“Even in victory, a shadow remains -
the price we have to pay for touching the darkness.”
from the words of Ba en Aset to her first paladins
Third Void Day of Mortis, 126 HR
The tunnels of Undersigil were silent. Síkhara heard only the faint echo of her own footsteps as she made her way through the narrow corridors. The air was cool and damp, and water dripped onto the floor from cracks in the ceiling. Several figures followed behind her, but this time it was not Krystall, Rakalla, Haer'Dalis and Blackhoof, with whom she had explored these passages the first time. This time it was five Harmonium officers. The blood hunter had kept her word and informed Amariel about the old temple, as well as the fact that the sect of the Illuminated was behind the shadow thefts. And as discussed, they wanted to put an end to it together. To Síkhara's relief, the Hardheads had apparently decided that it made more sense to resolve this matter with a small but powerful force rather than sending an entire army down here. At least that spoke for their strategic skills and experience in dealing with such situations.
Amariel had come accompanied by the two comrades Síkhara and Haer'Dalis had already met while searching for the Shadow Ripper: the dwarf Nallart and the aasimar Aranis Verûsa. With them was another half-elf, a wiry woman with short red hair, whom Amariel had addressed as Jostos. The small troop was led by a leonin who could only be described as impressive. While all members of this lion-like race were considered majestic and intimidating by humanoids, the officer introduced as Runako Fireheart exuded a special dignity. The blood hunter was quite impressed that the Harmonium had sent a prefect to resolve this cause. It showed that the faction took the matter seriously. Nevertheless, not long ago, Síkhara could not have imagined fighting side by side with a bunch of Harmonium officers. Rules and laws were not her world, and the philosophy of the Hardheads even less so. Too many regulations, too many orders, too little room to breathe. But she had seen how seriously Amariel took the shadow thefts, how much she cared about putting an end to them. And so she had agreed to cooperate.
Understandably, Krystall had not been enthusiastic. But since it was Síkhara's assignment, a case she had uncovered and for which she had a client, the leader of the Razor Angels had accepted her decision. And so the fire genasi now led her unconventional allies to the Weeping Stone Catacombs, through the ruins of the lost civilization, to the place where they had discovered the shimmering, tear-like sand and the illusionary wall two days earlier. They crossed the narrow tunnel behind it, and like Blackhoof before, Runako Fireheart was barely fitting through. When they entered the small cave at the end of the passage, Síkhara could already see her friends there. Haer'Dalis leaned casually against the rock wall, occasionally twirling one of his short blades elegantly around his wrist. Rakalla, standing next to him, examined the jagged rock formation in the middle of the room, at the base of which grew the purple moss that opened the secret entrance. Blackhoof and Krystall, on the other hand, kept an eye on the entrance to the tunnel. Síkhara noticed that the leader of the Razor Angels had donned a mask made of black and red fabric that covered her forehead, eyes, bridge of her nose and cheekbones. She was also wearing different clothes than usual and had dispensed with her characteristic feather-adorned hat. Of course, as a member of the Revolutionary League, she didn't want the Harmonium officers to recognize her.
As they approached the cave entrance, Krystall raised her hand in greeting. “There you are. I thought you'd gotten lost.”
“We're here at the agreed time,” Runako replied curtly, but his voice had that throaty tone that was characteristic of most leonin.
“Of course, the Harmonium is always punctual,” the leader of the Razor Angels countered sarcastically, but Síkhara noticed how she straightened herself alertly at the sight of the prefect.
The two exchanged a long look. Runako's green eyes sparkled slightly in the dim light of the cave, while Krystall's appeared dark and inscrutable behind her mask. One thing was clear: the leonin did not like Krystall hiding her identity, and the leader of the Razor Angels, for her part, disliked the mere presence of the Harmonium officers. Síkhara saw Amariel take a deep breath, her tension clearly palpable.
But Prefect Fireheart was clearly not looking for a fight, because he waved it off. “Let's drop it. We all know why we're here. The enemy is the darkness itself. And if light and fire don't burn together, it will extinguish us all.”
Síkhara nodded in agreement. These were reasonable words, and she was glad that the leonin was apparently more pragmatic than other Hardheads she had already met.
Rakalla now pointed to the rock face at the far end of the cave. “The secret entrance is over there. It can be opened by the moss that grows here.”
Nallart skeptically examined the vegetation growing at the foot of the jagged rocks in the middle of the cave. “You mean it serves as a portal key?”
“Not quite,” the medusa replied. “The moss seems to be a kind of bio-magical seal that channels arcane energies.”
“That's beyond me,” grumbled the dwarf as he took his axe from his shoulder. “I don't understand magic. But you'll know what you're doing.”
He said it in a tone that suggested he doubted exactly that, but Rakalla just smiled politely.
Haer'Dalis, on the other hand, now stepped closer to the violet-glowing moss cushions, the light reflecting in his eyes. “Then let us awaken the gate of shadows once more,” he said. As he had done two days earlier, he hummed a soft melody as he slowly moved his fingers over the moss.
A soft buzzing filled the cave, the glow of the moss grew brighter, and then a crack opened in the opposite wall once more. Soon it had widened into a passageway large enough even for Runako Fireheart and Blackhoof. Beyond it lay darkness, and a breath of cold air blew towards them, dry as dust that had lain too long.
“There it is,” Síkhara explained in a hushed voice. “The Shadow Temple.”
Runako Fireheart nodded grimly. “Then let's see what the Illuminated are really up to down here.”
They cast a few protective spells, Haer'Dalis enchanted Blackhoof's axe, and Síkhara let a little blood from her forearm drip onto the blade of her scimitar to imbue it with the Rite of the Dawn. She did not miss Runako's critical look as she cast her blood magic, but she remained calm. As a blood hunter, she was used to many people treating her special abilities with skepticism and mistrust. Finally, Aranis Verûsa and Haer'Dalis cast invisibility on all members of the small squad, as well as the ability to see the invisible. Then Prefect Fireheart was the first to step through the opening in the rock face, determined, with his saber drawn and his shield raised vigilantly. It was adorned with the head of a lioness. Amariel had introduced the leonin as a paladin of Ba en Aset, so Síkhara assumed that it was the image of his goddess. The fire genasi followed him side by side with Krystall, Nallart and Amariel close behind.
The air here was heavier and denser than in the small cave, although the cavern they entered was so large that its ceiling disappeared in the darkness. Pale blue crystal veins in the walls bathed everything in an eerie light, and in the center stood a large building made of dark stone, its architecture characterized by sharp edges and geometric patterns. Several towers spiraled into the darkness like giant thorns, and as before, a soft, almost inaudible whisper seemed to emanate from the depths of the temple. No one spoke as they approached cautiously. Even Haer'Dalis, who usually had either a flowery or mocking remark at the ready, remained silent. Síkhara and Krystall now walked to the right and left of Runako Fireheart, their eyes alertly observing their surroundings. Blackhoof and Nallart formed the rearguard, while Rakalla, Haer'Dalis, Amariel, Jostos and Aranis stayed in the middle. The ground was uneven, but unlike the previous tunnel, it was not covered with sharp stone fragments.
“I don't like this place,” Jostos muttered quietly.
“Neither do I, triaria,” Runako replied. “But it is our duty to put an end to the dark machinations here. So let's move on.”
Síkhara glanced briefly at Krystall. As opposed as the views of the Revolutionary League and the Harmonium usually were, in this question the leader of the Razor Angels clearly agreed with the leonin, for she nodded resolutely and kept pace with him. As they approached the temple, they saw black flames dancing on many ledges on the facade. They flickered eerily and provided no light, but rather seemed to deepen the darkness around them.
“By the light of Arcadia,” Amariel whispered. “This is no ordinary fire. More like ghosts of flames ... like their shadows.”
Rakalla nodded. “Perhaps they are made of the same shadow essence we found in the secret laboratory.”
“The guardians there and in the chamber with the secret door definitely were,” Síkhara said in a hushed voice. “It's quite possible that the temple entrance is also guarded by such creatures.”
“That wouldn't surprise me,” decurion Nallart grumbled. “Let's be extremely vigilant.”
Just a few steps from the entrance, between two broken columns, they noticed a faint glow. Rakalla stepped closer, bent down and carefully picked up a small crystal shard. It was transparent, but inside there floated a dark, flickering core that moved restlessly, as if sensing her touch.
“These are the same crystals as in the traps from the lab,” she said, and her snakes hissed softly. “Only a little bigger and somehow ... more alive.”
“More alive?” Aranis examined the shard uneasily.
Rakalla nodded. “They react to our presence. I would say it's some kind of vessel.”
Síkhara eyed the crystal more closely. The flickering inside it reminded her of a heartbeat. For a moment, she thought she heard a voice, but it was little more than a whisper and quickly gone. Then a cool breeze swept through the cave, and for a breath, it seemed as if the shadows on the walls were moving.
Alertly, Haer'Dalis raised his head. “I think we're not alone.”
“Get ready,” Runako growled softly, raising his saber, which gleamed in the sacred light of his goddess.
The crystal veins glowed brighter, as if someone had heard them, and they could see that the shadows on the walls had thickened. At first they looked like mere shreds, then like figures. Slowly, fluidly, they detached themselves from the walls as if they were the very matter from which they emerged. A soft hissing sound could be heard, greedy, malicious, warning.
“They're coming,” snorted Blackhoof, raising his axe.
Almost simultaneously, the first shadow rushed towards them, insubstantial and faceless, merely a dark silhouette in motion. Runako swung and struck the creature with his blessed blade. Darkness splattered, small wisps of smoke that quickly scattered in all directions.
“Fight them with light and enchanted blades!” Krystall shouted. “They are immune to everything else!” As if to demonstrate, she raised her rapier, glowing with holy light. Another shadow recoiled, hissing as if the light had burned it. Síkhara tightened her grip on her scimitar and felt the magic of her own blood pulsing within it, hot and alive.
The Rite of the Dawn blessed her blade with sunlight, and a third shadow approaching her shrank back, flickering. “Rakalla!” she yelled.
“At it! Close your eyes!” The medusa hurled one of her alchemical grenades, which immediately burst, releasing a bright flash.
When Síkhara opened her eyes again, the cave was still bathed in silvery light. Two of the shadows had dissolved like smoke in the wind.
Amariel rushed to a spot outside the radius of the flash grenade, and her blessed blade struck one of the remaining shadows once, twice, thrice. Each blow was accompanied by a sizzle, as if the creature were vaporizing under her strikes. Jostos rushed to her left and, quick-witted, fended off another shadow that had approached from the side. Haer'Dalis sang a short melody, his words laced with magic. Then a light spell cut through the darkness of the cave, causing the shadows to flicker and retreat from him with an angry hiss. At his side, Runako Fireheart's saber strikes dissolved another of the shadows, which disintegrated into harmless smoke. Aranis and Blackhoof concentrated their efforts on another shadow. While the minotaur swung his axe enchanted by Haer'Dalis, the aasimar shot several glowing arrows.
Síkhara had just neutralized another shadow together with Krystall when suddenly something fell from the ceiling. It was larger than the other shadows and had several arms, each formed from pure darkness. Nallart stood directly beneath it. But the experienced fighter noticed it and swung his axe upwards in a wide arc. He hit it, and one of the arms dissolved into black smoke. But the shadow was only weakened and dug claws of darkness into the dwarf's shoulder. Nallart cursed in pain, but struck again, and Síkhara ran over to help him while Krystall fended off another shadow. As she struck the multi-armed silhouette, her thrusts left trails of light, and with each strike she severed a part of the shadow, which dissolved into smoke.
Then a bright flash - another grenade from Rakalla, which weakened the creature significantly. Nallart swung his axe and cut off another arm. Shortly thereafter, Blackhoof and Runako were also there, and under their combined strikes, the shadow finally dissolved. Almost simultaneously, Krystall, Jostos and Amariel struck down the last smaller shadow. For a moment, there was breathless silence in the cave. All that remained of the attackers were wisps of smoke drifting away, thin and gray. Síkhara lowered her scimitar. She was breathing heavily, a drop of her own blood falling from the blade and burning up before it hit the ground.
“That was a lot of them,” Krystall noted. “Despite my initial reservations, I have to admit: it's good we had support.”
She nodded to Prefect Fireheart and he nodded back, and in that moment, the two were not a Harmonium officer and an Anarchist, but paladins, siblings in the light.
“Likewise,” Runako said in a deep, calm voice. “But that was only the beginning. Inside the temple, worse things await us for sure. Stay alert.”
He healed the wound in Nallart's shoulder by laying his hands on it, then they turned their gaze back to the temple. All was quiet, no further signs of shadowy guardians. If the entrance to the ancient structure ever had doors, they had long since disappeared. Only a high portal of black stone could be seen, offering entry into the temple. But although it was not blocked by door wings, they could see little beyond it. The darkness was so deep that even with darkvision, nothing could be seen. Aranis and Haer'Dalis cast another invisibility spell on the group, then ventured further forward. Behind the entrance portal was a spacious hall, its ceiling supported by massive columns. Except for a few overturned fire bowls with long-cold ashes, the room was completely empty. Fine gray dust covered the floor, so they were leaving traces with every step. The air was dry but filled with a strange tingling sensation, and Síkhara felt all her muscles tense. This was no longer ordinary darkness. There was an intention in it, a kind of consciousness.
“I don't like the way it smells here,” Blackhoof snorted quietly.
“Of dust?” asked Jostos, her voice equally hushed.
“Of death that has waited for too long,” Haer'Dalis replied instead of the minotaur.
As always, Síkhara would have put it less poetically, but she knew exactly what the tiefling meant.
Runako seemed to share his opinion, for he nodded in agreement. Then he raised his hand, a clear signal for everyone to stop. “Decurion Verûsa, Haer'Dalis. Keep an eye out for traps. If the entrance here is not guarded by shadows, I am convinced that they have made other arrangements to keep out uninvited guests.”
The aasimar and the tiefling nodded, then began to search the room slowly and very carefully. About halfway down the hall, just at one of the columns and near the wall, Haer'Dalis paused. He knelt down and examined the cracks between the stones. “Here,” he said quietly. “A slight draft in a place where there shouldn't be one.”
“Can you deactivate it?” asked Amariel, her hand on the hilt of her sword.
“I think so,” the bard replied calmly. “Please step back.” He pulled a multi-part tool from one of his belt pouches and began to work on the crack where he felt the draft. Finally, he carefully inserted the tool into a specific spot between the stones and turned it. A barely audible click could be heard. Haer'Dalis straightened up and smiled contentedly. “Done.”
Síkhara didn't miss the fact that his gaze wandered briefly to Rakalla, just for a blink of an eye, but she was sure. The medusa immediately made an appreciative gesture and returned the smile. Yes, the fire genasi thought to herself. Something was definitely growing between the two of them. But there was no room for it here and now, the bard and the alchemist knew that much. After successfully disarming the trap, they moved on as quietly as possible. However, it had already been clear outside the temple that with several armored fighters and a minotaur, it was not very promising to move stealthily. The heavy armors of Runako, Amariel and Nallart repeatedly made metallic noises, and the stomping of Blackhoof's hooves on the stone floor was clearly audible in the silence of the temple. Krystall had suggested wrapping cloths around them to muffle the noise, but the minotaur had refused. Wrapped hooves would affect his balance, which was a disadvantage in combat. Likewise, it would have been very unfavorable for Prefect Fireheart, Amariel and Nallart to participate in such a dangerous mission unarmored. So stealth had to yield precedence to combat effectiveness.
At the end of the hall, they entered a passageway where Haer'Dalis and Aranis searched for traps again, but this time found none. After less than a hundred steps, they stood in another chamber, not quite as large as the entrance hall, but still spacious. The first thing Síkhara saw were the crystals. Dozens of them. They stood in rows on a stone ledge that ran along the walls of the room. Each of them contained the same flickering core as the shard Rakalla had found outside. But these crystals were larger, pulsed more strongly, seemed even more alive. Síkhara felt the cold of the room creep under her skin. A soft whisper floated through the air, and the blood hunter knew immediately that the sound was not coming from any living creature, but from the crystals themselves.
Amariel stepped closer to the ledge, the light of her blessed blade refracting in the facets of the stones. “Soul fragments,” she said softly. “Dozens. Maybe more.”
Rakalla nodded gravely. “Stolen along with the shadows and imprisoned in crystal. That explains why those who have been robbed feel so incomplete.”
“Then this is the storehouse for their stolen goods,” Runako growled darkly. “A place where they collect what they take from others. But this sacrilege ends now!”
Haer'Dalis and Jostos also stepped closer and eyed the crystals, the tiefling from the Doomguard with a certain fascination, the half-elf from the Harmonium with more concern. Nallart, Aranis, Krystall and Blackhoof stayed a little back; it was clear that they preferred not to get too close to the unholy crystals.
Help us!
Síkhara flinched. Had one of the whispering voices just spoken to them? She slowly turned her head, her hand on the hilt of her scimitar, and looked around attentively.
Krystall nodded gently. “I heard it too.”
The blood hunter approached the spot where she thought she had heard the whisper. Alert and tense, she eyed the crystals, one by one. She instinctively took a step back when the pale outline of a face flared in one of them. A face she recognized ... Zramag, the githzerai of the Sign of One who had originally assigned her to the case. His face flickered briefly in the crystal, desperate, contorted with pain. Then it faded again, but the cry for help had definitely been real. Faces were now visible in some of the other crystals as well, and Amariel pointed to one of them.
“I recognize her. Yorinda Hazewing of the Fated. One of the victims.”
Síkhara wanted to reply, but they all turned around when a soft laugh rang out. A breath of cold air wafted over from the dark passageway at the other end of the room, and that was exactly where the voice came from. “Look who we have here.”
A female figure emerged from a niche, slender, with pale skin and long, dark hair. It might be Toranna, who had infiltrated the Dustmen back then. At least, that was how Zamakis had described her. This time, however, she was not wearing glasses or the gray robe of an adlate in the Mortuary. She was dressed in practical black robes, and several throwing daggers glinted at her belt. Her smile was vile and mocking.
“I would have liked to watch you longer. But unfortunately ...” She lifted a small crystal, turning it between her fingers. “... I'm running out of time.”
Then she threw the shard at Amariel. The half-elf quickly raised her shield to deflect the crystal, but the impact did not cause an explosion. Instead, it unleashed a powerful shock wave that knocked Amariel off her feet and also threw Rakalla and Haer'Dalis to the ground. Síkhara was about to pounce on the Illuminated, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw something moving on the other side of the room. Or someone ... Then she felt a wave of cold hit her. But it wasn't an ice spell, nothing physical. She knew the feeling: psionic energy flowing through her. It was as if her thoughts were flickering and she felt disoriented. When she could see clearly again, she recognized a githzerai emerging from the shadows. A white cobra coiled around her forearm, hissing. It had to be Imogen, the psion who had brainwashed the victims of the Illuminated during the Hive Wrangler Murders. Krystall had told her about it.
Then Síkhara heard a gasp behind her.
“Jostos?” It was Amariel's voice, stunned and horrified. “What are you doing?!”
The blood hunter spun around and just saw the half-elf with the short red hair raise her short sword, aiming for Aranis. The aasimar was too surprised to dodge, and the thrust slashed his left arm. Jostos' expression was vacant and emotionless, her eyes empty.
“Careful!” Runako shouted. “She's being controlled by the gith! Don't hurt her, she's not in control of herself!”
Blackhoof snorted and lowered the axe he had already raised. At that moment, two throwing daggers flew through the air – Imogen's accomplice had used the moment of distraction and confusion to her advantage. The knives hit Krystall's right thigh and Amariel's left shoulder, right where her bracer and shoulder plate left a small gap. At the same time, Jostos took another swing at Aranis, but this time he was able to dodge.
“How weak your will is,” Imogen hissed. “So easy to bend.” The white cobra on her arm raised its head and darted its tongue in and out.
“Release her immediately!” Runako growled.
The githzerai laughed. “Why should I? She's mine now.” Then she turned her head to the dark-haired woman. “Toranna, warn the others!”
Prefect Fireheart let out a throaty roar and charged past Blackhoof and Nallart towards Imogen. It was the first time Síkhara heard a leonin roar right next to her, and even though she knew Runako was on her side, it instinctively triggered the fear that all humanoids felt in the presence of a large predator. It seemed to have the same effect on the githzerai, who quickly backed away towards the opposite wall. Krystall cursed as she pulled the throwing knife from her thigh and tried to pursue Toranna, while Nallart and Aranis tried to hold the mind-controlled Jostos at bay without hurting her. Blackhoof helped Rakalla to her feet and stood protectively in front of her, while Haer'Dalis healed the wound on Amariel's shoulder.
Since Síkhara was closer to Imogen than to Toranna, she decided to focus on the githzerai. She attacked her with her flaming blade, but Imogen recoiled with ominous calm. Her gestures were barely perceivable, but the psionic energy hit Síkhara like an invisible fist. It was as if her thoughts were bursting into flames. For a moment, the pain took her breath away and she sank to her knees. Then Runako was at her side and struck a powerful blow against the githzerai - but she dissolved in a silvery mist and was gone. She had probably fled deeper into the passageway. At that moment, Haer'Dalis began to sing, his voice full and clear in the temple vault. Síkhara, too dazed by Imogen's psionic attack to pursue the githzerai, turned her gaze to Jostos. The triaria's movements slowed, becoming increasingly sluggish ... then she stood still. The bard had apparently cast a holding spell on her with his song.
At the other end of the room, however, another curse from Krystall could be heard. “Milani's Thorn! She got away!”
The leader of the Razor Angels was fast and agile, but due to the knife wound on her leg, Toranna had apparently been able to retreat successfully, just like Imogen. Nallart was about to move towards the hallway where the two Illuminated had disappeared, but Runako raised his hand.
“Not yet, decurion. They know we're here anyway. We must face them in a coordinated way - and, above all, in full force.”
With these words, he turned to Jostos, who stood frozen, the short sword still in her hand. Only her dark green eyes moved, but her gaze remained fixed.
“Triaria!” Prefect Fireheart shook her shoulder slightly. “Are you there? Can you hear me?”
She did not answer, nor did her gaze change. The leonin sighed and put away his saber. “I apologize, triaria,” he said. “But it's necessary.” Then he lunged out and struck her across the face with the back of his hand.
He obviously did so with only a fraction of his strength, but it was enough to jerk the half-elf's head to the side. Síkhara flinched, but she understood: pain was usually a successful - and quick - way to break a psionic bond. And indeed, Jostos' gaze cleared. At first there was confusion, then pain, and finally a hint of panic. No wonder, after being slapped by a leonin and held motionless by a spell. When Runako saw the expression in her eyes change, he signaled to Haer'Dalis, and the bard released the spell. Jostos staggered a little, and the prefect immediately offered her his arm to support her.
“Please forgive me for this treatment,” he said earnestly. “I had to free you from Imogen's control quickly.”
The half-elf shook her head, still dazed. “It's all right, sir, I understand. I ... I literally had no will of my own. A rather frightening experience.”
“I can imagine.” Runako nodded and patted her gently on the shoulder. “I hereby owe you a favor, triaria.”
Jostos actually smiled a little. “I'll remember that, sir.”
She picked up her sword, which she had dropped when Haer'Dalis had released the holding spell. Amariel gave her a questioning look, and Jostos nodded to indicate that she was fine.
Nallart, on the other hand, nodded to the bard approvingly. “Good reaction, I have to admit.”
Haer'Dalis wanted to reply, but was interrupted by a dull rumbling that shook the ground. Dust trickled from the ceiling. It seemed to be coming from below them.
“Something's going on, and it's certainly nothing good,” Krystall said. “We should hurry.”
She healed the wound on her leg so she could walk properly, while Runako took care of the cut on Aranis' arm that Jostos had inflicted on him. Then they ventured into the corridor that led out of the room with the crystals, where Toranna and Imogen had disappeared. It was half collapsed, but a pale light shone through a gap further back. Haer'Dalis led the way, searching for a path through the rubble and keeping an eye out for more traps. But after a few dozen steps, he stopped and cursed softly. Síkhara immediately realized why: the corridor had almost completely collapsed at this point, with only a narrow passage on the left side allowing them to pass. The gap was narrow even for the broad-shouldered Nallart in his armor, but Runako and Blackhoof would not fit through. Rakalla also uttered a curse, but the leonin and the minotaur's disadvantage was also their strength: they were not only tall, but equally strong. Together, with additional support from Nallart, they managed to loosen several large boulders relatively quickly and widen the gap enough for them to fit through.
“That looks fine,” Blackhoof finally snorted. “We can get through now.”
They passed through the fallen debris, some comfortably, others just barely. Since the quake, a throbbing had been penetrating the rock, like a dull, steady pulse. Just a few steps further, they could see that the pale glow bathing the corridor in a flickering, bluish light was coming from an opening in the floor.
“That's the way down,” Nallart grumbled. “Whatever awaits us there.”
Síkhara stepped to the edge of the opening. The cool air flowing up from below tasted old and stale. A stone staircase led down, wide enough for a leonin, minotaur or armored dwarf, or two of the others side by side. They did not hesitate for long and descended, Runako in the lead, Nallart behind him, followed by Síkhara, side by side with Krystall. Behind them were Aranis, Jostos, Haer'Dalis and Rakalla. Amariel and Blackhoof brought up the rear to ward off any possible ambushes. The steps were uneven, as if they had been hastily carved out of the stone, an indication that this staircase was not an original part of the temple. The deeper they went, the brighter the light became, a pale, shimmering blue that cast flickering shadows.
When they reached the bottom, a large chamber opened up before them, circular with a high ceiling. Mist seeped from cracks which crisscrossed the walls, and in the center was a round platform. Above it floated something that was incorporeal and yet seemed to have weight. A formation of shadows, blacker than any darkness they had seen down here so far, as if someone had cut the room out of the world here. The dark mass billowed like smoke, shapes appeared and then dissolved again: a claw, a wing, a tentacle ... Instead of a face there were narrow, glowing cracks, flaring up again and again in orange-red light. Crystals were arranged in a circle around the platform, each of them pulsating as if nourishing the formation. Threads of bluish light connected the shadow creature to them, and several shards floated in its core like glowing hearts. Two men stood by the crystals, one older and light-skinned with a gray beard, the other one younger, dark-skinned and with a shaved head.
“Whatever this is supposed to be, it's not finished yet,” whispered Haer'Dalis. “It's still searching for form ...”
Síkhara nodded in agreement. It was as if something inside the shadow creature was reaching for shape, for consciousness. As if it were waiting for someone to tell it who it was and what it was supposed to do.
“We have to destroy it,” Amariel whispered. “Preferably before it's finished.”
Now the younger of the two men by the crystals turned his head towards them. “As Imogen said, we have visitors, Brandal.”
The man addressed raised his head and looked over as well. “Don't let yourself be distracted, Margram. We have to finish this.”
“We will prevent that,” Runako growled. “This is unholy sacrilege!”
“This is art,” corrected a voice they already knew. Toranna emerged from the darkness at the edge of the room. “You don't understand, but this is a form of enlightenment.”
“You are creating an abomination,” Krystall replied harshly.
Toranna shrugged. “I don't really care about your arrogant judgment.”
There was a rustling sound, then an attractive half-elf with dark hair appeared next to Toranna, a thin dagger in each hand. His gaze found Krystall. “I was hoping you would come,” he said with a slight smile. “You were on my trail back then during the Hive Wrangler Murders. But we didn't get to enjoy a fight.”
Síkhara nodded gently. This man must be the Shadowknave the others had told her about.
Krystall drew her rapier. It still glowed with Milani's holy light. “We can make up for that fight right here and now.”
Now Imogen appeared on the other side of the ritual circle, the white cobra wrapped around her arm. “You're too late. It's already awakening.”
“Oh, don't worry,” Runako growled. “You'll find that we arrived here just in time.”
The Shadowknave grinned, took a step back and merged with the shadows of the large chamber once more. Seconds later, he reappeared - behind Krystall, little more than a shadow himself, his two daggers flashing in the light of the crystals. But the leader of the Razor Angels noticed him, spun around and raised her rapier. “You're too slow,” she called out as she parried his blow.
Meanwhile, Síkhara wanted to attack Toranna, but suddenly dozens of shadows formed, some humanoid, some like predatory animals, springing from crystal shards scattered all over the floor. The blood hunter cursed as Toranna laughed and retreated, swinging her scimitar at one of the shadows. Amariel drew her sword, which she had coated with one of her anointing oils and which therefore glowed with holy light, just like Krystall's rapier. Side by side with Nallart, she attacked the shadows that had appeared beside them.
“Jostos, left flank! Verûsa, radiant arrows!” Runako's voice was like thunder in the darkness.
Then the leonin paladin charged forward, the blessed blade of his saber cutting through the darkness, glistening brightly. His blows dissolved two of the shadows into smoke.
Aranis had taken his bow as ordered and shot arrows with glowing heads. One hit a wolf-like shadow approaching Jostos, the other Margram at the ritual circle. With a cry of pain, the younger man grabbed his shoulder and stopped working on the crystals.
“Watch out, on your left!” came a shout from behind. It was Rakalla's voice. Seconds later, one of her flash grenades exploded, and the light caused the shadows to hiss angrily.
At the same moment, Blackhoof stomped past Síkhara and threw the surprised Brandal to the ground. The thunder of his hooves echoed through the chamber, and a dull thud was heard as the older of the two ritual leaders hit the stone, where he lay unconscious.
Imogen, who was standing a short distance away, raised her hands. The air crackled as she focused her psionic energy. “Bow!” she shouted.
For a moment, like before in the smaller chamber, Síkhara felt pain everywhere. It was as if her thoughts were breaking apart, her memories melting, the ground beneath her feet giving way ... Haer'Dalis seemed to be equally affected by the githzerai's psychic attack, for he cried out in pain. But then he began to sing, and although his voice was rough and hoarse, the spell he wove through his song took effect: it forced Imogen's thoughts back to their source, so that the pain subsided and Síkhara could think clearly again. The angry hissing she heard came not only from Imogen's cobra, but also from the githzerai herself.
“Thank you!” the fire genasi called to the bard and dashed against the enemies. The shadow that appeared before her seemed to briefly bear the distorted features of a man ... but then they disappeared into the swirling darkness. Her scimitar cut through the shadow and the Rite of the Dawn dissolved it.
“The crystals!” Rakalla shouted. “They're feeding the thing!”
Síkhara looked at the pedestal. The enormous shadow creature in the middle of the room had grown. At least Brandal, knocked down by Blackhoof, lay unconscious on the floor, and Margram was incapacitated by another arrow from Aranis. But still, the energy of the crystals seemed to continue flowing through the pale blue threads of light and nourishing the creature.
“We have to smash them!” Nallart bellowed.
“Wait!” Amariel held him back. “What if we destroy the trapped souls as well?”
“Can you see faces inside the crystals?” Krystall yelled as she dodged a thrust from the Shadowknave. “If so, there are probably souls in them.”
Blackhoof, who was standing right next to the pedestal, leaned over to one of the crystals and examined it closely. Then he looked at a second one. “I can't see any faces inside,” he snorted.
“That would make sense,” Rakalla called as she threw another flash grenade. “They seem to have something else in mind for the soul fragments, so they're separating them from the shadows.”
“Then go!” Runako ordered as he struck down the last shadow standing between him and Imogen. “Smash them!”
Without waiting long, Blackhoof raised his axe and brought it down on the crystal closest to him. There was a sound like glass shattering into a thousand pieces. Amariel and Nallart also ran forward, but before they reached the crystals, Toranna reappeared, holding a chain of daggers.
“Hands off my collection!” she shouted, swinging the chain. It was obviously a magic weapon, because five blades flew at once. Amariel blocked two with her shield, Nallart a third one with his axe. But the fourth knife slashed the dwarf's skin above his left eyebrow and the fifth one hit Rakalla in the shoulder, who had also approached the ritual circle. Meanwhile, the shadow creature on the pedestal had grown even larger. It stretched out a dark tentacle arm towards Amariel and grabbed the medusa with a claw. But then Aranis shot another glowing arrow, piercing Toranna's right upper arm.
She screamed in pain and backed away. “I'll be back,” she hissed before disappearing into the darkness once more.
Rakalla, although wounded and in the grip of the shadow claw, managed to pull another flash grenade from her pocket and hurl it into the vortex of darkness that was the monster’s body. A bright explosion, a wave of light, an angry hiss ...
The monstrous shadow seemed to flicker briefly – but then it condensed again. The claw closed tighter around Rakalla and she cried out in pain. Haer'Dalis and Síkhara rushed to her almost simultaneously and struck at the claw, the bard with his magical short swords, the blood hunter with her radiant scimitar. Meanwhile, Nallart, Jostos and Blackhoof had freed Amariel from the tentacle's grip. Krystall was still embroiled in the fight against the Shadowknave, who struck with deadly speed. But the leader of the Razor Angels was no less skilled. She dodged and attacked in turn, again and again. It was like a deadly dance between two evenly matched opponents.
“My flash grenades aren't enough!” Rakalla shouted, now freed from the claw. “We need more light!”
Amariel looked at Runako. The leonin had attacked Imogen, but she had fled to the other end of the room with a misty step. At the medusa's call, he abandoned pursuing the githzerai and stopped next to the dais with the shadow monster.
“Cover my back,” he said calmly. His gaze was steady, unshakeable.
Amariel nodded and beckoned the others energetically. “Everyone back from the pedestal!”
Haer'Dalis, Síkhara and Rakalla jumped to the left, while Nallart, Jostos and Blackhoof dodged to the right.
Runako stood still, now with the shadow creature in his unobstructed line of sight. Síkhara felt the room grow warmer as he raised his saber, closed his eyes and called out to his goddess in a deep voice.
“Ba en Aset, Lady of the Day, Keeper of the First Breath! See my heart and make it thy mirror. Let thy light shine where darkness rises. So that we always remember: Night is followed by day!” Then he opened his eyes again, and his gaze glowed like the sun itself. “Shine through me!”
The light that burst from the gemstone in the hilt of his saber was golden-white and so bright that the remaining shadows screamed. A glaring beam cut through the darkness of the temple and struck the creature in the center. It screeched, writhed, contracted, tried to resist ... But the light burned it mercilessly, layer by layer, until nothing remained but frayed wisps of smoke. Then the holy ray of sunlight faded and darkness returned to the great chamber. But the echo of the spell still lingered in the air and a deep silence spread throughout the hall. Krystall and the Shadowknave had interrupted their duel when the light of the sun had found its way into the depths of the undercity. Runako lowered his saber as the rest of the group gathered around him. Then the ground shook as a slight tremor ran through the temple. Dust trickled down from above, and when Síkhara looked up, she saw fine cracks running across the ceiling.
“The monster and the crystals are destroyed,” Amariel said breathlessly. “But the temple is about to collapse.”
Runako glanced over at Imogen, who had retreated to a door on the other side of the room. Margram was standing there too, having apparently decided to leave the unconscious Brandal behind to save himself.
Faced with the impending collapse, the leonin decided it was too risky to pursue the Illuminated. “Let’s get out of here,” he ordered. “Quickly!”
Krystall was the only one who hesitated, if only for a moment. She stared at the Shadowknave with narrowed eyes, but the dark-haired half-elf gave a mocking bow and then retreated towards Imogen. Blood ran down his right cheek and left arm, but he grinned.
“You win this time,” he said. “But that doesn't change anything. We now know how to do it.” Then he disappeared into the darkness together with Imogen and the wounded Margram.
There was no time left to think about where the Illuminated had fled or to search the temple. The small stones already falling from the ceiling spoke an unmistakable language: Run! And so they did. They ran towards the stairs as fast as they could. Runako bent down before he started running and picked up the unconscious Brandal, throwing him effortlessly over his shoulder.
“Really?” Rakalla gave him a doubtful look. “That berk wanted to put us in the dead book!”
“He is a witness who must be questioned,” the leonin replied calmly. “Besides, it would be dishonorable to leave him here, unconscious, to die.”
“You don't have to carry him!” Síkhara shouted, pulling the medusa along by the arm. “Now come!”
They hurried up the stairs and through the half-collapsed corridor. Fortunately, the gap widened by Runako, Nallart and Blackhoof was still wide enough to allow the leonin and the minotaur to pass through. Despite the danger, they stopped once more in the room with the crystals. They didn't want to leave behind the imprisoned soul fragments of the victims. As quickly as they could, they stuffed the crystals lined up on the ledge into their pockets. Some had fallen down during the quake, but fortunately they weren't broken. Then they ran on, the way back through the entrance hall a chaotic mess of falling rocks, noise and dust. A large boulder hit Aranis Verûsa, but Blackhoof picked him up and carried him as soon as he saw that the aasimar was limping. Amariel supported Haer'Dalis, who had been hit by a stone at the forehead, and so they reached the exit, partly running, partly limping, but all breathing heavily. However, they did not pause, running as fast as they could through the large cave to the small chamber with the magical moss. When she glanced back over her shoulder, Síkhara saw that the old temple behind them had completely collapsed. But she didn't dare to look back for more than a moment, instead hurrying on, Jostos in front of her, Nallart close behind. Only when they had left behind the ruins of the Weeping Stone Catacombs, when the tremors of the quake could no longer be felt, did they finally stop.
The way back to the surface seemed very long to Síkhara. Perhaps it was because her left arm hurt where a falling piece of rock had hit her. Perhaps it was also because they walked in complete silence. Too much had happened to find words. Only the echo of their footsteps and the soft dripping of water accompanied them. They did not stop once. Brandal, whom Runako Fireheart carried over his shoulder, did not wake up the entire way. Aranis walked on his own again after Blackhoof had set him down at his request, but he had to lean on Nallart. Krystall had a cut on her right forearm, inflicted by the Shadowknave, which she had not yet healed and bandaged only provisionally. Perhaps she saw it as a kind of trophy. The saved crystals clinked softly in the pockets of Rakalla, Haer'Dalis, Jostos and Amariel. Only when they reached the surface again and were greeted by the pale light of a dull Sigil afternoon did they stop. Síkhara took a deep breath. Even the haze over the Lower Ward smelled inviting now.
Runako stepped up beside her. His armor was scratched, his fur covered in dust, but his posture was as upright as ever. “You fought well,” he said approvingly.
Síkhara nodded to him. “Thank you, Prefect. You and your people as well. What happens now?”
“We'll give a report and take this Illuminated to a detention cell.” He pointed to Brandal, who was slumped limply over his shoulder. “Then we'll have to consider what to do with the crystals. Find out if there's a way to return the soul fragments to their owners. Whether they'll ever get their shadows back ... that's a question I can't answer.”
The half-elf seemed surprised by the suggestion, but nodded with a smile. “I'd be happy to. Um, if you will allow me, Prefect!” She looked at Runako and stood a little straighter.
The leonin eyed Amariel, Rakalla and the rest of her group seriously. “It seems that this unusual alliance is not yet over,” he stated. “Very well, as you wish. Examine the crystals together. I hope you will find a solution.”
The decuria nodded gratefully, while Krystall stepped up to Síkhara. The red and black mask and the lower part of her face were smeared with dirt, and a cut above her left cheek shed bloody tears. “The Shadowknave is still alive,” she said. Not a question, a statement.
Síkhara sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. At least we destroyed the temple and caught their prey. This probably isn't the last we'll hear from the Illuminated. But I think Sigil will be safe from their machinations for a while.”
“And if they return, we will thwart their plans again,” Runako replied calmly. “It was an honor to fight alongside you. We will report back to you about the crystals.” Then he beckoned his small troop, and they set off for the Barracks.
Síkhara, Krystall, Rakalla, Haer'Dalis and Blackhoof watched them for a while. Then the leader of the Razor Angels turned to the rest of the group.
“I don't know about you,” she said. “But I could use a good rum.”
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