Despite their low status, the Boronime estate was in what passed for the better side of town, protected from the ocean mists by a screen of trees, although there was still the omnipresent odour of fish and rot. What should have been tall and elegant trees were instead black and twisted shapes, barely holding onto the ground, salt tainting their growth.

The manor was a squat, low thing, just about visible behind the surrounding walls. A pale, green light shone from within, the magical light casting a decidedly cancerous glow over the surrounds, making it seem even more ominous. Anef led the way, scouting through the shadows until they were in position. Shanelle threw a rope over the wall, checking it was secured before clambering up, the others following. Durapi gestured at Janaxia, who grabbed the rope, slowly pulling herself upwards, arms straining to support her own weight. As she neared the top, strong arms grabbed her, pulling her the rest of the way before carefully dropping her down on the other side.

They were in some rough, unkempt gardens, everything tatty and weed-ridden, as they headed for a stone out-building. Statues of gods and heroes looked at them, mostly hidden behind vines and ivy. Stood by the entrance was another figure, a twitch of movement the first sign it wasn’t another statue, knives suddenly gleaming in everyone’s hands. Feeling she should contribute, Janaxia focused, the slightest wisp of mage-light glowing around her fingers, a mild haze of yellow energy. It could do scarcely more than sting a foe, but it was better than nothing.

The figure lowered their hood, shaking long braids out, teeth glinting as they grinned in the low light.

‘Right on time, good job.’ It was Asai, her serpentine braids now tied with silver and gold beads. ‘It was easy enough to convince the fools here to tell me where the key was. They should wake up in a few hours with splitting headaches, and then wonder where the new servant has gone. But that’s a problem for them, not for me.’ She turned back to the door, pulling out a heavy iron key and turning it, the screeching of metal-on-metal piercingly loud in the still night. She wrestled with the key, finally managing to get it unlocked, door slowly swinging open under its own weight.

‘Stop!’ Just as Asai was about to step forward, Janaxia spoke, trying to sound commanding, but not wanting to yell. Asai froze, foot just about to cross the threshold as Janaxia moved forward. On the inside of the doorframe there was a thin line of silver embedded into the wall, a narrow channel that went all the way around the frame.

‘It’s a magical seal.’ She wriggled her fingers, hoping the yellow glow made her look appropriately impressive and dramatic, wanting to impress Asai. It was sloppy work (admittedly, more than she could do herself without taking weeks over it), probably some apprentice set to maintain the protections, but it would curse anyone that wasn’t blood-bound to the family that crossed the threshold. ‘A knife, please.’

Her order was swiftly followed, Asai passing her a sharp knife. Janaxia examined the edge, just in case it was dirty, wiping it clean on her cloak, then cutting her finger. Droplets of blood welled up and she let them fall, trickling them onto the silver. Where they touched, the blood hissed and steamed, the metal turning black for a moment before fading back to a normal colour. She let out a relieved sigh – whoever had done this had made the same mistake that Janaxia had made, not properly sealing the spell afterwards, so that it could be reattuned.

‘It won’t react as long as I remain here.’ It felt awkward to have to push herself against the doorframe as everyone else passed by, but it was worth it for the nod of approval she got from Anef. Once everyone was in, she followed, standing close to Anef and Asai, who were huddled in conversation.

‘…went about as well as could be expected. Shouldn’t be too bad from here on in.’ She turned to look at Janaxia. ‘Janaxia, what a delightful surprise.’ Her smile was flatteringly predatory. ‘We will have to find the time to talk.’ She let her eyes roam over Janaxia’s body, taking in what of the dress could be seen beneath the cloak. ‘At quite some length. My brother has had his pleasure, so I think it only fair that I get a turn.’

Janaxia smiled back, giving the faintest curtsey, pulling the dress tight against her body. ‘Of course, I would be only too happy to discuss whatever matters you desire, at your convenience.’

There was a dry snapping sound, as Lathran clicked his fingers. ‘Urgency and haste, if possible?’

‘Of course. Let’s move.’

They continued into the cramped darkness of what must be the family crypt, stone sarcophagi lining the walls. As they moved, Janaxia felt a sudden chill on her arm, deeper darkness seething out from her bracelet, trickling towards the wound on her finger. She tapped the gem, chidingly at first, then with more force, until the darkness drew back with a disappointed hiss.

‘Behave yourself! Or I’ll leave you down here!’

Ranaria’s voice was a distant, dry rattle. ‘You should dally with the man again, not some woman. You wouldn’t deny me that, would you?’

‘My assignations are none of your concern! Simply let me know if you observe any traps or harmful devices, or you will never see anything but darkness ever again.’

Asai must have heard her and looked concerned, as Janaxia smiled back, still tapping the gem to try and get Ranaria to return. ‘Simply casting some spells. I do not believe there is any immediate danger.’ A warding spell sputtered to life ahead of them, orange circles flickering and fading, before sparking out. Janaxia nodded, trying to look as though it had been her doing, although it had more likely been the result of bad maintenance.

Shanelle and Krem moved ahead, blending with the shadows. Janaxia had to squint, trying not to step on anything that might be a trap, or that might dirty her clothing too much. Ahead, they heard a slapping, leather on rock, Anef raising a hand for silence. Something moved in the shadows ahead, a shape shambling through the hallway, feet slapping against the rock.

Blank, dead eyes stared unblinkingly forward, as the zombie slowly shambled on a patrol route. It approached and they scattered, ducking into hiding places, Janaxia squeezing herself into the narrow space next to a sarcophagus, Asai moving there as well, squashing her further back. While it was pleasant to be so close to her, the circumstances – cold, damp and with the imminent fear of discovery - were not the best, or conducive to conversation. Especially with the number of pointy things Asai seemed to be concealing about her person, several of them poking into Janaxia, along with the spellbook on her waist, digging into her hip.

The zombie shambled past, head fixed straight forward, not looking to either side, or up. Fortunate, given that Krem had clambered up a wall and braced himself against a lantern bracket, his long body barely supported by the thin metal frame. It moved past without seeing them – as soon as it had, everyone pulled themselves from their hiding places and started to move, as quietly as possible, wanting to get past before it returned. Asai turned and offered her hand to Janaxia, pulling her out with enough force that their bodies bumped together, Asai whispering in her ear. ‘I like you keen. I’m sure I can spend some time with you here, once the job’s done.’ Her hand dropped down Janaxia’s back, giving her a swift swat to the rear as she pushed Janaxia forward. ‘Business first, pleasure later, sad to say. Nice to see you looking so very, very well though.’

Janaxia didn’t answer but did make sure to twist her hips a little more, to give Asai something pleasant to look at. The darkness around her wrist murmured something uncomplimentary, as Janaxia slapped it again. Tastes had been entirely limited in her day, apparently, or Ranaria was just blind to certain pleasures!

They had to sneak around several other undead sentries, all mercifully inattentive, moving in simple patterns that were easy to predict, allowing them to sneak past. A hole had been smashed in the wall, similar catacombs on the other side.

Asai shook her head. ‘Guess you don’t have to pay undead, but they make lousy guards. Didn’t notice me working away down here and smashing through, as long as I hid when they walked past. Anyway, keep an eye out, Janaxia, there’s going to be more wards and things on the other side. Wouldn’t want anything happening to your body until I’ve had some fun with it!’

From the seething, hissing shadow forming on her wrist, Ranaria had similar ideas, although with Anef involved rather than Asai. Janaxia started wishing she’d bought some holy water, something she could use as a threat! Still, she advanced through the gap, looking about with interest – it was far shabbier than her own family crypts, she noted with some pride, the stone-cutting all lower quality, without any of the accompanying magical decorations she expected. Hopefully none of the occupants would be quite as vocal as her own deceased relatives!

The group advanced more cautiously now, looking to Janaxia for guidance. She tried to look confident, keeping her back straight and shoulders level as she strode forward. She closed her eyes, attempting to attune herself to the magic of the place. There was coldness here – nothing as intense as Kinnevar’s dwelling, of course, but a similar feeling, of the stillness of the grave, of beings preserved past their death, stretching their existence into a thin, grey eternity.

‘We should be careful. Some of those interred here are not entirely dead and maintain a presence within this realm.’ They were all looking at her with respect, so she continued. ‘Touch nothing, and take nothing, lest you disturb their rest.’ That sounded suitably dramatic, she thought.

Anef took command. ‘You heard the lady. Let’s go, the night’s wasting!’

As they passed through the catacombs, Janaxia could feel pressure building above her, cold trickling down her spine, making her shiver in a highly unpleasant fashion. Whatever ritual they were performing was powerful, something drawing on energy from realms inhospitable to human life. Probably a celebration of the founder of the family, contacting them in the afterlife and appraise them of the current state of affairs. Well, as long as it kept them busy, then it was all to the good, but it was a relief to head up the stairs from the catacombs into the house proper.

A wooden door blocked their passage, refusing to open when Anef tried pushing it. Lathran stepped forward, fingers feeling the wood and metal, before sliding metal pins into the keyhole. Janaxia’s knowledge of the elven tongue was limited, so she couldn’t tell if he was incanting a spell, using words to focus, or simply swearing a lot, but it didn’t take long until something clacked, Lathran slowly opening the door.

Watching Shanella and Krem move was an education, at least when she could see them – moving along the walls, hiding behind objects seemingly far too small, barely visible except as patches of deeper darkness, her eyes straining to see them. The hallways were deserted but filled with all the usual clutter of well-established nobility – trophies and token of past scions and glories, all maintained by the staff, and giving ample hiding spaces, even for Durapi, who was decidedly on the bulky side. In the darkness, his blood-rune could be seen as a pale red light, easy to follow.

In the darkness, surrounded by Anef, Asai and the other rogues, Janaxia felt her confidence swell and bloom. Although it would be nice to show off her clothing more, this seemed a better fit than being forced to slave away, trying to learn arcane and abstract spells that simply slipped from her mind. But here, in the darkness, set on a mission, with some delightful companions (she wondered if Anef and Asai could be induced into a partnership afterwards, that would be delightful), in the darkness, she felt herself powerful and proud, rather than a beaten and unwanted excess daughter. This must be how Kinnevar had felt, sneaking into the fortress of a foe, seducing or slaying the opposition, or simply slipping through like a ghost, leaving victorious, with new treasure and tales.

Part of the wall shifted, a concealed door opening, a light, warm and orange, shining into the darkness, someone stepping out. There was a long, awkward silence as a servant stared back at them. Janaxia strode forward, feeling a mantle of power settle over her, as she stared imperiously down (actually up, as the fellow was taller than she was, but attitude mattered more than physicality, or at least so Kinnevar said) at him. He gawped at her, taking a step backwards in shock. She advanced, staying close, staring into his eyes.

‘I was wondering where you were - I expected to be tended upon my arrival. I suppose you were lazing about somewhere?’

She met his eyes, channelling the sheer, indignant wrath of the affronted noble of high blood. He couldn’t respond, simply staring at her, tongue waggling without producing any sounds, eyes bulging.

‘Don’t you talk back!’ She stabbed a finger at him. ‘Now, fortunately for you, there is important family business to be about.’ Magical energy, pale and red, flowed around her hand, darting into the servant’s eyes, which immediately glassed over. ‘Now, about your business, and you didn’t see me, or my companions, do you understand? I have returned on important business and will be in the library, and do not wish to be disturbed, even by family.’

His voice was slow and halting, as though he was dazed. ‘Yes. Of course, my apologies, madam. Your family are all conducting a ritual, and so will not be free until the early morning.’

‘Very good.’ She kept staring into his eyes, now thick and cloudy. ‘Do not tell your colleagues about this. Now, about your business.’ She clicked her fingers, the fellow still looking dazed, but turning on his heels and retreating, gait slow and unsteady. She turned back to the others, trying to look as though she had planned for that to happen. She’d never been able to cast any spell like that before!

Asai was looking at her, an appraising look in her eyes. ‘Useful. Didn’t think your family used many charm spells, at least not on the living!’

Janaxia tried to appear nonchalant and suppress the happiness she felt. She’d never been able to do that before! Her few attempts at such spells had always left her with a splitting headache, before Mother had found out and punished her for attempting to learn such spells, deeming them unbecoming of an Uth Tremari scion.

‘I have tried to cultivate a few less traditional talents. I find it helps to go against type at times, so as to be less predictable to my enemies.’

‘Well, that certainly helped. Good job. Now, we should hurry.’ Asai led the way, hurrying through the hallways. As they walked, Janaxia tried to recreate the sensation of casting the spell, that feeling of imperious grandeur, of utter confidence in her own powers. Was this what Kinnevar had felt like when he had done his legendary tasks? Chill darkness flowed along her arm, Ranaria whispering into her ear, sounding slightly perturbed.

‘That was new, Janaxia dear. Have you been hiding your talents? I’ve never seen you exhibit the slightest touch of such talent at any other time.’

Janaxia hissed back. ‘This scarcely seems the time to discuss such matters!’

‘Well, my dear, I would advise caution. I can sense great power here, so do be careful. Although if it does quash your soul, then I will gladly accept your body. Do try to avoid too much physical damage, please. That young man seems most taken with you, congress with him will be deeply satisfying.’

‘I sincerely hope I won’t die! Please keep an eye out, otherwise I won’t take you on any future outings.’ She tried to keep her voice down, hoping she appeared to be casting a spell, rather than talking to an overly excitable old ghost.

Ranaria’s voice turned wheedling. ‘Oh, I’m sorry Janaxia. I’ll be good! Just let me use your body, just a little. That young man is delicious.’

‘Well, you can’t have him. Or Asai, either.’

‘Why would I want her? No, it’s him I want!’ She gave a pleasurable sigh of anticipation. ‘That chest, mmmm, yes. And such stamina!’

Janaxia tried to ignore her as they came to a huge wooden door, bordered by grimacing gargoyles and warding statues. Lathran immediately set to work on the lock, fingers dancing until the lock popped open. Inside, was a large open library, shelves stacked and piled high, unordered and chaotic. But no guardian monsters appeared, no curses activated, as they entered.

Asai turned to Janaxia. ‘Any idea where the entrance is? It’s supposed to be sealed behind a magical orb, can you find it?’

Janaxia looked around the darkened room, having not the first idea where to look. She flicked the bracelet, raising it to her lips. ‘Ranaria, there is a magical orb somewhere in here. Could you kindly point it out? I will dedicate some wine to you if you help me.’

That got a soft whisper of approval, dark mist billowing out, flicking around the walls before returning. ‘That way, by the fireplace.’

Feeling more confident again, Janaxia strode towards the fireplace, stone pillars on either side carved into glowering wizards. She ran her hand over the spines, feeling ancient leather, soft beneath her fingers. In a niche, surrounded by random magical bric-a-brac, there was a worn and pitted bronze orb, whatever runes it had once borne now worn smooth. She drew it out, the thing glowing, the stone eyes of the wizards echoing the pale green colour. As she approached the fireplace, the glow brightened – behind the grating, she could see lines in the stone, indicating a sealed passageway.

Janaxia tried pushing against it with a hand, then pushing the orb against it, all without effect. As she did so, the atmosphere of chill and frost intensified, making her shiver and wish she had worn thicker clothing. She looked at the orb, noting the dirty brown smears across the surface, and sighed – so stereotypical! She bit her finger, as delicately as possible, re-opening the wound, then smearing a bloody stain onto the metal.

There was the gratifying grinding of stone-on-stone, the hidden passage sliding open. Asai came up behind her, whispering into her ear, body warm against her own. ‘Very good! You definitely deserve a bonus for this.’ She laid a kiss, harsh and hot, against Janaxia’s neck, making her shiver in anticipation, wishing it had been harder, a nibble or bite. ‘I do hope my brother hasn’t tired you out.’ Then she turned away. ‘Everyone, almost done. One more lock, and then we get gone. Keep it smooth and simple, people – we’re getting paid enough there’s no need for sticky fingers!’

Krem led the way through, ducking beneath the mantle and moving through the dark passage, Janaxia following behind with Asai, Durapi at the rear. Janaxia kept her hand raised, feeling the smooth stone above her, until it suddenly wasn’t there, the feeling of a space ahead and around them.

Crimson light suddenly flared, ruby-red and burning-bright. Janaxia winced, covering her eyes, hearing the chanting of a spell from nearby. An exclamation of surprise from Shanelle was suddenly cut-off mid-word, as her eyes adjusted to the light – there were in a domed chamber, filled with what were presumably the treasures of the Boronime, stone-cut niches filled with trinkets and treasures. In the centre was the source of the light, burning out from a lectern of black obsidian, so dark it appeared as a shaft of solid night.

Behind the lectern was a figure, tall and lanky, shape shrouded in ill-fitting robes, one hand raised, burning with eldritch energy. They spoke a spell, one Janaxia recognised as a paralysis charm, and suddenly she couldn’t move, her body frozen in place. Around her, the others seemed similarly afflicted, held mid-step, Durapi’s sword partially out of its sheath, gleaming in the bloody light.

The figure on the podium spoke, face hidden behind his hood. ‘At last, the time draws nigh! The power I have desired shall be mine!’ In the light, Janaxia could see that his robe was very ratty and worn, with inkstains on the sleeves, several holes seemingly nibbled through the cheap material. On the lectern was a heavy leather book portfolio chained in place, hovering slightly above the surface.