprouting multiple eyes of varying sizes. The skin on its body was an ashen hue, streaked with dark patches. Despite its malformed body and an extra arm protruding from its chest, there was an innocence in its eyes that struck Evangeline.

  She enveloped the small creature in her arms, bringing it close to her. "Oh, aren't you a lovely one?" she cooed, planting a sloppy kiss on its bulging cheek. The clan watched in baffled silence, their grotesque faces mirroring their confusion.

  Evangeline's act, however, had the desired effect on her monstrous suitors. Their eyes darkened, and a guttural growl rumbled from their throats. Without warning, they charged, trampling the small creature she'd chosen to coddle. Shock rippled across her face, and a for a moment she covered her open mouth with her palm. Her apparent grief was short-lived, however, as she fell into the arms of another creature standing next to her. The unfortunate being was promptly ripped apart by the six-limbed competitor.

  With a gasp, Evangeline quickly flitted towards another creature, latching onto its grotesque knees, praising it for its handsome looks and noble character. Her next words were met with the crunch of bone as the creature's head was brutally torn off by the leader of the clan.

  "Oh no!" she wailed theatrically, standing to address the crowd. "Oh, my friends, my dear, lovely friends. How I long to be with you all, to show you my gratitude, my affection!" She gestured at the blood-streaked champions, her face etched with false sorrow. "But these three... they're stopping us from being together!" Her eyes widened, her voice dropped to a whisper. "If only they... weren't here. It is you my heart really beckons to."

  For a moment, silence reigned, and she wondered if trying to talk to these subhumans was like trying to convince a rapid dog with rational arguments, even when she had added to her message with a simple pantomime of gestures and expressions. Then a flicker of comprehension sparked in the nearest creature's eyes. As the leader lunged for her, a rock hurtled through the air and struck him on the head. Pandemonium erupted as the cavern-dwelling creatures turned on their alphas.

  The grisly melee erupted into a whirlwind of violence as the emboldened cave-dwellers descended upon their erstwhile champions. Initially, the monstrous trio seemed to be winning, crushing the smaller creatures with brute force. But the sheer number of their kin soon overwhelmed them. The smaller monstrosities climbed atop the alphas, their gnashing teeth and clawed hands ripping into the bigger mutants. Larger beasts engaged in a savage ballet of punches, kicks, and bites, their brutish roars echoing through the cavern.

  Evangeline ducked low amidst the chaos, slipping through the throng of savages too focused on the brawl to pay her any heed. Blood and gore splattered her from above as she maneuvered past the preoccupied creatures, their furious energy consuming the cavern. Each step she took was measured and careful, her escape route carefully plotted in her mind's eye.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as a thought buzzed through her mind: "Better get out of here before this horde expects me to make good on my promises." She continued her stealthy retreat, fading into the shadows of the cavern as the chaos of the brutal coup unfolded behind her.

  Emeric strained against the coarse ropes that bound him, his muscles screaming in protest. A ghoulie's—that's what he had taken to calling them—bony hand clamped down on his head, pushing him beneath the surface of the revolting pool. Murky liquid infiltrated his eyes, searing the cuts on his skin and clouding his vision. He battled to suppress the innate reflex to inhale, knowing it would only fill his lungs with the disgusting broth.

  His captor finally relented, allowing him to rise to the surface once more. The desperate gasp he released was promptly strangled by a retching cough as the putrid fumes assaulted his senses. Submerged in the foreboding pool they'd spied earlier, he was surrounded by decomposing pieces of unidentifiable meat, swirling in the muck.

  Bonfires encircled the pool, casting lurid flickers of light that danced across the water. The creatures were heating stones within the flames, each glowing red-hot before they were flung into the water. The initial bite of the icy water was gradually morphing into an unpleasant warmth, signaling their intentions to stew their captives alive.

  His eyes darted to his companions. Faelun seemed unharmed, but just his wet robes were enough to weigh him down so the binds were mostly superfluous. He kept track of his surroundings with surprising alertness.

  "Ahh," the old man muttered to himself. "Finally, some warmth to melt these knots in my lower back."

  "Can't expect him to be of any use," Emeric considered. The novices were in no better state, bound together and struggling just to stay afloat in the wretched soup. Torvald had suffered the brunt of their cruel treatment, barely conscious but thankfully still breathing as he floated on his back. The fresh, bright red blood that dribbled from his cuts mixed with the oily surface of the sludge they simmered in. He hadn't seen Evangeline since they were taking, and preferred not to think what might have become of her.

  A grim determination set on Emeric's face as he realized, "I need to find a way out of this. We're all doomed if we don't escape before they decide to turn us into their supper."

  He glanced around as surreptitiously as he could. There were three ghoulies watching over them, including the one which kept drowning him.

  His face crunched up as he considered the best course of action. He closed his eyes as he resolved what he had to do.

  Summoning every ounce of strength, Emeric tilted his head back and roared, "Help!" His call for aid was abruptly muffled as his personal cook thrust his head back beneath the fetid water.

  "That step one of the plan going off without he hitch," he thought, as the foul liquid entered his nose and forced its way into his throat. "Now, for step two."

  Every muscle in Emeric's body flexed in concerted effort as he twisted his head, his teeth sinking into the hand that was attempting to drown him. With a powerful kick against the edge of the pool, he dragged the protesting creature under the water with him. His bound hands rendered useless, he instead secured his legs around the creature's neck, forcing it to the bottom of the pool.

  The cook fought viciously, its ragged claws tearing into his sides, gnashing its grotesque teeth against his inner thigh. Pain blossomed but Emeric held his vice-like grip. His lungs screamed for relief, his vision started to blur at the edges, yet he held firm. At the brink of consciousness, he felt the body trapped between his legs go limp. Emeric let go, kicking himself back to the surface. He sucked in desperate gulps of air, his chest heaving.

  "Alright," he thought, his mind racing as he drew breath, "now, I have to dive down again, use the monster's claws to cut my binds. Then I've got to handle the other two before they can raise the alarm."

  He turned to survey his opponents, blinking rapidly to clear the foul liquid from his eyes. One was face down on the ground, a dark pool of blood seeping from a wound at the back of its skull. The second was struggling, one hand clawing desperately at a wire biting into its neck until, with a disturbing snap, it went limp, tumbling face-first into the pool.

  Emeric's gaze lifted and locked onto a figure at the pool's edge. There, standing in the eerie flicker of the bonfire's light, was Evangeline. Wrapped in foul pelts, her bare feet covered in blood and other filth, holding a length of rope made of gut she had used to garrote the monster. Her face was covered in grime, but her eyes shone with determination. And a hint of mockery, even in a situation like this.

  Evangeline's smoky voice broke through Emeric's heavy panting. "Did you miss me?" she asked, a hint of amusement lacing her words.

  Emeric rolled his eyes at her, forcing a casual tone into his reply. "You ruined my plan, you know. I had those things just where I wanted them. Now I have to come up with another plan to save us all."

  "Was your plan to scream like a gelded choirboy until you cause a cave-in?" Evangeline retorted, pulling him out of the pool with surprising strength.

  As she untied him, the two of them quickly set about freeing the rest of their group. All the while, Emeric couldn't help but take note of the cacophony of roars and gruesome tearing sounds in the distance. "What's going on over there?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

  Evangeline shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it. Be more alarmed when it gets quiet, though. That's when we'll be in trouble."

  With the novices helping to support a dazed Torvald, Faelun was left wringing the excess water from his robes. "I think we can safely say the culinary arts of this culture are quite undeveloped," he stated. "Their broth is way too salty."

  Evangeline shot Faelun a look before turning back to Emeric, "Have you seen the horses anywhere?"

  "They were taken into the largest hut nearby, before they tossed us in the soup," Emeric answered, his gaze following hers. "Our gear was left there too."

  "Lead the way," she commanded, wrapping the rope around her fist. "Before more of these goblins show up to check for the tenderness of your flank."

  "Don't be ridiculous," Faelun sputtered. "Everybody knows that goblins don't exist apart from stories meant to scare children into good behavior."

  "Are you sure?" she answered. "You could be the one to prove that goblins do, in fact, exist, and there has been a massive coverup trying to convince us otherwise."

  "Don't give him ideas," Emeric said, as he glanced around the corner of a stone hut. He grabbed a few pieces of wood from the nearest bonfire, noting that they were not branches but roots that must have descended into the tunnels all the way from the surface, and dipped them in the broth to douse the flames. He distributed the crude weapons amongst his teammates.

  The right hut was easy enough to find. It towered over the other huts, three times their size and adorned with gruesome decorations of skulls, pelts, and crystals. Totem poles, as chillingly imposing as their owners, stood sentinel on either side of the entrance.

  "Must be the dwelling of their leader," Evangeline commented, her eyes scanning the structure.

  "The goblins have a leader?" Faelun questioned, a note of scholarly excitement in his voice. "Got to remember that for my exposé."

  "I thought you said goblins are make-believe," Emeric retorted, casting a sidelong glance at the old man.

  Faelun shrugged. "It is the nature of science to improve and new findings to update old, inaccurate views," he argued. "As long as there is someone daring and brilliant enough to publish those findings," he added, puffing up his chest with pride.

  "Whatever," Emeric scoffed. "I'll still call them ghoulies."

  Pushing aside the furs that acted as the doorway, they stepped into the hut. The sight that greeted them was as horrifying as it was fascinating. Skins layered the floor, and bones of various sizes and shapes were strewn about casually. The horses, still hitched to the wagon, were tethered to a pole in the center of the circular room.

  On the far side of the hut, a throne-like seat of roughly piled stones cushioned with pelts sat imposingly. Their gear, mishandled and misused, had been transformed into macabre decorations, hung on pegs and ropes throughout the hut. They quickly set about to retrieving their equipment.

  "Anybody see my crotchpiece?" Emeric's voice echoed through the hut as they rummaged around, gathering their gear.

  "Yeah, I saw it over there by the skins being worked on," Evangeline called from the other side of the dwelling. "The goblins must have mistaken it for a thimble."

  "Well," Emeric replied with a huff, "I think you should stay here and cover our escape. Your biting remarks will slowly eat away at their confidence and internal stability and be their downfall. We'll return with reinforcements to take care of the stragglers. I'll let you have 40% of the glory."

  "As soon as you two lovebirds are done, we can get a move on!" Torvald shouted from the wagon, holding the reins of the horses. He was aided by the novices, who checked the horses and the wagon, making sure everything was in working order.

  Faelun popped his head from the carriage. "Gather as many rocks and other items you can find for later study," he suggested.

  "We need to get going, Faelun," Torvald whispered to the cleric in an exasperated tone. "There's no time for rock-collecting. Don't you care whether you live or die?"

  "When you get to be my age," Faelun answered calmly, "death is like an old friend you expect to drop in to visit at any moment."

  Suddenly, the pelts at the entrance of the hut shifted. A figure, large and foreboding, crouched and then rose to its full height. The leader of the goblins, still wearing his skull helmet, stepped into the dwelling. Covered in blood, he breathed heavily, obviously the winner of the melee. The ghoul's bloodshot eyes scanned the room, finally resting on the intruders.

  "You go right, I go left?" Emeric suggested, his eyes glued to the looming beast. When no response came, he glanced over to where Evangeline had been standing. She had vanished. "Typical," he muttered, tightening the final strap on his breastplate. His helmet was still nowhere in sight.

  With a thunderous roar, the goblin leader launched itself forward. It moved by alternating its legs and arms against the floor, using its knuckles for propulsion and its feet for landings, hurling its massive body through the confined space of the hut with surprising speed.

  Targeting Emeric, the goblin came hurtling towards him. In response, Emeric positioned his shield as a barrier and sidestepped at the last second. He angled his shield, redirecting the force of the blow like a matador sidestepping a raging bull. Simultaneously, he plunged his sword into the creature's calf muscle, causing it to stumble onto its knees. Before he could press his advantage and run his blade into its exposed side, the beast flailed, sending him flying backward.

  The creature rose to its feet, advancing swiftly. Unexpectedly, Evangeline burst out from beneath a pile of pelts on the floor. With a battle cry, she leaped onto its back, driving her twin blades into its lower spine. The leader roared in pain, whirling around and sending Evangeline flying.

  Stumbling towards its stone throne, the creature reached behind its back rest. What emerged was a gruesome scepter, a long staff studded with crystals, topped with a human skull. Old, dried blood stained the tip, bearing silent witness to past battles.

  Emeric and Evangeline renewed their attack in tandem. The goblin king swung its scepter, and Emeric managed to block the attack with his shield, only barely staying on his feet despite dropping his center of gravity as low as possible, providing Evangeline the opening she needed to slash at its belly. But the beast adapted swiftly, its next sweep aiming low, knocking Emeric off his feet. Evangeline managed to leap over the strike, but the leader's additional limb snatched her from mid-air, clutching her throat relentlessly, despite her frantic attempts to slice at the strangling appendage. Simultaneously, Emeric was lifted upside down, subjected to a flurry of blows as though he were a dangling punching bag. He managed to block the strikes, but a sudden smash against the ground left him dazed.

  The two warriors were ruthlessly battered, hanging limp in the grip of the beast. The leader hoisted them above its head, bellowing triumphantly. However, it hadn't taken into account the remaining members of their party.

  "Did you forget something?" Torvald shouted, steering the horses directly towards the leader. There was no time for the creature to react as the horses galloped towards it. Cadoc, Elwin and even Faelun held a long spear which they had seized from the leader's collection of trophies. With the momentum of the charging horses behind it, the spear impaled the creature's chest. It was hurled backwards, crashing into the wall of the hut. Its grip loosened, and Emeric and Evangeline fell into the carriage.

  Grabbing the fallen blades of the Knight and Inquisitor, the novices charged at the leader. Their battle cries wavered with fear, but they attacked with fervour, hacking and stabbing with no technique but abundant energy. Eventually, the creature's struggles ceased, and its head slumped against its chest. Blood flowed from the many wounds it had sustained, steaming hot in the cool underground air. The blood had gotten on the faces of the novices as well, and they wiped it off with the cuffs of their robes.

  With the threat seemingly neutralized, the novices sank to their knees beside Emeric and Evangeline, shaking them awake. Groaning, the two warriors slowly sat up.

  "You know, I have an opening for a squire, or two in this case, if you're interested," Emeric offered, spitting out bloody saliva.

  "I'm spending the rest of my life locked inside a study in the Capital," Elwin stated matter-of-factly as Cadoc handed Emeric his helmet. "Let's get going."

  As they readied to leave, they noticed Faelun reaching towards the leader's body. "No, we are not taking it along," Evangeline warned.

  "Just the helmet," the cleric clarified, straining to reach it. As he tugged the skull helmet free, the creature's eyes suddenly sprang open. With a powerful shove, it sent the carriage spinning, breaking the spear that had pinned it and lumbering to its feet.

  "Go!" Emeric and Evangeline shouted in unison, and Torvald lashed the horses towards the exit. Beaten and battered, in the rough carriage ride over loose stones jolted them painfully, and both knew they would be in no shape to take on the thing again so soon, even when it was hurt as well.

  Breaking free from the confines of the hut, they were met with an immediate obstacle. The rest of the village's inhabitants, survivors of the internal struggle, surrounded the hut, their gazes seething with fury. Their chilling silence was somehow more menacing than their earlier chatter, their playful masks replaced by a wrathful countenance. The leader lumbered out after them, scepter in hand, letting out a deafening roar. The rest of the horde echoed its call.

  "Stuck between a rock and a hard place," Emeric murmured to Evangeline.

  "I don't know about you, but I'm not getting caught alive again," she declared, her tone unyielding.

  "I see your point," Emeric conceded, scrutinizing the malicious faces in the crowd. "But I think I'll take as many of them with me before signing out."

  "It's been an honor, Knight," she offered, patting him on the shoulder.

  "For a spook, you aren't half bad either," he retorted. Exhausted, and pain radiating throughout their bodies, they disembarked from the carriage, matching the stares of dozens of eyes with a resolute look, and keeping their heads high. They stood back-to-back, ready for the inevitable clash.

  "Alright, I'm giving you one last chance to surrender," Emeric announced, brandishing his sword towards the crowd. Derisive laughter emanated from the creatures.

  "So, you do have at least some understanding of our language," Faelun noted, clambering up onto the wagon to be clearly visible to all.

  Every pair of eyes, goblin and human alike, swiveled to focus on the unexpected interruption. Faelun stood tall, his staff gripped firmly at his side. Under the dim, flickering light of the dying bonfires, the shadows cast around him amplified his form, making him appear far larger than his actual stature. Even Evangeline had to concede that his lecturing voice, amplified by the eerie silence, echoed powerfully throughout the chamber.

  "You do not know who we are, so you do not realize your horrible error," he began, his voice steady and resonating. "If any harm comes upon us, there will be a terrifying curse laid upon you, one that will make you rue the day you so much as cut a hair on our scalps." His words hung in the air, a dire warning shrouded in an ominous undertone.

  "We have journeyed here as envoys of the mythical King Methuselah," Faelun continued, raising his voice further. The crowd of mutants rippled with uneasy murmurs, evidently recognizing the name.

  "That name mean anything to you?" Emeric muttered to Evangeline under his breath. She merely shook her head in response, her eyes locked on the crowd.

  "Yes, I thought you wouldn't forget. I have noticed his insignia upon your totems," the Cleric carried on, his voice echoing ominously across the silent space. "The King whose fury is said to have brought about the Rupture, forcing you to flee underground in the first place. Once he learns of your audacious assault on his trusted men and woman, no burrow will be deep and hidden enough to protect you from his wrath."

  "Do either of you have any idea what he's rambling on about?" Emeric hissed, directing his question towards the two novices.

  Elwin, looking somewhat intrigued, nodded in response. "It's one of the various myths tied to the Rupture," he began, lowering his voice to match Emeric's. "Legend tells of a King named Methuselah who held dominion over this very land before the Flood struck. Some accounts suggest a mountain once stood here, rivaling Apex Mountain itself, others speak of massive birds that carried them aloft – the tales vary in detail. Yet, all agree that the King was wise and benevolent, until the Flood tainted him, transforming him into a tyrant whose cruelty and ego knew no bounds. His corruption was so profound that, when the Flood finally retreated, the land itself was said to have swallowed him and his kingdom whole. Rumors persist that his restless spirit still haunts these lands. Evidently, these goblins pay more heed to such tales than we would expect."

  "Right, thanks for the lesson," Emeric replied, grunting in acknowledgement.

  Faelun was relentless. "Periodically, he demands a sacrifice," he declared with a dark, grave intensity. He gestured towards Evangeline and the novices with a sweeping motion of his arm. "These individuals are destined to be such sacrifices. They must be presented unblemished and whole. I shall conduct the necessary rites, whilst the Knight and our driver are entrusted with ensuring our safe and timely arrival. It's crucial to understand that we all play a part in this, and should any one of us come to harm, the consequences would be nothing short of cataclysmic."

  The mutants exchanged glances, a current of uncertainty passing among them. A smaller creature, covered in putrid green skin that looked more like diseased scales, extended a gnarled hand. Each finger was disproportionately long, tipped with a yellowish claw that curved dangerously. Warts and cysts covered the back of its hand, and pus seeped from some of them, a sickening smell wafting from it. The hand moved with an eerie, serpentine grace towards Evangeline's neck, only to be slapped away by one of its larger counterparts, the gesture emphasizing Faelun's words.

  "I can't believe it's working," Emeric muttered.

  A chorus of gibbering dissent arose from certain pockets of the horde, an undercurrent of unrest bubbling beneath the surface, with some of the creatures trying to rouse the rest to turn against them. "Are there those among you brave or foolish enough to defy the will of fate?" Faelun's voice rang out, his dramatic inflection cutting through the rising discord. "Let this symbol serve as testament to my truth."

  He shed his robes, exposing his left shoulder. He flattened the wrinkles of his aged skin, revealing a bold tattoo. It was a complex symbol, reminiscent of those Emeric had noted on the totems scattered around the village. A murmur rippled through the assembly, a stormy sea of doubt and superstition.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Lowering his voice and speaking so his beard covered the movement of his mouth, Faelun urged Emeric and Evangeline, saying:

  "With slow but certain movements, get on the wagon."

  "Gently now," he muttered to Torvald. "Let's make our move." Obediently, the fighters scrambled back on board. The horses, guided by Torvald's gentle coaxing, began a slow, deliberate advance towards the wall of ghastly figures that stood before them.

  "Keep your composure," Faelun advised his companions. They each adopted a facade of calm, their eyes placid but their hands white-knuckled on their weapon handles. The rhythmic tap of Cadoc's foot against the carriage floor betrayed his nervousness until a surreptitious kick from Elwin stilled it.

  The horses snorted uneasily, hesitant to breach the unsettling assembly of beings. But under Torvald's gentle guidance, they pressed onward. Just as the tension threatened to snap, the crowd before them seemed to part as if by magic, creating a pathway through their midst.

  As the grotesque sea of creatures receded behind them, the wagon's occupants allowed themselves a collective sigh of relief. "That way," Faelun pointed towards a tunnel leading from the cavern. "The flickering flames earlier suggested a draft from that direction."

  Emeric and Evangeline exchanged surprised glances at the Cleric's astute observation. His sharp attention to their surroundings had evidently surpassed their own during the chaos. But their moment of quiet appreciation was shattered by an ominous roar echoing behind them.

  Turning, they saw the village leader - injured and limping, but defiant - at the head of a smaller group of its underlings. It pointed a gnarled finger at Evangeline, then licked its bloodied lips in a grotesque pantomime of hunger.

  "Can you fight?" Emeric queried, already knowing the answer.

  "Nope," she replied with grim determination. "But I'm going to fight anyway."

  The grotesque creatures gave a collective growl, charging forward like beasts of the wild. Against the onslaught, Emeric and Evangeline stood their ground, their bodies protesting with the exertion of merely standing, let alone wielding their weapons.

  The defenders were knocked aside, their weapons sent clattering into the dark. Standing above them, the goblin leader towered, a sinister silhouette against the gloom. As it hoisted its scepter into the air, Emeric and Evangeline shared a knowing look; their end seemed imminent. Their voices united, they urged Torvald, "Go, and don't look back."

  In that moment, a swift shadow streaked across the cave wall, its form undulating in the dying firelight. It was too quick to discern clear details, but it suggested the figure of a massive bird in flight somewhere within the labyrinthine tunnel. The goblin leader, too, registered the intruder, its weapon lowered fractionally as it shifted focus to the anomaly on the cavern ceiling.

  As their eyes slowly adapted to the dim light, the humans could just barely discern a sizable form darting to and fro, navigating the space with an unsettling fluidity. Emeric mumbled to himself, "If that turns out to be an underground eagle, I'll be a laughingstock back home. They'll just say I've hit the tavern too hard."

  Undeterred by the leader's threatening swipe of its scepter, the shadowy figure danced around the strike before launching directly towards its foe's head. There was a flash of metallic shine, followed by a red arc splashing through the air, reminiscent of a comet's tail. The resonant thud that echoed through the cavern as the leader's head hit the ground, the bone helmet splitting in half, sent the remaining creatures into a frenzy of flight.

  The enigmatic figure finally landed, the dim light and distance obscuring any discernible details from the fallen fighters.

  The figure advanced, pausing a few steps away from Emeric and Evangeline. Their eyes strained against the darkness, but they could discern nothing more than a silhouette until an arm reached towards them. As they caught sight of the infamous Gauntlet, their eyes widened in surprise. "Buren!" they cried in unison.

  With Buren's aid, they found their feet, their bodies creaking and groaning in protest. As the novices sparked new torches to life, they finally got a good look at their unexpected rescuer. There were a few new scratches marring Buren's face, but overall, it seemed that the roaches had gotten the worst of it. Buren was covered in the sticky, green blood of the gargantuan insects, their twitching legs clinging to his form in a macabre adornment. His cape had flowed behind him as he had bounded around, creating the appearance of spread wings.

  "How did you survive?" and "How did you find us?" Evangeline and Emeric demanded simultaneously, their voices overlapping in their haste for answers.

  "Kept moving. You make a lot of noise," Buren replied in his typically curt fashion. He began to move past them, stating, "You're headed the right way. Let's move."

  "Keep moving," Emeric echoed, wincing as he massaged his aching lower back. "Sure, no problem. I was just about to suggest that myself."

  A sudden wave of screams echoed from the direction of the village they had left behind, causing Evangeline to flinch, her skin prickling in response. "What's that?" she asked, a tremor in her voice.

  "The cockroaches finally caught up," Buren replied evenly. "Stumbled into their nest, and destroying it seems to have upset them. Those creatures should keep them busy, but we don't want to be here when they've eaten through them."

  "What are you waiting for?" Emeric blurted, his disposition suddenly changing. "Let's get moving, double time, just like I suggested earlier."

  His companions could only roll their eyes as the wagon lurched into motion again, carrying them further away from the nightmarish goblin village. The tunnel they now traveled within had a noticeable incline, and they could feel the cool breeze brushing against their faces. This subtle change lifted their spirits immensely, a palpable sense of their journey's end so close within reach. A cheer rippled through them at the sight of a distant light, a beacon of hope at the end of their dark subterranean ordeal. Only Buren remained silent, stationed at the back of the carriage, his gaze scanning the gloom behind them for any sign of pursuit.

  The relief that washed over them as they emerged into daylight was overwhelming. "I never thought I'd be so glad to see the lands bordering the Rupture," Emeric confessed, his grin wide. "Man, the light's really hurting my eyes," Cadoc complained, squinting against the brilliant sunlight. "Everything's so bright."

  "It's not your eyes," Buren countered. His cryptic statement drew curious glances, but as the minutes passed, they realized the truth of his words. Despite allowing time for their eyes to adjust to the brightness, everything around them seemed unusually vibrant.

  Closer inspection of a nearby tree confirmed this oddity. The tree's bark was visibly translucent, shimmering in the sunlight, and appeared to be of an unnaturally light weight. Its elongated branches swayed freely in the breeze, reminiscent of long tendrils of hair undulating underwater. Even the leaves were transparent and sparkled like precious gems, their hues an unusual shade of radiant pink.

  Visible on the tree were the telltale seams of the Rupture. Yet, unlike the grotesque scars they had seen on other flora and fauna, these were luminescent, glowing a bright yellow akin to liquid amber. Everywhere they turned, they were met with the same surreal landscape—the grass, flowers, moss, and shrubs all appeared elongated, translucent, and shimmering with an otherworldly quality.

  "It's like stepping into a dream," Evangeline remarked in awe, her voice whispering into the wind, "or a mirage."

  "It's been said that the Rupture is a tear between our world and the world of dreams," Faelun mused aloud, his eyes scanning the surreal landscape. "I never put much stock in those theories, but perhaps seeing this, it's time for a reassessment."

  Emeric's brow furrowed, a touch of unease in his eyes as he turned to the Cleric. "So, any idea which way we should head next?"

  "According to the ancient texts I've studied," Faelun began, a thoughtful expression on his face, "once we are this close to the Rupture, the winds and ethereal emanations have worn away all but the most resistant stones. The terrain should become an extensive, undivided field, allowing us far greater freedom of movement than before. On the downside, the precise location of the village isn't clear, so we'll have to do some exploring."

  Emeric wiped some dirt of his face and said: "Let's just hope the village is on this side of the Rupture."

  Faelun nodded solemnly. "I'm eighty percent certain of that." Emeric did a double-take at that. "Wait, only eighty percent?"

  Ignoring Emeric's surprised outburst, Faelun pointed ahead. "Let's begin in that direction. The legends hint at it, and my intuition tells me it's our best bet."

  As they ventured deeper into the luminous landscape, a profusion of otherworldly flora greeted them. There were fields of undulating grass, each blade seeming to dance in the breeze, their translucent bodies refracting light into shimmering hues. Tall, bizarrely shaped flowers with translucent, luminescent petals, flickered and pulsed in a rhythm that seemed to mirror the beat of the heart. Twisted trees with long, spiraling branches were laden with fruits that glowed like trapped stars.

  The sky overhead was a vivid blue, flecked with scattered, iridescent clouds that cast a prismatic sheen over the land below. Pools of water sparkled under the bright sky, each body of water glinting like a mirror under the sunlight.

  The fauna were just as entrancing. Foxes with elongated bodies and radiant, yellow fissures snaking through their fur dashed among the grasses. Deer, their bodies slender to the point of fragility, sported shining pelts that reflected light like liquid gold. Birds with elongated wings and slender bodies flew through the sky, their fissures casting beams of light onto the land below.

  Despite the inviting appearance of the bright grasses and tempting pools of water, Faelun advised caution. Their horses, nostrils flaring and eyes wide, seemed keen to partake in the verdant banquet before them. However, Faelun's stern warning held them back. Thus, they sustained themselves and their horses on their dry supplies, quenching their thirst from the closed water barrel they'd brought along. In this luminous, ethereal landscape, they moved ever onwards, wary of the enchanting beauty that surrounded them.

  "By the way," Emeric began, directing his words to Faelun, "what was the deal with that Methuselah tattoo you displayed?"

  Faelun sighed in embarrassment. "Way back in my training years, I lost a bet with some of my fellow clerical students. Had to spend the rest of my time in the convent hiding my shoulder from the headmaster, as such heresy would have made him expel me on the spot."

  The soft rolling landscape stretched out before them as they reached the crest of a low hill. Buren, with his hawk-like eyesight, paused and pointed towards the horizon. "There," he stated with his usual brevity.

  Torvald squinted into the distance, studying the landscape for a few heartbeats. A slow grin spread across his weathered face. "I see it too. That must be the way," he confirmed.

  Emeric, however, was baffled. He swung his gaze around the iridescent scenery but could find no signs of any lost village, no hints at hidden civilisation. The vast luminescent stretch was beautiful, yes, but it gave him no sense of direction.

  "Would you mind sharing with the class?" Emeric asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

  "You'll see," Torvald said, his eyes twinkling with quiet amusement as he guided the horses down the hill.

  Emeric's patience, however, wore thin as minutes rolled by with no clear explanation. He was on the brink of voicing his annoyance again when a faint shift in the sound of the wagon wheels made him pause. The gentle rustle of wheels rolling over soft grass was replaced by a more solid, rhythmic clacking.

  Peeking over the side of the carriage, Emeric saw what the others had spotted. The wagon was now following an ancient road, so old that it was almost completely buried under the overgrowth. It was so subtly outlined in the luminescent landscape that he had completely missed it.

  "And this road leads straight to the village?" he asked, doubt creeping into his voice.

  Faelun, who had been unusually quiet, perked up with enthusiasm. "Absolutely! This is the very road mentioned in--"

  "Yeah, yeah," Emeric interjected, making a dismissive gesture that could have resembled a pair of flying birds had it been better executed. "I can only imagine the great legend that surrounds who built this road and who died on it. Fascinating stuff. Let's just follow the Flooded path."

  Evangeline couldn't help but chuckle at Emeric's outburst. "Are you growing a bit touchy? Is living the legend not all it's cracked up to be?"

  Emeric merely grumbled and lay down in the back of the wagon, draping a rough cloth over his eyes. "I've just had enough of stories for the day," he mumbled before settling down to sleep.

  Faelun watched him for a moment before turning his attention to Evangeline. "You should rest too," he suggested gently. "You have a lot to recuperate from."

  "I'm fine," she assured him, though the exhaustion in her eyes spoke otherwise. Nevertheless, she heeded Faelun's advice and lay down to rest, surrendering herself to the gentle rocking of the wagon as it clattered down the ancient road.

  Faelun turned his gaze to Buren, who was occupied with the diligent task of maintaining his weapons and cleaning his garments. The Gauntlet swatted away another piece of roach flesh that clung stubbornly to his cloak. As soon as it touched the ground, a small creature leapt out from the undergrowth, snatching it up with an eager chirp. They'd unwittingly attracted a retinue of small predators, drawn by the promise of scraps from their battles with the monstrous insects. The water in Buren's washbasin had turned a murky green, stained by the insect blood.

  "The same advice applies to you, Buren," Faelun commented, watching the Gauntlet work. "You need rest too."

  Buren paused momentarily, his eyes lifting to meet Faelun's. "This is how I rest," he responded curtly, his tone brooking no argument.

  Faelun held back a sigh, knowing there would be no persuading Buren. He turned instead to Cadoc who had been watching the exchange in silence. "How about our return plan?" Cadoc questioned, his eyes locked onto Buren. "Any progress?"

  "I'm working on it," Buren replied nonchalantly, his attention returning to the blade he was oiling.

  Cadoc wasn't satisfied. "And how is it going?"

  Buren's silence was all the response he offered. Cadoc was on the brink of pushing further when Elwin grabbed his arm, shaking his head. Understanding the unspoken warning, Cadoc held his tongue.

  Faelun, meanwhile, gestured towards the slumbering fighters. "I'm feeling a bit envious of those two," he admitted, a touch of fatigue creeping into his voice. "Boys, help me lie down."

  Elwin raised an eyebrow. "If you sleep now, you'll be up all night."

  "That's a problem for future Faelun," the elder replied cheerfully, and with a sigh, the novices complied.

  The wagon lapsed into a tranquil silence, the rhythmic clacking of wheels over the ancient road providing a lullaby that even the novices could not resist. One by one, they drifted off into a fitful sleep, leaving only Torvald at the reins and Buren keeping a watchful eye on the road behind them.

  The pervasive, dreamlike brightness of the surroundings stirred Emeric from a deep sleep. As he woke, his body protested each movement with an ache that permeated every muscle. He attempted to sit up, only to groan and sink back onto the wagon's floor.

  "Rise and shine," Evangeline called cheerfully.

  Blinking against the daylight, Emeric cracked open his eyes to see her stretching in the morning sun. She had donned her gambeson and was warming up with a series of fluid movements. His eyes roamed the area, taking in the standing and fallen monoliths scattered around a clearing. Others were buried in the earth, their tops the only evidence of their existence.

  "Where are we?" Emeric asked, his voice gravelly with sleep.

  Evangeline paused in her routine, turning to face him. "Our guides found the village while you were snoozing," she informed him. "We're forming search parties now, so get yourself ready."

  With considerable effort, Emeric hauled himself to his feet, wincing as stiff muscles screamed in protest. "I feel like I've been put through a grain mill," he complained.

  Evangeline merely rolled her eyes at his whining. "Relax. Do some stretches to loosen up," she advised. To illustrate, she shifted into a pose that looked impossible to Emeric. Her body became a perfect T, with one leg stretched out behind her, parallel to the ground, her arms outstretched to either side.

  Emeric merely gave her a look. "I've got a faster way to relax," he said. He reached into his breast pocket, drawing out a small flask. Just as he was about to unstop it, Evangeline swooped in, snatching it away.

  "Hey!" he protested, but she had already guided him towards a nearby stone.

  "No stumbling around drunk and damaging precious artefacts," she said, as she began to knead his shoulders. His protests died on his lips as he felt the knots in his muscles slowly start to melt away. A warmth spread through his body, and he couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him.

  Eventually, she stepped away, leaving Emeric in a state of relaxed bliss. "Walk off the rest," she advised. "Breakfast awaits."

  "Thanks," Emeric muttered, pushing himself to his feet. With newfound energy, he followed her towards the smell of food, eager to start the day. The ache of his muscles was still there, but it was a dull throb now, a manageable discomfort.

  Only a stone's throw away, a spread of provisions lay atop a weathered stone dais that pushed through the grass. Emeric and Evangeline made their way towards it, their steps setting off the light, long blades of grass swaying under the gentle caress of the wind.

  Faelun was engaged in a performance that bordered between a determined shuffle and an elderly waddle as he darted around the various relics and remain. His knees creaked like an old, rusted door as he moved, and his back emitted soft, popping sounds that even Emeric could hear. A walking stick, gnarled and polished with use, scraped against the ground in a steady rhythm, acting as the older man's third leg. Meanwhile, the novices fluttered around him like overeager mother hens, constantly on alert for any misstep.

  High above, Buren perched on a towering stone pillar like a bird of prey surveying its territory. The light from the ever-bright sun glinted off his armor as he moved, casting a faint shimmer around him. Below, Torvald was deeply engrossed in repairing the wear and tear their faithful carriage had borne. The sound of his work - a constant melody of metallic clicks and scrapes - resonated through the clearing.

  As Emeric reached the dais, he noticed how their food and water supplies had dwindled alarmingly. A frown creased his brow as he pondered their reserves. Would they last if they continued to avoid consuming the local game and water? His gaze instinctively traveled to the luminous flora and fauna, their bodies crisscrossed with glowing yellow seams.

  As if sensing his gaze, Buren suddenly dropped from his high perch. His form plunged towards the ground at an alarming speed, only for him to arrest his fall with a casual swipe of the Gauntlet just before he hit the earth. Emeric couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he watched Buren strode towards the center of the dais as if his acrobatic display was nothing out of the ordinary.

  "Show-off," he thought with a shake of his head, his mental tone filled more with amusement than resentment.

  With a swift, commanding wave of his hand, Buren signaled everyone to gather around him. The ambient noise of the clearing fell to a hushed silence, all eyes drawn to the two central figures. Recognizing the unspoken gesture, Faelun assumed the stage, his eyes shining with a mixture of scholarly interest and contagious excitement.

  "Indeed, a momentous day it is," the elder Cleric began, his voice carrying a weight of reverence, tempered with a touch of whimsy. "Standing here, in this legendary site, untouched by man for centuries... it truly is a scholar's dream. I remember my younger days, fresh from the convent, yearning for--"

  Buren's hand cut through the air, spinning quickly, and Faelun's nostalgic reminiscing stumbled to a halt. "Oh yes, the King, the deadline, and so on," the old man grumbled, drawing a chuckle from the crowd. But the humor quickly faded as he continued, "We are in search of the chamber where the spirit transference ritual was carried out. It's likely to contain the tools and instructions we need."

  "Due to the dirt that has collected here over the centuries, most buildings only have their roofs visible. As such, I can not establish which building housed the temple, and we are going to have to check them one by one. Thankfully, the layer of dirt is not so deep as to require extensive excavations, but..." As Faelun went on, outlining the challenges they faced due to centuries of accumulated dirt, the group listened with rapt attention. The task was daunting, certainly, but the sense of discovery and the promise of answers to centuries-old mysteries made it thrilling.

  "But what if the temple isn't within the village, but located at some holy site further away? Isn't that common practice?" Evangeline questioned.

  Faelun conceded her point, admitting, "Yes, that is indeed common practice. But at this stage, we must start somewhere, and this village seems as good a place as any."

  Emeric chimed in next, his curiosity piqued. "And how will we know when we find it?" he asked. Faelun's response was swift, providing them with the visual clues they needed. He held up a parchment, its surface adorned with shaky, hand-drawn symbols associated with the spirit transference rite.

  "The correct area should display these symbols, so keep an eye out."

  Stepping up to regain control of the discussion, Buren laid out their plan, splitting them into two groups to cover each half of the village. His directions were clear, his arm cutting an imaginary line across the village as he delegated their tasks.

  Torvald was tasked with guarding the camp, while the rest were set to explore and unearth secrets. The rules were simple: if a group completed their assigned area or found the temple, they were to return to the meeting point. The same applied if they encountered any opposition.

  There was a pause as Buren asked for any questions. Silence answered him. The group was ready. Their anticipation was palpable as they prepared to delve deeper into the mysteries of the ancient village.

  "Let's get to work," Buren finally said, the determination in his voice leaving no room for disagreement.

  Buren surveyed the landscape before him, the half-buried village spreading out like a map waiting to be read. Across the way, he could see Evangeline and Emeric locked in a heated discussion about which building to tackle first. Cadoc, in the meantime, had already started to clear an entryway into a nearby structure. Buren couldn't help but shake his head at the sight. They hadn't even started their work and were already at odds.

  His gaze fell upon the couple dozen rooftops visible above the earth, their clay and stone compositions hinting at the long-lost civilization that had once inhabited this place.

  The work was surprisingly easy, the soil being loose and light. Soon, he had uncovered enough of the entrance to crawl in. With the power of his Gauntlet, he punched through the wooden door, letting in the outside light and breaking a clear path for Faelun and Elwin. He then managed to dislodge the door from the inside, allowing a cascade of dirt to flow in and form a ramp of sorts for his companions.

  The grouchy grumbling of Faelun echoed through the room as he emerged, covered in dust. "I have sand in my underwear," he protested, but the complaint fell on deaf ears. Buren was already moving deeper into the structure, his torch throwing dancing shadows on the ancient walls.

  They had entered what looked like a typical household, filled with time-worn remnants of a forgotten people. Simple furnishings of tables and chairs still stood, eerily reminiscent of a life abruptly abandoned. The walls bore carvings of animals, but none of the symbols they sought. Buren moved from room to room, his torchlight revealing the skeletons of ancient bedrooms, clay plates in empty pantries, and the hollow shell of a once-used bath.

  Returning to Faelun and Elwin, he simply shook his head. The old Cleric made a move to linger, perhaps hoping to glean something more from the artifacts, but Buren's repeated head shake stilled him.

  The trio emerged from the ancient household, Buren leaping out effortlessly, then extending his hand to help the others.

  "One down, who knows how many to go, buried under possibly tainted ground," he mused, watching the motes of dust he had shoveled away glitter in the sunlight.

  "Try not to breath that in," he told his companions, pointing at the swirling dust cloud. Elwin took a step further away, while Faelun didn't seem to care.

  Buren, Faelun, and Elwin found themselves following the rhythm of the day, their labor mirroring the rise and descent of the sun in the sky. They shifted through the detritus of time, breaking into homes, stables, and stores, shoveling through layers of history to reveal the everyday architecture of an ancient civilization. Each building was a door into the past, but none bore the key to the ritual ground they sought.

  Faelun's enthusiasm remained undimmed, his excitement only growing with each new discovery. But for Buren, the growing list of unproductive searches only added to the heavy burden on his shoulders. With every fruitless dig, the weight of their mission seemed to grow heavier.

  They had just emerged from what appeared to be a public bath when Cadoc appeared, breathless and flushed. His words sent a jolt through them. "We found someone." The news was so unexpected that it took a moment for them to understand.

  "A survivor?" Elwin echoed, the disbelief clear in his voice.

  Cadoc nodded and gestured for them to follow him. He led them to a building Evangeline had explored earlier. Buren and the others followed him through the dug-out entryway and into the structure.

  Immediately, Buren noticed the difference in the building's interior. The floor was made from a dark, almost glass-like stone, gleaming ominously under the torchlight. The same stone, interspersed with other colored stones, made up the walls, forming intricate designs and paintings. It was a stark contrast to the simpler buildings they had encountered so far.

  Cadoc guided them to a large, circular chamber. The sight that greeted them was startling. A man, more skeleton than flesh, sat against a stone dais, his gaunt form little more than a desiccated husk. His slow, labored breaths were the only signs of life in his frail form.

  The quiet tension in the room felt like a solid weight. Emeric sat beside the frail figure, both of them contrasting figures of life against the time-worn stone dais. Evangeline stayed near the wall, her silence another presence in the room.

  Faelun, undeterred by her silence, addressed her. "Has he said anything?" His gaze met hers, searching for any clue in her expression. But she only stared at the Gauntlet, then shifted her eyes to the ground, ignoring his query.

  "He hasn't said anything yet," Emeric spoke up, breaking the silence. He glanced at Evangeline, a challenge flickering in his eyes. "She has been unusually quiet since the discovery, which is a welcome change."

  His taunt seemed to go unnoticed as Evangeline continued to keep her silence. Cadoc intervened, "When we questioned her, she pointed at her throat. Maybe she swallowed dirt or something." He demonstrated the gesture and Evangeline gave a series of nods in affirmation.

  Suddenly, a soft wheezing sound caught their attention. The skeletal figure attempted to lift its head, lips parting as if to speak. But only a weak breath escaped him. Buren's eyebrow arched at the feeble effort, his silence echoed by the still figure on the floor.

  Faelun knelt down next to the man, his knees creaking loudly in protest. "I suppose there is no way for you to understand me, but if you do, open your mouth." Much to everyone's surprise, the husk of a man responded to Faelun's command, his dry lips parting slowly.

  "How surprising," Faelun mused. "There must be magic of some kind involved."

  Buren, moving the torch to illuminate more of the room, discovered an unexpected sight. On the sloping roof, the symbols they had been searching for etched into the stone. The sudden realization caught them all off-guard.

  "The spirit transference room!" Faelun's voice trembled with excitement as the significance of the discovery sank in.

  The faint movement of the emaciated figure drew their attention once again. His weakened forefinger barely curled, almost an inconsequential movement, yet Elwin was quick to notice. "I think he is trying to point to something," he observed, directing his torch towards the area the frail figure indicated.

  Their gaze was drawn to an array of ancient objects, plates and crystals scattered across the stone altar, and remnants of old liquids and ash. Traces of plant matter lay scattered among the ashes, a testament to a forgotten ritual.

  "The texts I have at my disposal mention some of these objects as part of the ritual," Faelun murmured in awe. His eyes scanned the ancient remnants, his heart pounding with the realization of the enormity of their discovery. "We must really be in the right place."

  Meanwhile, Buren was immersed in his own investigation. He crouched low, studying the faint impressions in the dusty floor. The glow from his torch illuminated the footprints, barely visible yet providing valuable clues to the room's history.

  Elwin ran his fingers over the ash on the altar, the residue warm to the touch. "Still warm, and I can smell smoke," he mused aloud. Faelun turned towards Evangeline, his eyes questioning. "Did you touch anything?" His query met only her fleeting glance as she stared at the altar, her gaze dropping once again.

  Without another word, Evangeline started to move towards the exit, her silence an enigma. Emeric's voice cut through the room. "Are you alright?" His teasing had faded into a genuine concern, his brows furrowed with worry.

  The skeletal figure on the floor seemed to grow more agitated. His feeble movements were frantic, a desperate attempt to communicate his message. Faelun moved closer, trying to comfort the man. "Calm down. The exertion might kill you. We'll get you some water, and then you can tell your story."

  But Buren's focus was elsewhere. His eyes darted from the markings on the floor to the altar, then to the symbols adorning the ceiling and finally to the man lying on the floor. Suddenly, he stood upright, his cloak swirling around him as he pivoted. His finger shot out, pointing at Evangeline, who was just stepping out of the room.

  "Stop her!" he commanded, his voice ringing in the chamber. As if spurred by his words, Evangeline broke into a run.

  Buren bolted into motion, his heavy boots striking the stone floor, echoing in the ancient hallway. Emeric and the novices quickly fell in step, their faces hardened with determination. Emeric, however, turned to Elwin, ordering him to stay with Faelun and the cryptic figure still lying within the chamber. Their hearts beating with worry and consternation, they flew down the hallways.

  Suddenly, Emeric found himself almost crashing into Buren's broad back as the man came to an abrupt halt. Buren was crouched, his brow furrowed in concentration as he traced the patterns in the dust-covered floor with his calloused fingers.

  "Did you lose her?" Emeric asked, struggling to keep the incredulity from his voice. He watched as Buren examined the trail in the dust. After a moment, Buren turned his attention to the nearby wall, knocking on it lightly. The sound echoed hollowly, hinting at the hidden secrets within.

  Emeric's eyes widened, "How could she have known about this?" He questioned, a sense of unease creeping in. "What is going on?"

  Ignoring his questions, Buren approached the hollow-sounding wall. He searched for a moment, his fingers grazing the ancient stone for a seam or a hidden button. When his search proved futile, he simply drew back the Gauntlet and punched through the wall.

  The wall crumbled under the sheer force, revealing a hidden pathway behind it. "Always more tunnels," Buren muttered under his breath as he stepped into the concealed passage, the rest following closely.

  The narrow passage ended abruptly at another stone wall, but Buren found a latch hidden under years of dust and cobwebs. With a push, the wall gave way, and they emerged into another building. There was no sign of Evangeline. Buren paused only for a moment before he resumed his pursuit, his keen senses picking up on the faint traces of her passage.

  The stone walls of the building were adorned with faded murals, their colors worn with time but still hinting at the rich culture of the forgotten people who once inhabited these halls. Yet they had no time to admire the artistry; their focus remained on the pursuit, driven by a heightened sense of urgency and the mystery that continued to unfold.

  The party sprinted through the seemingly endless labyrinth, surrounded by the relics of the past. Rusted ceremonial daggers lay abandoned on the ancient stone slabs, next to clay urns that still held the scent of spices and forgotten rituals. Votive statues of deities, their identities worn away by time, watched them from alcoves in the wall, their stone eyes silently recounting tales of a forgotten era.

  They shoved aside musty old cloths hanging from the arched doorways, their faded colors billowing in their wake. The remnants of cobwebs were brushed away effortlessly, leaving glistening trails in the air, markers that Evangeline had indeed passed this way.

  They found themselves in a series of small rooms, each adorned with a humble cot and an austere writing table. The frugal lifestyle suggested by these rooms led them to surmise that they were within the dormitories of the ancient priests.

  Finally, they came upon the building's entrance, its door swung wide open and the ever-present sand still flowing in from Evangeline's hasty exit. Buren sprung out of the building with his characteristic agility, closely followed by the rest of the party.

  As they emerged into the open, their eyes were met with the sight of Evangeline, running towards a building at the periphery of the village. Without missing a beat, Buren launched into a sprint, his longer strides quickly eating up the distance between him and the fleeing woman.

  Evangeline risked a quick glance over her shoulder and, with a grimace, increased her speed. Reaching the building, she kicked down a section of an already weakened wall, disappearing inside. Buren followed suit, his agile leap through the hole suggesting an uncanny familiarity with such scenarios.

  Emeric, unable to keep pace, skidded to a halt before carefully stepping through the hole. He found himself in an ornate corridor, the walls and floor adorned with intricate carvings depicting catastrophic events - thunderstorms ravaging cities, volcanoes spewing rivers of fiery lava, and tornadoes ripping through landscapes, reducing everything in their path to rubble.

  Suddenly, an earthquake trembled through the building, knocking Emeric and the novices to the ground. Dust shook loose from the high ceilings, filling the air with a choking haze. A second blast of dust billowed from up ahead, causing Emeric to gag and spit as he tried to clear his airways. Once the dust had settled, he regained his footing and continued his pursuit, uncertainty gnawing at him but determination propelling him forward.

  The sight before Emeric at the end of the hallway made him pause for a few seconds. Two imposing double doors were flung wide open, their hinges still oscillating slightly, creaking in protest against the abrupt and forceful movement. A cloud of thick dust floated lazily in the air, the particles twinkling eerily in the glow of the torchlight, mirroring the hypnotic display ubiquitous in the lands around the Rupture.

  With a quick hand gesture, Emeric directed Cadoc to stay back as he cautiously approached the entrance. Through the haze of the dust, two silhouettes could be discerned. The one facing away from him, marked by the unmistakable outline of the Gauntlet, was undoubtedly Buren. The other figure, glowing faintly from the orange light emanating from a staff-like object in her hands, was presumably Evangeline.

  Just as Emeric was piecing together the scene, the orange glow from the staff intensified dramatically. Evangeline struck the staff's stone end on the floor, causing an eruption of light. A shockwave rippled out from the impact point, stirring up the dust anew and creating a mini cyclone within the room.

  While Buren deflected the shockwave with the Gauntlet, the force threw Emeric backwards, his back colliding hard against the wall. Gritting his teeth against the flare of pain from his previous injuries, Emeric struggled back to his feet. Sword in one hand and shield in the other, he stormed into the room, just in time to witness Buren charge towards Evangeline.

  He watched as Buren sidestepped a clumsy swing from Evangeline's staff and then sliced it in half with a swift swing of the Gauntlet's talons. The sound of thunder echoed within the room as the halves of the staff were sent spiraling away from Evangeline's grip. She stumbled backwards, hastily drawing her twin blades while muttering something in an unfamiliar language.

  Bewildered, Emeric yelled, "What the Flood are you doing?" He watched as Evangeline lashed out towards Buren, her movements uncharacteristically uncoordinated, her swordplay crude and unrefined. Buren easily disarmed her, twisting her arm behind her back and forcefully pressing her to the ground.

  "Tie her up," he ordered Emeric, who quickly rummaged through his bag for a length of rope. As he bound her wrists behind her back, Evangeline continued to spit out words in the strange language, the tone of her voice tinged with palpable anger.

  Emeric took a look around the chamber. There were swords, pieces of armor, and other staves lining the walls, knocked from their racks by the blast of energy she had just unleashed.

  With a swift motion, Buren hoisted the squirming Evangeline onto his shoulder, seemingly unperturbed by her struggles and the ineffectual kicking of her legs. His gait was measured and even as he proceeded to carry her out of the room, embodying a calmness that was at stark odds with the chaotic scene that had just unfolded.

  Emeric fell into step behind him, his brow furrowed in consternation. The sight of Evangeline's face, twisted into an uncharacteristic snarl, was disconcerting. He found himself questioning aloud, "What has happened to her?"

  Buren, maintaining his forward gaze, replied, "I have a theory, but I'll have to run it by the Cleric."

  Intrigued, Emeric pressed further. "What theory?" However, Buren provided no elaboration, his silence resounding in the dimly lit hallway. Recognizing the futility of further inquiry, Emeric redirected his curiosity. "Where did that staff back there come from?"

  "This must have been an armory," Buren answered.

  "But how did she know where to find it, let alone how to use the staff?" Emeric queried, confusion tingeing his voice.

  "She wouldn't have," came Buren's succinct response.

  Emeric regarded Buren with a quizzical expression, then reluctantly acquiesced. "Right, answers come later."

  Exiting the building via the collapsed wall they had entered through, they made their way back to where they had left Faelun and the others. Their companions were waiting there, with Elwin carefully administering water from his flask into the parched mouth of the emaciated stranger. His movements were gentle, revealing a careful consideration for the man's fragile state.

  Buren gently placed Evangeline onto the ground, her body limp. With a curt nod at Cadoc, the silent exchange of orders was understood. Cadoc moved closer to the incapacitated woman, his young face marked with worry but also determination. "I'll keep an eye on her," he affirmed, settling down beside her.

  Faelun was hunched over the ceremonial altar, his hands tracing the faded symbols and occasionally picking up the discarded items. The dust from centuries settled on his robes, blending into the intricate embroidery. "We have more luck than I would have expected," he said, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. "From the items and remains and symbols here, I can establish what is required for the ceremony, although the exact order of things will require some more study."

  Buren turned towards him, the torchlight casting stark shadows on his face. "How long until you can perform the ritual?" he asked, his voice sharp in the silence that followed.

  Faelun, ever the scholar, replied with a mixture of hesitation and caution. "Impossible to tell, we're going to have to search for these plants, and if the order of proceedings is unclear, there is bound to be some trial and error--"

  "You have one hour until the first trial run, and make it a good one," Buren interrupted, his voice firm and unwavering.

  "One hour!" Faelun gasped, his arms flailing in disbelief. "The King will have to wait longer than that. You know, proper planning is half the battle, and by moving without consideration, we might end up losing more time than if we had prepared properly."

  "I know that once the correct order of things is determined, the actual ritual can be carried out in minutes," Buren stated.

  "How could you possibly know that?" Faelun questioned, a hint of irritation creeping to his voice. "Even if that was true, most time will be taken by research prior to the event itself."

  Buren's gaze fell on the emaciated stranger lying on the ground. He seemed a ghost of a man, frail and barely breathing. "I don't think she has much time," he said quietly, "Or wouldn't you agree... Evangeline?"

  The room fell into a stunned silence. All eyes turned to the stranger on the floor. Slowly, he nodded, his skeletal neck creaking as each vertebra stood out in sharp relief under the harsh torchlight.

  "Help... me...", the figure whispered, the plea barely audible.