He had found the entrance to the basement.

The fact that an underground chamber existed at all in this gods-forsaken chapel in the middle of nowhere was already encouraging. It meant after all that the information he had acquired before embarking in this journey was not the fancy invention of some busybody.

The floor did not have a trapdoor and at first glance did not appear to have any obvious opening mechanism. The only thing blocking the way was a floor tile, a big slab of rock four feet across that was not much different than the rest of the church. Opening the way was not going to be a difficult matter but it was better to be careful.

The mage had come prepared. He slid his hand in the leather bag at his side and pulled out a medium sized rod of metal. Using any spell beside a cantrip for this would be a waste of magic after all and the iron crowbar would be the perfect item for the job. With a quick gesture of the hand and a few arcane words a [Detect Magic] took effect. Spells below the first tier would not consume his magical potential and it was better to be safe than sorry. The invisible emanation of awareness swept over the area and he deemed it safe after a few seconds.

He inserted the flat side of the crowbar on the side of the slab and called two wolves over. Strength was not exactly his forte but the zombies would be enough.

As the scraping of stone resounded in the church the two undead managed to rise the cover enough to where it could be pushed over. A small current of air rushed underground as the chamber was exposed to the open for the first time since decades.

The church was previously part of the village of Midwood, a small settlement in the forest close to the city of Greendam. Even at its prime the number of villagers barely surpassed a couple hundred and the small chapel was used mostly for small ceremonies. The faith of The Shepherd was very popular among the more rural communities for its ties to nature and the importance of family.

The downfall of Midwood was closely tied to the pastor of the time, father Patrick Millar.

The clergyman was initially a follower of The Shepherd and sent to the village after the previous priest had passed away of old age. After a few years of service rumors of the night excursions of father Millar had begun to circulate in Midwood. When a routine inspection was sent from the city of Greendam to the village a bishop from the church coincidentally accompanied them for the periodical blessing of the chapel.

The bishop became suspicious of father Miller’s activities as the latter panicked when questioned about the rumors and in the middle of the night the envoys from the city were attacked by the reanimated corpses of the village graveyard.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

A fierce fight took place between the soldiers of the envoy and the undead forces and thanks to the presence of the bishop and their Templar guards the horde was defeated and father Millar was slain.

Unfortunately during the battle the church and a few buildings of Midwood caught on fire, killing a portion of the inhabitants.

The corpses where once again purified by the Bishop but the church had become desecrated because of Miller rituals.

The remaining villagers, mostly homeless and mourning, thus chose to migrate to the city and Midwood was abandoned in the following days. The name of Patrick Millar publicly denounced for his vile actions and the use of dark magic.

After decades the events of those days had been mostly forgotten, maybe only remembered by a few old people who may have been around at the time or invested in the matter.

The young mage was hunting for rumors about any unnatural event in the area when he had come to learn of the story. The practice of the school of Necromancy, especially the creation of undead, was banned in the majority of the continent and considered taboo in most of religions.

Openly studying or finding spell-scrolls about it was therefore not possible. The only alternative that he had was researching on his own or finding the lost arcane lore of the others that preceded him.

Which was exactly why he was here.

While investigating the story of father Miller the mage had learned a few interesting facts from the old survivors of the village. A few curious children had discovered by chance during a dare that the priest would seemingly disappear within the church in the middle of the night, leaving it empty despite closing himself in. Another detail he acquired was that Miller would never allow anyone close to the altar even when cleaning the church, claiming that it was to be left alone because of religious reasons.

By piecing together the information he reached the conclusion that there had to be a secret place where father Miller practiced his rituals. And it was underneath the chapel.

The collapse of the building was probably the reason why no one found the secret passage when the members of the church took the items of worship back to the city temple.

The passage laid in front of him. The light shining trough the missing roof revealed a few crudely made stairs before they plunged into total darkness, the position of the sun was not favorable to light up any deeper.

A simple cantrip created a [Floating Light] and he sent it gently drifting trough the air and into the opening while he remained outside. The small white orb of magic did not emit any heat as it moved soundlessly down the stairs.

After fifteen or so feet the floor of the basement became finally visible.

The mage sent one of the wolves forward and then slowly started to descend being careful to lower his head to avoid bumping the low ceiling. The [Detect Magic] spell still active and scouting the area forward for any magical residual energy beside his own.

He entered a small chamber, no bigger than 15 feet wide and 9 feet high.

It was probably built as a crypt when the village was first founded, sealed and forgotten afterwards and then reopened by father Miller for his nefarious purposes.

The walls meant to house human remains laid empty.

In the center of the room there was a wooden table of the size of a person, a few bones laid atop it.

A desk was placed against one of the walls with a multitude of papers on top.

He approached the table and looked trough the papers.

There was no latent magical power in them… But this was exactly what needed.