I awoke several times during the night as things deeper in the forest screamed and rustled, and on one or two occasions, roared. I still felt rested when the sun rose though, which was a relief. The past few years had seen my sleep patterns change, and I’d needed more sleep to feel refreshed than I had when young. I wondered if I could stay awake all night as I had once or twice during my university years, but wasn’t that keen to actually try it.

I started walking again, slower now as the path became steep and the ground turned from grassy to pebbles and scree. There were fewer bushes, and my scavenging for berries was not as successful as the day before. By the time I saw the first marker, I could feel a slight headache forming – the result of not eating properly for the entire morning.

The ribbon was tied to a stunted old tree that looked ancient – I nearly missed it, as the tree had grown over a good part of it. It took a few moments to see the next one, and the obvious lack of recent care and management left a nervous feeling about what I’d find at the end of this path.

I walked for a good twenty minutes more, slower as I had to stop at each ribbon and hunt for the next. Eventually, as the trees thinned, I saw a cliff face, and in that a wooden door, blue ribbons hanging from each side. The wood was old and black, clearly treated with something to keep the elements off, and a silver metallic handle sat on the right side. Slightly uncomfortable, I knocked on the door. There was no reply, so I knocked again, called out, and waited.

After a few moments of waiting, and getting no reply, I reached out and tried the handle. It moved more easily than I was expecting, and the door swung open silently. I had been expecting a squeal of rusted hinges, but clearly someone had been looking after this, even they’d ignored the path up to this door. Which was odd, now I thought of it. The Naiad had called this a cave, and whilst it certainly was an open space in solid rock, I didn’t usually think of caves as things that had doors. Or the rather neat room just beyond, maybe twenty foot square and with a high enough ceiling that I could stand easily and still have around two foot of clearance. It was still dark though, the only light coming from the open door. I could see shadows and images, but not much more. I took a step further, and called out a hello – no answer came back, but light flared on the ceiling, and two globes of warm orange-yellow light descended, to hover just over my head. All the unknown shadows sprung into life, and I saw a small table with two chairs at one side, another door, on the opposite wall but to one side of the entrance, and a small bed. There was what looked like a wardrobe in one corner, and a staff just less than eye height to me leaning against it. The wardrobe also had a pile of clothes dumped by it, which amused me slightly.

The table had papers on it, and a large brown leather book sat open by one of the chairs. I sat, and looked down. The pages were blank, so I flipped back to the beginning, keeping the place it had been open to. I couldn’t read a thing. The letters were unknown to me, looking rather like the Arabic alphabet crossed with Viking runic designs. I swore, and flicked quickly through the pages, desperate to see if there was something I could use – a picture or map maybe. I was about to give up when I saw a flicker of what looked like a word I knew. I looked, and the last few pages were in English – or, more probably in this trade language that the Naiad had said we were speaking, but either way, I could read this. I flicked back to the beginning, and read.

It has been fourteen years since my exile here, and I can feel the end coming on me. I do not know whether the next being to see this will speak or read the language of my Clan, and so I have decided to lay this down in the common tongue known as Trade, in the hope that this will be more helpful to you, whoever you are.

I am, or was by now, Nberi, Court Mage to Her Majesty Queen Fadi. I was convicted of practising the forbidden Arts by my enemies at Court, and as my punishment have entered the Wildlands looking for the cause of the Dark emanations from within. I have both succeeded and failed at this, for whilst I know what is causing the Dark to spill forth, I know not who or why – I am sure that this would be necessary for my return. However, I can go no further here. I encountered the Dark in the depths of this ancient keep, things that cannot leave, and must not either. Though I believe that I have sealed their exit, your entry will have broken those seals – a sentient being will have triggered the lights, and this will be your proof that my spell is ended.

I stopped reading for a second, stunned. So, magic was real. I had guessed from the Naiad and from the lights, but having someone talk about casting spells made it feel real somehow. I wondered what this Nberi expected me to do about this darkness he or she mentioned, but rather hoped there would be instructions further along.

My last journey into the keep was more deadly than I had anticipated – watch for the soldiers with green plumes on their helms, for they are somewhat resistant to magic, especially the limited Flame magic I wield. I almost wish that I had the foresight to learn the Lightning or Earth arts as well, but as they say, wishes are the currency of tomorrow. In any event, I escaped some as my weapon is exceptionally useful against the Dark, but I am injured – to death I believe. My, again limited, skills with healing have closed my wounds but there was a poison that I cannot work free of. It drains me, and even after ten days, it gnaws at my soul, tugging me to the Nightlands beyond. Again, be wary of the green plumed soldiers – I suspect that their blades are covered with this poison. There must also be a mage within the keep, for no poison I know of could last this long and stop my ability to change forms and cast spells without arcane assistance. I hope for your sake it is not a true Lich, for that would be a hard fight for me, and I know not your skills. I have to believe that the Gods sent a capable being though, for otherwise why would they have helped me with the seals?

To business though – the inner door leads to the keep I have mentioned before. I cannot say what you will face, for I do not know how much time has passed. I have left my Pathfinder cloak in the wardrobe, and my weapon is likely in this room somewhere. I have a dagger, enchanted for sharpness, although I am afraid this is likely on my body. You have my permission to take it, with whatever else you may need. I have left some papers with skills you may need, though I can only hope that I have thought of everything, and that I had the time. I cast a minor Light spell upon my t’misi – it should still have a few weeks of charge left, and can be activated through the spellword Alkor. The spellword can be used again when light is not needed or desirable.

Should you survive this, and I am sorry but I cannot see your chances, please find a way to pass the envelope on the desk to my husband Theneles. He may still be at Court, but of course he may have gone to his family estates outside Osmid, in the north of Metare.

I am sorry for this last. Once the seals have been triggered, you will not be able to leave through the door to the outside. The enchantments were hard, but I cannot allow you to walk away with this task undone. The Dark cannot be freed, and whilst my fight is done, you have to try.

I forget, there is food and water in the wardrobe. A small enchantment there means that these will refill every five hours. This will still be in effect unless two thousand years have passed, and I pray to all the Gods that it has not been that long. Please say words over me, commend my body to my God Solarin, Lady of Quiet Places, Mistress of the Leaf and Page.

I sat back, overwhelmed and confused. I was still hungry and now thirsty, so I decided to walk to the river, to clear my mind. The door had shut while I wasn’t looking, so I looked for the handle. There was none. I gaped at the door in horror – then remembered the line in the diary – enchantments my arse she’d just managed to remove the door handle, and now I was stuck. There was little space between the door and the frame, and no matter how much I scrabbled, I could not fit any part of my fingers through the gap, and could get no leverage to try and force it to open. I tried to slam it open with my shoulder, but that just hurt. Both times.

I cursed repeatedly, and walked to the wardrobe, hoping that there was something there. There were two doors, dark and elaborately carved so that the handles looked almost like just two leaves falling from the tree carved above. It was astonishing craftsmanship, but I wasn’t in much of a mood to appreciate it then. I opened the doors, nudging the pile of clothes out of the way with a strange clacking noise – I guessed Nberi had left something in a pocket.

The right side of the wardrobe was clothes – as one would expect. There was no musty smell though, as I would have expected from a wardrobe ignored for months or years. I ignored that for the moment, as on the left was a shelf filled with meat and bread and a few vegetables. I also thought some fruits were there, but they could have been apples or tomatoes or something completely unknown. There was also a white ceramic jug filled with cool water. I assumed whatever enchantment was over the wardrobe kept it cool, but I took as much as I could easily carry over to the table and ate. Whilst I chewed on the rough sandwiches I made, I looked over the papers strewn over the place. Most were completely indecipherable, covered in symbols I didn’t recognise and hurt my eyes to try and read. One stood out though – an instruction manual on how I could change my shape. It seemed to indicate that any form could be chosen, but warned that it was rarely comfortable to be in another shape. It said that each person had a single beast that they would feel an affinity for, but finding this was not always guaranteed. It then directed me to another page that gave specific details on transforming into a large cat – a cougar or panther of some description. There were even drawings of the muscle groups and vascular systems, which seemed excessive.

I sat back, astonished. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to try it, but given my utter lack of weaponry, I suspected that I was about to have no choice but to use whatever abilities this mage had left for me. Thinking of weapons, I suddenly remembered the dagger and staff that had been mentioned. Wondering where the mage’s body was, I felt my body stiffen as I looked over at the pile of clothes I had casually kicked earlier. Standing slowly, I edged over, and gingerly peeled away the first layer.

A long white-yellow bone shone back at me – an arm, or maybe a leg. I recoiled automatically, but got control of myself quickly. It was just a bone – it wasn’t going to warm me. There was no flesh or anything else, everything was completely dry. Clearly something had managed to get into this room, otherwise I was certain that there would be more flesh. I peeled away the clothes to uncover the body there. Everything was completely dry and stiff, which made it difficult and I wondered how long Nberi had lain here waiting. I briefly noted that the skull seemed wrong, the eyes too large and cheekbones prominent. I sighed, and remembering the last notes in his diary, I felt a sudden need to say a few words – clearly he or she had followed a god called Solarin, so I muttered a few words that I hoped made sense. I nearly crossed myself, but stopped before I could – wrong god, and I had never been religious anyway so I wasn’t entirely sure how it went. I touched the pile with my hand when I had finished.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

There was an odd sighing sound, and a bright green light shone over the corpse. It faded quickly, and the bones went with it, the cloth collapsing slightly. I sat back, gaping, mind blank. The clothes suddenly felt clean under my hand, and I picked them up, mechanically opening the wardrobe and clearing them away. I had no idea what had just happened, and I rather hoped I was going insane now. I wasn’t really equipped to deal with the idea of gods taking active action in the world. Or the idea that gods were actually real. Absent-mindedly, I flipped through the clothes hanging up. There was a long green-grey cloak at the end, and I pulled it out, remembering that the journal had said I should wear it. I wondered whether this was fashionable here. Or whether it had been whenever Nberi had lived – after all, those bones had probably been here for a long time and fashions change swiftly. I pulled the cloak out, and slid the thing around my shoulders, letting the bottom drop to a few inches below my knees. There was a clasp attached to a short chain, and after a little experimenting I found that it could either be left loose or close tight so that the cloak either left my chest exposed or not. I presumed this was for bad weather, and flipped the hood up, wishing I had a mirror to see how utterly ridiculous I looked. It was extremely comfortable though, so I laid it over the bed, and went back to the wardrobe.

At this stage, I had been wearing my t-shirt for a day and a half of fairly strenuous exercise, and I was feeling unpleasantly filthy. I wondered if there was a bath or shower here somewhere, though I’d prefer a toilet. I flicked through the clothes in the wardrobe, wondering if anything would fit me. Suddenly, my hand knocked against something that was harder than everything else, and wobbled slightly. I looked, and there was a light tan coloured top that looked like leather. I pulled it out, and a few more pieces fell out of it. I laid them out over the floor, and felt for a moment as though I were assembling shelves. It was clearly a set of armour, including arm and leg pieces, though I wasn’t sure how it all fit together. I presumed I’d be able to fit it all myself, but wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea to wear over jeans and a t-shirt – that felt like a bad idea. I also had no idea whether it would fit at all. Chafing felt like a real possibility.

I rummaged through the wardrobe some more, and found a set of clothes that looked like they’d fit. There were several sets of underwear, and I felt a little sick at the thought of wearing clothes that had touched someone else’s private area, regardless of their sex. However, I assumed that the wardrobe had some cleaning ability, so hoped that would make up for it. Plus, I felt unclean enough that I almost didn’t care. I wondered then if that was how I could get clean here – after all if a wardrobe could clean clothes, couldn’t there be something to clean people as well? I shrugged to myself, and stripped quickly, putting my dirty things into the wardrobe and slipping into a top and trousers. They fit very well, being slightly loose but not enough to restrict movement or flap too much. It felt as though they were made from a fine cotton, and it had me wondering what kind of clothes would be standard here – was it this, or were these exceptional?

I picked up the chest piece from the floor, and looked it over. It seemed fairly easy, but no buckles, or anything to tighten it up. In fact, now I looked over the rest of the pieces, there didn’t seem to be any fastenings at all. I fingered the hard plates that made up the armour for a moment, marvelling over the smooth texture. I flicked it with a finger, and it made a soft clacking noise. My fingernail stung for a second, the plate harder than I had expected. I followed the lines of the two plates over where the pectorals would be, noting the way that they flexed but that they never seemed to allow any space in between somehow. There were several horizontal V-shaped strips covering the abdomen, and it was only at the sides that there were none, just a stretchy material with an odd scaled effect. The back was more of the same as the front, plates covering the obvious muscle groups, the scale over the spine.

I slid it over my head, arms first. Then the upper armwear. It was loose for a moment, and then tightened by itself. I don’t know why I was surprised – magic was a much more effective means of making sure that people had fitting clothes than elastic, at a guess. Or just more available. There was an odd crawling feeling, and scales formed between the two pieces of armour, sealing the gap within seconds.

The rest of the armour was the same – fitted and sealed in moments. Left behind on the floor was a long knife, around the length of my forearm. The grip was black and looked like rough lizard skin, the crossguard a dark bronze bar with symbols that looked Celtic or Gaelic carved into it. It was in a sheath made of the same material as the armour, and had a clip that attached it to my left hip. Grabbing the staff from beside the wardrobe, I sat back at the table, collecting my thoughts, absently flipping through the illegible papers. There were numbers at the top left of each page I noticed, some duplicated and some missing. I organised them into groups, starting with a 2 and working up to a 12. The one with the cat pictures was a 0. I flicked through this last absently, noting the medical details and the odd instructions and words given. My mind stuck on one line, ‘these words are to be used initially, but when you are ready, this spell can be cast through will alone. Be wary of the beast’s mind, for its thoughts may take you if you are not cautious.’ I still thought that turning into an animal sounded pretty amazing, but I definitely didn’t want to be a cat for the rest of my life.

I stood, and put on the cloak. Flipping up the hood, I was glad that there were no mirrors around, as I was pretty sure I looked idiotic. I picked up the staff, weighing it in my hands. It was nearly as tall as me, coming up to my eye level, and was made of a silver-white wood, carved with intricate and wavy lines. I ran my fingers over the carvings, marvelling at the fact that I could barely feel the cuts, but that some looked an inch or more deep. I wondered whether it was magic or just amazing craftwork, or perhaps a touch of both.

The staff was capped at both ends with what looked like dark gold or bronze, with more strange carvings etched into it. It felt weighty, dangerous, but like it was designed to protect me. I stopped at that thought. It felt like mine, like it had been waiting here just for me to pick it up. It was a ridiculous thought, and I wondered what had made me think it. Shaking my head quickly, I looked at the door that I hadn’t yet passed through, and sighed. Something in me knew that I had only one way to go, and I might as well get it over with, but I was reluctant. The diary writer had failed to mention what was waiting for me on the other side of this, and I had no idea how long ago that had been written, so whether there was still anything there, or whether the problem had become worse. I absently tapped the bottom of the staff against the stone floor, beating out the bass line from one of my wife’s favourite songs, one we’d played at her funeral. I stopped when I realised what I was doing, and stepped forward, opening the door.

Beyond, there was a long corridor, the floor paved neatly in dark stone, and the walls made of tightly fitting massive stone blocks. Light shone from globes of light like in the previous room, and there were two more doors – one directly to my left, the other straight ahead. I opened the closest one, and found a bathroom, complete with toilet and running water. The bath even had a shower attachment, though it was like one of those waterfall shower heads poking directly from the ceiling above the bath. There was even a small closet with towels in, and a rail to hang them from attached to the back of the door. In all, it was very close to the kind of bathrooms I was used to, though the toilet was rather low and I was sure you’d have to almost squat to use it properly. Still, I needed none of the facilities, so I moved on.

I opened the next door rather more cautiously, wondering when the danger that the diary warned me of would hit. It clearly wasn’t yet, as this was another small room, blank walls and floor with doors to the left and ahead. I wondered if I should go back for paper and something to write with, to try and make a map, but couldn’t bring myself to open the door again just yet. Instead, I took out the dagger, and scored a rough house into the door I’d just come through – that would make sure I knew where I was when I came back. I chose the door opposite that, marked it with a 1 and went through.

The room beyond was larger, with a black and rotted wooden table in the middle, and broken chairs scattered around. At some point there had been metal objects – I assumed lights – attached to the walls and ceiling. I could see the holes that remained, though they were pitted and scarred with rust. I saw no remains though, and the floor seemed oddly scoured clean around the fallen pieces of wood. I nudged one table leg with the staff, and jumped back as it collapsed, the other three legs unable to hold it, so it fell and cracked with a rattling crunch. The utter absence of anything that hadn’t been destroyed lent the room a threatening presence, a sense of impending danger that I couldn’t shake off.

I looked around, but unable to see anything interesting bar another door to my left, headed for that. I scored this door with a 1 as well, and headed through, that strange urge pushing me to explore.

This room was even more ruined than the one before, a massive chasm opened into the earth, ripping open the opposite wall to where I stood. The walls to the rooms to the left and in front of that had collapsed, leaving me with a view of both rooms plus a slash into the stone of the mountain behind. I peered over the edge, and saw several openings below, just as ripped and torn as the others, though these seemed to be natural caves rather than anything made by sentient hands. Below that was just empty darkness, and I wondered how far it went.

I heard a scrape from my left, and froze instinctively, slowly turning my head. I saw nothing, so edged my way to the wall, keeping my steps as silent as I could. I carefully looked around the wall, and in the next room saw nothing. The wall had fallen inwards somehow, and there was a pile of flat grey rocks, looking almost like the dry-stone walls from the north of England, but here the stones were much larger, and without the sense of order. There was moss covering them, and they were shining with damp. The crack in the ceiling, whilst not letting any light, allowed water to trickle down from above. The light played with it, reflecting rainbows across the walls. It didn’t look right, but I supposed that was down to the light having no discernible source. Which reminded me of those holes in the walls – surely they couldn’t have been for lamps if there was no need for light. I started to wonder again what they might have been for, but then the scraping sounded again, from the other side of the wall. I crawled on all fours over the pile of rock, moving slowly and testing each stone before putting my weight on it, the staff an annoyance that I had to continually control.

I peeked over the edge, and looked down over at the edge of the chasm. There, I saw the source of the noise – a skeleton, carrying a pitted sword and dressed in dull iron chest armour, the tattered remains of red cloth hanging from the shoulders and back. It wore what might once have been like one of the Viking helmets with flared cheek-guards and a nasal protector but now was torn in places in a way that made me shudder to think about the damage that must have been caused to the original owner. It walked a short trip, watching the chasm. I couldn’t see how it was held together, until a trick of the light helped me to see it – black and silver cords that ran through the whole body, tensing and shifting as it walked. I felt a wave of revulsion for this unnatural thing before me – someone or something had taken these ancient bones and forced them to rise against the order of the universe. A plan formed in my mind in an instant, and before I could think of all the reasons why this was foolish, I had leaped down, and slammed the metal tip of the staff against the head of the skeleton in front of me. It tipped over, and fell into the chasm below. I heard a crash and a rattle, and found myself looking into the bottomless darkness. A wave of sudden vertigo struck me, and for an instant I was blind, my sight flashing white-gold. I fell backwards, breathing hard, my heart hammering in my chest. My sight returned, and I found myself gripping the wall with both hands, the knuckles white and red with tension. The staff lay under my leg, a little too close to the edge of the pit for my liking, and I edged it back towards me, shifting it and my legs under me, then releasing the wall with what felt like an audible click from my fingers, and stood, staff in hand. Suddenly the room felt very oppressive, and the urge to fight was gone, leaving me only with fear and the need to get to safety. Still breathing hard, I scurried back to my little base and sat heavily on the bed. I closed my eyes, and decided to meditate – it had helped before during traumatic times, and it might help now. I focused on my breathing, on imagining a light that was a dark blue rather than the white I’d used before.