Coffee in the middle of the night was perhaps not the wisest of choices. Alaric woke the next morning having tossed and turned amongst a fitful sleep. His conversation the night prior with Dagna still weighed on his mind but throughout the morning as they prepared for the day she bore no indication anything had occurred.

Instead of breaking down their camp as was typical, the party left their tents and supplies in place. They would likely be here for another few days and would use the central hall as a base. That also meant that Alaric was freed from gigantic rucksack hauling duties. All he needed to carry was a small satchel containing his flimsy spellbook, notebooks, parchments, and charcoal pencils. Bliss was the back that no longer carried camp supplies.

Fennic had already departed once and returned. No sooner had the first rays of light broken did the slender spriggan creep out into the sanctuary’s gardens and return with a sack of freshly picked fruits, berries, and a clump of what looked like celery with bright pink stalks. The ranger had offered this bounty to the rest of the group, supplementing their meagre field rations. Alaric found the pink celery (“Rhubarb”, Fennic had called it whilst munching a raw stalk happily) to be unbearably tart. However, the sweetness of the other fruits was a pleasant treat to distract from his aching back and sleep-deprived state.

Once they had broken their fast, Grayson began donning his armor. They had no squire so of course the duty of helping the burly man into his gambeson and plate fell to Alaric on top of his other duties. The multitude of leather straps, knots, and buckles to keep the assemblage in place was a lengthy process to complete. Fortunately Alaric’s nimble fingers eased the burden considerably and they were soon ready to embark.

“Alright you busy-bodies! Let’s get going!” Dagna’s bark roused them up. Dutifully they assembled into a procession. Only Fennic was exempt. Cramped interiors were less than an ideal environment for the outdoorsman’s skill set. So instead he ventured back outside, parchment and charcoal in hand to plot the exterior of the sanctuary’s demesne.

In the light of the morning they could make out the interior space of the main hall much better. Cracked and faded murals lined the walls. Marble busts and chipped stone statues filled small alcoves. While the passage of time was evident in the prevalence of styles long since extinct, the oddity of the space was all the more obvious with the sustained absence of grime, dust, rot, or any notable signs of decay. The carpet underneath their feet was stiff, but even it was free of any must or mold.

“Right then. Where do you want to start, Professor?” Dagna asked aloud. The choices were relatively simple. Doors to the North. Doors to the South. Stairs leading up, and stairs leading down.

Dawn had broken only an hour and a half ago and yet the Professor was already fiddling with his pipe, not paying attention. “Mhm! Uhm..lesh go tha’ way!” He nodded to the doors on the right. The North Wing. His teeth clutching the pipe stem precariously.

Dagna rolled her eyes. “Alrighty, yous'all heard the boss. Lysa? If you will.”

The halfling woman barely came up to Alaric’s waist. The sight of what many could confuse as a small child producing an iron skeleton key and running up to an enormous set of locked doors would have been a comical sight to most - if not for the venomous glare and accompanying set of daggers that could also be produced on a whim. Alaric smartly suppressed his urge to giggle.

Standing on the tips of her boots, Lysa reached high to fiddle with the lock. A few short twists and an audible “click” later, and the heavy doors swung open with a low groan as wood traversed stone; presumably for the first time in centuries. Alaric leaned forward to peer into the dark corridor beyond.

Mere moments later, previously imperceptible runes etched into the doors began to glow with a rich purple light. The doors reversed course and swung back towards the party. Before Alaric could react a strong hand hit him squarely on the back, shoving him forward. The Professor also toppled forward as Grayson hurtled the two of them through the rapidly closing space. Lysa and Dagna rushed to follow, the former barely squeaking through the gap. Together they crashed into the next room, the five of them falling down into a pile of tangled limbs in a space devoid of light. With a thunderous “Boom!” the doors sealed once more, followed by a telltale “click” as the locks re-engaged.

After a pregnant pause in silence came a few coughs and a groan. Poor Professor Sorel was at the bottom of the pile. “Hrkk, khhkh khhk,” came the sound of his laboured, rasping wheeze. “Well then…that was…khhk..not what I was expecting. What a way to start the morning.” His choking coughs turned to laughter, then coughs again.

Alaric squirmed in the tangle. He could feel a length of the professor’s wiry beard pressed against the side of his face. As well as someone else’s boot on his chin. Legs, arms, and other extremities were everywhere and no-where. It took a moment, but with only minimal accidental kicks and crushes they disentangled in the dark.

No windows or open doors betrayed any light from outside. Off in the corner, a miniscule ember of red light sputtered faintly - the professor’s pipe knocked askew. Faint as it was, the dying cinders were enough at least for the elderly wizard to find his wand and produce a cheerful kernel of white light from the tip of the instrument.

“Now then, that’s much better.” He said, still lying on his back. His robes were crumpled and his pointy wizards hat was completely dislodged, hanging off to the side from the string on his neck. “Anyone care to help me up?” he chuckled, still coughing.

Alaric was in little better condition. His arm from the wrist up to the elbow was bruised and the side of his face was reddened for having collided directly with the hard stone floor.

“Sorry about that misters.” Said Grayson, picking up both wizards and dusting them off. “Gut instinct took over. You both okay?” He half smiled, half grimaced apologetically. “The last time a door swung shut like that on me, there was a wall of spikes coming down on the other side.” He shuddered at the memory. “Couldn’t risk it.” The big knight was panting heavily, but seemed relieved his clients had not been squashed to death - either by nonexistent spikes or his own weighted body.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

It took a moment to regain breath, but once they had, both the Professor and Alaric announced they were (mostly) unharmed. For being covered in plate steel, the big knight had moved shockingly fast. The heavy armor had done nothing to impede his swift charge, even if it did leave him winded. Alaric had never seen such rapid response times before, a testament surely to the adventurer’s honed reflexes.

Professor Sorel reassured the hulking man with some sincere affirmations and pats then cast his wand-light up above, allowing Dagna to find her flint and light a lantern of her own. With their combined illumination the group assessed their new surroundings.

Behind them lay the heavy doors to the main hall. “Evidently enchanted to return to their original closed and locked state.” Observed the professor.

“Good to know,” scoffed Lysa. Her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Would have been better a little sooner..."

Ahead of them, the corridor led forward before curving out of sight. On either side were thick stone walls with smaller doors, likely leading to other chambers.

Finished readjusting his robes, Professor Sorel strode forward confidently. Grayson and Dagna each lept forward to stay on either side of him protectively. Alaric and Lysa scrambled to join them and stay under the light.

“I really wish you wouldn’t do that,” chastised Dagna. “We have no idea what’s in here.”

“Oh pish-posh.” The Professor brushed off her concerns. “The whole sanctuary is very clearly under the effects of a strong preservation ward. Everything is designed to return to it’s state at the moment of casting. Look…” he grasped hold of the first door’s brass knob and turned.

“No! Wait!” Came everyone else’s combined protest.

The door swung open under the old man’s touch. Taking no chances, Grayson grabbed the professor by the scruff of his robes and yanked the man back from the portal. Dagna drew her mace and Lysa crouched, readying a dagger. But sure enough, the elder wizard was correct. No monsters awoke. No trap arrows flew through the entryway. Instead, after a few seconds the door simply swung shut again.

Everyone but the Professor took a deep breath of relief. He grinned wildly and started running his bony old fingers over the doorway searching for the runes affecting it that had already faded. “Isn’t it a marvelous spell? Truly a masterful cast.”

Dagna returned her weapon to her belt and rubbed her temples with both hands. Clearly exasperated by the ordeal. She turned and pointed at Alaric. He raised his hands defensively before she started to speak fiercely. “Now there’s nothing I can do about this old coot,” she jerked her thumb at Galen.

“Hey!” he interjected weakly, but continued examining the door nonetheless.

“But I swear to the Earthmother below, don’t you ever go acting like that when you get old and batty. It’ll be the death of you. Just you watch.” She cursed under her breath before turning her attention back to her client. “Crazy wizards…” she mumbled angrily. “Alright, let’s do this proper.”

Under Dagna’s direction, the party searched and cleared each room and chamber in an orderly fashion. Most were empty besides the odd cot or cabinet indicative of sparse living quarters. They had nearly finished sweeping the whole floor when Lysa found a small closet, it’s door carefully concealed with plaster to mirror the stone facade of the corridor.

“Hey guys look!” she pulled open the hidden space excitedly.

Dagna lifted her lantern to shed warm rays of light on the cavity to reveal…linens. They collectively sighed in disappointment. Sheets, towels, blankets, and other stacks of folded cloth filled the various cupboards in the space. Lysa carefully rummaged through it and removed a folded sheet. Even as she held it aloft, the fabric unwound thread by thread and crumpled to a fine dust in her hands, leaving Alaric sneezing.

“Hmm…it seems even the magic of the Archons has its limits.” The Professor pursed his lips in contemplation. “Best to leave the rest undisturbed. I don’t know anything about textiles, but I imagine they would be of some interest for some historian or the like that might come later.”

The halfling acquiesced to the old man’s guidance while the others nodded in approval and carefully closed the hidden door. If Alaric hadn’t seen it opened himself, he would never have known the compartment existed. Even so, now that he knew what to look for, the young wizard adept kept his eyes peeled for similar changes in coloration and texture along the walls.

They continued on, investigating each room in turn and searching for anything of value. Eventually they came across a pantry of sorts. The professor, Grayson, and Lysa ducked inside to search. The larger chamber had been filled to the brim with shelves of burlap sacks and casks of indistinguishable contents. Opening them revealed only powdered remnants of solid foodstuffs or evaporated tars and vinegars of what had presumably been liquids. Nowhere was there even a speck of mold, but evidently the sanctuary’s wards could not prevent the ravaging march of time against perishable goods.

What *was* preserved were the items. Pots, pans, jars, and all manner of utensils in drawers. From the hallway Alaric and Dagna could here the professor’s shouts of glee at finding such implements. The two shared a glance and in unison sat down. It would be some time before the Professor would leave such a treasure trove of menial findings, interesting only to him. They shared the desire to avoid a solid hour of commentary on pan depth, lid widths, and the lengths of forks. Better to leave that to the others.

An hour came and went, then turned to two. Every so often Lysa or Grayson would be sent out into the hall to collect fresh charcoal pencils from Alaric. But otherwise the professor mercifully left his student alone whilst absorbed with cataloging the various antiquities.

By hour three the others had developed a scheme to have one of their number supervise the eccentric wizard while the remaining three discretely played cards out in the hall. Alaric had little skill playing Dagna’s game of choice - a dwarven enterprise of matching pairs, sequences, and obscure orders of cards, then claiming them before another could slap one’s pile and take it for themself.

Nursing an already bruised wrist further exacerbated by repeated slaps, Alaric excused himself from the game and wandered the hallway. Without a wand or lantern for light the young adept resorted to running his fingers along the wall to keep his position in the dim light. He made one lap, then another. On the third turn through the corridor’s end his fingers passed over a curious sensation - a chip in the stone. Stopping for a moment he leaned in closer to peer at the spot in the darkness.

“Hey uh…guys?” Alaric called out. “Could you come over here? I think…I think I found something.”

Alaric could hear the game of cards cease. Then he physically felt the eyeroll that surely came from Dagna around the corner. Regardless she came trundling along with her lantern, grumbling all the while with the armored Grayson towering behind her.

“What have we got now Rune-Rat, another…OH!” as she swung her lantern into view, it shed a bright yellow cone onto the wall. Now able to see fully, Alaric ran his fingers from the chip in the wall to the otherwise indistinguishable plaster panel. With a creak it swung open. Within the concealed cavity the lantern-light extended upwards, following a steep set of cut stone blocks leading to the next level.

Alaric had found the stairs.