They commandeered the Spirit after departing Ambrose’s winter palace. The return journey across the Jewel Sea was blissfully serene — and blissfully unmarred by the Leviathan.

The following day they regrouped in the Boboli gardens. The Opticon, the apparent object of their long and arduous quest, loomed high atop the acropolis, the slashed-O symbol carved into it staring down at them like a baleful eye.

“Quit gaping at it, you lackwit fool,” Brune said to Dinella. The diviner was staring up at it quite indiscreetly, a puzzled expression on her face as though she were examining a curious butterfly. It was generally taboo to stare at the Opticon, and indeed a few passersby had noticed her behavior.

“I have a dread premonition about this place,” she said in her brittle voice.

“As do we all,” Cosimo said dryly. “It is a deathtrap, after all.”

“The Oracle wants to tell me something about it,” said Dinella, her voice fading to a whisper.

Cosimo shook his head, and turned to Leo and Enzo. “How do we get up there? Those cliffs are sheer.”

“There are believed to be two routes,” Leo said. “There are rustic steps carved into the face of the mountain — you can almost see them.”

The crude steps were so ancient Leo suspected they predated the Empire’s acquisition of Genoa.

“Too chancy,” Cosimo said. “We’d be exposed and vulnerable. Anybody could see us climbing them.”

“Agreed,” Leo said. “In my twenty-five years living in Corinth, I have not once seen anyone climb those stairs. It is said that the Black Cabal transport in and out of the Opticon by means of a portal. Its whereabouts are, naturally, unknown.”

“Still too chancy. We would need to capture and interrogate a member of the Black Cabal. Dangerous and delicate work. Those are truly our only options?”

“There are believed to be only two routes,” Leo said, “but I think I can find a third. We can approach Opticon from the rear. It would be a steep climb, the terrain hazardous and possibly deadly.”

Cosimo grinned. “I wouldn’t be in this business if I didn’t relish a little mortal peril.”

***

Leo proved an able pathfinder, and the path he found was physically taxing but scarcely perilous. By the break of dusk they had scaled the acropolis on which the Opticon stood.

Crouching low, they skulked around the side of the indomitable fortress. Their hands were ready to draw their weapons, but they prayed the cover of night would hide them.

There were queer symbols carved on the side of the building. They were difficult to decipher in the dark, and no one wanted to risk invoking a glow-orb. Dinella traced one of the symbols with her hands, then suddenly recoiled in shock.

“I know what the Oracle wants to tell me,” she said, a bit too loudly.

“What is it?” Cosimo whispered. “And keep your voice low.”

A dark look came over Dinella. It was as though her body had been possessed. She spoke in a sonorous, masculine tone: “What has been sought has been found. Retreat now, or suffer imminent death.”

Cosimo hesitated, considering the counsel. Then his face hardened. “This is a trick — a trick of Ilhen’s to deceive or deter us. To test our will.”

Dinella’s face drained of color and she seemed to regain volition of her body. “The Oracle does not peddle tricks.”

“We’ve come too far to turn back. We press on.”

And so they did.

As they approached the front of the Opticon, they could see the city of Corinth sprawling before them in all its resplendent glory. Equally resplendent was the Opticon itself: immense pillars held aloft a decorated portico. A yawning blackness spanned between them.

Step by anxious step, they climbed upward. At the summit, they found a massive stone door engraved with the slashed-O symbol of the Black Cabal. It was limned with sapphire light, and it had a keyhole of a size matching the key.

“We just walk right in?” whispered Leo, somewhat taken aback. He had been expecting they would need to infiltrate the Opticon by stealth. “This is the door the key unlocks? Where’s the Black Cabal?”

“Here,” said an icy voice — a voice Enzo recognized. The voice of the man who had detained him in the Musea. He turned and discovered a Black Cabal agent perhaps six feet tall with a lithe form. Behind his lacquered mask, severe green eyes glared at Enzo.

“We have been expecting you,” the icy voice continued. “Kindly stand still; don’t make me kill you.”

“Bold words,” Leo said, “for a man seemingly unarmed and unaccompanied.”

“Seemingly.”

“What the fuck is this place?” said Cosimo.

“You are in no position to interrogate me, Cosimo Medea.”

“You sure?” Cosimo said. “We have you outmatched, seven to one.”

“Do you?”

More Black Cabal agents appeared, slithering from the darkness like ghouls. A few of them were armed with crossbows and sabers.

Acting on instinct, Enzo fished in his pocket, grabbing a spell scroll — Shield.

“Put your hands up!” yelled the man with the icy voice, his poise somewhat cracking. “Hands up!”

Enzo complied, scroll in hand.

“What is it? Drop it!”

“If you say so.” And he cast it down, muttering the scroll’s incantation: “Deflecto!”

A vitreous purple shell appeared around them, extending twelve feet in diameter, encompassing all seven adventurers and none of the Black Cabal. Inside it, they were invulnerable to the Black Cabal agents for five minutes. One of the Black Cabal agents fired a crossbow bolt at them; it skittered harmlessly off the shield’s wall.

“There’s no backing out now,” Cosimo said. “The only way out is through. Leo, you have the key?”

Leo nodded, and stepped forward, as the Black Cabal behind them were frantically screaming at them, their voices muffled by the shield wall. Oddly, they seemed more concerned than angry.

Leo inserted the key into the lock, and the door swung ajar of its own accord. An inky blackness greeted them.

Leo was the first to step through — into what he belatedly realized was a portal. It was unlike other portals though. It felt as though he were falling into a vast and bottomless chasm.

Then suddenly, without force of impact, he came to an abrupt yet graceful stop.

He was in a dark room, and had landed in something soft and cushiony… And strangely sticky. Strands of it clung to his hands as he pulled them away.

He could hear the others around him, breathing.

“Lee? Is that you?”

“Ragnar,” grunted Ragnar.

“Where the fuck are we?” said Brune.

Welcome, said a voice inside their minds, to my humble abode. The voice had an oddly snake-like quality. The words rattled in the air.

You each stand on the cusp of a perilous crucible. With luck, one of you may survive. The room you are in has three exits. Choose wisely, and choose quickly — my thralls are among you, and it has been so very long since last they slaked their thirst.

“Did you hear that?” Brune’s voice cracked in fear.

“Y-yes,” said Cosimo, somewhat shaken.

“What thralls? Who is he talking about? And what is this shit stuck to my hands?”

“Webs,” Leo said. “Spider webs. Enzo, Gianna — lights, please.”

“I'm trying,” Gianna said. “The cantrip won't work!”

Enzo broke free of the web and invoked the Illumination cantrip. A tiny orb of light was birthed, but the darkness was oppressive and palpable. It instantly engulfed the orb of light. He tried again, using more force. This time, light flashed brighter. For an ephemeral moment, their surroundings were illuminated.

They were in a cavernous space. Dark crimson webs latticed the walls and floors, and above, descending with terrifying speed, were a trio of vampire spiders — oversized arachnids which thirsted for human flesh. They were known to inject a paralytic poison their prey, keeping them alive for days or even weeks or months, slowly feasting on their flesh.

At the flash of light, the vampire spiders hissed, spraying acidic spittle. It sizzled where it landed.

In the brief flash of light, Enzo had seen the door. He pulled it open. “This way!” he called out. He invoked the Illumination cantrip one more time, exerting as much force as possible into it.

Leo, meanwhile, had used Wraith to free himself. The blade sliced through the web like a knife through hot butter. He then helped Gianna free herself. Ragnar had used brute force to pull himself free, and was helping Cosimo. Dinella used her own magicks to liberate herself.

Brune was still stuck, alone and helpless as the others ran for the escape.

“Shut it!” Cosimo said as soon as he cleared the door. “Shut the door!”

Brune was wailing in terror as the vampire spiders closed in on him. Enzo considered a daring rescue, but Cosimo was right. This was no time for reckless heroics. Enzo pushed the door shut, just as the spiders mandibles crunched his spine, eliciting a blood-curdling scream.

Once again, they were enveloped by an inky darkness, so absolute that Enzo could not see his own hands. For a moment they heard nothing but their own ragged breathing.

Then Cosimo began laughing.

“We did it! Ilhen's Seventh — we made it!”

“Well, most of us, anyway,” Leo said.

“Brune was deadweight. His absence will only speed our passage. Now can someone get me some fucking light in here?”

“My cantrips aren't working,” said Enzo, “but fortunately…” he reached into his quiver and drew another scroll. A scroll of Illumination, far more powerful than a cantrip. Fortunately he knew its incantation by memory. He threw it down, shouting "Luxos!"

A globe of violet light expanded, and then rapidly shrank, as if it would be swallowed by the darkness. But when it reached a diameter of about five feet, it held steady, albeit dim.

They were in a low-ceilinged passage that slanted downward slightly. The walls were malformed and misshapen, marred by tumorous protrusions and queer shapes. At the edge of hearing was a strange slithering noise.

Ragnar, uncharacteristically nervous, had backed against the wall, glancing around for signs of trouble.

“Whose voice was that speaking to us?” Gianna asked. “It seemed to be… weird to say it, but it seemed to be in my mind.”

“Ilhen’s voice, perhaps,” Cosimo said. “Perhaps he used a powerful enchantment to record his voice, and beam it inside the mind of anyone who enters this place.”

“Speaking of which,” said Enzo slowly, “this place is not the Opticon. It really is Ilhen’s Seventh. And look,” he gestured to the walls, where he noted symbols on the wall. “Diji glyphs. This is a Diji tomb.”

That in itself was not odd. Ilhen used existing temples and ruins to construct his deathtraps, but why was this building believed to be the bastion of the Empress’ spy ring?

A realization struck him. “The symbol of the Black Cabal itself is a Diji glyph. I never realized it before… but it’s a fairly ubiquitous symbol.”

“What does it mean?” asked Gianna.

A cold shiver ran up Enzo’s spine. “Death.”

Perhaps it was a coincidence he’d seen the symbol inside the Aetheneum — after all, the Aetheneum was also a former Diji temple.

Meanwhile, the tumorous protrusions on the wall shifted and coalesced into shapes — into arms and legs, into claws and spiked tails.

Before Ragnar could react, a pair of arms had reached out, hands encircling his throat, strangling him.

More shapes were reaching out, grasping for the rest of them.

We are all going to die in here, thought Enzo wildly.