Session 2

The week following the arrest of Tarkin Hatwood proved uneventful by comparison, giving Brabara’s squad a real sense of the monotony of their work.

They rose just before dawn, attended the daily hand-over briefing chaired by Sergeant Kevori, the Day Watch Commander, and her brother, Sergeant Delvin, the Night Watch Commander, and spent the day patrolling the streets of Neverwinter before returning to the barracks by sunset.

Mostly there was little to do. A few pick pockets here and there on market day but for the most part Neverwinter was a peaceful, law-abiding place. Of course, that wasn’t always the case.

Brabara knew how dangerous it had been. As a little girl growing up in the city, she’d seen a lot of change in the eight years since Dagult Neverember consolidated his position as Lord of Neverwinter. Before he came to power the only law was the sharpness of one’s steel and the resolve to use it. She’d seen more than enough death in her time, and despite the rumours regarding the legitimacy of Dagult’s claim, she could not deny that he’d steered this city well since taking the throne.

Crime, of course, could never be truly rooted out, and corruption still existed. Even the city watch was not immune. Brabara’s husband, Tiny, had been unable to resist the lure of extra coin and had been arrested and convicted of bribery. Despite his sentencing being more than a year ago the shame of his crimes still prickled.

How could she have fallen for a man like that?

Then her mother was killed. Murdered in the barber shop she and her father had run for many years. Brabara didn’t have a great relationship with her parents, they’d effectively disowned her the day she joined the watch with Tiny, but she did love them.

At the funeral, her father refused to even look at her. He left Neverwinter the next day, and she hadn’t heard from him since.

The death of her mother, her father’s scorn, and Tiny’s betrayal all hit Brabara hard. It filled her with rage, and she poured it out on patrol. All that anger cost her; reprimands, demerits, a missed promotion, before being taken off patrol and shunted to training new recruits.

It was a dark time for Brabara. After months of being angry with Kevori and Delvin, Brabara calmed down enough to realise they’d probably saved her. Her anger morphed into motivation and now here she was, newly promoted to corporal and with a squad of her own.

She looked her team over, a sense of pride swelling in her chest. Xalen, Seknafret, and Ebyn. Rough around the edges, sure, but she was determined to hone these three into the sharpest squad in the watch.

---

Xalen didn’t like it when Brabara became contemplative. He’d spent enough time around the big warrior to know that once she stopped talking and started thinking it usually meant extra work for him.

Why the guild picked him to become watch liaison made no sense to the young rogue. Xalen had grown up in the Thieves Guild. A childhood spent cutting purses in the crowded markets to an adolescence of fraud, confidence games, and even some light burglary. He’d been happy there. Slippery Pete, his foster father, had always looked out for Xalen and despite their criminal lifestyle he’d never been violent or cruel.

Xalen believed his assignment to the city watch to be a punishment, but he had no idea what he’d done to deserve it. Of course, he’d asked his foster father to explain it, but Slippery Pete refused to say anything beyond some vague platitude about opportunity.

It seemed like nonsense at the time, and he still felt that way.

Before, Xalen had been involved in all manner of guild activities. Now his only dealing with his former guildmates came via infrequent clandestine meetings in the city’s numerous dive bars. Conversation rarely extended beyond sharing the information they’d come to provide and never went further than inane pleasantries. If Xalen was in any doubt regarding his status in the guild, these meetings made it very clear.

Even though he was still counted as a member, he was no longer one of them.

So, instead, he’d decided to make the best of it and threw himself into the work of the city watch. His squad mates were an interesting bunch, and while being around them didn’t yet match the mateship he felt in the guild, he could feel those bonds growing.

Brabara was an adequate team leader. Her crude humour rarely rose above the gutter, but she knew the work and the city well. She’d spent her whole life in Neverwinter, so she knew the ins-and-outs of the many streets and alleyways as well as anyone.

By contrast, Seknafret and Ebyn were both new to the city, but that newness meant they had interesting stories to tell about places far and wide. Or, at least, Seknafret had stories to tell. Ebyn, on the other hand, despite his origins in the Shadowfell, the bookish wizard hadn’t spent a lot of time outside of a library since leaving his homeland.

Always keen to learn about far away and interesting places, Xalen sought out such stories and having two foreigners in his team was a boon. Slippery Pete had raised Xalen since finding him in the wreckage of a caravan that had been attacked by marauding orcs, but he had no clue about Xalen’s origin.

Even his real name was unknown. Slippery Pete called him Xalen because of the inscription on a silver key he’d found in the swaddling; Xaneel Ad Lamen Eld Nuata. So far, he’d had no luck translating the text or identifying its origin beyond it being some kind of elvish dialect.

---

Ebyn watched as Xalen, once again, rang a finger across the strange text engraved on the silver key the young thief wore on a chain around his neck. That key, whatever it might unlock, was clearly important to Xalen. So much so, that Xalen had asked Ebyn to translate the phrase engraved upon it before he’d even asked for his name.

Scholarship was a source of pride for Ebyn. Yet even his years of study weren’t enough for him to coax meaning from those five words. Still, at least Xalen made some tiny effort to engage with Ebyn’s passion, which was far more than he could say for Brabara.

Never had he met a more vulgar individual. Brabara somehow managed to frame every situation in sexual terms, which made it hard for Ebyn to take her seriously, despite her obvious experience.

He’d arrived in Neverwinter alone and with little money and quickly found that the city had scant work for a scholar. Especially one with zero reputation and no local knowledge. People here weren’t interested in philosophy or the abstract application of logic unless it could make them money.

So, he’d joined the watch out of convenience. They paid reasonably well and put a roof over his head which was more than he’d gotten trying to peddle his research skills to a disinterested population.

Ebyn applied himself aptly during training, absorbing the words of his tutors just as he’d done with the sages of the Shadowfell or Candlekeep. Thinking that once training was over, he’d be given the chance to apply his keen mind to solving crimes. But it soon became clear that the city watch was not what he’d imagined it to be.

Ebyn’s menacing dreams hadn’t abated since coming to Neverwinter, but they’d been with him for so long now he barely registered their contents anymore. A vague evil building somewhere with an ominous sense of unease. Whatever warning such dreams offered would go unheeded if he remained in the Neverwinter City Watch for too long.

Their primary goal was keeping the peace. The fact that the guild of thieves shared information with the city watch to the extent that they had an official liaison evaporated any lasting hope that he’d be called upon to do anything more meaningful than escorting drunken brawlers to dry out in the watch house.

But where would he go next? There was little point to aimless wandering. So, until he had an answer to that question he’d stay here, put up with Brabara’s boorish behaviour, and figure out the best way forward.

Perhaps Seknafret would be part of that next step.

She had come to Neverwinter because of a threat to what she refers to as “The Veil.” A magical barrier that separates the world of the living from the dead. Perhaps Ebyn’s nightly visions of calamity and the collapse of Seknafret’s so-called Veil were related.

It was an idea that had been growing steadily more likely in Ebyn’s mind. After all, how else could he explain the extraordinary coincidence that had brought them together in a place so utterly foreign to them both.

---

Ebyn was looking at her again.

Seknafret had noticed him doing that more of late, and while she could detect no malice in him, it still made her uncomfortable.

The scholarly elf’s attention started a few nights ago, the day they’d arrested Tarkin Hatwood. The four of them decided to celebrate their first successful mission as a team in one of the city’s many taverns. It was a good night, bonding after their success, and she’d shared a little about her past. It was the first time she’d been open with anyone since the attack.

Seknafret had come to Neverwinter from the Anauroch Desert with an entourage worthy of foreign nobility. As befitted her station she had taken up residence in the prestigious Bluelake District and had been feted by several local noble families.

Her people were tasked with the responsibility to protect the veil between worlds. For millennia, her order had kept The Veil intact, but lately the methods they used were becoming less effective. She’d come to Neverwinter to gain a better understanding of permanent magical effects such as those that kept the river warm, heating the surrounding lands and keeping winter at bay.

Surely, her people had reasoned, a place with the power to stand against the seasons would have arcane knowledge helpful to Seknafret’s order. In truth, she’d found a city only recently recovered from a terrible disaster and nothing much in the way of mystical wisdom.

She’d been on the verge of recommending a return to the desert when the attack happened.

They came in the night. Masked figures entered through the locked windows and doors of her apartment bringing death. One of the attackers grabbed her, she twisted free and managed to tear his mask away before throwing herself out a window.

The man leaned out to catch her, a purple birthmark on his face twisting as he fought to haul her back inside. Seknafret kicked and scratched, finally forcing the man to let go, and once clear she sprinted away.

She joined the city watch the very next day.

Seknafret assumed she’d be able to use the resources of the watch to find the ones who’d attacked her. But since completing her training they’d done little but intervene in a drunken brawl or two and thwart the occasional pickpocket.

Of course, she understood that it would be a slow process. Getting to the bottom of whatever happened that night would take time, but the reality has proved to be even less inspiring than her worst expectations.

She liked her team well enough. Xalen had a casual way about him that made him easy to get along with. Brabara came across as larger than life, but Seknafret got the sense of an underlying pain, as if her boisterous vulgarity was a way of compensating for some past trauma. Only Ebyn remained aloof. The young scholar managed to combine caution with single-mindedness in a way Seknafret had never experienced. It made him difficult to talk to and strangely unpredictable. That, added to his recent interest in her, gave her pause.

Could she trust him? Was he somehow involved in the attack upon her and her people?

She had no evidence to suggest he was anything other than what he appeared. A shadar-kai from The Shadowfell with no experience dealing with people outside academic circles. For now, Seknafret resolved to give Ebyn the benefit of the doubt, but she didn’t have to put up with the staring.

“Ebyn,” Seknafret said, keeping her voice even. “Can you please stop looking at me like that, it makes me uncomfortable.”

Ebyn’s eyes widened, and he jerked his head away. “Sorry,” he managed, face reddening.

Brabara sniggered. “This is probably the closest he’s been to a beautiful woman in his life.”

Seknafret’s eyes narrowed, and she turned toward Brabara. “And you’re not helping,” she said flatly. “I don’t see how another inappropriate comment from you alleviates my discomfort. Do you?”

Now it was Xalen’s turn to chuckle. “She’s got you pegged.”

Any reply Brabara might have offered was stopped by the arrival of a messenger. “Are you Corporal Coldbush?” the young lad asked.

“I am,” she replied.

“Got a message from Sergeant Kevori,” he said, holding a palm up.

Brabara fished around her expansive waist and produced a small copper coin which she placed on the messenger’s raised palm.

The boy remained motionless.

“What?” Brabara asked.

“I had to walk a lot to find you,” he said with a shrug.

Brabara rolled her eyes and placed a second copper coin next to the first.

The boy smiled and closed his fist over the coins. “Sergeant Kevori asks that you report back to the watchhouse immediately.” His message delivered, the young lad turned and walked away.

“That was odd,” Brabara said, eyes tracking the boy as he walked.

“Odd how?” Ebyn asked.

“The messenger,” she said. “Why not use someone from the watch to summon us?”

“What do we do?” Xalen queried.

Brabara shrugged. “I guess we go to the watchhouse and find out.”

The squad made their way through the streets of the city directly to the watchhouse. A stone building located in the shadow of the impressively named Hall of Justice. Kevori, who was standing by the reception desk when they entered, ushered them into her office.

“I see you got my message,” the sergeant said as she closed the heavy wooden door behind them.

Brabara nodded. “We did, but why not…”

Kevori cut her off. “I didn’t want another patrol asking questions, at least not yet.”

“Questions about what?” Xalen asked.

“You no doubt noticed that my brother, Delvin, was absent from this morning’s hand-over briefing,” Kevori began. “He has been investigating suspicious activity amid the ruined blocks in the west of the city. I put down his failure to show for the morning hand-over to him getting caught up out there, but he’s still not back and I am worried.”

“Why don’t you want to involve the rest of the watch in this?” Ebyn asked. “It would seem relevant to their interests.”

Kevori sighed. “You see, before he left to go look around last night, he told me not to.”

Brabara took a deep breath. “When was the last time you saw Delvin?”

“Last night, after the evening hand-over,” Kevori said. “He told me what he was doing and assured me he’d be back before sunrise.” She looked at Brabara and Xalen, “You both know how dangerous the ruins can be at night, so I told him to take a squad with him, but he said he couldn’t be sure he could trust them.” She shook her head. “I should have questioned him more, but we’ve been doing this kind of work for years. Delvin knows how to take care of himself, so I decided to trust his judgement.”

“And you haven’t heard from him since?”

“No,” Kevori balled her hands into fists. “I’ve got to try and find him.”

“And you’d like us to accompany you?” Brabara said.

Kevori nodded. “I am going to take my own advice. Given the way you all handled yourselves with Tarkin Hatwood, I reckon you’ll be able to handle the ruins.”

Xalen nodded. “When do you want to head out?”

Kevori started strapping a sword around her waist. “Right now. Corporal Dunning can cover the evening hand-over.”

---

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon by the time the five of them reached the part of town known as the ruins.

An unimaginative name for the large section of the city that had still not been rebuilt after the devastation from the eruption of Mount Hotenow fifty years earlier. The whole expanse was little more than an undulating field of melted rock from which stuck tumbled down stones and partially collapsed walls.

Anything wooden that once formed part of the buildings had burned away, leaving a veritable forest of dangerously unstable piles of dressed stone jutting from the now solid lava flow.

“What a mess,” Seknafret said, eying the whole area suspiciously.

Kevori nodded. “This section of town was hit hard in the eruption. You can see why the reconstruction projects haven’t decided to tackle this area yet.”

Ebyn raised an eyebrow. “And these ruins are dangerous?”

“Yes. Especially after dark,” Kevori explained. “The only reason anyone comes out here is to do something they know to be wrong. Dump bodies, exchange contraband, violence, general mayhem.”

Ebyn frowned. “But if you know this to be true, why not have patrols in this area?”

“Because there is nothing worth protecting here,” Kevori said simply. “Our job in the watch is to keep the city safe, and sometimes that also includes keeping its citizens safe but not if they move beyond our patrolled spaces.”

“But we’re here now,” Ebyn pointed out. “Looking for your brother.”

She nodded. “I recognise the hypocrisy, and I don’t care. If you don’t want to go any further, I won’t force you.”

Ebyn considered a moment. “I will continue.”

Kevori nodded and led the squad into the ruins.

Despite the years, the acrid smell of sulphur still hung heavy in the air as the group stepped cautiously through the blackened buildings. This once-thriving part of town had been obliterated by the catastrophic eruption of Mount Hotenow.

Dark skeletons of buildings jutted out against the orange sky, casting long, haunting shadows across the cracked streets.

"Stay close," Kevori whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling remnants of a long-cooled lava flow. "There could be dangers lurking in the shadows."

They picked their way through the twisted remains of buildings, occasionally coming across eerie statues of townsfolk caught in their final moments, frozen forever by the volcanic ash. Each step a reminder of the city's tragic past.

Night settled over the melted streets making the already sinister surroundings a horror show of unnatural shapes and shadows. Now and again, the sound of skittering could be heard, but whether it be people, rodents, or something else, they couldn’t say because nobody caught sight of anything or anyone.

“This aimless wondering is getting us nowhere,” Ebyn said. “I can have Hoot scout the whole area from above and see what it sees.”

“Hoot?” Kevori asked.

Ebyn snapped his fingers, and an owl appeared on his forearm. “My familiar.”

Kevori nodded. “Do it.”

Ebyn closed his eyes, transferred his vision to the owl and sent the familiar out flying. He directed the fey creature to fly in a tight zig-zag pattern over the blighted area. The darkness posed no problem for the owl, its impressive night vision surpassed even that of most elves.

Hoot flew its course methodically, allowing Ebyn to cover the area in a fraction of the time it would take the five of them to walk. Here and there he spotted torches with a few individuals around them in conspiratory huddles.

Ebyn relayed the location of each of them to Kevori as the owl flew by overhead.

Hoot approached a large building at the eastern edge of the ruins. It would have been an impressive structure before the eruption, perhaps a church or official building. Hoot circled the remains of a spire, half the masonry still stood but the rest had collapsed onto the long cold pyroclastic flow.

It was there that Hoot spied the body. A human male, alone, unmoving amid the fallen stones.

Ebyn directed Hoot to land beside the figure. The man’s face was partly covered by a hood, but Ebyn was familiar enough with Delvin to know that he’d found him.

“Hoot has him,” Ebyn said, returning sight to his own body.

“Is he… ?” Kevori trailed off, as if saying the words would make it real.

“I can’t be sure,” Ebyn replied. “But it doesn’t look good.”

Kevori stiffened. “Where is he?”

“Close to a big building to the east with a collapsed spire,” he said.

“The church,” said Xalen. “I know it. Follow me.”

The five of them moved quickly through the streets, avoiding anywhere Ebyn had spotted torches, and reached the church about fifteen minutes later. Kevori saw Delvin’s fallen frame and sprinted forward.

She rolled her brother’s body over and placed two fingers at his neck. She held her breath for several seconds before letting out an anguished wail.

 

“He has something in his hand,” Xalen pointed out.

The young rogue’s words seemed to restore Kevori’s focus. She gently laid her brother’s corpse down and set about checking him for clues.

She found three things of interest. First, was a nasty looking wound in Delvin’s lower back. The deep cut was blackened at the edges, suggesting poison of some kind. A crumpled piece of paper was tucked into one of Delvin’s pockets, on it were the words; “Hail the Undying.” And in his hand Delvin held what looked like a withered eyeball.

Ebyn gasped when he saw it. An image from his visions snapped into his mind and he staggered slightly.

“Ebyn?” Seknafret queried. “What’s happened?”

The young wizard shook his head. “That eyeball, it’s like I have seen it before.”

Kevori shot him a look. “Where?”

“I have visions,” Ebyn explained. “I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. Warnings of some future calamity, but they have always been vague hints at the edge of my consciousness.”

Kevori held up the desiccated eyeball. “And this, umm, thing is part of it?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Ebyn shook his head. “I’ve never had a reaction like that before.”

“And what about these words; ‘Hail the Undying’,” Kevori said. “Do they mean anything to you?”

Ebyn shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“It bares looking into, but first I’d like to get Delvin’s body back to the watchhouse.” Kevori turned to collect her brother’s body when she felt the eyeball move in her hand.

She dropped it with an involuntary squeak. “It moved,” she spat, revulsion evident in her face.

Ebyn’s eyes narrowed. “Give me a minute.”

The wizard spoke a series of arcane words while his fingers wove intricate patterns in the air. When the spell was cast, he directed his newly enhanced senses toward the eyeball now lying on the ground at Kevori’s feet.

“It’s magical,” he said and continued to stare directing his awareness deeper. “A type of divination magic I believe.”

Xalen bent down to pick it up. He held the eyeball in his palm and turned his body around. The eyeball moved as he spun, the black iris fixed on a specific direction. “It’s almost like it’s a compass or something.”

“Yeah, but a compass that points to what?” Brabara said.

“I’m hoping that is something you four will find out,” Kevori said. “I know I asked you here purely out of concern from my brother, but it’s clear that whatever is going on here is beyond the capabilities of most in the watch. Will you do it?”

“I’m in,” Ebyn said immediately.

The others agreed as well.

“Thank you,” Kevori said. “I will take my brother’s body back to the watchhouse and see if he has any more information there about what led to all this.”

---

Using the eyeball as a guide, the squad quickly found their way to a dark tunnel covered in a set of mouldering wooden boards that would easily have been missed were it not for the empty gaze of the withered orb.

The tunnel’s twisting path led them deep underground, yet still the magical eyeball remained fixed on some point in the distance. The rough-hewn tunnel ended in a square chamber with dressed stones and a pool of fetid water in one corner that disappeared into a second, wider tunnel.

“Looks like part of the city’s old sewer system,” Xalen surmised.

“Maybe,” Brabara said. “I don’t relish the idea of wading into that.”

“We don’t have to,” Seknafret said, pointing. “There’s a narrow crack in the wall there that we should be able to squeeze through.”

Xalen looked Brabara up and down. “All of us?”

“Hey!” Brabara cuffed the young rogue playfully.

It was tight, but they managed to make their way through the narrow passage which soon widened before curving around to the right where it ended on the back side of what might have been a hidden door. An opening on the left wall led to another water filled chamber.

“Nope, not doing that,” Brabara said. “Through the door, I think.”

Xalen checked the mechanism of the door, and once he was satisfied it held no surprises, he stepped aside to let Brabara open it.

A stone, gold-painted sarcophagus rested in the centre of this tomb. The sides of the sarcophagus bore a relief depicting two women gazing lovingly at one another over a field and with a city in the distance. The lid had a faintly distinguishable family crest carved into it.

Old weapons, decorated armour and shields lined the walls of this room. A passage led out of the tomb with stone steps going upward.

“Any of this magical?” Brabara asked Ebyn.

Ebyn repeated the ritual from earlier and cast his gaze over the equipment. “Only that shield.”

“Figures,” Brabara scoffed. “Can’t use one of those with a glaive. Anyone else want it?”

Seknafret shook her head. “I did not come here to desecrate a grave. I recommend we leave these funerary items alone.”

“Pfft,” Xalen said, with a smile. “You’re no fun.”

They climbed the stairs to a large octagonal chamber with an impressive, vaulted roof. Three other exits were carved into the angled walls, with glossy urns and cinerary boxes lining the remaining walls. A ghostly humanoid figure, clad in plate armour, floated in the centre of the room above a circular metal drain.

The ghost’s body turned to face the group as they reached the top of the stairs. It remained silent and made no move toward them, a featureless luminescent orb where its head would be.

“Don’t see that every day,” Xalen quipped.

“See if it will let you sneak past it,” Brabara said keeping her voice low.

Xalen nodded. “Which exit?”

Ebyn looked down at the eyeball, seeing its gaze pointing almost back the way they came. “The tunnel just there,” he said. “It might curve back around in the direction we need to go.”

Xalen padded off, his footfalls making barely any noise as he went.

The ghost seemed to track his passage with its head but did nothing to stop him. The others quickly followed.

The short passage ended in another large chamber.

What might once have been a serene crypt now lay in ruin. Two chipped stone pillars brace a vaulted ceiling beneath which eight stone coffins are arranged in rows of four. All the coffins are cracked open, and their reanimated former occupants prowl the room. At the centre of the wall opposite was a dirtied and desecrated shrine bearing the image of a blank scroll. At the far end of the room another passage led out to the darkness beyond.

“Temple to Oghma,” Brabara pointed out. Oghma was Neverwinter’s primary religion, so she’d seen that symbol many times before.

“We’re not likely to just sneak past all of those undead,” Xalen said. “Do we have to go that way?”

Ebyn nodded. “It appears we do.”

“Okay then,” Brabara said, hefting her glaive.

“Wait,” Seknafret said. “If this was a shrine to Oghma, and these eight undead represent the eight people buried here we might be able to avoid combat by rededicating the shrine.”

“Any idea how we might do that?” Brabara queried.

Seknafret had spent her life in various forms of religious observance and had a solid understanding of the principles of faith. “I think I know what must be done.”

Seknafret entered the room, walking confidently to stand before the shrine. The zombies paused their milling for a moment and stood watching her intently. She took a flask of water from her backpack and poured the clean liquid over the filth that covering the shrine, using her hand to wipe away as much of the dirt as possible.

The zombies turned from curious to hostile. As one, all eight undead lurched toward Seknafret as she cleaned.

Brabara took a step into the room to try and block some of the zombies, but Seknafret raised her hand, fingers pointing over Brabara’s head. “Stay back,” she said.

Brabara did as Seknafret asked and took a hesitant step back into the passage.

Seknafret clutched the talisman she wore and directed a portion of her magic into the shrine causing it to glow with a white light. As the glow touched the zombies, they each stopped walking and fell to the ground.

“It should be safe to pass through,” Seknafret said, her rapid breathing betraying her relief.

Brabara clapped a hand on Seknafret’s back on her way past. “Outstanding.”

The group moved through the reconsecrated shrine and out the passage indicated by the eye. The tunnel continued for about a dozen steps before it widened slightly where a double door made of green-tinged stone was set into the wall.

The passage they followed continued into the darkness, but the eldritch eye had its gaze fixed on the green stone door.

A large carving of a grinning skull was cut into the wall opposite the double door. One of its eye sockets held a wide eyeball with a jewelled iris, while the other eye socket remained empty.

“Do we put the eye in the empty socket?” Brabara asked.

Ebyn nodded. “It does seem to be the logical option.” He stepped forward to place the eye into the space.

The eyeball pulsed with a sickly green light and the stone doors opened with a faint click to reveal a wide set of stairs leading down.

“After you,” said Xalen to Brabara with a slight bow.

“You’re too kind,” she said and started down the stairs.

The stairway ended at a wide sanctuary with a vaulted ceiling. Several stone pews were arranged into orderly rows before an ornate looking altar upon which black candles burned with a green flame. Atop a pulpit beside the altar stood a jagged sculpture of an emaciated hand with one eyeball in its palm. Two passages exited the sanctuary to the left and right.

“I am really not digging the vibe down here,” Brabara muttered. “This whole hand an eye thing is giving me the creeps.”

“Yes,” agreed Seknafret. “Me too. The sooner we can be clear of this place the better.”

“Which way?” Xalen said with a shrug now they no longer had the eye to guide them.

They exited via the left passage. It travelled a short distance before opening into a long room with a circular wall at one side. Crooked shelves filled with books and scrolls stood against the walls, while in the centre of the room was a square table covered with scribbled notes and ink-stained parchment.

Ebyn moved directly to the notes and started reading them.

“Just gather them up and take them with you,” Brabara said urgently. “I don’t want to spend a minute down here longer than we have to.”

“But there might be important information contained here,” Ebyn said.

“It will still be in there once we’re back at the barracks,” Brabara pointed out.

Xalen stood with his head cocked by a rough-hewn passage that exited the room beside one of the bookshelves. “There’s some kind of chanting coming from down here.”

Ebyn scooped up the papers and notes and shoved them into his pack. Then randomly selected several tomes from the bookshelves and added them as well. The weather-beaten leather container bulged but the weight of too many books was a burden Ebyn was very familiar with.

Slowly, they made their way down the rough-hewn passage. The rhythmic sibilant chanting became louder as they followed the curved path to a large natural looking cavern.

Cacophonous whispers echoed in this expansive cave. An imposing human dressed in a sweeping robe stood against a wall chanting. His oily hair slicked back, his skin gaunt and grey.

Carved into the floor before him was a runic circle that pulsed with that same sickly green light. Two others – a human, and an elf – stood inside the circle, heads thrown back with their mouths gaping.

“Release your secrets unto me!” the robed man’s voice boomed. “Let the hidden truths in your soul take form and submit to my will!”

As if in response, the two figures in the circle began to change. Their silhouettes lengthened and warped as their bodies were consumed, leaving two shadowy forms in their place.

The robed man glanced across to see the group standing by the tunnel entrance. His face creased into a cruel smile, and he points. “Kill the intruders!”

The shadows flew at Brabara with surprising speed, and she barely managed to get her glaive up to halt their advance. Her weapon glowed as she swung at the nearest of the shadow creatures striking firmly despite their amorphous appearance.

Xalen tumbled past the shadows and into the ritual cavern. He rose smoothly and sent an arrow into the grey robed figure, while Seknafret followed up with an eldritch blast that struck the man squarely in the chest. Ebyn uttered an arcane word causing a deep tolling bell to sound. The sonorous clang caused the robed man’s flesh to wither and die, and he fell in a lifeless heap on the ground.

With the man’s death, the two shadow creatures dissipated into the darkness and the cavern fell silent.

The runic circle hissed and flashed with lurid light, then – as if someone had poured water on a fire – the light dimmed, and a shadowy smoke rose from the carvings. The smoke gathered in the centre of the chamber where it coalesced into an apparition of an emaciated skull with one glowing green eye.

The skull turned to look at them. It said nothing, but they could all feel the terrible evil that emanated from it in a wave. The skull remained floating above the now darkened circle for several long seconds before evaporating.

“What in the nine hells was that?” Brabara said, breathing heavily.

Ebyn swallowed. “The enemy.”