The gate creaked open at their approach, a row of praying statues seeming to stare them down as they approached. Anef and Asai had proven true to their word, reporting that a number of disappearances had been reported from near the Bonepit, the graveyard district on the edge of town. Despite the warmth of the day, down in the canyon it was chill, a thin mist filling the air, even with the sun high in the clear blue sky. Statues of the gods stared at them, centuries of burials having taken them from looming impressively to now being half-buried. Kamarisfrey, Queen of the Dead, had quite an accurate likeness, the artist having managed to capture her features well, although her husband was rather flattered by his statue, his true form being rather less muscular. Although, given the age of the statue, it’s possible he’d simply let himself go a bit after getting married.

Hundreds of small buildings, many half-collapsed, surrounded them, countless inscriptions worn away to nothing, more recent graves bearing funereal offerings of flowers, the only colour amongst the grey. The canyon walls held narrow tracks, leading to gated and locked entrances, where the great families of the town were buried. In the centre was a massive pit, where the bodies of those with no-one to claim them were tossed, firebombs occasionally following after them to make sure they stayed down.

Despite the sombre surroundings, with Janaxia so close, it was impossible for Stathis to sense if they was anything more threatening, as they made their way towards the Uth Tremari tomb. Misutira also accompanied them, having expressed a desire to pay respects to her own family, although was still dressed in her uniform.

She produced a large key, enchanted ice shaped into savage spikes, and passed it over to Janaxia, fulfilling some arcane point of etiquette. The door to the tomb was a solid slab of metal, covered with latent spells, gleaming with dark warning as they approached. One of them spat out a lance of energy, a black spike thrusting out towards Misutira. Stathis jumped forward and blocked it with her shield.

Unphased, Janaxia pushed the key into a one of the holes in the metal, the metal flowing and shifting to allow entrance, a rush of chill, stale air gushing out.

‘Is your ancestor going to be here? I’d rather not tangle with anyone that powerful.’ Stathis asked.

Janaxia shook her head, Misutira mirroring the gesture. ‘Oh no, he was very clear about wishing to be buried away from his wife.’ Rest assured, we shall not be seeing him here

Semari stopped poking at the door, apparently unconcerned by fear of traps. ‘Any other creepy dead relatives? I bet you’ve got a lot. Any of them going to try and possess or kill you? That’s what dead rich people do, right?’

Those of my family buried here are all entirely dead or resting. At least the last time we paid someone to check

‘Hope so, Undead are gross to fight. At least the squishy ones. They go splat!’ Semari complained.

You could learn to fight with weapons, that would save your clothing somewhat

‘Yeah, but weapons are a pain to look after.’

They entered the family tomb, greeted by a family tree carved into the wall. Noteworthy members had their names picked out in gold or silver, while a number of less-honoured names had been erased, simply chiselled off the rock. The family had been going for long enough that it spilled around onto the next wall, where it expanded out, several branches seeming to end with ominous swiftness.

Janaxia laid some flowers down, reciting a swift prayer to her family (and that entirely omitted any mention of the gods), as Stathis kept Semari from touching anything that might turn out to be cursed, or capable of summoning a wrathful ghost. As Janaxia prayers, the dust and mist swirled around her, a sudden screaming echoing around the cramped chamber. The mist coiled itself up, forming into loose robes gathering around a humanoid shape, topped by a leering skull. It leered at them, bright pinpricks of silvery-grey light burning in the eye-sockets, as shadowy hair started to form, barest shadow of a face over the skull, a tight-faced woman glaring at them. As the face flickered in and out of visibility, Stathis tried to look away before it gave her a headache, but not wanting to let the thing out of her sight.

It screamed again, rising up into the air on a pillar of its own mist-body. In the narrow space, the sound was deafening, stabbing into Stathis’ eardrums. Semari was covering her ears with her hands, before Janaxia calmly strode forward, bowing slightly to the figure.

‘Great Aunt Calpurnia.’

It leant in, peering at her, silvery-glow dimming.

‘And who might you be?’ The voice was harsh, demanding and hissing, stone on bone.

I am Janaxia, daughter of Poratia, of the line of Uth Tremari

‘Speak up! None of this mind-mumbling, haven’t you been taught any manners?!’

Janaxia took a deep breath, now using actual speech. ‘I am Janaxia, daughter of Poratia, of the line of Uth Tremari.’

‘One of Poratia’s brood? That would explain your manners. And your clothing. Really, coming to visit dressed like that?’ The spirit shook its head. ‘Some solemnity, really. And less skin, please!’ The mist and shadows continued to gather around the figure, dressing them in mage robes, loose and unflattering even on someone with a body beneath them. ‘Don’t just stand there with the door open! And wipe your feet, this place is terrible for dust as it is.’

Janaxia did what she could to make her clothing appear more appropriate, being somewhat limited by the material she had on hand, as they were led inside the tomb, the door sealing itself shut behind them. The creature continued to lecture Janaxia on the both her personal flaws, and those of her generation, as it led them further inside, barely-lit hallways filled with the thin, glowing mist. Metallic clinks and rattles came from somewhere out of sight, as they moved past stone tunnels, blocked by metal bars, some of which seemed to have been dented and bent from the other side.

Stathis drew her sword, just in case of attack, a slight glow of sunlight washing out from the blade, the mist recoiling and fading. The sound of complaining went silent for a moment, and then the wraith suddenly loomed at her, face bare inches from her own, head flickering between skull and human features still crazily. She stumbled backwards, smacking her head on a sconce embedded in the wall.

‘Young lady! Put that thing away. Were you not taught basic manners? Really, drawing a sword when you are a guest? How rude! Jaraxia, what sort of people are you associating with?’

Janaxia mumbled an apology.

‘Speak more confidently, child! The blood of the Icereaver flows in your veins.’

‘Yes, Great-Aunt Calpurnia. I’ll try, Great-Aunt Calpurnia.’

Semari snickered, the ghost rounding on her next, enough criticism to dent even her confidence, finding much to complain about, from the lack of shoes to the shoddiness of her clothing. The only one that went without criticism was Misutira, who seemed to get missed entirely.

‘So, who are these vagabonds and rogues? Having some useful pawns to manipulate can be useful, but you really should have higher standards. A beggar and a swordfighter?’

‘She is an Iristari, Great-Aunt.’ Janaxia sounded utterly browbeaten, as she gestured at Stathis, who tried to look somewhat more impressive.

The wraith gave a dismissive wave. ‘Newcomers. A few brief decades, and they think themselves impressive. When the centuries wear long, will any remember their names? I think not. And she must be the lesser of the line, I’ve not heard of her. Meanwhile, the other one is off leading the knights. Dirty and tiresome, but wouldn’t it be more fitting to seek her as an ally, than this sword-swinging lout?’

Stathis held herself back from asking quite what a tomb-wraith knew about Carissia. How did a tomb-wraith know anything about Carissia? They couldn’t get news down here, could they?

Around them, the mist thickened, blocking out their vision entirely. Statues loomed suddenly into vision, each and every one making Stathis jump, wanting something to actually fight, as more low wails and groans came from somewhere nearby. With the creature hovering along next to Janaxia, it was impossible to ask her for context, at least without getting an earbashing in return. Even Semari was disconcerted, not stopping to poke or investigate any of the carvings, although that was probably for the best.

Eventually, they came to a halt, the walls abruptly now rough, unworked stone. A dark, pulsing glow washed out, mingling with the mist, patches of darkness seething and broiling. ‘Well? What are you waiting for? That’s what you’re here for isn’t it, now go and deal with.’ The wraith gestured at them, much the same as one would command a recalcitrant under-butler to remove an empty wine bottle. Somewhere, in the darkness, a scuttling, slithering noise sounded. ‘Ugly beast, hopelessly wretched. Of course, it would be those’ she raised her voice, making sure she could be heard ‘Uth Carethi degenerates, letting in a pack of hoodlums!’

A voice, thin and ethereal, echoed back, something that sounded a lot like ‘Stuck up Tremari bitch!’

‘Well, go on then, I haven’t got all day. Well, I suppose I have, but shouldn’t you be a bit more active?’

They let themselves be chivvied into the main chamber, the ghost apparently seeing them as nothing more than workers for a task.

Stathis took point, Misutira close behind her. As she drew her sword, she heard a tutting from behind, which she did her best to ignore. The mixture of sunlight into the mist did little to help, illuminating nothing more than the patch of ground at her feet. She could see fragments of magical circles and summoning symbols, burnt onto the cave floor.

Sheer intuition protected her, a bone claw swinging out from the darkness, shield just about blocking it, wrenching her arm. Another attack swung in, screeching off her plate, cold penetrating even through her armour. She swung, sword cutting through darkness without connecting. They circled together, back-to-back around Misutira, waiting for another attack, darkness shrouding the area utterly.

A whoosing sound came from above as the thing dropped, a dark lump of fur, claws and fangs, slashing and cutting down at her. It knocked her to the ground, sword skidding into the darkness. She grabbed at it, trying to pin it in place for her companions to kill. Even through gauntlets, it felt slick and cold to the touch, a chill seeping into her arms as she tried to squeeze it, body gelid and warping under the pressure. Then her vision went fully black, a dark roaring surging up around her, freezing acid seeping through her armour, searing her back. Now she grabbed the thing tightly for protection, as it screamed and writhed, using it to shield herself from the cold and acid surrounding them both.

With an ear-splitting shriek, it died, body already beginning to fade away, darkness shredding away with it. Stathis rolled herself to her feet, making sure not to step into any puddles of acid, her body aching.

‘Give me some warning if you’re going to use that damn acid spell again!’

Janaxia, for once, was actually acting like a wizard, poking the runes on the floor, or at least, those that hadn’t been melted away by her spell.

It seemed wisest to ensure I hit the creature, but your noble sacrifice to hold it in place is appreciated

Stathis went to have a look at the marks - swirling cuts of shadow, deep enough black that they looked like holes into an endless abyss. The ghost swirled closer, tutting at the damage and complaining about the spirits from the neighbouring tombs and their dubious guests. It was definitely shadow magic of some kind, and the remains tossed in the corner made it fairly obvious what had happened to the missing people, the chill of the place having kept them from rotting or attracting flies.

‘Any idea what was for?’

An invocation to Galondwyn the Heartstealer, and the creation of a portal of some form, and the usual demon-summoning. All very lower-class work, no style at all

‘I’m not too concerned about their social standards, I just want to make sure it can’t be used again!’

Stand back

Stathis had barely move before seething red mist erupted from nothingness, coalescing into thick, ropy strands. They lashed and flailed, scourging the ground clean by smashing and beating it, the shadow-marks holding their form for a moment even after the ground vanished, before vanishing with hisses and pops.

A screech came from behind them, up on the walls, where Semari was clambering up, the ghost floating behind them, haranguing Semari for her lack of manners and the dirt she was leaving on the walls. Ghostly arms reached out, grabbing Semari by the scruff of her neck and pulling her off the wall. She flipped, managing to land on her feet.

‘So, is that going to stop this place being used again?’ It must be where the gate into the crypt had been made. ‘And the Heartstealer?’

The tendrils continued to smash and churn the ground, reducing the rocky floor to pebbles, then dust.

I would imagine so. Galondwyn is said to be most cunning, and of course, removes the hearts of her victims, rendering them incapable of emotion, while inserting herself into their place

With alarming spirit, the wraith shot across the room, a hand squeezing Janaxia’s jaw. ‘I’ve told you before, Janatia, not to mumble! You have a tongue in your mouth, use it!’ They let go, silver eyes blazing as Janaxia bowed her head.

‘Yes, Great-Aunt Calpurnia. I’m sorry, Great-Aunt Calpurnia.’

The spirit sniffed, then started drifting around the place, fussing over the damage done. ‘At least you can return via the tunnel. You really should come visit more often though.’ She drifted back, trying to tug Janaxia’s clothing into what she deemed appropriate, leaving chill white marks wherever her hands brushed flesh. ‘And send some servants to clean this up. You really should have bought some with you, if you were going to cause such a mess!’

‘Yes, Great-Aunt Calpurnia.’ As Janaxia was berated further for her myriad failings, Stathis checked the other entrances into the cave, getting Semari to help her block them up, ignoring the ghostly hissing coming from the darkness. By the time they were done, Janaxia looked utterly defeated, still being taken to task, before finally being granted surcease.

Back within the family tomb, part of the wall moved, revealing a hidden tunnel, walls coated with black ice. They were waved off, with Janaxia sagging as soon as they were out of sight, mentally drained.