Chapter 47

Wil plunged silently into the darkness for a moment, before his ‘Feather Fall’ spell took hold, slowing him until he was gently drifting downwards. His orb of light floated along next to him, and with a thought, he flared it brilliantly, bright enough that he could make out the stone floor below him.

Landing softly, he took in his new surroundings. He was in another hallway, this one completely barren of decorations, just a single, long room of bare stone. The hall stretched so far into the distance, that his light could not reach the end. Behind him was a blank wall, with the hole he fell in overhead.

Not seeing another option, he began to walk down the hallway, running a hand against the rough stone wall idly as he did so. His boots echoed in the silence as his light ate away at the darkness ahead.

He walked and walked, but still the hallway didn’t end. It seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness always ahead. Counting his steps in his head, he nearly reached a thousand before he stopped.

“There’s no way in the nine layers of hell that this hallway is a thousand paces long.” Wil mused, his hand still on the wall. Turning to look behind him, he was startled to see the blank stone wall still behind him, just at the edge of his light.

Deciding to experiment, Wil drew his sword and scratched a giant ‘X’ on the wall, before sheathing the blade and starting to walk again, his hand still against the stone. He walked for a dozen paces before he saw the ‘X’ again.

Running his fingers along the cut, he froze. The hallway was clearly repeating, stretching into an infinite loop that he was trapped in. Turning, he saw the same, bare stone wall behind him, just at the edge of his light.

Focusing on the wall, Wil began to walk backwards, his eyes never leaving it. Step after step he took, but the wall didn’t leave his gaze, no matter how far backwards he walked. The ‘X’ on the wall left his sight for a dozen paces, before coming back next to him as he walked. But the wall in front of him never changed at all.

“So, the side walls move, and the floor…but not the wall behind me…” Wil mused, before walking towards the bare wall in front of him. This time, the wall came closer until he was directly in front of it. Reaching forward, he placed his hand against it, only to pass right through. Like sinking his hand in pool of water, ripples spread across the stones as he drew his hand back.

“Illusion. I should have guessed.” Wil said, and now that he was next to it, he could feel the mana in the illusion, sustaining it. Shaking his head in disappointment that it took him so long to figure out the simple trick, he walked through, leaving the hallway behind.

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Wil stood in an empty room, a single, heavy wooden door across from him. Looking carefully, he couldn’t see a single thing that differentiated this room from any of the others he had been in. Shrugging, he walked towards the door, when his feet became stuck to the stone.

Off balance, he nearly fell before righting himself, careful to not touch the stone with his hands.

Struggling, he couldn’t lift his boots from the floor, despite using all his strength. As he pulled against the stone, wondering if he will need to undo his laces and leave his boots behind in order to escape, his feet started to slowly sink as the floor melted.

The stone floor lost its hardness as he slowly sank into the ground, like he was falling into a thick quagmire of mud.

He looked around for something to grab hold of, but the room was barren, and the floor was now up to his ankles.

Wil channeled his mana, pulling his sword out as he teleported away from the ground and against the far wall, just over the doorway. Reappearing, he stabbed his blade deep into the wall, the enchantments easily slicing through the stones.

Burying his sword to its hilt as he clung to it, Wil dangled over the floor, the doorway just under his feet.

Below him, the ground was gone, replaced with a bubbling pit of grey mud, the illusion of rock completely gone.

“At least my boots came with me.” Wil chuckled, as he swung from the sword.

Pulling on his mana, he flung a trio of magic missiles at the wooden door beneath him, blasting it back off its hinges. Pulling his blade free, Wil fell lightly into the doorway, the ground secure under his feet again.

Turning to look at the pit behind him, he saw it quickly firm into stone, the trap resetting. Starting to regret his choice of joining the Guild, he walked through the door, wondering what was waiting for him next.

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Wil ran down the hallway, with the occasional ‘Misty Step’ to increase his speed. Moving too quickly to even take in his surroundings, he ignored side passages and rotten, wooden doors as he moved as fast as he possibly could.

Behind him, a roaring flood of water rushed down the passageway. The frigid waters gushed from spouts located high on the walls, in the shape of faces with wide open mouths.

Wil had barely known what had happened as he was walking down the passage. The only oddity he encountered was a strange ‘Click’ as he stepped on a stone tile. As soon as his weight touched it, the tile depressed and the roar of water coming towards him sounded out of the darkness.

As he ran, Wil had gone from regretting his decision to outright hating the Guild altogether.

Cursing in his mind, he saw a stone door ahead. Not wavering, he burst through and slammed it shut behind him. Not caring where he was, he rested against the door, his back sliding against the stone until he was resting on the floor.

A moment later he heard the water slam into the door, the force pushing against him. The door held as a spray of water jetted out of the seams.

“Next time, Quentin can get her own license.” Wil whispered into the dark.

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Wil was alone, in some kind of study or reading room. The stone floor was covered in moldy rugs, and a variety of chairs, couches and reading desks were placed around the rectangular room. On one wall was a bookshelf, half filled with books.

Curious, he leafed through a few. They were mostly unspoiled, although they were showing their age. He could make out most of the pages, a collection of stories and local myths.

Not seeing anything important, he replaced the books and continued pass the furnished room, coming to the only exit. A wooden door, with a silver doorknob. Reaching to open it, he felt a shock in his hand as a small bolt of electricity arced from the metal.

Wincing in pain at the shock, Wil snatched his hand back, as the door was lit with ruins and glyphs. He recognized a few of the hundreds that lit up the darkness in front of him, but not enough to determine how to deactivate it.

Stepping back, he took another look around the room, looking for a hint of how to proceed. Aside from the bookshelf, and the scattered furniture, the room was empty.

“Let me guess.” Wil whispered, walking over to the bookshelf. “You want me to read…” He knew enough about wards that they were finicky if damaged, better to try to solve the puzzle first before forcing the door open.

Resigned, Wil reached for the first book, bringing it over to a nearby, comfy looking chair. This one had survived intact, although it was coated with dust and cobwebs. A quick cleaning spell later, Wil was settled onto the chair, reading through the book while taking notes in his notebook of things he felt were relevant.

The first book was a fairy tale, about a young girl who is lost in the woods. A friendly Fae leads her home, and in exchange, the young girl gives the Fae a gift of milk and honey.

Closing the book in confusion at why it was included in a mage’s library, Wil returned it to the bookshelf. Grabbing another, he sat back down. This one was a travel log, most of it was damaged, but there was a chapter about an adventurer that was looking for a monster that had been taking children from their homes at Night.

The Adventurer tracked it to a cave, where he found out it was a vampire. Not being strong enough to defeat it, he made a deal with the monster. Once a month, the village would make an offering of blood in exchange for the children’s safe return and the vampire not attacking them.

“I’m sensing a theme.” Wil muttered, closing the book. “Offerings of milk and honey and blood. I’m out of the first two, but maybe blood…”

Wil read through the few remaining books. There was a boring treatise about a deal between a local lord and a wealthy merchant, who offered the hand of his daughter in marriage. Another fairy tale, this one incredibly morbid, about a genie that granted wishes to those that offered the life of their entire family as a sacrifice.

“Alright, that’s enough. Blood it is.” Wil said, frowning in disgust at the story. He couldn’t imagine a wish being worth all that, regardless of how desperate the person was.

Standing, Wil walked to the door, pulling out his sword as he did so. Cutting his hand, he smeared blood across the runes. With a flash of light, they flared to life, before fading. The door opened silently, and Wil was free to carry on.

Wrapping his hand with a bandage coated in a healing salve, Wil continued the test.