From somewhere high above, something shifted, tumbling to the stone below, surprising the three companions.

Alex raised his staff, taking the first stance of the Spear-and-Oar dance as Birger reached for a rock from a heavy sack slung over his shoulder. Bjorgrund held his axe at the ready—the blade chipped from battle and biting through layers of thick ice—gripping it hard.

The trio didn’t breathe.

Alex reached for the Traveller’s power; listening for the sound of movement, eyes scanning the cave floor, searching for loose soil spread out in a circle.

He found none.

There was only debris, and chunks of ice.

Yet, from above, loud cracking noises echoed all around them; ice shifting, dropping, tumbling, shattering on the stone floor. The trio stood poised to spring away, eyeing the ceiling, hearts pounding, breaths held, waiting.

And as suddenly as it started, falling ice stopped. Three pairs of lungs gasped for air.

Alex sent forceballs to scour the cave, searching for signs of the church and Stalker. Thankfully, neither were there. The vast cavern was now eerily silent, within were the ruins of an ancient, mountain cathedral. Alex couldn’t know how old it was, he only knew that he didn't recognize the time-worn holy symbols carved along its walls.

The cathedral wasn’t the domain of any deity he was familiar with, nor were there signs that worshipers, treasure hunters, or travellers had passed through it in centuries, or even longer. He, Birger and Bjorgrund were its first visitors in a very, very long time.

And it appeared, they were alone.

The companions sighed with relief, startling each other as the sound echoed through the cavern.

“Two weeks of this.” Bjorgrund loosened his grip on his axe. “Two weeks of this, and I'm getting tired of all of it. I almost want them to ambush us.”

“Don't say that, son.” The old giant looked around the cavern, tension etched in his face. “You just might get your wish.”

“We’d better hurry, either way.” Alex peered at the ceiling of thick ice held in place by packed snow. Atop the ceiling lay tons of snow, forming a rooftop that grew higher with each snowfall. One thing he definitely didn’t want was an avalanche, especially one triggered by a surprise attack. “I hope this is the right place this time.”

“We have two more places to check after this, from what the map’s showing,” Bjorgrund’s voice was hopeful as he tramped through broken stone pews lining the cathedral, his heavy footsteps echoing like thunder.

“I'd rather we were already done.” Birger floated above the stone. “The sooner we find Kelda’s sanctum, the safer we'll be.”

The young wizard said nothing, but his thoughts were matching the giant’s.

Alex picked his way over the shattered idols of the past, calling on the Mark, examining every stone they passed. The Fool’s eyes scanned their surroundings—lit only by forceballs and dim sunlight filtering through layers of ice—watching for evidence of a hidden passage.

‘Come on,’ he thought. ‘This is the perfect place to hide a sanctum, Kelda, please let it be here.’

For two weeks, they had journeyed through these mountains, looking for her sanctum. In two weeks, they had found nothing. Their days were spent combing mountainsides, squeezing into tight, icy crevices. Their nights were spent huddled in small caves—warded by Birger—resting fitfully, fearing an attack that could come at any time.

In the mornings they rose early to start searching again.

‘These mountains would make for a good hideaway.’ Alex stepped over the fractured head of a colossal statue. ‘If Kelda’s sanctum was somewhere around here, that could explain why the Guild hasn’t been able to find it after so much time. Hells, we nearly missed it.’

They were making their way through a crevice and had been floating up an icy ridge, when Birger noticed the strange way light was playing across a frozen mountainside.

It was worth taking a look around, so they’d stopped. Bjorgrund had cut a small crack through the ice—doing everything he could not to start an avalanche—then Alex had teleported the three of them into what turned out to be the cave they were currently exploring.

‘We were so close to leaving these mountains behind,’ he thought. ‘I’m glad we didn’t. There’s got to be something in that. Maybe Hannah's guiding us.’

As the thought crossed his mind, something caught his eye.

A section of stone in the cathedral’s main chamber looked odd, calling on the Mark, he examined it.

Like in the Cave of the Traveller, there was an area that wasn’t quite the same as the rest of the stone; it was smoother, as if worn from time and contact.

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‘This could be it!’ Alex thought, trying not to let excitement take over.

“I found something,” he whispered to the giants, climbing over the ruins to reach the wall. “This could be it!”

Birger floated up behind him with Bjorgrund behind a heartbeat later.

“Is it a secret passage?” the young giant asked.

“Oh, Kelda please let this be you—” He caught himself. “Please let this be your home.”

Alex kept examining the stone with the Mark, finally carefully pressing his fingers to three spots where the rock appeared smoother. There came a shift and something clicked behind the wall, stone ground against stone.

The wall slid away, slowly moving to the side with a grinding sound. Ancient mechanisms groaned, protesting years of lack of use. For a moment, Alex held his breath, expecting the mechanisms to seize, when suddenly, they did. All grinding stopped with a loud bang, the wall froze in place.

It had opened no wider than a crack, hardly enough for his hand to slip through.

“Shit!” he swore.

“I've got this,” Bjorgrund said, worming his fingers into the space. With a grunt, he began forcing the stone, using his great strength against it. In moments, the mechanisms started moving again, and slowly, the stone began to slide.

Clouds of musty, smelling dust rushed from the chamber, enveloping Birger, Bjorgrund and Alex, sending them into coughing fits. The young wizard squinted, waving a hand before his face, trying to see through the gloom.

“Come on, come on!” he pleaded.

“Rargh!” Bjorgrund pushed again, the wall slid wide.

On the other side, a wondrous sight greeted them.

An ancient, mummified priest—dressed in golden robes—was laid out on an altar. Around him, a treasure that would have filled a dragon with envy, was piled high. Gold, silver, gems; statues and ancient artefacts.

There was enough wealth for someone to live like royalty for at least a dozen years.

The trio’s faces twisted with disappointment.

This wasn’t what they were there for.

Alex scanned the back wall, hoping to find another secret passageway, but there was nothing there.

“Dammit!” the young wizard grunted. “I was sure we’d found it this time!”

Birger’s shoulders slumped. “As was I.”

Bjorgrund’s expression turned sour as stone dust drifted around him. “Maybe we could—”

He paused, looking up. “Hey, is that dust acting funny or am I seeing things?”

There was enough dust wafting through the air that it looked like fresh snow falling. Most drifted along freely, though darker patches seemed to be reaching for each other, clinging to each other, as though they had a will of their own.

As though they were…

“Soil!” Alex screamed, glancing at the temple’s ceiling. The soil floated around, slithering like a serpent, blending with the dust.

Particles came together, forming a ring.

Alex sprang for the giants.

“With the power invested in me, I sanctify—” The First Apostle’s voice commanded, loud enough to echo off every surface.

The ceiling cracked.

Ice shifted.

Snow poured down.

The Third Apostle’s voice caught. Just for a moment.

Alex touched Birger and Bjorgrund.

A wall suddenly ruptured. Standing there, wreathed in power, was the First Apostle, chanting a spell. Lightning lashed from the tip of his sword like a whip.

Alex called on the Traveller’s power, solidifying an image.

The lightning reached for them.

The trio vanished.

Images swarmed around them.

Next, they were on a mountainside, far to the north—hundreds of miles away—dropping to their knees. Alex's heart was pounding.

His chest was heaving. “If he didn’t hesitate when he was sanctifying that room…”

“The cracking ice helped us.” Birger gasped. “If it wasn’t for that, his lightning would've hit us.”

The younger giant growled, but said no more.

“Come on,” Alex said. “I still don't know how they're tracking us, but we should teleport a few more times and try to throw them off.” He looked up at the sky; the sun was far in the west. “It'll be dark before long, we should also find a place to camp for the night.”

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The Stalker and his companions stood on a mountainside far to the south, watching the avalanche bury the ancient cavern.

“Well, better luck next time, I suppose,” the Stalker said.

“Where are they now?” Gabrian asked.

“Popping about, here and there, jumping hundreds of miles at a time,” he said, pleasantly. “They think that'll throw us off.”

“It will be dark soon enough,” Izas said. “We should pursue them.”

“Not all of us.” Gabrian pointed to a group of warriors, then to a tall peak nearby. “We should build a camp there. We know that the Fool seeks something in this area, so we should leave a watch here in case he returns. The rest of us will take the fae roads, and begin our pursuit.”

The warriors bowed. “Of course, First Apostle.”

“Well, we’d better get started,” the Stalker said. “Our wily quarry tends to set up camp hundreds of miles away from the last place he camped. If we're going to catch them tonight, we'll need to start moving, and fast.”

“We will run him down.” Gabrian’s gauntlet gripped the hilt of his sword.

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The remains of their fire had died down in the small cave.

A few floating embers drifted above the blackened wood; white smoke slowly rose from the cinders, passing through the cave mouth and into the night.

Bjorgrund and Birger lay with their backs to the wall.

Alex was lying outside the cave mouth, peering into the night.

The giants’ snoring echoed through the cave.

Outside, the wind was still.

Alex pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders; even his warming glyphs seem to be only a half measure against cold this deep. It was his turn to watch, his eyes had been scanning the dark for what seemed like hours.

Beyond the cave mouth was a wide stretch of tundra, only broken by the occasional, lone, pine tree. There was neither movement, nor moonlight.

Nor were there signs of the church, at least for now.

Alex glanced at a dried twig set in a snow drift nearby; if Birger’s ward was breached, the twig would snap with a pop of light. The plan was that he’d then grab the two giants—who were sleeping within arm’s reach—and disappear.

Once again, they’d be on the run.

“Dammit,” he swore. “I really thought we’d found it.”

“Me too,” Bjorgrund’s voice said softly.

Alex jumped. “Jeez, Bjorgrund, you nearly killed me!”

“Sorry,” the young giant said. “I woke up. Is it time for my watch yet?”

“I think so.” Alex squinted at the sky. “Hard to tell with the light, or the lack of it, I guess.”

Quietly, the young giant crawled to the front of the cave mouth, keeping his back to the wall.

“Are you going to sleep?” he asked.

Alex shook his head, moving a bit further into the cave. He took Val’Rok’s knife from his satchel.

“No,” he said. “I don't need much sleep.”

“So what's that for?” Bjorgrund nodded at the knife.

“Let's just say, it's to make preparations,” Alex said, beginning to quiet his mind. “We didn't find the sanctum today. We might not find it tomorrow, but we’ll find it soon. I have faith in that.”

“How soon do you think?”

“I can’t say for sure,” he said, taking off his boot, getting ready to shear away some of his soul when he finished talking to Bjorgrund and calmed his mind.

“With any luck, maybe we’ll be home for Sigmus. I don't want to miss that time with my family.”