She moved along the room, following the wall. This was still just the first room, where common people were allowed to meet with Orcus and ask for help. The fact that it had been desecrated didn’t mean that there wasn’t anything useful here, hidden in some vault. But she was going to have to figure out something for light.

She dug around in the growing dark for a couple minutes and found an abandoned torch. She leaned her sword against the wall, tip down, and held the torch out away from her with her left hand.

This is going to hurt. She took a deep breath and started a small flame with her empty hand, letting the warmth of the fire help with the pain the bracelet instantly started sending through her body. Senara held her hand to the torch, but let out a little yelp and had to stop before it lit. Whatever magic was in this place that would allow her to use her magic even with the bracelet was not being very helpful about the consequences. But she shouldn’t even be able to manage a flame at all, let alone one big enough to light a torch, so she should be grateful.

Time to try again. Soldiers prowled about outside, looking for her. She needed to find something to remove this bracelet or get out of here. Preferably both.

The torch didn’t give off much light. It was probably better that way. If she’d had a choice, she wouldn’t have lit one at all. Moving along the wall revealed more of the same type of carvings cut into what would have been beautiful walls. Someone, or many someones, must have been very angry to put this much time into telling their story. Her grip tightened around the torch, the slivered wood biting into her hand. At least the pain in her side was nearly gone. Some type of ambient magic that she didn’t have to perform herself apparently, because the bracelet wasn’t stopping it.

A few steps later and she almost stumbled over the first of the bodies. The first that she had noticed, anyway. Burned completely, in a way only an elemental could do. So the Orcus had defended the temple. Who had won? Had they fought bravely until death, or were they some of the first to wear the slave bracelets?

There was a small fighting axe lying beneath the next body. Whether the body was the one who had been wielding it or had been passed into eternity by it was hard to tell in the dark. She kicked the handle of the axe. Not her weapon of choice. She could use one, but much preferred daggers.

She held the torch low as she moved along the wall, in case something useful remained.

There, in the grip of another skeleton. A pair of daggers. This place must have been considered haunted or cursed if valuable weapons were still here, lying out in the open a century after they had fallen. Was it the magic that kept looters at bay? Hopefully that was the case, and if any soldiers did pick up her trail it would consider them the same.

The first dagger was nicely weighted, cool in her grip. She propped the torch up beside her sword against the wall and picked up its mate. The blades winked in the torchlight. Strange that the magic would preserve them and not the corpse they belonged to, but that was the only explanation for their condition.

A few slices through the air and already the grips felt nearly melded to her hands. These were not owned by some farm boy angry at the Orcus for Garanath’s treachery . These must have belonged to an Orcus long ago. Senara flipped one in the air and caught it by the tip of the blade to examine the grip. A flaming dragon, his wings outspread to form the hilt.

Odd. Dragons were the symbol of Arcasina, in the south. No matter. A good blade was a good blade. She pulled the perfectly intact sheaths from the corpse and belted the daggers to her waist. A little more shuffling found a nice sheath for her sword, which she flung over her back but kept the weapon free. The blade was far inferior in quality to the daggers, but would be much more useful in a fight.

She had picked a little over halfway through the room when something clattered outside, causing her to freeze and raise her sword. She waited for a moment, straining to hear over the roaring of her heart. Animal? Soldier? Predator? A shout sounded, far in the distance, yet far too close. She upped her pace. There had to be something useful here.

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Moving forward faster, she nearly missed a slight click. It was quiet, almost quiet enough she could have imagined it. She held the torch up a little higher. There, a crack in the wall. Had that been there before?

There was a grinding noise and the section of the wall with the crack slid back. More magic. It had to be good magic, right? At least good for her? So far the magic had been helpful. Doing some light healing, helping her create a flame. She had to assume this was a good thing.

Sticking the torch through the new doorway revealed a staircase going down into a deep darkness. Unnaturally chilled air rose to meet her. Surely it was safe. She leaned out over the gaping hole. Surely anything here was safe for an Orcus. She kicked a stone over the edge and listened as it bounced its way down.

“Tracks, in the snow!” A voice yelled outside somewhere. Her heart clenched. It had only been a matter of time, but she’d hoped that time would be a little farther in the future. And she would have liked to feel like she had a choice, to descend these stairs or not. But there wasn’t much of a choice even if the soldiers weren’t gaining on her.

All that mattered now was a way to remove the bracelet. Though it was on her upper arm, it might as well have been a set of shackles.

Senara slipped down the first two steps, catching herself against the wall. The space in the stairway was even more cramped than it had looked from above. She took a breath. The earthy scent that hit her was nearly nauseating. But at least it didn’t smell of death.

Another two steps. The grinding noise started behind her. She jerked around in time to see the door start to close.

“I hear something!” A different voice from before. “Coming from inside! Come on, lets-” the door snapped closed, cutting off the man’s sentence. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be able to see the door from the other side. And, hopefully, it had opened for her because the magic knew she was an Orcus and it wouldn’t do the same for them.

Strangely after a few more steps, the atmosphere didn’t feel quite as ominous. The air grew warmer and the glow from the torch reflected off the stone walls, making the light reach farther.

It wasn’t only the temperature that rose. The level of magic steadily increased as she moved further down. It had been nearly dormant before, compared to what this surge felt like, enveloping her entire body, leaving her upper arm wrapped in the bracelet the only part of her that remained cold.

What did it want? Was it friendly? So far it had felt that way. Would it help her remove her bracelet? Destroy the soldiers? Now she was truly dreaming. What did centuries old magic care for the plight of a young slave.

There. The last step. As soon as her foot hit the floor, sparks flew in the air, bouncing off the rough stone walls and sparkling across the floor. She jumped back onto the stair, dropping the torch to the floor. The sparking stopped. “What in all of Uthoria was that?” she whispered to herself. Senara craned her neck to look back up the twisting staircase, but it was too dark to see anything. The door was probably still closed.

With the torch on the floor, she couldn’t see much in the room. What was this? Was the magic against her after all? The opening door some type of trap? It didn’t matter. There was nowhere else to go. She slowly stepped out onto the floor and reached down for the torch. The sparks flew down at her again, this time much stronger. She tried to scramble back up the stairs, but missed the step and nearly went down, slamming into a wall. She threw an arm up to protect her head, clutching the hilt of her sword tightly in one hand. Nothing happened.

When it registered that the sparks hitting her skin didn’t cause any pain, she slowly uncovered her head and looked up. The torch was sputtering on the floor, but the sparks, falling like snow, lit the room well. There was nothing here. She stood in a small space, only a couple of strides across in both directions. A dead end. Was the tunnel unfinished? Maybe there was another secret door?

The sparks were still falling, collecting on the floor and piling up. She sloshed through them a step, nearly to the middle of the small space. They intensified, falling so fast she had to close her eyes. It didn’t help much; she could still see their bright flashes through her eyelids.

Warmth lapped at her ankles, then her calves. She squinted down. The sparks were melting into a wave of light, lapping at her knees now. She had to get out. Had to get back to the stairs. Soldiers she could handle with her sword and new daggers, but this was a kind of magic she knew nothing about. She couldn’t control it, especially not with the bracelet blocking her. She jerked one leg up, trying to take a step, only for it to be pulled back down. The tip of her sword had fallen into the sparks. She jerked on the hilt, but it wouldn’t move. She leaned on it as she tried harder to pull her feet free.

Sweat broke out across her skin, the warmth of the room nearly gagging her now. She reached for the wall, clawing at the stone, heart nearly beating out of her chest as she fought to find something to pull herself free with.

Senara shrieked as she fell, the light consuming her until there was only darkness.