“So,” I started, trying to follow from the…passionately detailed information Otho had unloaded on me. We’d continued on down the corridor, looking around the joint while the pair of them (one more talkative than the other) explained the situation. “You were married to a lady who happened to be a bog witch. She had a bunch o’ kids, and then afterward she…trapped you in the compass? Only for it to get discovered by a previous Marsh Knight? Who, for some reason, instead of releasing you, made you part of the Trial?”

“Aye,” Otho said. Sav shrugged. I blinked.

“And then, somewhere down the line,” I continued, “Sav gets born—and he knows who you are because his family has legends about you being some sort of big time jerk?”

“Aye,” Otho said again. “Lies—despicable fibbers they are. Got it from my wife.”

“But…you said your name was Otho af…Muesli?” I wondered. “Where’d the ‘Sav’ part come from?”

“Ach, boy,” Otho shouted, a deep fissure of a grimace for a face. “My byname’s af Mosi—it means ‘of the moss.’ My Clan name is—er, was—Sav.”

“This is a lot,” I groaned, training my eyes forward. “Got my head all twisted.”

Otho snorted, looking at Sav with disdain. "Aye, 'twisted' is right. I've long since disowned any ties to the Sav clan, but blood's blood, I suppose."

Sav shrugged, unbothered, and took another bite of his cheese. "Family's family," he mumbled indifferently.

I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Okay, let's just calm down and try to make the best of this...awkward situation."

To catch y’all up to speed a bit, I’d decided—in the interim—to plunk Shroudpiercing into my Deep-Rooted Array. I didn’t exactly know what it did, or what it was—but the moment I had, Otho had informed me of the type of Galdur it was. Now, as established, Waterwalking was the talkie type—needing an incantation to be made, and Mist Veil was the physical sort—on account of the trendy dance moves; Elemental Shield was a mental one—just needing me to summon it with my brain or what have you, while this new one was similar to Marshlore—passive. It worked of its own volition, I suppose. I reasoned that it would allow me to do…something once I found my next ripple. Though, I will be honest, I weren’t super keen on that idea. But I digress.

As we’d continued on—me trying to balance the humongous ax on one shoulder—I could make out the beginnings of a shape. A really large shape towering ahead. I whistled low. However, I was apparently the only one who noticed.

Otho was busy—outrage plain as he glared at Sav. "I'll not make nice with the likes of him. I've seen what his kin are capable of."

Sav's chewing slowed, and he looked at Otho, his eyes narrowing. "Ghost’s got a lot of opinions."

Otho huffed, undeterred. "Betrayal, deceit, and all manner of treachery. Ye think I don't know what yer ancestors have done? Abandoning their duties, turning their backs on their kin, aligning with dark forces—"

I held up my hands, cutting him off.

"Alright, alright, let's not dig up centuries of family dirt right now. We ain’t got the necessary shovels—and we got more pressin’ matters to deal with." I gestured ahead of us to the daunting shape. "Like that."

They finally looked, their gazes drifting upward to take in what I’d already spotted: a massive door.

The thing was a behemoth—towering at least fifty feet high with a width that could easily fit a semi parked sideways. The door was adorned with intricate carvings of runic symbols I didn’t know.

Both Otho and Sav were still staring, their quarrel momentarily forgotten.

"Now, that’s a marvel…" Otho said reverently, his tone less hostile now. "Wonder what’s behind such a big door?"

Sav, still holding his cheese, nodded. "Big room.”

I chuckled.

“Now we just gotta get ‘er open,” I said, reaching for the object strapped to my back.

Sav stepped forward, still chewing. "I can break it."

Otho raised an eyebrow. "Ye’re gonna break down a fifty-foot door?"

He shrugged. "Could try."

I turned to him, an exasperated look on my face. "Why would you try to break it down? I've got a key!"

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

I held up the novelty-sized treasure derisively.

Sav shrugged. "As backup."

I rolled my eyes. "Let's try the key first, alright? If that doesn't work, then we'll consider your 'backup' plan."

Approaching the door, it took me a moment of perusal before I noticed a keyhole that was just as massive as the key itself, nestled among the carvings. It was almost hidden, blending seamlessly into the detailed runes.

"Welp, gang—here goes nothing," I said, slotting the key into the hole. It fit perfectly, which was a relief. I turned the key with both hands, feeling the heavy mechanism inside the door click and grind. That was when the runes along the door lit up, bathing the whole damn place in an eerie blue light.

“Spooky…” I muttered.

With a rumble that echoed through the entire tower, the door slowly began to swing open, revealing the vastness of what lay beyond.

"Looks like brute force won't be necessary today, Sav," I said with a smirk.

Sav just nodded, looking slightly disappointed. "Next time."

—

I found myself gaping at the spectacle before us. The room beyond was a palace's dream, the kind of..what’s the word? Opulence? Anyway, the kind of decor you'd see in those over-the-top movies where the budget clearly went to set design instead of the script.

The space was massive, a certified throne room, decked out in finery that seemed untouched by the decay we'd seen elsewhere. Everything was draped in a layer of dust, but beneath it, the fucking grandeur was unmistakable. There were velvet drapes that hung from the ceiling to the floor, embroidered with little images of birds and toads—I think they call that ironic. The floor was made of intricate tiles that I could image would have been quite impressive if the lights were on.

"Hooey!” I mused aloud. “Looks like rich folks are the same no matter what world you're on—always gotta show off."

Sav grunted in something akin to acknowledgement—apparently something we agreed on. Otho’s eyes were just wide, a look I was having trouble placing.

“So…” I muttered, taking stock of the whole place, “back when, this musta been one hell of a living room.”

At the center of the room stood a long, ornate table, the kind that could seat a small army. It was littered with what looked like centuries-old goblets and plates, their gold and silver tarnish glinting in the dim light. Along the walls, there were tapestries depicting what I guessed were historical events of Hyrushjem, or something—a collection of boring people doing boring things. Suspiciously, they didn’t show anything about the head honcho transforming himself into an amphibian. Embarrassing, I guess—I probably wouldn’t depict my failings either.

But what really caught my eye was at the far end of the room. There, illuminated like the star of a Christmas pageant, was an altar. It was strangely averse to the rest of the room, glowing with blue light.

"Either of you know what that is?" I asked, nodding towards the altar.

Otho floated closer, squinting. "Could be a place of power—a focus for Galdur? Or maybe just a fancy table for fancy things."

Sav, who'd been quietly inspecting a dusty chalice, shrugged, chewing around a piece of cheese. "Lot of light."

“Y’all ain’t very helpful,” I sighed. "Well, guess there's only one way to find out, huh."

As I approached the altar, a shadow caught my eye. Something hovered above the platform, barely visible against the light. The shape was indistinct, shrouded by the shadows, but it pulsed with a quiet energy that was impossible to ignore. It was long and thin, but I couldn’t tell much more than that.

I squinted, trying to make out what it was.

"You guys seeing this?" I asked, pointing at the hovering shape.

Otho peered at it, his ghostly form flickering. "Aye, there's something there. Be cautious, lad."

Sav simply watched, his expression unreadable as always. I watched as he slowly lifted a new wedge of cheese to his mouth from the rapidly diminishing pile in his arms.

“Say, Sav…” I queried. “Where’d you find the grub anyways?”

“Coffin,” Sav said.

“Coffin?!” I barked, flabbergasted.

He nodded. “Empty. Except for the cheese.”

“Well that’s a holy blessing,” I said. “We’ll get back to that after…” I let out a groan. “...after all the other shit.”

Damn, I was really hoping that he was confused and it had been like a…crate or something. I did not need to be dealing with vampires or mummies right now.

I took a deep breath and stepped closer, my hands gripping the shaft of the gigantic ax. Then I thought better of it.

“Hey, Sav,” I said. “I might need something a little less…well, big as hell. Keep my hands freed up, ya know? I think I already know the answer to this, but do you want to take the ax off my—”

I didn’t even get to finish the sentence before I felt the largely inconsequential weight lift from my literal shoulders. Sav had moved quick-as-frick to yank the wistfully disobedient polearm from me. He had a look of pure elation on his face, though his eyes still looked scary, as he swiped it once or twice in the air with test swings.

“Careful, now,” I called back to him. “You’ll put your eye out.”

“Someone’s eye,” he said, swiping it through the air again with a look of pure glee.

“Right,” I said, looking away from the clearly unhinged psychopath and back to the altar and the oddly levitating object it was the foundation for. Whatever it was, I had a feeling it was gonna make or break my day.

As I inched closer, that altar was throwing off a kind of power that was downright strange yet sorta familiar. Coincidentally, it also felt like my Marshlore was nudging me, like a dog wanting to be petted, telling me whatever was floating there was mighty important. The light tickling off the altar was warm on my skin, a downright cozy feeling, which was a nice change of pace from all the trouble I usually find myself in around these parts.

I kept moving in, eyeballing the eerie, floating thingamajig. Long and slender, pointy—wait a tick! It weren’t nothing more than a big, fancy stick! A bit of a letdown, really. All this hoopla for a piece of wood? But then, I gave it the ol' once-over, and the finer details started jumping out at me. It was sleek, with polished dark wood tapering down to a sharp point—definitely wouldn’t wanna step on that barefoot in the dark. And then, I spotted a sort of crossguard, though it didn’t look like it'd stop much of anything. Had a smooth handle and a plain, no-frills orb at the end.

"This is just some shitty wooden sword," I muttered to myself. Well, hell. I knew better than to judge a book by its cover, especially in a place where the unusual is pretty much the usual. Honestly, I knew it had to be something special—I wasn’t stupid enough to think it was basic. How often did one find mundane objects floating in enchanted mist with a magical spotlight on it? Rarely, in my experience.

That's when that voiceless voice started yammering in my head again.

Rejoice, kin! The son of the bog has unearthed one of the Critical Relics: the Sprotasverð.

"Sproat-a-what?" I asked, scratching my head. Thankfully, my Marshlore was on the ball, letting me know it meant 'Wandsword.'

I pondered this, giving the relic another look-see. "Well, ain’t that something?"

Sav, who'd still been amusing himself with the ax, gave it a glance. "Looks like a stick.”

I reached out, half expecting the relic to put up a fuss, but it stayed put as I took hold. The second my fingers wrapped around it, I felt a jolt of energy. It was like me and the Wandsword were two peas in a pod, connected by some old, hidden bond.

"This little number's got a bit of pep," I declared, now holding the relic firm. "Feels alive, almost."

Otho bobbed his head solemnly. "Mind your manners with it, boy. Relics like that aren’t to be played about."

I nodded. "Don't you worry none, Otho. I reckon this—"

The son of the bog has accepted this Critical Relic—now he must baptize it. Behold, a foe has arrived to test your mettle. Fret not—a true son of the bog will be victorious.

There was a loud, awful crash from the doorway.

Aw, hell, I thought.