5

As Oliver approached the statue, the two lights grew to a blinding level. Without knowing what was happening, Oliver had suddenly walked all the way up to the statue. It was more than thirty feet tall, but as he approached, it seemed to distort. The world between the two gems twisted like a wrung-out towel. Somehow, he was able to connect the pommel of his sword to the pommel of the statue’s.

There was a loud clicking noise from within the statue, and suddenly the two lights became one and emitted a blinding flash. The whole world was both obscured and illuminated by that flash. When it was over, a large doorway had appeared at the base of the statue.

“What the hell?” Oliver thought as he beheld the scene.

He had lived in the mansion for a great many years, despite his youthful appearance, but he had never imagined anything like a secret passageway existed inside one of the statues. None of his family had ever discovered anything so mysterious. The grounds were massive, so there was no reason to suspect that something like this didn’t exist, but so many generations of his family had lived there, Oliver assumed the secrets of the place had all been uncovered.

One such discovery was when his father had found the empty sword hilt a couple centuries prior and fashioned it to the wooden blade it now clung to. Oliver still remembered the pride he had felt when his dad finally passed the heirloom on to him. But here was obvious proof that some secrets yet remained.

With shaky legs, Oliver approached the opening in the statue. As he drew near, he could see that the hole led down, as he suspected it would. There was a torch on both walls, and both were lit, as if the mansion knew someone would soon walk down those stairs.

When Oliver crossed the threshold of the statue, numerous torches lit on each wall for several hundred feet. The descent of the stairs was very weird. The first few steps were only a few inches tall, but Oliver could see that as the path continued the steps became much steeper. After a few hundred feet, he would have to descend carefully to avoid twisting his ankle on the staircase.

Oliver looked down the tunnel as far as he could, but even with his exceptional eyesight, the torches eventually became a vague twinkle in the distance. There was no indication anywhere within that space as to what this suspicious passageway might have led to. Oliver was a cautious of repeating past mistakes, so he did not immediately descend the stairs.

First, he opened his mind to the arcane, using Detect in order to locate any magic that may have lurked in the depths. This was his family’s estate, but that didn’t mean there were no traps set for would be intruders. Knowing his ancestors, there was almost certainly something sinister he needed to watch for.

As the magical detection spell radiated out of his body, Oliver was overwhelmed with the sheer amount of magic that lurked about the passage. Unsurprisingly, the entire thing seemed to be magically made, even the flames in the torches were fueled by some combustion spell cast centuries prior.

What was most surprising about the whole thing was that it wasn’t made by casting a series of spells, rather it seemed to have been made by the work of a single magnificent casting. That was the reason Oliver was so surprised. As his eyes dissected the spell before him, Oliver couldn’t even fathom the energy he would have needed to create all of this with a single spell.

As a member of the Albrine family, the amount of energy he could summon was already far above average. All his family members were favorites of the Wellspring. Not a single member failed to receive a blessing from the Wellspring on his estate, it was one of the most important reasons they had built their estate around it in the first place.

The number of times that every single member of a family received a blessing was smaller than the number of times a desert saw heavy rain in a year. Before the Albrines found it, they traveled the land to the various Wellsprings to receive Blessings. Some had to attend dozens of Eruptions to attain benefits.

When the Albrines stumbled upon this one, however, each and every member of the family was blessed. They had known something was different about it, and so they had built their estate upon it. From that moment forward, every new member of his family received a blessing. What was more, they were among the strongest blessings received by any.

But even so, the amount of energy needed to create what he was witnessing before him was more than he had in his body by a vast margin. In fact, Oliver had never known any member of his family to be so powerful. What was more, from the traces he could clearly see, it was easy to tell that a single person worked the magic in front of him.

If it had been a combined spell, there would be overlapping auras. Every caster had their own aura. Mostly these came across in different colors, or if the casters were similar enough, their auras would come across as the same color, yet there would always be a distinct overlapping of the auras. Moreover, it would be apparent if the spell originated from more than one location as would have been the case with multiple casters.

This spell stemmed from a single place: The threshold Oliver currently stood on. Bearing all this information in his mind, Oliver was forced to acknowledge that whoever did this was a singular and massively powerful Orenda, the likes of which he had never heard of. The stairs lurked before him like a sinister path to the underworld.

Yet despite having a very uncomfortable feeling about the whole scene, Oliver knew that whoever made this place was undoubtedly a member of his family. His ancestors had built the whole manor and maintained it for centuries. Few outside of his family had ever so much as spent a night on the estate.

That information comforted him somewhat, even if he could sense an extremely ominous energy coming from deep within the passage. He knew that there was some very important reason that this place had been created. He also suspected there was a very important reason for it to be revealed to him in this moment.

And despite the massive amount of energy he sensed, there was nothing remotely dangerous about the magic itself. The passageway itself seemed free of traps. So, with no small apprehension, Oliver cautiously took a step down into the depths.

6

The second that Oliver’s whole body was inside the passageway, the entire world seemed to shake. The lanterns flared up with even more light as the ground rumbled beneath Oliver’s feet. The statue above him made a grinding noise and the entryway he had just crossed slammed shut right behind him.

He felt the wind from it. If he had had a tail, he was sure it would have been chopped off by the force of the metal slamming in place. Flakes chipped off the walls with the force of the percussion.

“Well, that can’t be a coincidence,” Oliver thought as he looked at the stone behind him. He was surprised to see that there were actually words inscribed on the closed stone doorway.

“To dwell below for all of time,

And never see the sun to shine,

An evil lies, forever sealed,

And nevermore to be revealed.”

Oliver was surprised at the words. Not because of the message they spoke. He was shocked because the inscription was actually a spell. He ran his fingers over the letters as he inspected them and was chilled by the touch. There was undeniably magical energy contained within them.

“A sealing spell?” Oliver wondered.

The content of the spell disturbed him. Clearly there was something unpleasant trapped far below. Oliver wanted nothing more than to turn back now. If his ancestors had done something here to trap an evil power, the last thing he wanted was to inadvertently mess things up. But despite his intentions, he was unable to turn back. He pushed on the stone at every angle, but it refused to budge.

He summoned his strength and cast the most powerful Increase spell he could. His intention was to strike the rock at an angle and shift the rock in the direction it had opened from. As his fist struck, the words inscribed on the door lit up with blue magic.

He felt his spell get pulled from his control and absorbed by the wall. He was amazed to see that after absorbing his spell, the wall seemed to harness all the energy he had used in order to bolster its magical defenses.

“That’s an interesting spell,” he thought. He tried a spell to demolish the stone next, but again his spell was absorbed by the wall.

“Shit,” he thought. There was no way out. He had to continue on and hope there was some way further on to get out. With apprehension, Oliver began descending the stairs.

The first hundred steps were normal enough, but beyond that, they became so steep that Oliver had to step with care to avoid slipping. Each step was over two feet lower than the last. They also grew larger, allowing for an extra step to be taken before each new descent.

The tunnel was straight as an arrow, but Oliver now understood that it was the steep decline that prevented him from discerning what was ahead. Nothing beyond a dozen torches could be seen after the first hundred steps. Only the ever-present light could vaguely be made out below. It was still unclear what he was walking into, but Oliver had a severely uncomfortable feeling.

After about five minutes of walking, the stairs became more like ledges. Each step was around five feet below the last. If Oliver didn’t have exceptional physical abilities, he would have worried at his ability to return this way. It made him wonder why anyone would make a step as tall as some people. Perhaps it was more of a deterrent to intruders, or perhaps it was for some other design.

Whatever the reason may have been, Oliver continued down cautiously. The steep ledges continued on and on until suddenly, they ended. When he reached the bottom, Oliver was surprised by what he found.

There was nothing. The stairs ended abruptly with a stone wall in front of him. This wall had no engraving, no markings, no seams. It appeared to just be a massive rock.

The passageway was only about three feet wide all the way down, but here at the bottom, the landing was about ten feet wide and fifteen feet tall. But despite looking and feeling like normal stone, Oliver could instinctively tell that it wasn’t just a rock.

It was too flat, too perfect. As if a giant had taken a massive blade and cleaved an enormous boulder straight down the middle and placed it far underground at the very end of this passage.

Oliver was already casting Detect, even as he approached the wall. What he found was even more surprising than the passageway itself. What he found when he looked at the wall wasn’t some spell of sealing.

It wasn’t a repelling spell. It wasn’t even really a spell at all. What he found instead was a message. Without his magic, he wouldn’t have even seen it. But the true surprise was how personal the message was. Right before his eyes, his name appeared at the beginning of the text, as if the wall waited until he was standing there to decide the message was for him.

“Oliver, the time has come for you to uphold the pact signed by the Albrine to protect Du Varia. The higher powers of the universe have chosen you. There is no alternative. By my written consent, let this seal allow you to pass.”

Oliver’s eyes began to widen as a thin signature slowly etched itself below the words.

-Angli Albrine

7

Oliver’s eyes almost fell out of his skull when he read the signature. He had suspected from the start that Angli had been behind the tunnel, but having his long-gone ancestor address him personally as some sort of savior was beyond his wildest imagination. He had so many questions, but none greater than what he was supposed to do now.

Just as he wondered, the handle of his sword grew hot in his hand. That wasn’t something that happened often. In fact, he had only experienced it one time before. He had felt it grow hot earlier that same day, as the Wellspring erupted. He hadn’t thought much of it, because magical items usually reacted in the presence of magic. But now it was hotter than it had been then. Much hotter.

As he wondered about the significance of this, his sword suddenly leapt from his shoulder and stabbed at the wall. His entire body was yanked forward violently as the sword slammed into the stone. To his surprise, the wooden blade exploded into a million pieces.

When the hilt reached the wall, it stuck into it as though there was still a blade attached to it. When it lodged itself there, the gem in the pommel shone with a blinding light. Right before his eyes, the entire wall seemed to melt away. It appeared to dissolve, bubbling away like the wall had been superheated. When it had melted fully, his eyes beheld a confusing scene.

Behind the wall was a well. It didn’t look any different from a normal well. Apart from it, there were only three other things in the room to see. There was a hilt with no cross guard sticking out of the well, which appeared to be not only completely full, but also completely frozen solid.

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If the well had contained water, the hilt would have simply been stuck in ice. But this wasn’t a well; it was a Wellspring. The substance that the hilt was stabbed into was pure energy. The hilt itself was suspiciously familiar, as it seemed to be unusually thin, as if it could fit inside of the hollow and now swordless hilt he held. The miniscule jewel in the pommel supported the thought.

The second thing in the room was connected to the hilt. To be more precise, it was grasping the hilt, that is, shewas grasping the hilt. The form was undoubtedly human. And it was undeniably female.

The figure was none other than Angli Albrine. She was kneeling over the well, which only protruded from the ground about a foot. She faced Oliver from her opposition beings the well. Her eyes were closed, as if she was asleep or perhaps deep in thought or concentration. She didn’t move. In fact, she didn’t appear to even be breathing.

The third and final thing he could see was something connected to the well. The well itself was roughly five feet in diameter, but branching off behind it was a three-foot-wide strip of glowing blue energy that led into the wall at the back of the room. It then climbed to the ceiling, disappearing into the stone above. Oliver knew in an instant what he was seeing: the Wellspring.

Oliver approached slowly, scanning the cavern for signs of danger. Behind him, the freshly disintegrated wall bubbled back into place with his passing. His gut was twisted into a tight knot, a clear indication that something was amiss. Oliver was smart enough to know that if that was Angli in front of him, she had been there for over a thousand years and there was little chance she was alive.

He reached the well without issue. When he did, he could see that there were several layers of solid matter encased therein. It started with a layer of blue crystal. Below that was a layer of green crystal. Next was a layer of red crystal. And below all of that was the brightest golden crystal.

It glowed so brightly that it clearly illuminated all the layers above it. There was no color distortion. Every color was visible from the surface and none of them mixed as colors naturally did. It was as if the luminescence of the golden crystal stopped the colors from mixing on their way to the surface.

And inside of the golden crystal was a sphere. It was black, yet Oliver couldn’t help but feel as if the ball itself was emitting the light. But how could a black sphere produce such a bright light?

He couldn’t draw any meaningful conclusions from what he saw below the well, so he turned his attention to Angli’s body. He cautiously touched her arm. It was cold as ice. He moved his fingers to her neck, but there was no pulse; she really did seem to be dead.

Despite the absence of life force, her body did not feel decomposed. Her skin was soft, and she didn’t carry the odor of decay. By all accounts, she felt and smelled as if she could have been sleeping. At the very least, she hadn’t been dead for long if she was at all. Yet she also had absolutely no signs of life.

Oliver searched her belongings and found that apart from the sword hilt in her left hand, she only had a necklace around her neck. She didn’t even have pockets. The necklace was interesting. It was attached to a simple gold chain.

The necklace itself was a tiny figurine. It depicted a lady with huge wings, which were entirely disproportionate to the rest of the lady. She had a serene face, as if nothing could upset her resolve. Her hands were cupped together at her breast. And in them, she clutched a sizable gem. It was clear. As Oliver gazed at it, it started to shine.

Oliver watched it shine, but he felt strange. It felt like the lady on the necklace was looking back at him. Suddenly, the pommel of Oliver’s broken sword lit up with a golden light. At the same time, the hilt that was stabbed into the well lit up as well.

The three lights shone with intensity, making the whole cavern radiate light. Without knowing what he was doing, Oliver placed his hilt against the well, opposite of the hilt in Angli’s hand.

As the hilt touched the well, it jumped out of his hand. It merged with the other hilt, passing straight through the fingers which held the handle as if they were an illusion. The two hilts merged into one, the jewel in the hilt which had been split in two melded together. The hilt became whole again and the sword shone with such intensity that Oliver covered his eyes.

Suddenly, the entire well exploded with golden energy. Oliver was launched away from it with such force that it knocked the wind out of him when his back hit the cavern wall. He fell to the floor, gasping.

He tried for several seconds to make his lungs obey him again and intake air. With great effort, they began to fill. He gasped several lungs of air to calm his beating heart; his back was in agony. As he slowly calmed himself, the energy within the well grew even more violent.

“Grab the hilt,” a soft voice echoed. He didn’t know where it came from but it seemed to be inside his head. It was a reassuring voice, one that easily wiped away all doubt about the action.

Oliver slowly walked through the substance that had filled the cavern. It was like walking through a swamp and a strong breeze at the same time. Where his feet touched it, they would become stuck and unwilling to move. Where his body pressed against it, he would feel a constant backwards pressure.

It was a hard-fought journey, crossing the fifteen feet or so that separated him from the well. It seemed like every step he took made him three inches further from his goal.

It took almost ten minutes for Oliver to fight his way up to the well. Even as he reached it, the hilt became so luminescent that it nearly blinded Oliver. Without really knowing where exactly it was, he pushed his fingers as hard as he could through the thick energy, trying with all of his strength to find his target.

It seemed to be like reaching into a bottomless pit. His entire arm was now over the threshold of the well, but he still couldn’t find the hilt he sought. Just as he began to think he wouldn’t be able to find it, he heard the voice in his head again.

“Grasp it. Now! Close your hand!” The voice was more insistent this time, a sense of urgency perhaps, but it still spoke kindly and reassuringly.

Oliver had no other choice at this point but to listen. He closed his hand tightly around what he thought was nothing at all, but the second his fingers touched his palm, he felt it. It seemed to just materialize in his fingers.

When his hand had fully clasped the hilt, the force oppressing him lessened significantly. He could stand without much effort. He still felt a great force all around him, but if nothing else, it had shifted. Now it seemed to stop him from retreating rather than advancing.

“Pull it out! Pull it now! There is no more time!” This time the voice in his head was hysterical. There was no sense of serenity. There was no reassurance. It was a demand, one born of a situation more dire than Oliver could imagine.

Without hesitation, Oliver yanked the hilt as hard as he could. Unsurprisingly, the hilt barely budged. He couldn’t exert enough force from the angle he was standing, hunched over and bent at the waist.

He knew he had to work quickly, so he climbed onto the well, his feet stepped on the solid blue matter as if it was stone. He centered himself over the hilt and gave the mightiest heave he could.

With a sound of metal grating across glass, the hilt slowly ascended. After it had gone a few inches, Oliver could see that below the handle was a transparent golden blade. It was only about two inches wide, but it looked sharper than any steel.

Inch by inch, Oliver pulled the blade free. After about six inches, he started to notice markings engraved on the blade, they shone as bright as the jewel in the pommel. The markings looked like letters, but they were unfamiliar to Oliver. The letters themselves looked magical, as if just pronouncing them could alter the world.

As more of the sword was revealed, the hilt vibrated more and more in Oliver’s hands. It seemed to object to its removal. The blade was over two feet out at this point, and it began making a shrill noise, worse than the metal scraping noises it had been making. It literally seemed to scream, as if it contained life of its own and was afraid or in pain.

“Oliver…” the voice in his head spoke once more. This time it sounded sad.

“I am sorry for what happens next. There is no other way...”

At that exact moment, the sword burst the final few inches from the crystal and Oliver stumbled backward. At the same time, the golden energy exploding from the well, turned black. It gushed out with ferocity.

As the waves crashed into the walls of the cavern, the stone all around cracked and flaked away. Only the stone which Oliver had passed through moments ago remained unharmed.

It wasn’t until that moment that he noticed it had the same engraved spell as the entrance had. It was absorbing the magical energy that splashed against it. The words engraved on it shone as bright as a sun.

The black swirling energy washed over Oliver, and he thought he would have to defend himself, but the sword in his hand still glowed. The black energy swirled around him and passed him by as if he wasn’t there. The body of Angli was also unharmed. Some magical force kept them both safe.

After several minutes, a time which Oliver stood transfixed, watching the black energy grow and circle, it all began to condense over the center of the well. After the vast waves of black matter converged on that single spot, it began to coalesce as a figure. The shape it took was extremely familiar. It looked like a human.

“Strike now!” The voice in Oliver’s head sounded.

No hesitation was necessary. Oliver could feel the overwhelming power before him. He knew whatever just came from the well was something he couldn’t hope to stop. His only chance was indeed to strike now, while it was still gathering together.

In an instant, Oliver was right in front of the figure, his hands both grasping his new blade as he swung down on the figure with all of his might. In a final blinding flash, his sword descended. When his strike landed, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

His attack had stopped dead in its tracks. His sword was resting against the figure, but no damage had been done. The last few remnants of black smoke swirled into the figure, and suddenly Oliver could see it clearly.

It was a man. He looked very ordinary. He didn’t have any features about him that spoke of the evil power he contained. He had blue eyes, black hair, a simple face, and an expression of severe boredom.

His hand was raised in front of him. And between his first finger and thumb was Oliver’s sword. He held it lightly, as if it was a pen with which he would write his name, yet Oliver couldn’t make it move. The man’s seemingly relaxed grip was like iron. In a cultured voice like silk, he spoke.

“Who are you? And why are you playing?” The man asked with genuine curiosity.

8

Oliver stood, totally flabbergasted at the man before him. His muscle tone was extremely sharp, and the density of those muscles was something approaching steel. He looked utterly confused to be attacked. In fact, he looked genuinely confused by everything. He didn’t look evil in the slightest, but his aura was pure black.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Oliver asked.

“That’s exactly what I just asked you,” the man answered without a hint of trepidation. This was not a man who would cower before anyone.

“My name is Oliver Albrine,” Oliver said.

The man cocked his head and looked surprised. He looked down at his feet in thought for a moment before speaking. When he did, he spoke a single word with more venom and intensity than his previously calm demeanor was capable of.

“Albrine,” he said, frowning intensely. Without saying another word, he looked back at Oliver with eyes that began to glow red. He squeezed the sword he was still holding between his fingers until the metal groaned under his grip.

Oliver took a few steps back, pulling the sword free of the man's grasp. He didn’t insist on holding it, so it came free without much difficulty. But in the next second, Oliver’s optimism about escaping the man dwindled.

He reached behind his back, grasping the air there. When his hand closed, he began pulling a sword from thin air. It materialized from nothing, seeming to just appear there. It had an intricate hilt, the base of which held a gem. It shone with demonic light.

The blade was nearly transparent, but a deep purple-red color pervaded its depths. It was also of a similar width to Oliver’s own sword. The two looked like siblings. Like a good twin and an evil twin. Indeed, the blade in the man’s hand had an unspeakably evil aura. Oliver started to worry that it might be diseased or poisoned.

Like they recognized each other, the two blades began to hum. The vibration was subtle at first, but quickly grew into a wail. Oliver had never imagined a piece of metal could shriek, but his ears ached with the proof he was now shown. He grasped the hilt tighter in an attempt to still the vibrations somewhat. His hand started going numb from the effort.

“So, Angli’s wretched family lives on, does it?” The man asked. He seemed not to notice her motionless body which still crouched basically at his knees, her hand clutching a now imaginary hilt. None of the chaos that had erupted had so much as shifted her form. The man continued speaking as if the answer to his question didn’t concern him.

“I don’t know how long I’ve been stuck here, but if you’re related to that traitor, then I can’t let you leave,” the man pointed his sword at Oliver and spoke a word. There was a flash, and without moving a single inch, the man disappeared.

When Oliver caught sight of him an instant later, the man was right in front of him. His sinister sword plunged into Oliver faster than conscious thought, and he choked on his breath as he felt it slide easily through his chest. It bit into him with a cold pinch. Oliver had never felt any pain so excruciating before. He tried to scream but as the man ripped the sword from him, it came as more of a pained gasp.

Blood flowed from the wound in Oliver’s chest like a river. He fell to the ground and started gasping for air, but his lungs were quickly filling with blood.

“You have a strong spirit. Most people would die instantly from that strike. It seems you really are related to Angli. In any case, enjoy your last few moments of life. I have a lot of business to catch up on,” the man said as he casually stepped over Oliver’s convulsing body and walked to the stone wall.

“Interesting. It looks like someone put a seal on this room. Ha! A seal inscribed on a rock! What a hilarious attempt to trap me.” The man approached the stone and without even considering it, he punched the stone with a casual flick of his wrist.

When his hand touched the stone, a soft impact could be heard. There was no immediate response from the wall. But after a few seconds of silence, a large crack radiated out from where the fist had struck the rock. It spiderwebbed into a million cracks as it spread. The man had made the act look casual, yet he had hit with enough force to overpower the seal and also entirely shatter the stone at the same time.

Oliver just laid there, staring at the man escaping as blood pooled beneath him. He couldn’t move. Something was wrong. Most would have already been dead, but Oliver’s body was special amongst mortals. He could easily recover from this. So, why did it feel so cold?

Short of getting his limbs removed, any stab wound was usually easy to handle. Stabs to the chest such as this one were not near as simple to deal with, but he still shouldn’t have been fading as fast as he was. He felt his entire life force being drained from his body, steadily weakening him.

The man waited for the wall to crumble completely before casually stepping over the threshold. He didn’t spare a backward glance for Oliver as he began walking back up the path to the surface. Oliver could hear him start to whistle a merry tune as he walked away. Oliver couldn’t even move. He could barely breathe. Every attempt caused convulsions that made him spit up huge globs of blood.

“This isn’t good,” he thought, and at the very same time, he noticed a glowing light in the dark cave. It was the only source of illumination after the man’s exodus.

It was coming from the necklace around Angli’s neck. When it started to shine, the sword that hung loosely in Oliver’s grasp also reacted. A blue sphere of energy appeared around him, and several tiny little threads of energy inserted themselves into the gaping wound from which he still bled. Almost instantly, the blood ceased flowing.

“You’re very strong,” a gentle voice sounded in his mind.

“What?” He gasped.

“Do not worry. I have started the healing process. It will take some time, but you will not die. Let me answer the many questions I am sure you have in the meantime.” The voice said.

“Who are you?” Oliver asked, wasting no time. It was the same voice that had urged him and warned him earlier, but he hadn’t had the opportunity to ask a question before this moment.

“I am a failure. I am a fool. I am still far too naive for one so old as I. I have been called many things in my vast lifetime. My deeds have earned me many titles of reverence. ‘Hero’, ‘Witch’, ‘Bane of the Nagasille’, and many more besides. But to one such as you, there need be no formalities or pretense. As my blood relative, and an obviously apprenticed Orenda, you may simply call me Angli,” The voice explained.