The passage narrowed as they descended deeper. Damp, cold stone pressed close, and the sheltered carvings had grown clearer. Crescent moons appeared again and again, surrounded by flowing lines.

The sealed air tasted old, as though it had never expected lungs.

Garrick walked with his axe in one hand. The dart trap had made him study the cracked floor and walls before every step. “Pay attention,” the dwarf said over his shoulder. “All of you. Last trap was a warning. Next one might not be kind enough to miss.”

Rendall and Kaelen both gave careless waves. “Yeah, yeah,” the twins said.

Malrik muttered about ancient mechanisms and careless people. Darron remained quiet, his bow in hand and his eyes fixed ahead rather than near Vasha. The Oakhai walked beside Thorn, her face carefully blank and her tail too still.

The Ee’dornil had noticed. His attention moved from Darron’s silence to Rendall’s restlessness, then from Kaelen’s sharp smiles to Vasha. He remained close enough to intervene without crowding her.

Suraia stayed near him when the passage allowed it and wished Elira was still beside her. The Veilwarden had fallen behind to study the markings, purple light flickering between her fingers whenever she touched certain carvings.

To the human woman, the temple felt as though its walls had closed their eyes and were listening. The magical presence still tugged faintly at her. She shivered, and Thorn’s eyes immediately moved towards her.

The passage bent. Kaelen stopped ahead of them. “Wait,” she said.

Rendall turned towards his sister. “What?” he asked.

She crouched beside a section of wall half-hidden by fallen stone and dust. At first, Suraia saw nothing but another cracked carving. Then Kaelen ran her fingers along its edge, and something clicked.

Elira looked up sharply. “Don’t touch that,” she said.

Kaelen froze for half a heartbeat before smiling. “Oh, now I definitely want to touch it,” she said.

“Kaelen,” Elira warned.

Rendall had already joined his sister. He wedged his dagger into the crack and pulled. Stone grated against stone, and dust fell in a dry curtain while Malrik hurried closer.

Thorn silently positioned himself between the hidden seam and Suraia. Vasha saw him move and took her place beside the curly redhead.

With another pull, part of the wall shifted inwards. Cold air drifted through the opening with the smell of old linen, dust and something so dry that it tightened Suraia’s throat.

Garrick’s irritation disappeared beneath greed. “Well now,” he said.

Elira stepped forwards, her face pale in the lantern light. “This was sealed,” she said.

“Was,” Kaelen replied.

The small chamber was carefully carved. Crescent moons and sweeping lines covered the walls, all bending towards a stone sarcophagus standing upright against the wall. Its lid showed a still figure, its hands upon its chest and a stylised mask over its eyes. A wide collar bore blue moon symbols whose remaining pigment had faded almost to grey.

Suraia stopped at the threshold. She didn’t want to enter. Vasha looked from her to the sarcophagus, and her ears lowered.

“This feels like a terrible idea,” the Oakhai murmured.

“Most profitable things do,” Garrick said and stepped inside.

Elira followed him quickly. “Don’t open it,” she said.

The dwarf looked at her. “You say that about everything,” he replied.

“Because you keep trying to open things that should remain closed,” the Veilwarden said.

Malrik circled the sarcophagus with his lantern held high. “Remarkable. These markings are old. Very old. The collar design is similar to—” he began.

“Can it be sold?” Garrick interrupted him.

Malrik paused. “The sarcophagus? No. Not easily,” he answered.

“Then check if there is something inside that can,” the dwarf said eagerly.

Elira placed herself between him and the stone coffin. “This is a burial chamber,” she said.

“Then whoever is in there might have been buried with something,” Rendall said.

Suraia curled her fingers around the strap of her bag. “Please,” she said softly. “You should listen to Elira.”

Kaelen looked over her shoulder. “You can stay outside if you are scared,” she said.

The redheaded woman flushed and lowered her eyes, but Thorn stepped closer before shame could fold her smaller. “She is not wrong,” the Ee’dornil said.

Garrick’s jaw tightened. Then his gaze returned to the sarcophagus, and greed won. “Open it,” he said.

Elira’s face hardened. “Garrick,” she said.

“Open it,” the dwarf repeated. “Carefully, if it makes you feel saver.”

Rendall and Kaelen set their shoulders against the lid. Darron hesitated, then helped from the other side without looking at Vasha. The stone resisted before shifting with a grinding moan that crawled through Suraia’s teeth.

The lid slid aside. A body stood inside, wrapped in faded blue linen which had split in places. A wide collar marked with crescent symbols caught the lantern light in dull blue flashes. Linen covered its sunken face, and a cracked mask with faded blue paint hid its eyes.

The mummy didn’t move. For several heartbeats, neither did anyone else.

Garrick leaned closer. “Search it,” he said.

“No,” Elira said.

Kaelen was already reaching for the collar. The mummy’s hand snapped around her wrist.

She screamed and tried to wrench herself free. Darron stumbled backwards while Rendall cursed and drew his sword. The mummy pulled itself forwards with terrible stiffness, its wrappings crackling. Beneath the cloth, pale blue light glimmered like moonlight trapped under water.

It spoke in a dry, broken tongue none of them understood. It wasn’t a roar or a curse, but a sentence. Perhaps a warning.

Kaelen tore free and fell against her brother. “Kill it!” she screamed.

Darron raised his bow. “Ghor scum,” he said.

“No,” Elira snapped. “Not Ghor.”

He shot her a sharp look. “It is dead and moving,” he said.

“That doesn’t make it theirs” the Veilwarden said. “Ghor has no mummies. This is Denday’s temple. It may have been a Night Dweller.”

“Wonderful time for a history lesson,” Darron snapped.

“It does truly matter,” Elira said.

The mummy lifted one hand towards the doorway without striking. It was pointing, or warning them back.

Rendall attacked first.

His sword cut into the mummy’s shoulder with a dry crack. Blue wrappings tore, and the mummy shoved him hard enough to send him into the carved wall. Kaelen lunged next. Garrick followed with a heavy swing that chipped the sarcophagus as the mummy twisted aside.

“Circle it!” the dwarf barked.

“It is only defending itself,” Elira shouted. “Stop attacking!”

No one listened.

Vasha had drawn an arrow but didn’t release it. Her ears moved as she read the struggle. Thorn stepped forwards, his expression grave.

The mummy looked past Garrick, Kaelen, the blades and the lanterns. Its pale blue gaze settled upon Suraia with awful recognition, and the pull she had felt earlier tightened between them.

The human woman stepped backwards. The mummy reached for her.

Thorn moved at once. The druid pressed a hand against the stone, but no roots answered. With no soil or living weave beneath him, only ancient rock, he used his own strength to force himself between Suraia and the mummy.

Garrick shouted over the noise. “Elira! Do Veilwarden things! Turn it to dust or something!”

Elira’s face was tense, but she moved. “Form a circle around it. Now. Don’t strike unless it strikes first,” she ordered.

Garrick swore but obeyed, moving to one side with Kaelen beside him. Malrik stumbled forwards with his lantern, muttering that this was either fascinating or fatal. Before Suraia understood what was happening, she had been pushed to the front of the circle with Thorn, Vasha, Rendall and Darron. Garrick, Malrik and Kaelen closed the ring behind the mummy.

Elira stepped inside. Purple light gathered at her fingertips.

The mummy followed Suraia’s movement instead of watching the Veilwarden. Whenever the curly redhead stepped back, it dragged one wrapped foot towards her. Its hand remained outstretched.

“Suraia,” Vasha called, fear sharpening her voice.

“I know,” Suraia whispered, although she didn’t know anything.

Elira began to chant. Her low, precise words caught against the carved walls while purple runes formed around her hands and stretched towards the mummy like threads.

Its head snapped towards her. The strange language returned, louder and urgent, as its arms pulled against the forming runes. Blue light flared once around its collar.

“Hold the circle,” Elira said.

Suraia tried, but the mummy turned back towards her. It crossed the narrow chamber faster than something so old should have been able to move. She stepped away and found the wall directly behind her.

Thorn wanted to step in front of the healer but Elira clearly shook her head.

Cold fingers closed around the curly redhead her right arm. White light with a blue hue burst from the mummy’s hand and shot beneath her sleeve. It didn’t burn, but the pain seemed to wake something beneath her skin. Suraia whimpered as her knees nearly gave way. Thorn and Vasha shouted her name, their voices distant beneath the ringing in her ears.

Elira finished her chant and pushed her rune work with both hands towards the mummy’s back. Purple light flared between them. “Let her go!” she shouted.

The mountain answered with a deep rumble. Dust fell from the ceiling, the floor trembled beneath their boots and stone groaned beyond the chamber walls.

“Back!” Garrick shouted.

The mummy released Suraia. She stumbled, half-blind from the white-blue flare, as a crack split across the ceiling.

Elira seized her shoulders, pulled at her and then shoved her aside. The borrowed lantern flew from Suraia’s hand and struck the floor. Its light vanished beneath the first falling rocks as the human woman rolled across the stone. Pain flashed through her elbow, hip and shoulder.

She looked up in time to see Elira turn towards the sound above her.

Stone came down. A slab broke loose from the ceiling, followed by a choking rush of rock and ancient debris. Elira disappeared beneath it, and the crashing stone swallowed everything.

Suraia screamed, but she couldn’t even hear herself.

The chamber split in thunder and dust. The mummy disappeared beneath the collapse, the mummy’s blue light winking out. Stone crashed between the group until a jagged wall reached from floor to ceiling. Then the shaking stopped.

Dust turned the remaining lantern light into brown smears. Someone coughed, someone else groaned and loose pebbles continued to tick down the rubble.

Suraia pushed herself up on trembling arms. “Elira?” she whispered.

There was no answer.

“Elira?” she called louder.

Still nothing.

Thorn’s voice reached her from the far side of the stone. “Miss Silverbell,” he called.

“I’m here,” she answered, her voice breaking. “I… I’m here.”

“Vasha?” Thorn called.

“Here,” the Oakhai answered through a cough. “Darron?”

“Here,” Darron replied.

“Rendall?” Darron called.

Rendall answered with a curse.

“Garrick?” Thorn called after a pause.

“Here,” the dwarf answered from Suraia’s side. “Malrik?”

The halfling coughed. “Alive,” he said.

“Kaelen?” Rendall shouted. “Kaelen!”

“I’m here,” his sister snapped, although her voice shook. “Stop shouting.”

Suraia stared at the rocks where Elira had stood.

“Elira?” Thorn called, his voice lower now.

The silence that followed was heavier than the stone between them.

“She… she pushed me out of the way,” Suraia said after swallowing against the pain in her throat. “The rocks… she… was under them.”

No one spoke. On the other side, Vasha made a small sound which wasn’t quite a gasp or a word.

Thorn remained silent for a long moment. “I am sorry,” he said, his voice very still.

Garrick exhaled sharply. “Damn waste,” he said.

Suraia turned towards him. The dwarf brushed dust from his beard and studied the blockage as if measuring its inconvenience. Kaelen stood nearby with one hand against the wrist the mummy had grabbed, her face pale and hard. Malrik stared at the rubble with wide, distant eyes.

“Kaelen, are you hurt?” Rendall called through the stone.

“I said I’m here,” she snapped. “Wrong side, apparently.”

Garrick moved closer to the rubble. “Can you clear it?” he called.

“Not quickly. There is too much stone, and no roots here,” Thorn answered.

“Then find another way around,” Garrick said.

“That is what we will do,” Thorn replied. “You will stay where you are.”

Garrick looked towards the dark passage ahead. Suraia and Kaelen followed his gaze.

“Garrick,” the Ee’dornil said through the rocks. “Stay where you are.”

“Aye,” the dwarf called. “We’ll wait.”

Thorn spoke again from the other side. “Miss Silverbell. Do not go farther in.”

“I... I won’t,” Suraia answered.

Kaelen made a quiet, humourless sound. “If there’s even a way to go farther,” she said.

“There is,” Malrik replied.

Everyone on Suraia’s side turned towards him. The halfling stared into the passage beyond the collapsed chamber, his eyes unfocused. “The magic. It’s still there,” he said.

Garrick’s expression changed. Only slightly, but enough.

Stone shifted beneath someone’s boot on the far side. “We’ll find you,” Vasha called, her voice tighter than before.

Suraia closed her eyes for a heartbeat. “I know,” she replied.

“Garrick,” Thorn said, his tone hard enough to cut.

“Aye, aye,” the dwarf answered. “We wait.”

The voices on the far side shifted away from the rubble. Thorn gave orders, Vasha answered, Rendall muttered about finding his sister and Darron said very little.

Thorn turned away from the wall of stone. Rendall remained facing it with one hand tight around his sword. “Kaelen’s on the wrong side,” he said.

“So is Miss Silverbell,” Thorn replied.

Darron stood near the passage with his eyes lowered and refused to look at Vasha, even when she stepped closer to the rubble.

The ebony-skinned woman’s ears angled back. “I can try to track the way around,” she said evenly.

Rendall gave a sharp, ugly laugh. “Track? Through stone?” he asked.

Thorn looked at him, and the sound died.

“If you have nothing useful to add,” the large elf said, “be silent.”

Rendall tightened his hand around his sword. Darron looked as though he might speak, then remained quiet.

Thorn didn’t raise his voice. “I am going to find Miss Silverbell,” he said. “You may stay here, or you may follow quietly. Those are your choices.”

Vasha drew a slow breath and lifted her face towards the dark tunnels branching away from them. Her ears moved while her tail went still. “There may be another way,” she said.

“Lead,” Thorn responded.

The hybrid stepped into the passage with her bow in hand, and the Ee’dornil followed. Darron and Rendall came after them with Rendall’s lantern raised, tense and unwilling. Vasha and Thorn clearly weren’t bothered by the darkness of the cave, they could see clearly; the human and the half-elf couldn’t, forcing them to watch their steps and struggle to keep up.