Erica shook the spiders off her hand as the ground trembled beneath her. At the back of a small hole in the mountainside wall, she had found the stone mechanism Dror’Khanik had described. Unfortunately, the hole had been packed with spiders. Although she had been assured they were harmless, one had bitten her as she reached for the pressure plate, leaving a sharp stinging sensation on the top of her hand.
“The redness will fade. Go now before the doorway closes, or you’ll have to stick your hand in there again,” Dror’Khanik commanded and Erica obeyed without hesitation. Closing her eyes, she stepped forward and walked straight into what appeared to be a solid stone wall. Instead of meeting resistance, she passed through it as though it were nothing more than a misty veil.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a wide hallway with elegant marble floors that vibrated slightly as a loud grinding sound echoed behind her. She turned and saw a massive iron door—hidden behind the illusory mountainside wall—slowly sliding shut with a thunderous bang. The hallway walls, carved directly from the mountain, guided her gaze into a spacious chamber ahead. Above her, a ceiling covered with lanterns lit up on its own as she cautiously stepped forward. Lighting the room despite hanging what had to be higher than what her giants could reach.
“The fifth row of floor tiles are pressure plates. Whatever you do, do not step on them,” Dror’Khanik warned, his stern tone sending a chill down her spine.
“What happens if I do step on them?” Erica asked warily.
“The door behind you will lock, and the ceiling in the chamber ahead will collapse. This will awaken the abomination of blood, bones, and flesh resting above it. It will absorb your very being into itself, bringing your existence to an ultimate and permanent end,” he explained, his tone devoid of any reassurance.
Erica froze, stunned by his words. She carefully stepped over the pressure plates and continued into the chamber. “I thought you said I’d be safe enough here to relax,” she muttered, glancing nervously at the ceiling.
“As long as you avoid the few traps I point out, there are few places as secure as this one.”
“How am I supposed to relax knowing there’s a monster in the ceiling?” she asked anxiously as the chamber lit up around her.
“The creature has laid dormant for centuries. You have nothing to fear. For now, I suggest you make yourself at home here,” Dror’Khanik reassured her.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Erica finally took the time to observe the chamber. It wasn’t at all what she had imagined for the hideout of ancient necromancers—not that she’d had a clear idea of what such a place would look like. She’d expected death, decay, and bloodstains, but instead, she was greeted by elegance. Dusty, but elegant.
A sophisticated wooden meeting table with intricate, flowing carvings sat in the center of the room, surrounded by matching padded chairs that looked fit for noblemen. At the far end of the chamber, a padded couch and armchairs flanked a coffee table, their designs matching the meeting table’s ornate patterns. Thick layers of dust coated the furniture, muting their original colors and giving everything a dull, gray hue. “I have to admit, this is… not exactly what I expected,” Erica murmured.
“Do you find it unsatisfactory?” Dror’Khanik asked.
“Oh no, it’s great! It’s just… considering this was the home of mass murderers, I thought it would feel… scarier,” she admitted, though the statement made her feel foolish.
“Most powerful wizards are extraordinarily wealthy. It’s said the more questionable their morals, the greater their wealth. The members of the Undying lived like royalty—a clear reflection of their chosen profession,” Dror’Khanik explained matter-of-factly.
“Are you saying wealthy people tend to have questionable morals?” Erica asked hesitantly.
“Some do, some don’t. But instead of asking irrelevant questions, I suggest you focus on familiarizing yourself with this place,” the dragon replied with an air of condescension.
“Actually… that brings up something else I need to ask you. You said you would… eat the sun? I know you have been unjustly imprisoned, but wouldn’t that hurt… everyone?”
“I see some truly remedial education is needed. What you humans call your sun is so far away and so big it is beyond your comprehension. No being, god or otherwise, could extinguish its eternal flame. My enemy is the Sun God, and those that follow him. Not the bright orb in the sky. Now, are you sufficiently satisfied to continue?”
“Yes, yes…” Erica sighed, stepping toward a large wooden door on her left. She pushed it open cautiously, surprised by how effortlessly it slid despite its imposing size. “I thought you said this was supposed to be a small, rarely used hideout.”
“It is. The hideouts they frequented more often were far more impressive than this one.”
“For some reason, that makes me even more anxious,” Erica muttered, trailing her fingers across the carved wood of the door.
“That’s because you lack the imagination to picture what such a place would look like,” Dror’Khanik quipped.
“Why do you have to be so blunt about it?” Erica asked, unable to hide her annoyance.
“Sometimes I enjoy blessing the lesser races with knowledge they’ve yet to uncover,” Dror’Khanik replied, his tone tinged with arrogance, despite his attempt at making a joke.
“Wow… thank you for this… revelation,” Erica replied sarcastically, her sigh audible as the lanterns in the dark hallway ahead flickered to life.
“You are most welcome,” Dror’Khanik said before quickly shifting the topic. “Down these hallways, you will encounter additional traps, but worry not—I can disarm them for you. There are nine chambers of various sizes throughout these caverns, and I suggest you choose one to transform into your personal quarters. However, the room I believe you’ll prefer is located on the far side of these caverns.”
“Like a bedroom?” Erica asked.
“Yes, among other things. A place where you can study in peace or retreat when you wish not to be disturbed.”
“I’m starting to get used to your voice, but I guess some privacy would be nice.” Erica said as she curiously scanned her surroundings, her tone lightening as the aristocratic grandeur of her surroundings began to affect her. Everything around her felt surreal yet oddly pleasant. Something about the high ceilings, elegant decor, and polished aesthetic made her feel important—just for walking these halls.
“In time, others will join you in this cause. Since you are the first, they will view you as their leader. It is from them, not me, that you may need the privacy of your quarters.”
“Do I look like someone with leadership qualities?” Erica asked incredulously, as though the answer were self-evident.
“No, but with my guidance, I am confident you can rise to the task. All you must do is follow instructions, just as you have thus far.”
Erica sighed at his words of encouragement. As strange and unsettling as it was to have someone believe in her this much, she knew that voicing her doubts wouldn’t change his mind. For now, she decided to remain silent and continue walking down the dimly lit hallway, peeking into the chambers she passed.
Massive oak doors reinforced with iron stood ajar, left open by whoever had last traversed these halls. Behind each door lay a grand chamber: dusty bookshelves, their contents long pillaged; broken remnants of alchemical equipment; and scattered furniture, abandoned by those who once called this place home. The entire area bore the weight of neglect, claimed by dust and time.
At the end of the hallway loomed a single, ominous door—larger than any she had seen so far. Unlike the others, this one was closed. Erica reached out, resting her hand on its weathered surface, but before she could push it open, Dror’Khanik’s voice echoed in her mind.
“I advise against opening that door. You will not like what awaits on the other side. It would be wise to wait for the giants to clear it out first.”“Clear it out? What do you mean? What’s behind it?” she asked, her curiosity piqued despite herself.
“It is a ritual chamber, abandoned when the war came to an end. What lies within is nothing but death. I assure you, it is not something you will soon forget.”
“What… exactly happened here?” Erica pressed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Dark magic once tainted these halls, and this room was its epicenter. Foul rituals were conducted here, and the remnants of those practices still linger.”
“Should I even be here? Is it really safe?” she asked, her unease growing.“There is no danger to your physical form,” Dror’Khanik reassured her. “But I am uncertain whether you are ready to witness the death that resides within.”
“So I was ready to face giants and risk my life, but not to see what’s behind this door?” Erica asked, her pride momentarily overpowering her fear.
“Perhaps I am mistaken, and you are ready,” the dragon conceded. “But if you let your curiosity guide you, remember my warning when you see what lies within.”
Her fingers traced the intricate grain of the door’s oak surface as a morbid need to face her fear took hold. Part of her wanted to push the door open and confront whatever lay inside, but a deeper instinct whispered that she would regret it. Yet now that her interest had been sparked, it felt unbearable to turn away. “What’s the worst that could happen if I open this door?” she asked, her hand hovering near the large iron handle.
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“You may find yourself traumatized—or disgusted,” Dror’Khanik said with unnerving calmness. “There is no magic or curse within to harm you, but the contents of that room will provide all the explanation you need as to why necromancy was outlawed after the war.”
Taking a deep breath, Erica swallowed her anxiety and pushed the door open just slightly. A vile stench immediately seeped through the gap—a nauseating mix of rotting flesh, blood, ashes, and an inexplicably fruity undertone. The smell hit her like a physical blow, forcing her to gag as bile rose in her throat.
“What is that smell?” she choked out, pushing the door open further despite her body’s protests.
“The preserved flesh of approximately 200 peasants from the region now known as the Deadlands,” Dror’Khanik explained, his tone disturbingly neutral. “Their bodies were strung together with magic, forming a grotesque abomination. The Undying planned to grant it sentience and unleash it upon Thalmyrath. Fortunately, the war ended before they could complete the ritual.”
As if Erica’s feet possessed a will of their own, she stepped stiffly inside and was immediately confronted by a vision of sheer madness. A grotesque mountain of human bodies towered before her, a monument of pain and terror frozen in time. Men and women, stripped naked and pushed together as if their bodies were melted wax.
She thought she saw a tiny hand before her vision darkened and she began heaving uncontrollably. Bile spewed violently from her mouth, her fluids mixing with the unidentifiable gore already on the floor.
When she finally regained her senses, she was back outside the room and the door was mercifully shut. He had tried to warn her. She could feel a warmth burning the fear away, bringing back some clarity to her mind.
“They… they just left it here? For 800 years?” Erica croaked, her throat raw as if she had been screaming. Her whole body ached, and she struggled to fight off a wave of nausea.
“They had no further use for it. Returning to dispose of it would have been a waste of their time,” Dror’Khanik replied with unsettling casualness as . “This is why I suggested waiting for the giants to clean it out. I’ll have them do so as soon as they return.”
Leaning heavily against the wall, Erica stumbled back toward the main chamber, her steps unsteady as she tried to force the haunting scene from the cursed room from her mind. “Why aren’t they here?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I sent them to seize an opportunity that presented itself,” Dror’Khanik replied, his tone calm and measured. “Think of it as a scavenging expedition. We will need ample resources to achieve what we hope to accomplish. Until their return, I suggest you rest. You look as though you’ve stared into the great void itself—pale as the snowfields of the northern arctic.”
Erica clutched the fabric of her dress near her chest, her heartbeat thundering in her ears and making it difficult to breathe. “Did they suffer?” she stammered.
“What?” Dror’Khanik asked, his voice tinged with curiosity, as if he hadn’t grasped the meaning of her question.
“The people from the north,” Erica clarified, her gaze drifting back to the large, foreboding door behind her. She swore to herself she would never open it again. “The ones who… were turned. Did they suffer?”
“Oh, you mean the flesh abomination?” Dror’Khanik said, his tone disturbingly casual. “I’m sure they’re still suffering, but we are about to change that.”
Panting heavily, Erica staggered back toward the main chamber, her hand brushing against the rough stone walls to steady herself as her head spun. “I think I’m going to throw up,” she muttered.
“Then do so. The giants can clean it up. That is what servants are for, after all,” Dror’Khanik said nonchalantly.
Ignoring him, she collapsed onto the dust-covered couch, taking deep, shuddering breaths to calm herself. The war between the Undying and the rest of the world had ended centuries ago, and still, so many suffered from their legacy. And now, here she was, sitting on the same couch those monsters had once used, breathing the dusty air they’d left behind, and staring up at the ceiling that concealed their grotesque abomination. Despite all of that, she was expected to make this place her home.
Warmth enveloped her like a soothing blanket, and she felt her tense muscles begin to relax. As if reading her thoughts, Dror’Khanik spoke. “This place was once a stronghold of evil, but you have the power to change that. Rid it of all that the Undying stood for and make it your own. No one will find you here unless you allow it. You have all the time you need to transform this place into something meaningful. I will assist you in whatever way I can. Not all is as lost or hopeless as you think.”
Erica stayed silent for several minutes, allowing her racing thoughts to settle. The oppressive sense of dread that had weighed her down began to fade, burned away by the comforting warmth surrounding her. Finally, she let out a deep sigh. “Where do I even begin?”
“Start by selecting a chamber for your quarters,” Dror’Khanik replied. “At the end of the hallway, there’s a large chamber we can use for stabling animals and storing supplies. It has a hidden exit that can only be opened from the inside. I suggest claiming one of the nearby chambers as your personal domain. From there, we will, in time, furnish it to your liking.”
“I don’t even know what is to my liking,” Erica admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
“You will have the time to discover what trivial and material things fit your tastes. In time,” Dror’Khanik reassured her.
“You’re awfully optimistic about all of this,” she said, her tone skeptical.
“At least one of us has to be,” he replied with a hint of humor. “Besides, I am confident you’ll become just as optimistic soon enough. Once you realize what you are truly capable of—wealth, power—it will all be yours. That is my promise to you.”
Erica stood from the dust-covered couch with a soft groan, the warmth still lingering around her shoulders like a comforting shawl. With steadying breaths, she made her way toward the opposite side of the main chamber, her curiosity tugging her forward despite the heavy emotions weighing her down. The hallway stretched out in front of her, dimly lit by lanterns that flickered to life as she approached, casting long shadows on the smooth, carved walls. The corridor felt different—less ominous than the one she had just fled, but no less eerie in its silence.
The first chamber she came across was completely empty. No furniture, no bookshelves, no signs that it had ever been used. Just bare stone walls and a faint layer of dust that clung to the floor. Erica frowned, stepping back into the hallway to peer into the next room, hoping for something different. Yet, as she passed from chamber to chamber, the pattern repeated: nothing but vacant rooms, hollow and devoid of life or purpose.
“These chambers are all empty,” she said aloud, her voice echoing softly in the silence. “Why is this side so barren compared to the other hallway? Those chambers had furniture—even if it was old and broken.”
“These chambers once served a very different purpose,” Dror’Khanik’s voice rumbled in her mind, calm and measured. “While the other corridor housed the personal quarters and meeting spaces of the Undying, these rooms were meant for storage.”
“Storage?” Erica asked, furrowing her brow as she gazed into yet another empty chamber.
“Yes,” Dror’Khanik replied, “but not for inanimate objects. These chambers held the undead creatures created and controlled by the Undying. Ghouls, skeletons, wights—beings crafted from the corpses of their enemies or servants. They would stand here, motionless, awaiting orders from their masters. During the war, all of the undead within these halls were sent into battle and destroyed.”
Erica shivered at the thought. She could almost picture rows of motionless undead standing in these cold, empty spaces, their lifeless forms ready to move at a command. The oppressive silence of the corridor suddenly felt heavier, as though the walls themselves still remembered the horrors they had contained. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought aside and continued down the hallway.
At the very end of the corridor, she entered a much larger chamber. Unlike the others, this room had no dust-coated furniture or eerie remnants of the past. Instead, it was vast and open, its size and emptiness making her steps echo as she walked inside. To her left, a smaller corridor led to the chamber Dror’Khanik had described earlier—the one with the secret exit. She glanced toward it briefly but decided to focus on the room she was standing in.
Something prodded softly at the edges of her mind—a strange, almost pleasant sensation that coaxed her thoughts into a freer flow. Ideas bloomed more easily, each more vivid than the last, filling the void of the room with imagined possibilities.
“This one,” she murmured to herself, a faint spark of determination in her voice. “I’ll make this one mine.”
“A wise choice,” Dror’Khanik said. “Its proximity to the exit will be useful in emergencies. And its size offers you the freedom to shape it into whatever you wish.”
Erica wandered further into the room, letting her mind drift as she imagined what it might look like once it was furnished. A large bed, of course—something with thick, plush blankets and a canopy, fit for royalty. To one side, she envisioned a lavish couch paired with two matching armchairs, all upholstered in deep, rich colors. A low coffee table would sit between them, perfect for evening tea or quiet moments of reflection. Against one wall, a vanity dressing table with a large, ornate mirror came to mind, along with a tall wardrobe for her clothes.
She smiled faintly at the thought. For the first time, the idea of making this place her own didn’t seem so impossible.
“You are forgetting something important,” Dror’Khanik interrupted, his tone tinged with mild reproach.
Erica frowned, turning her gaze toward the ceiling as though he were perched there. “What do you mean?” She asked, questioning how much of what she imagined he could see.
“This will not only be your personal quarters,” the dragon reminded her. “It will also serve as your study—a place for you to work, to plan, to grow. A bed and some furniture are not enough.”
His words made sense and even brought a tinge of excitement. “What do you suggest, then?”
“For starters, you will need a proper workstation,” Dror’Khanik explained. “A sturdy desk and chair for your studies. Shelves to store books, scrolls, and other valuables. Additional storage for items you collect during your journey. And if you are serious about learning the arcane arts, an alchemist’s workbench would not be amiss.”
“This is overwhelming…”
“This place may be temporary, but once this is all over you will have the resources to create somewhere safe elsewhere for yourself and your daughter. Until then you should treat this place as your base of operations.”
“I’ll do as you ask, whatever it takes.” Erica said, after taking a moment to steady her thoughts. “The books, the learning, everything. But this place needs to be a home as well. For when my Molly returns. Not just some grim study hall.”
“Of course,” Dror’Khanik said with a hint of satisfaction. “Your quarters should reflect your essence. Balance is key—a place of comfort and focus. You will find it rewarding to mold this space to your needs.”
Erica ran her fingers along the cool stone of the wall, her thoughts drifting once more. For the first time since arriving in this place, a flicker of hope stirred within her. She could see the potential here—the opportunity to start fresh, to build something new amid the ruins of the past. The darkness of the Undying’s legacy might linger, but she could push it back, room by room, step by step.
Her gaze turned toward the smaller corridor leading to the chamber with the secret exit. “You said that exit can only be opened from the inside?”
“Correct,” Dror’Khanik replied. “It was designed to ensure secrecy and security. Only those who know its location—and have access to this chamber—can use it.”
Erica nodded slowly, a plan forming in the back of her mind. This place had its dangers, but it also offered safety, resources, and time—time to figure out who she was and what she was capable of. She didn’t trust this dragon entirely, but for now, his guidance was all she had.
“Alright,” she said finally. “Let’s make this work.”