“I don’t suppose you thought far enough ahead as to decide whether you would jump in immediately or rest before venturing into one of the most dangerous structures ever built.” Theihdow, showing actual emotion for once, chuckled as he watched Flip take down notes on his spell.

Flip, busy in his note-taking, did not respond to the vampire’s jab. Instead it was Dovhran who answered, though he couldn’t muster an ounce of confidence to back his words up. It didn’t help that his clothes were still smoldering slightly.

“We should wait. Maybe take a light rest…” the changeling looked around nervously. “Though we should keep watch on this new crater in case something comes out.”

“What would come out?” Selian, still exasperated, nearly screeched at the changeling.

Dovhran cringed as he patted out a burnt patch of skin, but answered as casually as he could. “I imagine there are some things protecting the tomb that could leave… Meadowthorn did say there was a creature in there that he would like to have put out of its misery.”

“It won’t leave, even if you crack the structure open.” The vampire hummed. “Nor would it be so close to the entrance.”

“We should rest then.” Selian growled. The elf was exerting a great deal of effort to restrain herself.

Eventually, Selian calmed down.That calm seemed to fall over everyone as they settled into a group around a small conjured fire a few dozen feet away from the now craterous opening into the tomb. And as they all rested, they found themselves unable to feel at peace. They may have sat or laid down, but they couldn’t escape the tension that was keeping them on edge. There was little to talk about, and even with food and water from the flat, the only one close to actual calm was Theihdow. And the vampire’s calmness stemmed from a knowledge that nothing in the tomb would be able to destroy him. The rest were all subjected to their fear of the unknown and the terrifying prospect that their death could easily be hidden within the darkness of the tomb.

Fittingly, it was Flip that ventured to the opening first. Unable to rest properly, the wizard knew he was only becoming more and more tired and that it would be better to face whatever immediate threat was within the vestibule of the tomb before he collapsed from fatigue…. again. In his mind, Flip believed that the best way to deter intruders would be to have a dangerous and flashy countermeasure in the first area of the tomb. And that countermeasure, whatever it was, should have been dealt with immediately. But the rest of the group had been reluctant. So while the best time might have been two hours earlier, the second best time was just then.

As Flip grew close to the opening in the ground he could hear someone else coming up alongside him. He was surprised to see that it was Selian. Of his several companions, he expected the elf to follow his lead the least. Flip thought the hox would be more likely to follow him than the elf.

“How far in can you see?” Flip asked. “My feeble human eyes are less perceptive than yours.”

“Not much further than you, probably. I still need light see, and it is pure darkness down there.”

“I don’t suppose you have some kind of light spell that isn’t a campfire?” Dovhran had also crept up behind the two at the entrance and was peering in as well.

Flip, without a word, flourished his hand and produced a small yellow mote of light that he dropped into the open pit. It dropped rather indelicately, but stuck to the ground where it landed and illuminated a small space around it.

“That works.” Dovhran muttered.

Flip didn’t have to look to know what the changeling’s eyes were doing. H could almost hear it, the clumsy shifting of form to form isolated on his eyes as he tried to find the best biological lens to view the now illuminated darkness. Selian watched carefully and noted on the feline shape that his pupils took as he finally settled on a form for his eyes and panned around the dark space.

“It looks empty.” Selian hummed nervously. “Unless you can see something I can’t?”

“I’m trying to copy the hox’s eyes… and I can’t see anything either.” Dovhran sighed. “But that could just be a failure on my part. My replication isn’t perfect. I can see a decent amount of the area, but it just looks like an empty room built out of very sturdy gray stone brick.”

“I know you said you wouldn’t enter the tomb, but I don’t suppose you be willing to look inside?” Selian called back to the vampire that had kept his distance.

“It’s not just that I won’t, but that I can’t. My agreements prevent me from even looking in.” Theihdow called back. “But if you would like to leave me some names and places I can deliver a final message should you never return.”

“He’s not being serious… right?” Dovhran muttered to the two companions directly next to him.

“There’s a boy guarding my tower in Builend,” Flip shouted back to the vampire. “If I die, tell him to burn it down.”

There was a mild shock on Dovhran’s face as he heard Flip’s final message and even greater shock among everyone as the wizard leapt into the tomb without saying another word.

“Like velvet wings…” Flip muttered a truncated incantation under his breath as soon as his feet left the ground. As he drew a feather quill from a pouch and held it out in front of him he felt his body slow in the air and he began to descend at an increasingly slow rate until he stopped just an inch shy of the ground.

With several more practiced flourishes of his hands, Flip produced five more yellow motes of light and tossed them around the space he had entered. The light they shed slowly grew to a point where he could see most of the room around him. The space was much smaller than the outline they had carved on the surface, meaning that the door that Flip now saw not but twenty feet to his left was not a stairway down but likely a whole other chamber they would have to pass through.

A rope slithered to the ground next to Flip and Dovhran quickly slid down next to the wizard, shortsword in one hand and a dagger ready in the other. His descent, controlled only with his legs, had been quite impressive and Flip would have congratulated the changeling had he felt that more kindness existed between them. As it was, both adventurers stayed quiet as they stood in the dim light. And as Selian made her slower descent down the rope, upside down and dangling by her legs as she slowly panned around the room with her bow drawn, the two already on the ground spread out just enough to give her room to dismount.

“Looks like we really are clear.” Dovhran whispered. “And it looks like there’s only one door.”

“Shall I blow open the other side of the outline?”

“No!” Dovhran and Selian shouted in unison.

“If this is just a door, we can get past it.” Selian was quick to stumble onto a reason why they shouldn’t cause more damage.

“I should also check around the room for traps. I doubt This room is actually empty.” Dovhran looked around the room carefully again but didn’t move for fear of setting something off. “Can I take on of these lights?”

“They should be solid enough to hold.” Flip nodded. “Unless your hands are too frail.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Flip didn’t respond, but made another flourishing gesture and tossed the resulting mote of light to Dovhran. The changeling caught it with a surprising heft but carried on, still uncomfortable but more determined than scared.

Dovhran carefully strode over to the nearest wall, careful of where he placed his feet and what he walked by. He was primarily worried about pressure plates and trip wires, but he found nothing. When he reached the wall, he looked for some kind of marking or design but found only gray slate stone and well preserved brick. Event after making a near full inspection of the entirety of the wall, the changeling found nothing. When he made it back to where he had started, the three relaxed somewhat.

“It is remarkably boring in here.” Flip groaned, almost disappointed. “And the lock here is just… a lock.”

Flip gestured boredly to the door as he wandered in its direction. It was a metal plated door of incredibly sturdy construction that fitted to the edges of the opening perfectly. And, as the wizard had pointed out, it was sealed with a simple metal padlock.

“It looks like it isn’t locked.” Selian muttered as she crept up carefully behind Flip.

“Touch it.” Dovhran urged, nervously.

Not one to behave with any realistic sense of caution, which Dovhran was banking on, Flip acted as he was beckoned to. The lock was cold to the touch, and for a moment Flip thought nothing would happen. But then something did happen. Something entirely unexpected and startling and, for Flip, annoyingly mundane. Nonetheless, it caused Flip to remove his hand from the metal.

“Remain calm.” A voice belonging to none of the adventurers reverberated throughout the room. It was a masculine voice and it spoke in an odd dialect of a human language common to the nation of Cardonna, which the three only mostly understood. “There is no threat here, I have provided you one last opportunity to turn back.”

“Who’s there?!” Dovhran spun around wildly, looking for a source to the voice.

As if on command, a form appeared by the door. A half solid and flickering image of a man in a faded purple robe adorned with a knotted braid of violet rope wrapped around his waist and a plethora of rings adorning his fingers. His face was obscured by the lacking quality of the illusion that had been conjured, but enough detail was visible to reveal the arcane nature of the individual being shown by the illusion.

“I built this tomb to safeguard information that should never see the light of day again, though I concede that I may be wrong in that belief. Regardless, you have already overcome what is perhaps the greatest challenge I have ever devised; that is, finding this room. And I must assume my old friend has met you at the very least, whether he had been evaded or approved of your goal here… or perhaps he has moved on in his existence.” There was an awkward paused as the illusion flickered, and without a clear facial expression to indicate why. “And so, I have to assume that you are one of two types of people to have come here and hope to pilfer what I have so carefully hidden. You are either a genius of unusual caliber with an intent to abuse what you will find, or you are a skilled adventurer in desperate need of what I have hidden. Should you be anything else, you will not survive past this room. I hope you are the latter… and for you, I leave the key. Complete my message.”

The illusion faded in a violet mist as the arcane recording ended. The three inside the tomb could not hear or see the familiar sorrow of Theihdow as he heard the voice of his old friend for the first time in over a hundred years. The wizard, the mercenary, and the navigator knew nothing of the figure in the illusion that had left them the message, they saw him only as their adversary—the force preventing them from their noble goal.

“What does that mean… compete my message” Selian mused out loud.

“It’s a riddle, I imagine.” Dovhran groaned. “Message… message. What was his message? A warning?”

Flip sat down by the door and rested his chin on the backs of his interwoven fingers as he pondered silently on what his companions muttered out loud. He had heard the same message, and what he had taken away from it was that he would likely die. The apparent riddle at the end also enraptured his mind. He was fond was riddles and puzzles, unpuzzling spells was the part of the arcane arts that he most enjoyed.

“It was set off when you touched the lock, right?” Dovhran asked Flip, only barely getting the wizards attention. “Faengil?”

“Hm? Yes. I touched the lock and it nearly made me jump free of my skin.”

“That’s… interesting.” Dovrhan hummed.

Without further comment, the changeling crept up to the lock and touched it. The voice again called out into the room and the illusion was conjured the same as before. The same message was played, though now Dovhran was taking notes. And when the message ended again, the same as it had before, Dovhran held up his mote of light to the lock itself. He was careful not to touch it again and set off the spell that began the message, but he took note of every detail on the lock.

“There’s a break in the shackle on this… but…” Dovhran shoved against the door with his full weight and accomplished nothing. “The lock isn’t even holding the latch closed and it isn’t allowing any give at all.”

“Perhaps you’re weak.” Chuckled Flip. “Perhaps the lock isn’t a lock. Perhaps it is an obvious trigger for the message.”

Dovhran narrowed his eyes at the wizard in contempt before realization dawned on him and his eyes grew wide. “Or perhaps the lock is the message that we must complete.”

“Your mending spell, Faengil, the one you used to repair your skirt. Would it work on the lock?”

“Hm. I suppose. I’ve never fixed anything thicker than fabric, but I can try.”

Flip groaned as he sat up, not out of frustration but discomfort as he was beginning to feel the strain of overusing his magic. But, rather than refuse, Flip gave the lock his full attention and began to cast his repairing spell. Normally the spell would take a minute to cast, but as soon as Flip had everything in place and touched the lock itself to exert his will and knowledge to cast the spell the broken shackle clinked back into one piece and the lock clicked open.

The door had been unlocked, and though the mending had cut the arcane message short as the puzzle was completed, the first few words of it had still gotten time to ring through the room once more.

“Remain calm.”

Those words were an omen of what was to come.