"I don't know about that," I replied, subtly shifting my weight to keep my wounded shoulder out of sight. Blood still trickled down my arm, but I wasn't about to show weakness. "You guys attacked us first. Why should we stop now?"

“My apologies. Though you can hardly blame us. We’re not the only guild here. And the others have been just as aggressive. We were just defending ourselves. And you've already taken some of our best men as compensation," the orc warrior's gaze lingered on the bisected rogue, her expression unreadable. Her massive axe moved in lazy circles. "Kael there was one of our finest. Been with us since the beginning." She paused, then added with genuine respect, "Clean kill though. Very clean."

"But if you wish to continue," her grip on her axe shifted ever so slightly, "then so be it." The temperature in the gallery seemed to drop several degrees as she settled into a ready stance. "Know this though, I, Renna Grimcleaver, first of my name, the alpha hunter, will not stop until all of you have perished." The axe stopped its lazy rotation and the air around its edge began to shimmer like heat waves off desert sand.

I felt Tirion tense beside me, his shield rising fractionally higher. Even Lysa's shadows seemed to writhe more anxiously. Only Estella maintained her casual stance, though I noticed her chakrams had stopped spinning.

"Very well then, truce." I lowered my weapon. Ancient traps… monsters… This place was dangerous enough without adding guild hunters to our problems. "We didn't come here for a fight anyway. The First King's tomb has enough lovely surprises without us adding to them."

Renna's axe lowered fractionally. "I’m glad we could come to an arrangement." Her eyes narrowed. “We lost two teams in the lower chambers already. No sense fighting amongst ourselves when this tomb is dangerous enough.”

I chuckled internally. Those were diplomatic words from someone trying to eliminate us a few moments ago.

"The tomb's defenses are unlike anything we've encountered," Renna continued, her professional tone at odds with the way her fingers kept twitching toward her axe. "It's no wonder it was lost for over a hundred year. If it weren’t for Yorukishi, this place would never have been found."

Yoru again, that guy seems to be appearing everywhere now…"How far have you mapped?" I inquired, hoping to extract what information I could from her.

"We may have a truce," Renna's voice hardened, "but I am under no obligation to answer your questions. We are not allies." She straightened to her full height, nearly a head taller than even Tirion. "The guild rules are clear. Retrieve the crown of the first king. Only one team can claim the prize and it will be us, the Silver Wolves."

"Oh, you're the Silver Wolves! I remember now. Weren't you the ones who lost that massive contract in the Undercity last month? Something about a Merchant's delivery getting ruined?" Estella's laugh echoed off the ancient stones. "The whole tavern was talking about it, how the mighty Silver Wolves got demoted over a cart of expired cheese."

I saw Renna's jaw clench so hard I thought her teeth might crack. Estella had hit a nerve - probably several. Her massive fingers whitened around her axe handle.

"Ancient history," Renna growled. "Like I said, we're not here to make friends. The truce extends to not killing each other. Nothing more." Her gaze swept over our group, lingering momentarily on my wounded shoulder. "Though I admit, I'm curious how a ragtag team like yours made it this far.

"Trade secret," I replied with a shrug. "Though I'm more interested in why the mighty Silver Wolves need so many teams for one tomb raid. Having trouble living up to the old reputation?"

The axe moved faster than something that size had any right to. The massive blade crashed down where I'd been standing a split second before, sending stone chips flying as it bit deep into the ancient floor. The impact echoed through the gallery like a thunderclap.

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"You would dare mock us!" Renna's voice had lost all its cultured refinement, replaced by pure rage. "You know nothing of what we've sacrificed, what we've lost!" The air around her axe began to shimmer again as she wrenched it free from the stone.

But before she could continue, a scream filled the air. Not the kind of brief shout you hear in combat. This was a long, drawn-out howl of pure terror that echoed through the ancient corridors. The scream came from a distant passage to the east, and there was something wrong about how it ended, too abrupt, too final.

Renna's rage vanished, replaced by a primal fear. Her massive axe lowered slightly as she tilted her head, listening to something beyond the ancient stones.

"Third team," she whispered, and I noticed her hands were trembling. Not much, just a slight quiver, but on someone who'd been perfectly steady while cleaving through stone moments ago... "They were supposed to be mapping the eastern wing. Gareth's team. Years of experience between them."

The gallery's remaining supports groaned as another tremor passed through. This one felt different - less like natural settling and more like something large moving with purpose.

"I say we maintain our truce," I offered quickly, my mind racing through probability calculations. "At least until we figure out what else is sharing this tomb with us." The enemy of my enemy might still try to kill me later, but right now, survival looked better as a team sport.

Renna's eyes fixed on a particular section of wall where the ancient stonework had started to bulge inward. "Very well." Her voice had regained some of its composure, but that undertone of fear remained. She raised her arm, signaling to her remaining archers. "Form up! Defensive positions!"

The surviving guild hunters moved with practiced efficiency, but I noticed their usual coordination was off. They kept glancing at the walls, jumping at every new creak or groan from the tomb's structure.

"We'll investigate the eastern passage," Renna announced, though she didn't sound enthusiastic about it. "Whatever happened to Gareth's team..." She paused, adjusting her grip on her axe. "Well, better to know what we're dealing with."

With the Silver Wolves gone, I turned my attention back to the light fountain at the chamber's center. The crystalline structure pulsed with an inner radiance, sending cascading images upward like bubbles in champagne. Each one showed fragments of a history long forgotten - or deliberately erased.

I hesitated for just a moment before placing my hand into the flowing light. The world shifted, colors bleeding away as another time overlaid my vision.

___________________________________________________________________________

A tavern materialized around me, but wrong somehow. Too sharp in some places, too blurry in others, like a dream barely holding itself together. The empty chairs and untouched mugs gave the usually warm space an eerie emptiness.

At the center sat two figures I recognized from the previous vision. The raven-haired knight - whose armor now seemed dulled and battle-worn - slumped over a table scattered with empty bottles. His companion sat perfectly still across from him.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," the knight's words slurred together, his hand shaking as he lifted another drink. "We were just adventurers… Just... just trying to help. Going on quests, saving people, whatever we could do." He laughed, but the sound held no joy. "Remember that first quest? The farmer's daughter and her missing cat? Gods, we were so proud of ourselves."

His companion remained silent, unmoving.

"Then it was bandits. Then the shadows. Then demons. Even Death herself." The knight's voice grew bitter. "And so we fought and we fought and we fought some more. Monsters, demons, dragons - we fought them all. Until we'd defeated all that was 'evil.'" He spat the last word like poison.

"Do you remember what the priests told us?" He mimicked a pompous voice. "'The light shall cleanse all darkness! The world will know eternal peace!' Lies. All of it, lies." His armored fist slammed against the table.

He reached for another bottle, missed, tried again.

"But what was waiting at the end?" The knight's voice cracked. "A flood of light, burning everything away. And then... nothing. Absolutely nothing." His armored fist clenched around the bottle. "The world we were trying to save... did we destroy it instead?"

"You'd laugh at me now, wouldn't you?" He gestured at his companion. "The great hero, drowning in cheap wine. 'Pull yourself together,' you'd say. 'We can still fix this.' But you can't say that anymore, can you?"

The knight looked up at his companion, desperate for any response. But none would come. In the flickering light, I could finally see his friend clearly - a statue of perfect, polished stone, frozen mid-conversation. A thin layer of dust covered their untouched drink.

"Just what did we do wrong?" The knight whispered, reaching out to touch his companion's stone hand. "How did it come to this? We were heroes... weren't we? Or were we just fools."

He stood unsteadily, his armor scraping against the wooden chair. "I'll make it right. I swear by whatever gods still listen. I'll find a way to bring back the night. Even if I have to..." His voice trailed off as he stared at his reflection in his companion's stone eyes.

The vision began to fade, but I caught one last glimpse of the knight as he stumbled toward the door, his shadow stretching long and dark behind him - far darker than the tavern's dim light should have allowed.