Morning came to show its bright face on the city of Hailgalad. The sleepy city was just beginning to awaken with the sounds of workshops starting for the day and traders setting up their shops.

That was when a knock came to the door of the Defenders of Soul. Desmond was jolted out of a deep slumber. It was one that was hard earned. The man stretched and yawned as his muscles ached. Late last night, he had tried to fall asleep, but the thoughts of the decrepit cabin in the woods and the ominous caverns kept him awake. Each time he drifted off, a feeling of dread shook him back.

Another knock came again with frantic vigor.

The paladin sighed heavily as he got up. He hobbled down the stairs, towards the front door. There, one of the goblins was already there.

“Who is it, Farnuk” he yawned.

The goblin did not say anything, he only turned around and gave a look Desmond knew all too well.

The woman outside was shouting frantically. Desmond could barely make out what she was saying as she rambled about some elaborate story. Desmond shook his head as he thought of all the lost souls that came to their door over the years. Each plagued by a nightmare that no one could help them with. No one, except for the Defenders of Sol.

“I am telling you I need,” shrill voice stuttered. “I need them to help me now!”

“The masters of this house are recovering after a long journey. I am not sure they are in the position to help you right now,” the goblin’s raspy voice said.

“Don't worry Farnuk, I can handle this," Desmond said as he came behind the goblin.

He turned to the woman who had grayish-blue skin and white hair.

“Good morning how can I help you?” he said with a smile, trying to stay calm.

A woman whose face was covered in dirt looked frazzled as she grabbed Desmond by the shirt.

“I need your help now,” she shouted.

“Calm down, calm down,” Desmond said, “What do you need our help with? Is it somewhere in the city?”

“No, no,” she said, “East, east, of here. East in the hills is where my people live. There are some creature that attacked us over the past few nights. After we knew that we could not handle them, they sent me to get your help. We need the Defenders of Sol.”

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“What about your village’s garrison?” Desmond asked. “What about the Royal Army? Surely they could help you.”

She shook her head, “They killed all the guards in our village, they killed them. No normal weapons can hurt these monsters. They are like spirits or ghosts. When I came to the gates of the city, I went to the Royal Army for help, but they laughed at me. One of them said that maybe you could help me.”

***

“Spirits?" Aiden snorted.

“You know better than most that they are real and they can be deadly when they are awoken,” Desmond lectured.

“Yes, but she is probably delirious,” Aiden protested. “Most of the time, when someone comes to us for help, it ends up being nothing more than some thugs. The local militia should handle this.”

“The spirits killed them,” Desmond retorted.

The kuinan woman sat in the front room with a soothing tea as the group deliberated in the back. Graham was still in his room consumed by countless, old texts. Cynthia, Aiden, Maeve, and Desmond sat around their old, kitchen table.

“We just got back,” Cynthia said with a sigh as she rubbed her arm. “It has been a long few weeks. I'm not sure if we have it in us to take another journey, especially given everything that has happened in the past few days.”

“I am fine,” Maeve said quietly.

“The fact of the matter is these people need our help now. No normal soldiers can fix this for them.,” Demond insisted. “If what is she is saying is true, then she needs Graham and she needs us. If we do not go, her village might be wiped out.”

Cynthia gave out a grunt as she leaned back in her chair. “We really do need another team of people to help us. I cannot remember the last time I have had more than a few nights of peaceful sleep in my own bed.”

“Maeve, if you cannot make it, we understand. You have bene through a lot,” Desmond touched his sister’s hand.

“I said that I am fine,” Maeve said firmly as she pulled back and pounded the table. “This won't be the last time we are confronted with strange evil that sets us back. I do not need to be coddled.”

“Well,” Aiden said, “I guess this means we are going back out on the road. I'll go get the old man."

***

Something pulled at Graham as he sat there silently staring at the pyramid. Its presence vexed him as it pulsated with a strange aura. He poured over book after book with nothing gained. No matches to the runes on the artifact, and no similar descriptions from the design of that underground temple. Anger gripped him as the old man thought that he could hear voices whispering at him, pestering him.

“Come on, Graham,” Aiden called. “A woman needs our help. The wagon is loaded up and we are headed out.”

The mage shook out of his trance, but the allure of the artifact pulled him back in.

“Graham!” Cynthia yelled.

The woman’s booming voice shook him again. After a pause, he grabbed the artifact with a cloth-covered hand and stored it in his satchel.

“Coming,” the old man called.