I pulled my hand back from the light fountain as reality reasserted itself. The world was spinning while my mind raced to process what I'd just witnessed. What was that… it felt real and visceral. I could still smell the stale beer and burning candles of the tavern in the air.

"Did everyone see that?" I steadied myself against a nearby pillar, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Estella shook her head before moving closer, her usual playful demeanor replaced by concern. "You went completely still. Like a statue yourself. Then you started muttering something about light and heroes..." Her hand hovered near my arm, not quite touching but ready to catch me if I fell.

A knight drowning in regret and cheap wine, surrounded by stone while watching his world burn away in holy light. Just who was that knight? But looking around at the grand tomb chamber, at the elaborate murals depicting great battles against darkness. I felt like I already knew the answer. The tomb of the first king. Who else could it be.

"Everything okay?" Estella's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "You look really pale. Like you'd seen a ghost."

“More like I became one," I muttered. "I saw a memory. A knight... probably the first king himself. He was a hero once. One of the greatest. But not the kind that was celebrated." My hand clenched involuntarily, remembering the knight's despair. "He sat in an empty tavern, talking to his companion who had already turned to stone. The light poisoning isn't new - it was there from the beginning, from their victory."

"Their victory?" Tirion asked quietly.

"They thought they were saving the world. A group of heroes, fighting back the darkness, pushing it away piece by piece. Dragons, demons, forces of evil - they defeated them all." I looked up at the chamber walls. "And then they won. They brought eternal light to the world, just as promised. But the cost..."

I paused, remembering the raw anguish in the knight's voice. "The light didn't just drive away darkness. It began turning everything to stone. His friends, the people he'd fought to protect. All of them were slowly petrified. The world they'd tried to save was burning away in holy light."

"If your conjectures are correct, then it sounds like the First King was a member of the Twelve Holy Knights," Lysa said as her shadow magic coiled anxiously around her feet. Even mentioning such historical figures seemed to make her uneasy.

"The Twelve Holy Knights?" The name triggered something in my mind bringing up fragments of the tutorial I'd impatiently went through.

A grand cutscene flashed before my eyes: twelve figures in gleaming armor, their weapons blazing with holy light as they stood against a darkness that consumed the horizon. The narrator's voice droned on in that typical epic fantasy style: " In the beginning, 12 warriors of light gathered to battle an ancient kingdom. After many trials and tribulations, blah, blah"

I'd skipped through at that point, more interested in getting to actual gameplay than sitting through another overwrought origin story. Now I was really regretting that decision. At least I wasn't the only player who did that. There were entire forums dedicated to people asking for basic information they should have learned in hour one.

"They are the founders of the modern world," Lysa continued. "It was said that when humanity was at its lowest point, when ancient horrors stalked the lands and demons walked openly among men, they appeared to save us all.”

Her shadows began to take shape, forming intricate illusions in the air. First, a world wreathed in darkness, then twelve radiant figures emerging from a blinding light. "Through them, the Church of the God of Light was founded. The records speak of their arrival, though many details were lost… or deliberately destroyed." The shadow of a burning library flickered briefly in her magical display.

"Twelve warriors," she continued, her voice almost musical, like someone reciting a half-remembered hymn. "Each bore a divine weapon, artifacts of such power that merely speaking their names was said to burn the tongues of the unworthy." Her shadows twisted into shapes of legendary arms, "The Sword of Dawn, which could cut through the very fabric of night itself. The Spear of Radiance, whose tip was said to be a shard of the first morning star. The Shield of Holy Fire, forged in flames that could burn away corruption..."

"My people have other names for them," Tirion added quietly. "The Beast-kin remember them as the Twelve Harbingers. They say each knight carried not just a weapon, but a fundamental aspect of the world's new order."

"There was Lucius the Dawn, who carried the first light," Lysa recited, her shadow magic forming delicate patterns that mimicked the ancient legends. "They say his sword could cut through the deepest night, leaving trails of eternal daybreak in its wake. Then Solarian the Just, whose judgment burned away corruption. His spear could pierce the heart of any lie, forcing truth into the light."

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Her shadows twisted into the shape of a massive shield. "Aurelius the Shield, who raised the first walls against darkness. The chronicles say a single drop of his blood could create fortresses of light, bastions that even dragons couldn't breach." The shadow shifted, forming the silhouette of a weeping woman. "Celestia the Pure, whose tears became the holy springs. Every tear she shed in mourning for humanity's suffering crystallized into waters of healing."

The shadows around her feet coalesced into a crown. "And of course, their leader - the legendary Sun Knight who ascended the throne and became the God of Light himself." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, as if speaking such things might draw unwanted attention. "They say his radiance was so pure that demons would turn to ash at his mere presence. As long as he stood watch, darkness itself feared to touch our world."

"So which of the knights was the First King? Were there any stories of betrayal?" I asked, studying the ancient murals around us more carefully now. The faded paintings showed twelve figures, but the details were worn away by time.

"I'm... I'm not entirely sure. The history of the Twelve Holy Knights is... complicated." She glanced nervously at the ground. "I'm only familiar with the basics. There’s also the Sky Knight, who they say could command the very clouds, and the Storm Knight whose thunder could shatter mountains. But I’m afraid that’s the extent of my knowledge. The Shadow Lord would deem it heretical if I placed too much attention into the Church's history."

"Perhaps some mysteries are better left in darkness." Tirion placed a protective hand on her shoulder. “The surface dwellers can keep their sun-blessed histories. We of the Undercity found our own path long ago.”

“That’s right,” Lysa nodded. “The twelve holy knights have no place in the Undercity.”

“Let’s move on.” Tirion said. “The Silver Wolves weren’t wrong. Only one team can earn the prize, and I want it to be us. Questions can wait.”

“Right, let’s go.” I agreed. I cast one last look at murals of the twelve knights before turning away. Some mysteries would have to wait.

We left the grand chamber behind, following a passageway that led downwards. The passageway grew narrower with each step, the smooth stonework giving way to rough rock, and loose gravel that crunched under our boots. Each footstep echoed too long in the darkness.

The tomb's architecture was changing. Gone were the carefully carved blocks and ornate pillars that had marked the upper levels. Here, the walls looked carved straight from the bedrock, rough and uneven. Either the builders got lazy, or we were reaching parts they never meant anyone to find. A gush of wind flowed through the passage, rustling against our robes.

"Stop." Lysa's command cut through the silence. " I sense... something. There's... there's a presence up ahead. Old. Ancient. But not hostile... yet."

"I feel it too," I said as the air temperature plummeted. Our torch flames stuttered, casting wild shadows that seemed to move independently of the light. My sword rattled against my leg with each step but the echo was strange, as if something else was walking with us.

The passage opened into a circular chamber. Mathematical symbols covered the walls, glowing faintly blue in the torchlight.

"Show yourself," Tirion demanded, shield raised. His ears swiveled, tracking something we couldn't see.

The center of the room changed instantly. The empty space became occupied space in a blink of an eye. A knight in ancient armor stood there, his form shimmering in and out of existence.

“Interlopers… How dare you disturb the sleep of the King.” The spectral knight's hand moved towards his sword. “State your purpose.”

“We seek knowledge,” I answered. A half truth, but I knew better than to tell a tomb guardian we were there to rob their patron of his crown.

"Knowledge?" A hollow laugh echoed through the chamber. "So many seek knowledge. So few are prepared for its price." He studied us. "And what makes you think you deserve such knowledge?"

“Because I have seen. I know of the Light’s true face.”

The ghost went silent. “Very well then,” he finally said. “Seeker of truth, let us see if you are worthy of the truth’s burden.” The ghost raised an ethereal hand, and reality shuddered. The symbols on the walls began to move, swirling faster until reality seemed to tear apart. When my vision cleared, we were standing in a library.

Massive bookshelves stretched upward into an infinite darkness above, their tops lost in shadows that never seemed to end. Books floated through the air like lazy fish, their pages occasionally fluttering open to release glowing mathematical formulas that drifted like luminescent soap bubbles.

The floor beneath us was a massive circular platform of dark marble, etched with the same mathematical symbols. But here they moved like living things, flowing across the surface to form complex equations.

"This is... pretty, they’re like butterflies." Estella whispered, reaching out to touch a floating equation only to have it burst into a shower of golden sparks. Her usual grace seemed almost clumsy compared to the movement of the books around us.

"In life, I served as Keeper of Knowledge for the King," the ghost's voice echoed eerily. "When he constructed this tomb, he insisted on a system of challenges. He foresaw that others would seek to continue his legacy. 'But not just anyone should visit my resting place,' he said. 'Only those who prove themselves worthy in mind, body, and spirit.'"

"And how do we prove that?" I asked.

"Three trials guard the path to the inner sanctum," the spirit continued. "The Trial of Wisdom, where mind and knowledge are tested. The Trial of Vision, to see what others cannot. And finally, the Trial of Might, for only the strongest can meet the First King."

The mathematical symbols suddenly froze. "Now then," the ghost raised its ethereal hand again. "Welcome to the Infinite Archive, Here, all knowledge is preserved... and all wisdom is tested. Your trial begins. "