When they returned to Skyhole, Devin King rewarded everyone with their proper gold. With that gold, the party got supplies for the last leg of their journey. DJ found himself throwing fearful glances at the sky, waiting for Grythure to descend upon him with fiery vengeance, but it didn’t happen. Devin assured DJ that the dragons treat honor in highest regard, so Grythure is honor-bound not to kill him. But DJ remembered what Beatrice said about oaths at the Library of Artak, and that made him sweat.

Devin also grossly underestimated the price for a guide to the Temple of the Amulet. The party still had nearly three thousand gold to spend, it wasn’t enough to afford the cheapest guide to the Temple. Francis spoke to a creature named Gog’m who was willing to guide them for a few hundred gold, but he was a slippery, hunched little fiend with large eyes and a loincloth. Didn’t seem particularly trustworthy.

After the party took care of some necessities (including DJ’s ravenpost, informing Sir Dashing that he bested a dragon), they went to a general store Devin King recommended. The name of the shop was Bragganor’s, and it was just off the city’s main concourse.

When they entered, they found shelves upon shelves lined with various goods. Weapons, armor, potions, books… looked like Bragganor had a little bit of everything. Bragganor himself stood behind a counter, tall, sour-faced, leaning on his elbows and watching them. He wore fine clothes and had a shrewd look that told DJ he had been in business for a very long time.

“Take a look around,” Bragganor said with a gravelly tone. “I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

DJ approached the counter and put his hands on it. “We need a clairvoyance crystal attuned to the Temple of the Amulet.”

Bragganor laughed in his chest. “You sure you don’t want one to the Temple of the Brassiere? Maybe you’ll be the first one to return with your life.”

“I’d rather not take the chance.”

“Got the coin?” Bragganor smirked. “Clairvoyance crystals fetch quite a price.”

DJ gave a smirk of his own and patted his pocket.

That seemed to satisfy Bragganor. “Four thousand gold.”

Steve, Francis, and Riley stopped browsing the shelves and turned at the sound of that sum. DJ didn’t shrink, though. After months of daring escapes and a victorious dragon battle, a little haggling felt like nothing.

“We just visited the red dragons with Devin King,” DJ said. “We’ve done your city a great service. I think you’d do well to cut that price in half.”

Bragganor’s hands twitched so hard that his fingernails dug into the counter. Fury flashed across his stony eyes for a moment’s fraction. But just as quickly as his rage appeared, it vanished. His face turned soft and he laughed. “A man still has a business to run. But I can’t deny the service you’ve done for our city. I’ll do it for three thousand.”

That’s almost all of our gold, DJ thought. “Twenty-nine hundred. I’m afraid that’s the best I can do. If not, I understand. It would be a shame to pass my disappointment to Devin King, though. Your shop came highly recommended.”

Riley suppressed a grin. So did Francis. Steve was distracted by a magical dancing frog, so he wasn’t listening. Bragganor, however, tried desperately to turn his scowl into a smile. Every word he spoke came through gritted teeth and twitching lips.

“Very well,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint our noble governor. Twenty-nine hundred gold, then.”

He ducked behind the counter and rummaged for just a moment before emerging with a pink crystal the size of his fist. He held it in front of DJ’s face, twisting it and letting the light catch it.

“One clairvoyance crystal attuned to the Temple of the Amulet,” Bragganor said. “Give it a rub and it’ll show you a pink line leading to the Temple.”

DJ counted the gold and dropped it on the counter. Bragganor gave him the crystal, and DJ immediately rubbed it. Before his eyes materialized a bright pink thread that led out the door. DJ thanked Bragganor, and the party left.

As they closed the door, DJ looked over his shoulder. Bragganor glared with slimy disdain, but there was an eerie thread of satisfaction twitching through his lips. DJ frowned at it, but didn’t think any more of it after he closed the door.

“To barter with such confidence!” Francis said as he shook his head. “The DJ I met back in Beregond never would have had the grit.”

DJ half-smiled. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Come,” Francis said. “There must be sights to see in Skyhole. Tomorrow we embark on the final stretch of our adventure, but today, we celebrate.”

Francis was incorrect—there were hardly any sights to see in Skyhole. DJ did find a college of magic in the northeast corner of town. He talked to the administration for a few minutes, but found the professors stuffy, pretentious, and a tad suspicious. When he saw a student struggle with a Flamefist spell, DJ decided he was best studying magic on his own.

Steve found another monastery to offer prayers at. That night, Francis insisted that they find a cozy tavern for dining, and they found one called the Giant’s Foot. Inside, a duo of bards kept the diners entertained over a steady hum of chatter, clinking dishes, and sloshing pints. A roaring hearth in the middle of the tavern made it warm enough to shed their coats. The party pulled up a table in the corner and a hostess provided them menus.

They had to be selective with their limited funds, but the party afforded meals with spiced meat, mashed snowyams, steamed vegetables, and red wine. Steve asked for grape cider instead of wine. When the hostess brought them their meals, Francis took his pint and straightened up.

“Young knight,” he said, “would it be well with you if I proposed a toast?”

DJ shrugged. “Sure, go ahead.”

Francis smiled, then pushed out his chair and stood. “Hear ye, one and all! I’d like to propose a toast!”

The steady hum extinguished. Even the bards stopped playing.

DJ’s cheeks turned red. I thought you meant just us, not the whole tavern! He resisted the urge to slump in his seat.

“To my young friend, Sir DJ of Beregond,” Francis said, pointing to him. “For months, we have traveled together, experiencing all kinds of danger and discovery. At first he was fearful, but he has grown into a knight of courage and strength. A warrior, and a scholar. For that, let us drink!” He lifted his pint again. “To Sir DJ of Beregond!”

“Aye!” the tavern responded. Everybody knocked back a swig.

Riley stood up, face beaming. “Sir DJ has proved that, even before reaching the age of manhood, he’s as brave and noble as any knight in the territory! Another toast to Sir DJ!”

“Aye!” The tavern took another combined drink.

DJ’s face burned an even brighter shade of red and he caught himself slumping after all.

Friar Steve pushed his chair out and stumbled to his feet. His words were slurred and he had trouble standing. “Sir DJ is blessed by the good, good Goddess! May ‘e live with peace and happiness and eternal blessings! Another drink forrr Sir DJ!”

The tavern watched the friar with amusement before they agreed with “Aye!” and had another drink. Francis and Riley sat back in their seats. Steve plopped down and nearly fell over.

DJ rubbed his forehead to hide his face. “Please… never do that again. But thank you.” He took Steve’s drink and smelled it. The hostess definitely gave him wine instead of grape juice. The realization was almost as funny as the knowledge that Steve got punch-drunk from a couple of gulps. “How’s your grape juice, friar?”

“It tastes funny!” the Steward slurred. “But I like it! Maybeee I’ll ‘ave another!”

“Maybe just keep it to one tonight,” DJ tried not to laugh.

“Sir DJ,” Francis said. “I hope you know I meant every word. This journey has been once in a lifetime. I consider you my friend, and I hope that our fellowship will continue for years to come.”

“Me too,” Riley said, eyes bright. “I’m so I ran away from home to do this with you, Deej. It’s been amazing.”

Steve said, “Mmmee too!” Then he draped his arms around DJ, humming and nuzzling his head into DJ’s shoulder.

In this moment, DJ’s heart became thick. He had left Beregond with just one friend, but now he had three—not to mention all the friends he made along the way. Gratitude swelled inside him until a lump grew in his throat. He coughed it free.

“Thanks guys,” he said. “I feel the same.” He took his pint and lifted it. “To friendship.”

Steve released him, and everyone lifted their pints. “To friendship!” They drank.

*

Steve rubbed his temples and moaned as they all got ready the next morning. DJ was amazed that anyone could get hungover from a single pint of wine, but than again, Steve wasn’t like anyone else he knew.

Devin King was in the foyer working on a very poor painting of a dragon when the crew came in. The governor waved his paintbrush in the air and wished them the best, then went back to work, whistling to himself.

Within the hour, they were on the north end of Skyhole, preparing to enter the treacherous mountains of the Spine. As they went, DJ rubbed the clairvoyance crystal to illuminate their path. The bright pink thread led the way.

For days, they trudged through the knee-high snow. It was hard to tell through the snowstorms and cloud cover, but DJ swore that the crystal was taking them the wrong direction. The Amulet of the Goddess was east from Skyhole, but the crystal seemed to take them west. But the crystal knew better than he did, so didn’t question it.

At night, they found caves and alcoves to camp in. It was tough to find firewood in the snow, and the wet wood made the fires uncomfortably smokey. In the dark, they would often hear wolves howling, so they always made sure to keep the fire glowing, no matter how thick the smoke was.

Along the way, they spotted all sorts of creatures in the distance. Against the sky, they saw dragons flying in small packs. Sometimes they were red, sometimes they were bronze or green. Thankfully, they didn’t notice the four of them. And one night, as they were getting ready to make camp, they saw the shadows of giants moving slowly along the mountain top. Riley stared in awe.

“Don’t worry,” Francis explained, “they won’t bother us if we keep our distance. It’s not unusual to find orc clans in the Spine, either. We are, after all, the lords of the barren places. But I can’t say I’ve met many cousins from this area.”

Days went by of snowy hiking, eating dried food and cooking whatever Riley managed to kill. But finally, one afternoon, they saw it. At the top of a mountain, at its very peak, the Temple of the Amulet stood majestically—an edifice of radiant white pillars and clean stone.

“Behold!” Steve yelped and pointed. “The Temple of the Amulet! Our journey is nearly complete!”

“Our journey is nearly halfway complete,” Francis corrected. “Don’t forget that we still need to venture back to Beregond.” He nodded toward the Temple. “I imagine with that distance, it’ll take us another day. We’re not there yet.”

But a day came and went. They found the foot of the mountain with a great set of switchbacks carved into its side. Their legs protested as they ascended. When they reached the top, the Temple stood all the more inspiring. Everything about it—the pillars, the porch, the sloping roof—seemed to reach upward in holiness and power. And the mountaintop’s silence only added to the majesty.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

But they had a slight problem. The mountain had been severed in two, and a great chasm stretched between their side and the side of the Temple. They all approached the fissure’s edge to investigate its depth. It was a nearly endless drop to the bottom. DJ flexed his clammy hands.

There did appear to be a way across, however. On the other side of the chasm, a long stone bridge was retracted up. Above it was a statue of a lion with a massive jaw gaping wide. Two more stone lions were standing on the party’s side of the chasm, so three in total: one above the retracted bridge on the north side of the chasm, and two in front of them on the south side.

DJ examined the lion statue nearest to him. His fingers traced the stone teeth and rubbed the dust that had gathered. Inside the gaping mouth was a small bundle of dry wood where the tongue should have been. DJ furrowed his brows.

Riley put her hands on her hips. “So, we need to get that bridge down if we’re going to reach the Temple. Anyone got ideas?”

DJ pointed to the statue. “This statue has dry wood in its mouth. Is it the same with that one? Yeah, I bet they all do. I’m guessing we have to light a fire in all of them. How we’re going to get that one, though,”—he pointed at the statue above the retracted bridge on the other side of the chasm—“I’m not sure about.”

“I shall pray to the Goddess for wisdom!” Steve yelped. He dropped to the ground, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.

Francis meandered to both statues, inspecting for himself. But it was between the statues that something stopped him. His attention focused between his boots. He crouched down and rapped his knuckles on the snow. “The texture on the ground is different here,” he said. “It’s smooth.”

With his big green hand, he brushed the snow away to find words etched into an even stone surface. The words were in organized rows like a poem, but DJ couldn’t understand any of the letters. He nudged Francis. “Can you read any of this? It’s not in commonspeak.”

“Fragments,” Francis said. “You’re correct, Sir DJ, this is oldspeak. The tongue has been mostly lost for thousands of years, but I understand bits and pieces from my studies at the College of Beregond. I found more of it at the Library of Artak.”

Riley was over Francis’s other shoulder. “What does it say?”

Francis didn’t answer. His fingers traced every word, his face riddled with concentration. When he reached the end of the words, he stayed with his elbow on his knee for a long moment, thinking. Then he scratched his chin. “From what I gather, we must light a fire in every lion’s mouth simultaneously, then the bridge will drop. But my translation is rough. I may be incorrect.”

DJ’s eyes darted to the two lion statues before them, then the one across the chasm. Light them all at the same time? How? Two were in front of them, sure, but what about the one across the bottomless fall to certain death?

DJ stared at the distant statue as if to summon an answer. Just across the chasm, the Temple of the Amulet waited for them. He folded his arms under his garbs and thought about how anticlimactic it would be to venture here only to be stopped by a puzzle they couldn’t solve.

As he nurtured these thoughts, DJ saw Riley’s bow slung across her back. That gave him an idea. Riley turned around and they locked eyes. Yes, they were thinking the same thing. She took the bow off her shoulder and marched up to him. Her eyes flashed with enlightenment.

DJ smiled. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Riley pulled out an arrow. “I’ll wrap an arrowhead with cloth. You light it with your magic—”

“—then Steve and I will use Flamefist on the statues,” DJ said. “That could work. As long as Francis’s translation is right. Steve, get up! We have an idea!”

The friar’s eyes snapped open and he leaped to his feet. “Goddess be praised!”

Riley wrapped the arrow. As she did, DJ rubbed his frozen hands together. Once it was ready, DJ made the backwards S with his fingers and said “Scintyll.” Sparks jumped. The arrow’s tip caught fire. Riley pulled back and lined up her shot. She grimaced from the heat licking her knuckles.

DJ and Steve got ready by the two statues. They both watched Riley intently. Neither of them said it, but that shot across the chasm would be a difficult one, especially considering the mountain wind. But Riley had been practicing her archery for months. Hopefully it would pay off. Because if it didn’t, they were sunk.

Through clenched teeth, Riley let out a pent-up breath and the arrow shot through the air.

The flickering red arrow sailed over the chasm. Everyone held their breath. It arched up, down, and… bullseye. The arrow lodged in the lion’s mouth above the retracted bridge.

Together, Steve and DJ shouted “Mynus-ignys!” Flames blasted from their fists. Their two lion mouths lit up. All three of the lion mouths had ignited at once.

Everyone backpedaled and congratulated Riley on her tremendous archery. Riley clutched her bow and grinned. They all waited for the bridge to descend, but… it didn’t budge. It didn’t so much as shudder. They waited a moment longer. Still nothing. Then they all let out a cumulative sigh.

Francis shook his head. “I’m sorry, friends. If only my oldspeak were stronger.”

But no. The eyes in every lion statue lit up. The bridge trembled. With a loud groan, the bridge unlatched. In a slow, downward swing, it timbered over the chasm until it slammed into the opposite side. The mountain shook. They all crouched low to keep steady. But there it was. The path was clear. The stone bridge to the Temple extended across the chasm, waiting for them.

Francis straightened himself. “I redact my apology. You’re all very welcome.”

They carefully made their way across the bridge. It didn’t have rails or ropes, so it was a direct fall to the bottom on either side. DJ tried not to look down. He hadn’t realized how uncomfortable he was with heights until this moment. But he kept forward as everyone followed him. And within the minute, the group was on the other side of the chasm.

Before them was the mighty Temple of the Amulet. It just got even more majestic the closer they got. DJ could make out the carvings etched into the pillars—beautiful curving patterns thousands of years old. The white stone had a glow all its own, as if heavenly hands polished it daily. It showed no signs of fading.

They had arrived. After months of grueling travel, DJ, Francis, Riley, and Steve were finally here.

Behind them, the bridge shuddered and retracted back up to its original position. They all watched it slowly climb as if pulled by invisible cables. It stopped as it stood straight up, and the mountainside rang with a loud click.

DJ swallowed. “Well, hopefully that’s not a problem later.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not!” a familiar voice came. “Things have a way of working out!”

The entire party turned and saw him. The wooden stand. The pointed hat and phony beard. The waffle wizard propped his head in his hands and rested with his elbows on the counter. Next to him was a warm stack of waffles, visibly steaming in the cold. The wizard wasn’t wearing any winter clothing, but the weather didn’t seem to bother him.

“It’s you!” DJ nearly laughed. “What are you doing all the way up here?”

“Conducting business as usual!” the wizard replied brightly. “How’s your supply? I have a wonderful new product that you would love in particular!”

The wizard reached under the table, pulled out a small chest, and opened the lid. Inside were three spherical pastries that could fit in the palm of DJ’s hand. Each was sprinkled with powdered sugar. Steam wafted off them and they smelled delightful. DJ’s mouth watered.

Riley studied them. “What are those? They’re so small!”

“Magic Waffle Bites!” the wizard said proudly. “No more magic headaches! Once your mind feels weary, just pop one of these Bites and you’ll be good as new! Perfect for mages and other magic users.” He winked.

“How much?” DJ asked eagerly.

“Fifty gold each!”

DJ’s heart sank. He rummaged around in his pack and counted some gold coins in his palm. “All we have is twenty-two gold. That’s it. The clairvoyance crystal cost nearly everything we had.”

The wizard scratched his head and thought for a moment. “Um… tell you what. You four have been such wonderful customers across… ah, Hundred Hells, just buy one waffle and I’ll give you the Bites for free!”

“Whoa, really?” DJ asked with a wide smile.

“Goddess be praised!” Steve yelped.

DJ forked over ten gold and the wizard served up a waffle, followed by the three Magic Waffle Bites. DJ stuffed them into his mage robes and thanked the wizard profusely. But as he did, there was something in the wizard’s eye he had never seen before. The jovial disposition was still there, but it felt like a mask for something else.

Worry.

“Well, pleasure seeing you!” the wizard bowed. “But I really must be going! Best of luck to you!”

For just a few seconds, a snowstorm picked up so heavily that it nearly threw everyone off their feet. They could barely see their hands in front of them. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, and when it lightened up, the wizard and his stand had disappeared.

DJ brushed the fresh snow off his coat. “Best of luck? We’re already here, though.”

Francis looked the Temple up and down, then turned to DJ. “You’re just a few steps away, young knight. The Amulet of the Goddess.”

DJ smiled.

The four of them marched to the Temple’s edge. Long stairs stretched from the snow to its front porch. Each step was finely carved and pillars around the porch rose fifty feet tall. Above a large set of stone doors, a triangle carved from the wall pointed upward. Behind it, a carving of a sun was shining.

DJ approached the doors, heart pounding. Then he stopped. He took a look at the friends who ventured with him all the way here. Through all sorts of danger, they were there, and he couldn’t have been more grateful. They smiled back at him, and it turned his insides warm.

“This is your quest, Sir DJ,” Francis said. “You should be the first to enter.”

“Yeah, DJ, go!” Riley insisted.

“The Goddess’s blessing awaits you!” Steve yipped.

DJ took a steadying breath, put his sweaty palms on the doors, and pushed. They dragged open on resistant hinges, but nonetheless, they opened.

He wasn’t sure what the Temple would be like inside, but he wasn’t expecting this. It was essentially a ruined indoor courtyard. There were great rocks strewn about, puddles of water, moss growing on rocks and half-destroyed pillars. There was no roof, either—just four ancient walls that opened up to a cloudy sky.

No sign of the Amulet, either. And the Temple was surprisingly warm, even though it had no reason to be.

DJ shed his winter coat as he strolled around, taking everything in. “Weird. Shouldn’t there be a pedestal with the Amulet on it? I thought that’s what the Stewards told me.”

No response. DJ realized he couldn’t hear his friends’ footsteps.

A frown came to his lips. “Guys?”

He looked behind and his body ran chill. Francis, Riley, and Steve were gone. DJ was alone in the Temple. The hair on his neck stood. When he turned about to face forward again, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

In the middle of the Temple stood a monster unlike anything he had ever seen. It had the head and mane of a lion, the torso and arms of a muscular human, and the legs and talons of an eagle. White feathered wings spread out from its back. In one of its human-like hands, it held a greatsword as long as DJ was tall. DJ only reached up to its waist.

DJ stepped back and planted his feet, looking up, flexing his hands. Fear rocked through him like a tidal wave.

“Human,” the beast said. Its voice matched its lion face—a threatening growl.

DJ swallowed before he answered. “Who are you? What have you done to my friends?”

“I am the Harpygriff,” it said, “the beast who guards the Brassiere of the Goddess. And you were the first to enter the Temple. Your friends are of no consequence.”

The Brassiere? DJ’s blood went cold. He suddenly remembered Bragganor’s devious look as he left the shop. That damned Bragganor sold us the wrong crystal!

He was at the Temple of the Brassiere. And no one survived the Temple of the Brassiere.

“No,” DJ breathed. “Noble Harpygriff, there’s been a terrible mistake. I am Sir DJ of Beregond, on a peaceful pilgrimage with my friends. We meant to go to the Temple of the Amulet, not the Temple of the Brassiere.”

“Yet you are here,” the Harpygriff said.

Swallowing, DJ knelt on the ground. “Please, let us go in peace. We were misled here.”

“That is not an option,” the Harpygriff said. “I am sworn to confront every living thing that enters this sacred place. You cannot simply leave.”

“Please, choose mercy!” DJ tried to sound strong, but humble.

“Your groveling will make no difference.”

DJ swallowed again, thinking, trying to scrape up a plan. But what? This was the Temple of the Brassiere, and he was at the Harpygriff’s utmost mercy. “What would you have me do?” he swallowed.

The Harpygriff tightened the grip on its mighty sword. “Slay me. Prove what no one has before—that you are worthy of beholding the Brassiere of the Goddess.”

“I don’t want to fight!” DJ said. “We were misled! In the name of the Goddess, let us go in peace!”

“You are not one to swear on Her name!” the Harpygriff bellowed. “It is She who gave me this sacred charge! There is but one way out, and it is over my corpse!”

A lump formed in DJ’s throat and he felt smaller than he ever had before. The glowing memories of the last few months were now tarnished. He bowed deeper and shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“Perhaps this shall motivate you,” the Harpygriff said.

It swished its sword before DJ, as if pulling back a curtain. There, at the Harpygriff’s feet, his three friends appeared. Wide-eyed. Horror-stricken. Still as statues.

“I shall peel the flesh from their bones,” the Harpygriff seethed. “Let their screams fill your ears. Is that what I must do? Will that grant you courage to fight, human?”

That lit a fire in DJ. Whatever fear knocked around his trembling body was extinguished, and in its place, a mighty swell of righteous fury crashed through him.

Standing and bearing his teeth like a tiger, he proclaimed, “I’ll kill you if you touch them!”

“Then rise, Knight of Beregond!” the Harpygriff commanded. “Prove this day your worth! Defeat me, or embrace death as all have before! Rise!”

The Harpygriff lunged.