They set Ambrose’s winter palace ablaze before leaving, granting the respite of death to the poor souls trapped within. By the time they’d reached their raft in the bay, Nico could sense the alien presence in his mind receding. They departed the island and, with some difficulty, commandeered the Spirit. The return journey across the Jewel Sea was blissfully serene.

The following day they regrouped in the Boboli Gardens, which were pleasantly secluded and offered a commanding view of the Oculus. They were of course still fugitives, still wanted by the Black Cabal. Impersonating the Duke was doubtless a capital crime. For this reason Nico had arranged minor disguises for each party member, using his Disguise spell (on himself) as well as materials available on the Spirit, but still they dared not show their faces too long in public.

The Oculus, the headquarters of the Black Cabal and the apparent object of their long and arduous quest, loomed high atop a rocky cliff, the slashed-O symbol carved into it staring down at them like a baleful eye. Danieli was staring up at it quite indiscreetly, a puzzled expression on her face as if she were examining a curious butterfly. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the Oculus and the palantir in her outstretched right hand. The palantir had taken on a stormy purple hue.

“I have a dread premonition about this place,” she said in her brittle voice.

“As do we all,” Cosimo said dryly. “It is, after all, a deathtrap.”

“The Oracle wishes to tell me something about it,” said Danieli, her voice barely more than a whisper. She peered closely at the palantir.

Cosimo shook his head, and turned to Leo and Nico. “How do we get up there? Those are sheer cliffs.”

“There are believed to be two routes,” Leo said. “Rustic steps carved into the face of the mountain — you can almost see them.” The crude steps were so ancient Leo suspected they predated the Empire’s acquisition of the Myriad Isles.

“Too chancy,” Cosimo said. “We’d be exposed and vulnerable. Anybody could see us climbing them.”

“Agreed,” Leo said. “In my twenty-five years living in Verona, I have not once seen anyone climb those steps. It is said that the Black Cabal travel to the Oculus by means of a portal. Its whereabouts are, naturally, unknown. We could … somehow ascertain its whereabouts.”

“Still too chancy. We would need to capture and interrogate a member of the Black Cabal. Dangerous, delicate work. Those are truly our only options?”

“There are believed to be only two routes,” Leo said, “but I think I can find a third. We can approach the Oculus from the rear. It would be a steep climb, the terrain hazardous and possibly deadly.”

Cosimo grinned. “I wouldn’t be in this business if I didn’t relish a little danger.”

***

Leo proved an able pathfinder, and the path he found was physically taxing but scarcely perilous. By dusk they had scaled the acropolis on which the Oculus stood. Crouching low, they skulked around the side of the indomitable fortress. Their hands were ready to draw their weapons, but they prayed the cover of night would hide them.

There were queer symbols carved on the side of the building. They weren’t runes exactly. Nico wasn’t sure what they were. They were difficult to decipher in the dark, and no one wanted to risk invoking illumination and drawing undue attention. Danieli traced one of the symbols with her hands, and suddenly recoiled in shock.

“I know what the Oracle wishes to tell me,” she said, a bit too loudly. Her voice was different. It was less brittle, and there was an edge of urgency in it.

“What is it?” Cosimo whispered. “Keep your voice low.”

Danieli reached into her satchel and produced the palantir. Before it had been violet and cloudy. Now it was pure ebony, an abyss of darkness that swallowed the scant moonlight around it. A dark look came over Danieli as she peered into it. And as if her body had been possessed, she spoke in a deep masculine voice: “What has been sought has been found. Retreat now, or suffer imminent death.”

Cosimo hesitated, eyes squinting at the diviner. Then his face hardened. “This is a trick — a trick of Ilhen’s to deceive or deter us. To test our will.”

“The Oracle does not peddle tricks,” Danieli said, in the same voice that was not hers.

“Aye, but Ilhen does. We’ve come too far to turn back.” He stepped forward and knocked the palantir from Danieli’s grip. The palantir returned to its normal white hue, and the spell broke. Danieli regained her volition, falling on her knees and scrambling to scoop up the palantir. There was fear in her eyes.

“Please, Cosimo,” she said, pleading on her knees. She crawled over to him, grasping his leg from behind. “If ever you heed my counsel, do so now. Please. Consider it.”

Cosimo turned, regarding her like an insect on his shoe, his jaw as hard as granite. “I have. Now consider this, Danieli: I have not crossed an ocean and parted with a substantial share of my wealth only to be deterred by inane prophecy. You shall follow me and face possible peril within.” He gestured to the Oculus, Ilhen’s Seventh, and then he reached down, clasping Danieli tightly by the throat. “Or defy me, and face certain peril without.”

Danieli blinked, tears rolling down her face and onto Cosimo’s hand. She nodded. He released her and she collapsed in the mud.

A knife between his ribs is all it would take, Nico thought. Five seconds of effort and the world would be rid of this menace. If only there was not Tomasso to consider…

***

As they approached the front of the Oculus, the bejeweled city of Verona sprawled before them in all its resplendent glory. Cockleshell fishing boats bobbed on the moonlit sea. Pedestrians strolled the softly lit pathways of the Boboli Gardens. Streetlamps twinkled like firelights on the Via Cardenza. The bejeweled city was a stark contrast to the ominous monument which loomed over them. Hewn from ancient gray stone and covered in mysterious runes, the Oculus put Nico in mind of the Illusion Spire he had entered in Velbruk. Its facade featured immense pillars which held aloft a decorated portico. A yawning blackness spanned between them.

Step by anxious step, they climbed upward. At the summit, they found a massive stone door engraved with the slashed-O symbol of the Black Cabal. It was limned in sapphire light, and it had a keyhole of a size matching the key.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“We just walk right in?” whispered Leo, somewhat taken aback. He had been expecting they would need to infiltrate the Oculus by stealth. “This is the door the key unlocks? Where’s the Black Cabal?”

“Here,” said an icy voice — a voice Nico recognized. The voice of the man who had detained him in the Musea. He turned and discovered a Black Cabal agent perhaps six feet tall with a lithe form. Behind his lacquered mask, severe green eyes glared at Nico.

“We have been expecting you,” the icy voice continued. “Kindly stand still; don’t make me kill you.”

“Bold words,” Leo said, “for a man seemingly unarmed and unaccompanied.”

“Seemingly.”

“What the fuck is this place?” said Cosimo.

“You are in no position to interrogate me, Cosimo Medea.”

“You sure?” Cosimo said. “We have you outmatched, seven to one.”

“Do you?”

More Black Cabal agents appeared, slithering from the darkness like ghouls. A few of them were armed with crossbows and sabers.

Acting on instinct, Nico fished in his pocket, grabbing a spell scroll — Shield.

“Put your hands up!” yelled the man with the icy voice, his poise somewhat cracking. “Hands up!”

Nico complied, scroll in hand.

“What is it? Drop it!”

“If you say so.” And he cast it down, muttering the scroll’s incantation: “Deflecto!”

A vitreous purple shell appeared around them, extending twelve feet in diameter, encompassing all seven adventurers and none of the Black Cabal. Inside it, they were invulnerable to the Black Cabal agents for five minutes. One of the Black Cabal agents fired a crossbow bolt at them; it skittered harmlessly off the shield’s wall.

“There’s no backing out now,” Cosimo said. “The only way out is through. Leo, do you have the key?”

Leo nodded, and stepped forward, as the Black Cabal behind them were frantically screaming at them, their voices muffled by the shield wall. Oddly, they seemed more concerned than angry.

Leo inserted the key into the lock, and the door swung ajar of its own accord. An inky blackness greeted them. Leo was the first to step through — into what he belatedly realized was a portal. It was unlike other portals though. It felt as though he were falling into a vast and bottomless chasm.

Then suddenly, without force of impact, he came to an abrupt yet graceful stop.

He was in a dark room, and had landed in something soft and cushiony… And strangely sticky. Strands of it clung to his hands as he pulled them away. He could hear the others around him, breathing.

“Lee? Is that you?”

“That’s me,” Max said. “Where the fuck are we?”

Welcome, said a voice inside their minds, to my humble abode. The voice had an oddly snake-like quality. The words rattled in their ears.

You each stand on the cusp of a perilous crucible. With luck, one may survive. The room you are in has three exits. Choose wisely, and choose quickly — my thralls are among you, and it has been so very long since last they slaked their thirst.

“Did you hear that?” Max’s voice cracked in fear.

“Y-yes,” said Cosimo, somewhat shaken. “What thralls? Who is he talking about? And what is this shit stuck to my hands?”

“Webs,” Leo said. “Spider webs. Nico, Gianna — lights, please.”

“I'm trying,” Gianna said. “The cantrip won't work!”

Nico broke free of the web and invoked the Illumination cantrip. A tiny orb of light was birthed, but the darkness was oppressive and palpable. It instantly engulfed the orb of light. He tried again, applying more mana. This time, the light flashed brighter. For an ephemeral moment, their surroundings were illuminated.

They were in a cavernous space. Dark crimson webs latticed the walls and floors, and above, descending with terrifying speed, were a trio of vampire spiders — oversized arachnids which thirsted for human flesh. They were known to inject a paralytic poison their prey, keeping them alive for days or even weeks or months, slowly feasting on their flesh.

At the flash of light, the vampire spiders hissed, spraying acidic spittle. It sizzled where it landed.

In the brief flash of light, Nico had seen the door. He pulled it open. “This way!” he called out. He invoked the Illumination cantrip one more time, exerting as much force as possible into it.

Leo, meanwhile, had used Wraith to free himself. The blade sliced through the web like a knife through hot butter. He then helped Gianna free herself, while Danieli used her own magicks to liberate herself.

Max was still stuck, alone and helpless as the others ran for the escape.

“Shut it!” Cosimo said as soon as he cleared the door. “Shut the door!”

Max was wailing in terror as the vampire spiders closed in on him. Nico considered a daring rescue, but Cosimo was right. This was no time for reckless heroics. Nico pushed the door shut, just as the spiders mandibles crunched his spine, eliciting a blood-curdling scream.

Once again, they were enveloped by an inky darkness, so absolute that Nico could not see his own hands. For a moment they heard nothing but their own ragged breathing.

Then Cosimo began laughing.

“We did it! Ilhen's Seventh — we made it!”

“Well, most of us, anyway,” Leo said.

“Max was deadweight. His absence shall only speed our passage. Now can someone get me some fucking light in here?”

“My cantrips aren't working,” said Nico, “but fortunately…” he reached into his quiver and drew another scroll. A scroll of Illumination, far more powerful than a cantrip. Fortunately he knew its incantation by memory. He threw it down, shouting "Luxos!"

A globe of violet light expanded, and then rapidly shrank, as if being swallowed by the darkness. But when it reached a diameter of about five feet, it held a steady, albeit dim, glow.

They were in a low-ceilinged passage that slanted downward slightly. The walls were malformed and misshapen, marred by tumorous protrusions and queer shapes. At the edge of hearing was a strange slithering noise.

“Whose voice was that speaking to us?” Gianna asked. “It seemed to be… weird to say it, but it seemed to be in my mind.”

“Ilhen’s voice, perhaps,” Cosimo said. “Perhaps he used an enchantment to record his voice, and beam it inside the mind of anyone who enters this place.”

“Speaking of which,” said Nico slowly, “this place is not the Oculus. It really is Ilhen’s Seventh. And look,” he gestured to the walls, where he noted symbols on the wall. “Diji glyphs. This is a Diji tomb.”

That in itself was not odd. Ilhen used existing temples and ruins to construct his deathtraps, but why was this building believed to be the bastion of the Empress’ spy ring?

A realization struck him. “The symbol of the Black Cabal itself is a Diji glyph. I never realized it before… but it’s a fairly ubiquitous symbol.”

“What does it mean?” asked Gianna.

A cold shiver ran up Nico’s spine. “Death.” Perhaps it was no coincidence he’d seen the symbol inside the Azkaya Library — after all, the Azkaya itself was also a former Diji temple.

Meanwhile, the tumorous protrusions on the wall shifted and coalesced into shapes — into arms and legs, claws and spiked tails. Before Leo could react, a pair of arms had reached out, pulling him in. A third hand gripped the back of his head, its freakishly long fingers fully encircling his face like a giant spider.

More shapes were reaching out, grasping for the rest of them.

We are all going to die in here, thought Nico wildly.