The second floor revealed nothing but shadows and decay, so they descended again. At the base of the staircase, a single pair of double doors stood ominously, the wood darkened with age and streaked with grime. The faintest flicker of green light seeped through the edges, like a beckoning whisper from beyond.
Amanita loaded a large bolt into her crossbow, the runes etched into its surface glowing faintly with enchanted energy. She exchanged a glance with Shadowheart, whose knuckles whitened around her spear.
Shadowheart gave a curt nod, her expression steeled, her determination unshakable.
With a swift, powerful kick, Amanita forced the doors open, the echo of the impact reverberating through the walls like a war drum.
Inside, the air was stifling, heavy with the stench of rot and old magic. Sitting atop a grotesquely large chair was a figure that defied nature, a mummified monstrosity that seemed to embody death itself. Its body was wrapped tightly in decaying strips of cloth, each bandage stained with the grime of centuries. The figure’s visage was obscured beneath layers of tattered wrappings, but what little skin was visible was cracked and desiccated, its texture like ancient parchment.
A crown of gold and bone adorned its head, its twisted design giving it a regal, almost divine appearance. Strings of green beads draped over its shoulders, swaying with an unnatural rhythm as if moved by unseen hands. The glimmer of the beads and the faint emerald light of its staff were the only sources of illumination, casting eerie shadows on the bloodstained walls.
The staff it held was a relic of unspeakable power, its metal frame crowned with an emerald flame that burned cold and unwavering. Around its chest hung ornate necklaces, studded with gemstones that shimmered in stark contrast to the withered ruin of its form.
Amanita and Shadowheart froze for a moment, their breaths catching as the sheer malice radiating from the being washed over them. It didn’t move, yet its presence filled the room like a suffocating wave.
"Where is Alex?!" Amanita’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. Her crossbow was trained on the creature’s head, the enchanted bolt glowing brighter as if sensing the evil before it.
Shadowheart stepped forward, her spear raised, the moonbeam spell imbued within it beginning to shimmer. Her green eyes locked onto the mummy, her mind bracing for an attack.
The figure’s head tilted slightly, its movements deliberate and unsettling. A hollow, rasping laugh emanated from it, a sound that felt more like a vibration in their bones than a noise.
"You trespassed my mansion and killed my servants ." it rasped, its voice dry and hollow, as though pulled from a thousand graves. "And now you have the nerves to order me around.."
Shadowheart’s grip tightened.
The mummy leaned forward, the emerald flame on its staff flaring brighter. The air thickened with necrotic energy as the room seemed to tremble, the promise of violence hanging heavy in the space between them.
"Shadowheart, now!" Amanita called out, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
The battle was about to begin, and both women knew they would stop at nothing to save Alex, even if it meant facing this ancient horror and the unholy powers it wielded.
Amanita’s shout seemed to echo endlessly in the room, but the figure did not stir. Instead, the emerald flame atop the staff flared brighter, flooding the chamber with a sickly green light that seemed to crawl across their skin. The sound of distant whispers filled the air—low, guttural voices speaking a language neither Amanita nor Shadowheart could understand, yet it clawed at their minds, dredging up feelings of dread and despair.
Shadowheart tightened her grip on her spear, her knuckles white as the moonlit weapon hummed faintly in her hands, ready to unleash celestial fury. Her sharp gaze darted around the room, searching for signs of movement, but her heart pounded in her chest as the mummy remained deathly still, exuding an overwhelming aura of authority and malice. Her instincts screamed warnings in her mind: they were outmatched, the unknown was too great. But she steadied herself, drawing on the knowledge that Alex needed them.
Amanita, standing resolute beside her, felt a chill crawl down her spine as the whispers grew louder. Her ruby eyes burned with determination, the defiant fire in her eyes refusing to be swallowed by fear. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the mummy wasn’t merely ignoring them—it was analyzing them, its presence probing their every weakness like a predator savoring the hunt before the strike. She raised her crossbow higher, the glowing runes etched into the bolt pulsating like a heartbeat, her finger resting on the trigger.
Suddenly, the room itself seemed to come alive. The walls creaked and groaned as cracks spiderwebbed through the stone, leaking a black, viscous ooze that trickled down to the floor. The bodies scattered across the mansion earlier—half-forgotten corpses—now seemed to whisper in unison, their hollow voices joining the cacophony. The emerald flame atop the staff flared again, and the mummy’s head tilted ever so slightly toward them. Its movement was so slow and deliberate that it sent a shiver through both women, as if the undead lord were savoring the moment.
Without moving its lips, the mummy spoke, its voice reverberating in their minds rather than the air around them. "Your souls will be mine ." The words slithered through their thoughts like snakes, coiling around their resolve and testing their willpower.
Shadowheart took a defiant step forward, her spear glowing brighter as she pushed past the fear that clung to her like a vice. "Release him," she demanded, her voice steady but cold.
Amanita, standing tall despite the suffocating presence, allowed her crossbow to steady as she began analyzing the situation, searching for a crack in this ancient creature’s unholy armor. "If you’ve harmed him," she said, her voice sharp and daring, "I will ensure you regret ever crawling from your tomb."
The mummy remained unmoved, yet the shadows around the room began to writhe and twist unnaturally. From beneath its throne, skeletal hands emerged, clawing at the ground as they began pulling themselves into the light. A dozen undead figures rose, their decayed forms grotesque and malformed. The air grew colder, and the green light from the staff seemed to seep into the ground, animating these monstrosities.
Amanita and Shadowheart shared a fleeting glance. Though they didn’t speak, their shared determination was evident. Amanita’s fire burned brighter, a refusal to let this abomination take what mattered most to her. Shadowheart’s resolve hardened, knowing she could not falter when Alex’s life hung in the balance.
The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension thick and suffocating as the undead began to advance. The mummy’s voice echoed once more, cruel and taunting: "Join the countless souls who have failed before you."
Shadowheart raised her glowing spear and charged forward, light blazing from her weapon, as Amanita’s crossbow released its glowing bolt with a resonant twang, the magic-infused projectile cutting through the air like a ray of hope piercing the darkness.
The mummy smirked, its desiccated lips curling back to reveal blackened teeth as the bolt Amanita fired rotted away mid-air, crumbling to dust before it could reach him. Shadowheart charged forward, her spear aimed straight for his chest, but a wave of necrotic energy surged from the mummy’s outstretched hand, summoning a horde of undead that surged between him and his attackers.
“Coward,” Shadowheart hissed, slamming her shield into the first wave of skeletal soldiers. Her spear glowed in her hand, a bright, silvery light forming at its tip. With a cry, she unleashed a powerful moonbeam, the radiant energy sweeping through the undead, disintegrating them into ash and bone.
But the beam didn’t stop there—it hurtled toward the mummy lord. Just as it was about to strike, a shield of necrotic aura materialized around him, dark and writhing like living smoke. The moonbeam collided with the shield, and for a moment, the room was bathed in blinding light as the two forces clashed. The mummy lord snarled, pouring more power into his shield. The aura thickened, dark tendrils whipping out to consume the radiant energy. The beam dissipated, and the mummy let out a triumphant laugh.
“You will need more than light to defeat me, mortals!” the mummy lord growled, his voice echoing unnaturally through the chamber.
Amanita was already moving, her inhuman speed allowing her to dart past the remaining undead. She fired another bolt, this one glowing with runes. The mummy raised his staff, a burst of dark energy deflecting the bolt before it could strike. The runes fizzled out mid-air, and Amanita cursed under her breath, flipping backward to avoid a skeletal claw that swiped at her.
“We need to break that shield!” Shadowheart shouted, bashing another skeleton aside with her shield.
Amanita rolled her eyes, her sarcasm cutting through the tension. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed! Thanks for the tactical insight!”
Shadowheart's psionic mirror shimmered to life beside her, its shifting surface radiating light and shadow in equal measure. The reflective energy disoriented the advancing undead, giving Shadowheart room to regroup beside Amanita.
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The mummy raised his staff, an emerald flame flaring to life at its tip. He thrust it forward, and a wave of necrotic fire roared toward them.
“Move!” Shadowheart shouted, raising her shield. The fire slammed into her, the protective enchantments on her shield absorbing most of the blow, but the impact still sent her skidding back, her boots scraping against the wood floor.
Amanita darted to the side, firing a rapid volley of bolts at the mummy’s shield. Each bolt struck with a crackling burst of energy, weakening the necrotic aura. “Keep him busy!” she yelled, her hands a blur as she reloaded.
Shadowheart gritted her teeth, her spear glowing brighter . She charged forward, her shield raised to deflect another wave of necrotic fire. The undead claws that reached for her disintegrated upon touching the light of her mirror. With a roar, she swung her spear in a wide arc, the radiant energy slamming into the mummy’s shield. Cracks formed in the necrotic barrier, black smoke hissing from the fractures.
The mummy lord growled, thrusting his staff downward. The ground beneath them shook, and skeletal hands erupted from the floor, grabbing at Shadowheart’s legs and pulling her down.
“Not today!” Amanita shouted, firing a bolt at one of the skeletal arms. The bolt shattered the bone, freeing Shadowheart’s leg. She nodded in gratitude before pushing herself to her feet.
Shadowheart charged again, her shield glowing brighter than ever, while Amanita darted around the edges of the chamber, looking for an opening.
Shadowheart reached the mummy, slamming her shield into the necrotic barrier with all her strength. The cracks widened, and the light from her spear began to seep through. “Now, Amanita!” she yelled.
Amanita didn’t hesitate. She loaded her crossbow with a bolt inscribed with glowing runes .With perfect aim, she fired, the bolt streaking through the air like a comet.
The bolt pierced the shield, shattering it in an explosion of light and dark energy. The mummy lord stumbled back, snarling as the protective aura dissipated.
Shadowheart seized the moment, driving her spear straight into the mummy’s chest. The radiant energy burst outward, searing the ancient bandages and flesh. The mummy screamed, his voice a chilling wail that echoed through the chamber.
But it wasn’t over. Even impaled, the mummy raised his staff, summoning one last surge of necrotic energy. The room darkened, shadows swirling violently as he prepared to unleash a devastating attack.
Amanita moved faster than thought, leaping onto the mummy and driving a dagger into his arm. The attack disrupted his spell, the emerald flame on his staff flickering out. “You’re not taking us with you!” she growled, kicking off him and landing gracefully beside Shadowheart.
Together, they stood side by side, Amanita reloading her crossbow while Shadowheart raised her glowing spear.
“Together?” Shadowheart asked, her voice steady despite the exhaustion in her eyes.
“Together,” Amanita agreed, a rare moment of camaraderie passing between them.
With a coordinated strike, Shadowheart’s spear drove deep into the mummy’s chest while Amanita fired a final, rune-etched bolt into his head. The combined power of light and precision shattered the mummy lord’s form, reducing him to ash and dust.
The room fell silent, the oppressive aura lifting as the undead crumbled to nothing. Shadowheart lowered her spear, breathing heavily, while Amanita looked at the pile of ash, her usual cocky grin back in place.
“That was… something,” Amanita said, glancing at Shadowheart.
Shadowheart nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “We make a good team.”
Amanita smirked, slinging her crossbow over her shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Shadowheart chuckled softly, the tension between them finally easing.
Both Amanita and Shadowheart tensed as a faint, glowing wisp rose from the pile of ash that had once been the mummy lord. It hovered for a moment, its ethereal light pulsing like a heartbeat, before it darted between them. The two women spun around, weapons raised, only to freeze when they saw the figure standing behind them.
"Alex!" Shadowheart exclaimed, her voice a mixture of relief and anger. She rushed toward him, but she stopped short just in front of him, her hands trembling as she inspected him from head to toe. "You’re… you’re alright," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the lingering echoes of their battle. Her shield lowered slightly, as if the weight of the moment had sapped her strength.
Amanita approached more slowly, her sharp gaze studying Alex with suspicion. "You were never in danger," she said, her tone flat but with an undercurrent of frustration. Her eyes narrowed slightly as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "I knew it. No undead could’ve taken you without a fight. I suspected something was off from the start, but I played along to see where this would lead."
Shadowheart’s frown deepened, her thoughts suddenly clearer now that the adrenaline had begun to fade. "You allowed yourself to be dragged away," she said, her voice colder now. "You set this up… so that we could learn to work together."
Alex met her gaze, his expression calm but apologetic. He gave a slow, deliberate nod. "I did," he admitted. "I’m sorry for deceiving you, but it was the only way I could see you two truly coming together as a team. You needed to rely on each other, not just on me."
Amanita let out a dry laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "By leaving us to deal with a powerful mummy lord?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I don’t know if I should be furious or impressed. That was reckless, even for you."
Before Alex could respond, the sound of soft footsteps echoed from behind him. A section of the stone wall, which had appeared solid when they entered, slid open with a grinding noise. From the shadows stepped a figure cloaked in tattered rags, its face obscured by a hood. Beneath the fabric, glassy eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light—lifeless, yet filled with a strange awareness. Three more figures followed, each similarly clad, their gaunt forms swaying as if the weight of centuries pressed on their bones.
Amanita and Shadowheart instinctively reached for their weapons, their bodies tense and ready for another fight.
"Calm down," Alex said, raising a hand to still them. "These aren’t enemies. They’re the victims of Carrion—the mummy lord you fought. He enslaved them in undeath."
The first undead’s glassy eyes widened, the faint light within them flickering as it took in the scene. Its rotten hands trembled as it stepped forward, its voice rasping and brittle. "You… you destroyed him?" it murmured, disbelief and hope mingling in its tone. "He’s… gone? Truly gone?"
Alex nodded solemnly.
The undead’s shoulders sagged with relief, and it lowered its head, almost as if bowing. "We are free," it whispered, its voice breaking with emotion. It reached into its tattered robes, pulling out a ring. The golden band gleamed faintly, its gem an obsidian pyramid that seemed to pulse with a dark energy.
Before anyone could react, a white crow appeared from nowhere, its pristine feathers glowing faintly in the dim room. It perched on Alex’s shoulder, its beady black eyes fixed on the glowing wisp in his palm. Alex brought the wisp closer, and the crow opened its beak, swallowing the wisp whole. The room dimmed momentarily as the wisp vanished into the bird.
The crow let out a sharp caw before swooping down, snatching the ring from the undead’s outstretched hand, and disappearing into the shadows as swiftly as it had come.
The undead staggered back in shock, its fingers grasping at the air where the ring had been. "The ring—it’s gone!" it gasped, panic rising in its voice.
"Don’t worry about it," Alex said gently, his voice steady.
The undead hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "If you say so," it murmured, its voice still shaky. It turned and shuffled toward the far side of the room, stopping at an ancient, dust-covered chest. Pulling a rusted key from its robes, it unlocked the chest and opened it with a creak.
Alex, Shadowheart, and Amanita stepped closer, their curiosity piqued. Inside the chest lay two sets of armor, their surfaces faintly glowing with an otherworldly energy, and a hood that shimmered as if made of woven moonlight.
The undead reached into the chest, then turned and grabbed the staff Carrion had wielded. The emerald flame still burned at its tip, casting eerie shadows across the walls. "Take these," the undead said, its voice laced with bitterness. "Take it all. I don’t want to see them ever again. They’re tainted by him."
Alex waved his hand, and the items vanished, transported to his psionic vault.
"I wish I could do more for you," Alex said, his tone tinged with regret. "But if I tried to bring you back to life, I’d risk angering Kelemvor."
The undead lowered its head, its skeletal frame trembling with emotion. "You’ve done more than enough," it said, its voice filled with gratitude. "You’ve given us freedom. That’s more than we could have hoped for."
Alex nodded, then motioned for Amanita and Shadowheart to follow. Together, they stepped through the hidden passage, the wall sliding shut behind them with a final, echoing thud.
Outside, the sun had already set. The cool night air brushed against their faces as they emerged into the open.
Amanita turned to Alex, her piercing gaze locking onto him. "Alright," she said, her voice firm. "You’ve avoided the question long enough. You’re going to tell us exactly what you were doing while you were 'taken away.' "
Shadowheart crossed her arms, her expression expectant but tinged with a hint of amusement. "She’s right. You owe us that much."
Alex smirked faintly, the glow of the moonlight catching in his eyes. "I suppose I do," he said, his tone light but holding a deeper weight. "Let’s find a place to rest first. It’s a long story."
As they began walking, the tension between them eased, but the air still carried a sense of anticipation.
The Elfsong Tavern was as lively as ever, brimming with the raucous sounds of conversation, clinking mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter from its many patrons. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat and ale, blending with the faint tang of smoke from the crackling hearth. Alex, Shadowheart, and Amanita stepped through the entrance, blending seamlessly into the crowd.
Both Alex and Shadowheart had donned their disguises—a precaution they never neglected in such bustling places.
Amanita looked similar, but her eyes were now a deep, dark brown and her ears were no longer pointy. The changes were subtle yet significant, altering her appearance just enough to make her seem almost like a different person.
Alex scanned the room with a practiced eye, taking in the packed tables and the vibrant energy of the tavern. He was looking for any sign of the others—his companions—but it seemed they hadn’t returned yet. With a subtle motion of his hand, he guided Amanita and Shadowheart to an empty table in the corner, tucked away from prying eyes but still offering a clear view of the room.
As they sat down, Lakrissa, approached with quick grace. Her bright eyes sparkled with recognition when she saw Alex, though she masked it well as she took their orders.
“Three ales and a plate of your finest roast,” Alex said, his voice calm but warm.
Lakrissa nodded and scribbled their order on her pad. But before she left, she leaned in close to Alex, her lips just inches from his ear. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible over the din of the tavern.
Alex’s eyes flickered with understanding, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He gave Lakrissa a small nod, his expression unreadable but calm.
Amanita and Shadowheart watched the exchange intently, their curiosity piqued. As Lakrissa walked away, Amanita tilted her head, her sharp gaze fixed on Alex.
"What did she say?" she asked, her voice soft but firm, her curiosity clear.
Shadowheart leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t voice the question, but the faint furrow in her brow revealed her thoughts.
Alex’s smirk deepened, the kind that hinted at secrets and mischief. "You’ll see soon enough," he said, his tone playful but evasive. "But first…" He folded his hands on the table, his expression sobering as he leaned forward slightly. "Let me tell you what happened after I was dragged down by that wraith."
Both women stilled, their attention snapping to him like a taut bowstring. The noise of the tavern seemed to fade into the background as Alex began to speak.