The entrance to Ebonheart’s underground network lay hidden beneath an abandoned shrine in the city’s oldest district. Corvus’s crows had led us there, and perched atop a weathered stone building whose architecture spoke of a time long before the current magistrate’s rule. The shrine’s wooden door hung askew on rusted hinges, and inside, beneath a thick layer of dust and debris, we found the entrance—a heavy iron trapdoor set into the floor, its surface etched with faded religious symbols.

As we pulled open the trapdoor, cold, damp air rushed up to meet us, carrying centuries of secrets in its musty breath. Corvus and I made our way down worn stone steps that spiraled into darkness. Behind us, the trapdoor fell shut with a resonant boom that echoed through the passage like the closing of a tomb. The dark veins in my skin pulsed with a soft purple glow and illuminated the moisture-slicked stone walls just enough for me to navigate through the passage. The descent was like entering the throat of some ancient beast, the odor of mold and decay growing stronger with each step.

“The aurorium lies at the heart of these tunnels,” Corvus said, his voice barely above a whisper. “These passages are used by the faithful to make their pilgrimages in secret.”

“You mean the magistrate does not know about this place?”

“I’m sure he does, but the aurorium plays such an insignificant role in the city’s political affairs, I doubt he cares what goes on here. Especially if he’s supposedly erecting an aurorium dedicated to himself.”

“How absurd…” The mention of the magistrate brought fresh anger surging through me. The image of the bard burning from within was still vivid in my mind. I touched the wooden flute at my belt, its surface still warm with lingering magic.

“Absurd… and blasphemous,” Corvus agreed. “But that is beyond the scope of our mission.”

As we descended deeper, I an oppressive sensation ripple across my skin. The walls seemed to press in closer, and the shadows took on more definite shapes. More than once, I caught glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision, only to find nothing there when I turned to look.

“Something’s wrong,” I muttered, my hand moving to one of my kukris. “These shadows... they’re not natural.”

Corvus tilted his head. “No,” he agreed. “They’re not. The darkness here has been... tainted.”

A distant sound echoed up from below—something between a moan and a whisper. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Did you hear that?”

“Always, the shadows here have many voices,” Corvus replied softly.

We continued our descent in tense silence. The spiral staircase finally opened into a broader tunnel, its ceiling lost in darkness above. Ancient columns lined the passage, their surfaces carved with various runes and symbols. The air here was stagnant, carrying the musty scent of age and abandonment.

Our path split into three branches. The left tunnel was partially collapsed, while the right disappeared into impenetrable darkness. The central passage was marked with the symbol of Valic—a crown encircling an iron fist.

Corvus ran his hand over the etched symbol next to the central tunnel and nodded. “This way.”

The tunnel gradually widened, opening into a vast underground chamber. The ceiling soared into darkness, supported by massive columns crafted from black quartz. Braziers burned with purple flames that cast more shadows than light. At the far end of the chamber stood the aurorium proper, a temple carved directly into the living rock. Its facade was a masterwork of dark artistry. The entrance was flanked by two enormous statues of Valic in his humanoid form, similar to his depiction from when I had first met him in his throne. The statues’ empty eye sockets burned with purple fire that followed our movement.

Inside, several hooded figures sat scattered among the stone benches, their forms hunched in silent prayer or contemplation. Their dark robes appeared to absorb the purple light from the braziers, making them appear as living shadows. None looked up as we passed, though I sensed their awareness of our presence.

Acolytes in ceremonial robes moved throughout the main sanctuary, carrying censers that released thin streams of dark smoke that filled the air with the acrid scent of burning herbs and something else I couldn’t quite identify. The smoke coiled and twisted, forming brief patterns before dissipating into the darkness.

At the base of a massive black altar stood a tall man in elaborate black robes trimmed with silver thread that caught the purple light. His face was deeply lined, bearing the weight of years of service to Valic, but his eyes were sharp and alert. A silver chain around his neck bore the symbol of his office–a thorned crown crossed by a dagger.

“High Acolyte Vesper,” I presumed.

The man acknowledged out presence, his eyes wide with relief. “Ah, thank the Dread Lord, you have come,” he said as we approached. His voice carrying the practiced smoothness of one used to delivering sermons. “Though I must admit, I had hoped you would arrive sooner.”

“The city has... complicated matters,” Corvus said.

Vesper’s expression remained neutral, but I noticed a slight tightening around his eyes. “Yes, Ebonheart is not what it once was. The magistrate’s... influence has brought many changes.”

I arched an eyebrow at his brief hesitation in his words. “You don’t approve of these changes?”

“It is not my place to approve or disapprove,” he replied. “I serve Valic, and Valic alone. But...” He glanced at the hooded worshippers, then lowered his voice. “The balance of power in this city has shifted. Dark forces are at work here, forces that even I don’t fully understand.”

“Tell us about Ramon,” Corvus interjected. “Why did he take the dagger?”

Vesper’s face darkened. “Ramon had been one of our most promising acolytes. His dedication to understanding the deeper mysteries of our faith was admirable—perhaps too admirable. He began delving into forbidden texts, pursuing knowledge that was not meant for mortal minds.”

“What kind of knowledge?”

“He became obsessed with ancient rituals, particularly those involving the binding and control of powerful entities.” Vesper’s voice dropped even lower. “He claimed he had discovered something in the old texts—a way to trap and harness the essence of beings far beyond our mortal understanding.”

I recalled Evangeline’s mention about the magistrate’s unnatural presence and grimaced. “And the Serpent’s Fang? What role does it play in these rituals?”

“The dagger is more than just a ceremonial tool,” Vesper explained. “It’s a conduit for dark energies, capable of severing the bonds between flesh and spirit. In the wrong hands, it could be used to... release something that should remain bound.”

One of the hooded figures nearby shifted slightly, drawing my attention. For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of what looked like scales beneath their robe.

“Where would Ramon go?” I pressed, returning my attention back to the High Acolyte. “Where would he perform such a ritual?”

Vesper shook his head. “I don’t know for certain. But there are older tunnels beneath even these, remnants of an ancient city that existed long before Ebonheart’s existence. Ramon spent many hours studying maps of these passages.” He paused, glancing around nervously. “He was particularly interested in a chamber deep below the magistrate’s mansion – a place he called the Nexus.”

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“The mansion again,” I muttered, glancing thoughtfully at Corvus. “Everything seems to lead back there.”

“Be careful,” Vesper warned. “The magistrate... well, I try not to involve myself in city politics. My duties lie with the aurorium and its sacred rites.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Though I must admit, strange things have been happening since he took power. But such matters are beyond my concern.”

“Surely, you must know something about his nature,” I pressed.

But Vesper merely shook his head. “I keep to my duties and my prayers. The affairs of the city are best left to others. Moreover, the shadows have ears, and not all of them serve Valic anymore.” He reached into his robes and withdrew a folded piece of parchment. “This is all I can give you—a partial map of the old tunnels that we recovered from Ramon’s quarters. May it lead you to what you seek.”

I accepted the map, feeling the parchment’s ancient texture beneath my fingers. As I unfolded it, I noticed that parts had been deliberately torn away, leaving only fragments of the underground network visible.

“The missing sections...” I began.

“...Were removed long ago, by those who wished to keep certain places hidden.” Vesper finished. “But perhaps that is for the best. Some paths are better left unexplored. Ramon’s madness must be stopped, though I confess I know not what ritual he plans.” He wrung his hands nervously. “We’ve tried scrying, divination, every means at our disposal to discover his intentions, but something... something blocks our sight.”

“What other information can you share?” I asked.

Vesper’s eyes shifted towards the sitting worshippers a moment, then he lowered his voice for my ears only. “I am sure you have heard by now that in two days’ time, the magistrate will hold his grand court. All of Ebonheart’s most influential citizens will attend, celebrating his... generosity.” The last word dripped with barely concealed disgust.

“Including the bards?” I asked, thinking of Evangeline.

“Especially the bards.” Vesper’s expression was grim. “He has a particular fondness for their performances, though few return from his private concerts unchanged. The timing of this gathering troubles me deeply—it falls on the eve of the new moon.”

A chill ran through me. Every follower of Valic knew the significance of the new moon. It was when the Dread Lord’s power reached its zenith, when the barrier between Aetheria and the realm of shadow grew thinnest. Throughout the world, clerics, acolytes, and devout followers would gather in temples to perform sacred rites, seeking Valic’s darkest blessings.

“This is no coincidence,” I muttered, the pieces starting to align in my mind. “A gathering of the city’s elite, forced performances by magically bound bards, all on Valic’s holiest night...”

“Indeed.” Vesper’s voice dropped even lower. “Whatever the magistrate plans, he seeks to corrupt even this sacred time for his own purposes. To twist Valic’s holy night into something else entirely.” He shuddered. “I wish I had not been privy to such blasphemous information. I have heard rumors of preparations being made in his mansion. The symbols being carved, the arrangements being made—they pervert everything our faith stands for.”

I thought of Evangeline in that moment, trapped in this web of dark magic and corruption. On a night when true followers of Valic would be seeking divine communion, she and the other bards would be mere tools in some darker purpose.

“Thank you for your help,” I said, tucking the map away. “Before we leave, I’d like to see Ramon’s quarters.”

Vesper hesitated. “I assure you, we’ve searched his room thoroughly.”

“Perhaps there’s something your search might have missed.”

He pursed his lips, then nodded. “Very well. Follow me.”

He led us through a side door and down a narrow corridor lit by more purple-flamed braziers. The passage sloped downward and the air grew noticeably colder. The walls here were rougher, less finished than the main sanctuary, with thick veins of black crystal running through the stone.

“The dormitories,” Vesper announced as we descended. “Ramon’s cell is at the far end. He preferred isolation, claimed it helped him focus on his studies.”

The corridor opened into a circular chamber with multiple doorways leading to small cells. Most were occupied, judging by the personal effects visible through the open doors—prayer books, ceremonial items, simple cots. But Ramon’s cell, when we reached it, was notably different.

The room was larger than the others, and despite Vesper’s claim of a thorough search, chaos reigned. Papers covered every surface, many marked with complex diagrams and equations. The walls were covered in charcoal sketches, architectural drawings, anatomical studies, and strange symbols that hurt my eyes to look at directly. The air felt thick with residual energy—like the aftereffects of a recently-cast spell—and there was a faint odor of sulfur and copper.

“By the Dread Lord,” I muttered, taking in the scene. “This is more than just study. This is obsession.”

Corvus moved towards one wall where a group of drawings were posted. His foot absently kicked a book laying on the floor and he stopped and picked it up. He ran his hand over the raised edges of the cover and concentrated. “These symbols... they’re ancient.” One of his crows hopped down from his shoulder and began pecking at something in the corner of the room.

I approached the desk. Books lay open, their pages covered in Ramon’s cramped handwriting. Many of the notes were in languages I didn’t recognize, but certain phrases caught my eye—binding circles, essence transfer, vessel preparation.

A scrap of parchment that was partially hidden beneath one of the tomes caught my attention. The paper was newer than the others, and the ink still looked relatively fresh. I carefully extracted it and revealed what appeared to be a letter, though parts had been scratched out or deliberately obscured:

R-

The preparations are nearly complete. The (scratched out) has provided everything we need. When the new moon rises, the binding will be broken, and true power will be revealed. He suspects nothing. His arrogance blinds him to the (scratched out) beneath his very feet.

The Nexus awaits. Bring the Fang.

-K

“Corvus, listen to this.” I re-read the letter aloud to him.

He started. “Someone else is involved.”

“Yes,” Vesper said. “As soon as we found that letter, I sent a missive to the blackguards. This has escalated beyond our control.”

“You were wise to do so.” I nodded. “We will get to the bottom of this.”

The crow’s persistent pecking drew our attention to the back wall. The bird hopped excitedly, its beak tapping against what looked to be a perfectly ordinary stone behind Ramon’s bed.

Corvus tilted his head, listening something in particular. “There’s something behind that wall.”

“Huh?” Then I began to hear the sound, too, a hollow sound the pecking produced. I approached the wall and ran my fingers over the stone’s surface, feeling for any irregularities. There—a slight groove along one edge, almost invisible to the naked eye. I gave it a firm press and felt the stone shift slightly.

“A hidden compartment,” I muttered, working my fingers into the groove. With a bit of effort, the stone came loose, revealing a tiny dark hollow beyond. The space was lined with more of the black crystal I’d seen in the corridor, and nestled within was a leather-bound book.

“Impossible,” Vesper breathed, moving closer. “We scried this room thoroughly. Every inch was examined for hidden items and passages.”

“Obviously, your magic didn’t suffice.” I reached for the journal.

Vesper suddenly gasped, and his hand shot out, stopping me. “Wait! There’s magic here—old magic.” His fingers traced symbols in the air, and purple light flickered around the hollow. “A concealment ward, and a powerful one. That’s why our divinations failed to detect it.”

He muttered a series of words in the ancient tongue, and the air around the journal rippled. There was a sound like breaking glass, though nothing visible shattered, and the magical tension in the air dissipated.

“The ward is broken,” Vesper said, lowering his hand. “You may take it now.”

I retrieved the journal, feeling its weight in my hands. The leather cover was worn smooth from handling, and dark stains marked several pages. As I opened it, the scent of old parchment and something metallic—blood, perhaps—wafted up.

“This could tell us exactly what Ramon is planning,” I said, skimming the pages of endless scribble. “And perhaps reveal more about his mysterious accomplice as well.”

“We need to take some time to look through this thoroughly, brother,” Corvus said.

I nodded and tucked the journal into one of my belt pouches.

“Whatever you discover, be careful,” Vesper said gravely. “Ramon’s obsession with forbidden knowledge has led him down a dark path. And in Ebonheart, such paths often lead to places from which there is no return.”

Corvus tilted his head as if listening to something beyond our hearing. “We should leave. The shadows grow restless.”

Indeed, the purple flames in the braziers had begun to flicker more violently, and the darkness in the corners of the room seemed to pulse with malevolent purpose. The temperature had dropped noticeably, and my breath came out in visible puffs of vapor.

“Thank you for your help,” I said to Vesper. “We’ll find Ramon and stop whatever he’s planning before this gathering takes place.”

Vesper nodded slowly. “May Valic guide your steps.” He hesitated, then added in an even lower voice, “And remember, in Ebonheart, not everything that walks in shadow serves the same master. There are... factions at work here, powers competing for control. Be careful of whom you trust.”

As we made our way back through the tunnels, Ramon’s journal seemed to grow heavier in the pouch at my hip, as if the secrets it contained were weighing me down. I thought of Evangeline, and of the magistrate’s upcoming gathering. Something unsettling was brewing in Ebonheart, something that threatened to corrupt even Valic’s holiest night.

Whatever Ramon and his ally were planning, whatever the magistrate truly was, I would not let Evangeline or anyone else become sacrifices in their twisted games. The darkness in my veins pulsed with purpose, and for once, my mission and my personal desires aligned perfectly.

Ebonheart’s reckoning was coming, and I would be its harbinger.