Seamus cursed silently as he bumped his foot against something hard again, pain shooting through his toes as he gritted his teeth. This was not an ideal situation for the young man and his group. He was trapped in the vault’s darkness, with nothing to light his way as he stumbled around.

“Did you find it yet?” Seamus called out to Miles, waiting for a response from the mercenary. There was a sound of something crashing onto the floor, followed by hushed cursing as more things were kicked around.

“No… Can’t find my satchel,” Miles responded, his voice followed by the sound of more objects crashing to the ground. The satchel they were looking for belonged to Miles and contained another spell crystal for the group to use since Seamus had dropped it outside the vault’s doors.

“Dammit,” Seamus muttered, his eyes moving to where he assumed Lowe was. “Lowe, isn’t there a light in here? Maybe some torches or any magical means?”

“There should be. The torches here should be linked to the magical ley lines below. They should’ve lit up when the doors opened!” Lowe’s voice came from far on Seamus’ right. The young man turned and slowly shuffled his way to the gnome’s voice.

“Makes no sense. A skilled Wizard specifically linked those torches to the ley lines. There’s no way they could’ve gone unlinked without another skilled spellcaster forcibly separating them,” Lowe muttered once more, the sound of crashing objects following straight after. Miles cursed in another language, his frustration evident in his voice.

“Alright, this is getting annoying,” Miles’s voice sounded out once more, this time powered by magical energy. “Candlelight.”

Seamus could see how something glowed softly out in the darkness, its source coming from the runic tattoo on Miles’ arm. An orb of light flashed in the mercenary’s open palm, illuminating the surroundings like a miniature sun. Seamus blinked, trying to adjust his vision as he looked around himself. He could see Lowe nearby, his own eyes blinking as he looked at Miles.

“You couldn’t use that before?” The gnome asked, narrowing his eyes at the mercenary.

“I was running low on spells,” Miles responded, his hand guiding the orb to follow him as he walked to the vault’s entrance. “I only have two more castings left in my reserves,” Miles muttered as he picked up his fallen satchel. “Initially had more, but I used them back in that clearing.”

“Had more? What’d you used them on?” Lowe asked, a confused look on his face. Miles pulled a couple of crystals out of his satchel, holding them in between his fingers.

“How’d you think I avoided detection from those brutes?” The mercenary tossed the crystals to Seamus, who caught them.

“You used Shadow Step, didn’t you?” Seamus asked, furrowing his brow. He recalled the spell from the days when he sparked conversations with the warriors serving his father.

Shadow Step was a rank two spell casting used by rogues and thieves. At least, used by those who could put in the time and training to learn it or afford to have it inscribed onto their skin. Shadow Step could magically cloak the user, having them blend in with literal shadows for a limited time. It was the next best thing to invisibility, which was a rank-four spell far out of the reach of average rogues and thieves. Still, it was an illegal spell for commoners and adventurers to have for obvious reasons.

Seamus frowned, remembering how Miles had disappeared from sight at the clearing despite those orcs practically being everywhere. Back in that forest, it would’ve been easy for someone to slip into the shadows of those trees unnoticed…

Miles held a finger to his painted grin, making a shushing noise as he chuckled. “Might give away my secret,” he amusingly stated. Seamus watched as Miles adjusted his satchel to his belt, his feelings mixed with the strange man. He sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at the two crystals.

“Illuminate,” Seamus muttered, watching as the crystals hummed to life, their blue glow inviting to the young man. Seamus handed one crystal to Lowe, who carried it close like it was his firstborn. Seamus attached his crystal to his belt so he didn’t have to hold it everywhere. The young man noticed Lilith’s crumpled form from afar, her body resting against a stone wall.

“Oh, shit.” Seamus made his way to the berserker, his hands propping her upright as he examined her wounds. Lilith was thankfully breathing, her chest slowly rising and falling. There were a couple of bleeding gashes on her arms and abdomen, as well as some scrapes and scratches. While the injuries weren’t life-threatening, Seamus still felt worried as his eyes wandered to Lilith’s forehead, where blood slowly ran.

‘She probably passed out not too long after she hit her head. Explains why she didn’t fight back when I dragged her into here.’

Seamus turned to the other two men in the vault. Lowe was currently examining the stone walls nearby, probably looking for something. Miles was currently looking around the vault, his orb of light shining over abandoned barrels and dusty vases.

“Miles!” Seamus called out, catching the ex-follower’s attention. “Lilith’s hurt. I need you to come over and bandage her wounds.” Seamus watched as Miles did as told, his hands searching through his satchel as he made his way to the unconscious woman. The mercenary, or healer, knelt next to Lilith, his glove reaching to check the wound on her forehead. He stopped, looking over at Seamus.

“She will not rip my throat out with her teeth, will she?”

“Miles!”

“Right, healer obligations.” Miles nodded, his hands moving to examine the head wound before he soon got to work, his hands bringing out the supplies necessary. Seamus watched as the mercenary cleaned up some blood before wetting the cloth with a strongly scented liquid. He pinched his nose as the scent reached him, the smell reminding him of strong booze.

“Cleansing alcohol,” Miles explained with a chuckle, capping the vial from which the liquid came from. “It stings, so hold her back just in case this wakes her up.”

With little of a warning, Miles pressed the cloth against one of the berserker’s wounds, cleaning it. Seamus looked at Lilith’s face, hoping to all the gods she wouldn’t wake up and try to gut Miles.

Lilith winced at the action of Miles cleaning her wounds, but thankfully, she still seemed to be unconscious. After some cleaning and bandaging, Lilith’s head and right arm were finally wrapped up, which relieved Seamus.

However, midway through bandaging Lilith’s abdomen, which required Seamus to shift the woman’s body slightly, Lilith regained consciousness. Only after Seamus had moved her back to a sitting position did he realize her eyes fluttering open, a soft groan coming out of her as she awoke. The young man’s eyes widened as he saw this, his head turning to Miles as the man finished with his bandaging.

Before Seamus could say anything in warning, Lilith finally realized what was going on. The berserker’s eyes widened with rage as she saw Miles’ hands on her abdomen, her hands lunging after him. Seamus moved in quickly, holding her back as her fingers barely scratched against Miles’ white mask. Seamus struggled with Lilith, holding her from behind as he tried to sign to her, yelling as he did so.

“Friend! Friend!” He shouted, using one hand to sign to her as he held her back. The berserker initially seemed to ignore Seamus but soon stopped her attempts at Miles. Seamus watched Lilith wince, her hand moving to her side as she slowly lost the will to go after the masked man. The berserker soon slumped in Seamus’ arms, catching her breath as Seamus placed her back against the wall. Lilith visibly winced once more, her hand clutching her bandaged abdomen.

“She needs to be careful,” Miles pointed out, slowly approaching the two with cautious steps. “I still need to bandage up her left arm.”

Lilith noticed how close Miles was getting, her eyes narrowing as she tried to reach for her axe, which wasn’t by her side. Still, without her ax, Lilith resorted to growling at Miles, who slowly neared her.

“He’s a friend,” Seamus said, his hands moving to make the symbol for it. “Friend,” he repeated. Lilith stopped her growling, her eyes staring at Seamus as the man tried to communicate. She had a confused look on her face as the young man tried to sign to her.

“Healer. He is a Healer!”

Seamus hoped he wasn’t messing up his signs, as it could easily get ugly. Lilith seemed to only stare at Seamus, her brow furrowed as she watched him. After some awkward silence, Lilith brought out her hands, forming signs for Seamus.

He will hurt you. Kill you.

“What? Why?”

He did it last time. I won’t let him do it again.

Seamus read her signs, blinking as he interpreted them. He looked at Lilith’s expression, which had changed to a mixture of fear and confusion.

“He won’t hurt us. Miles is a friend.”

He tried to hurt me now. Hurt you.

“He was helping. He’s a healer, no danger.”

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Seamus gestured towards her bandages, watching as Lilith glanced at her right arm and abdomen. She touched her forehead, feeling the white cloth wrapped around her head injury. Lilith seemed hesitant as she looked at Miles and Seamus with skeptical eyes before faintly sighing. She turned to Seamus, her hands forming three simple signs.

I trust you.

Seamus sighed in relief, feeling his body slowly lose its tension as he gestured for Miles to come close. “She won’t bite, but I think you should go easy with the cleansing alcohol.”

Miles knelt back at Lilith’s side, his hands still cautiously hovering over the gash on her right arm. Miles turned to face Lilith, looking for a reaction as he wet his rag with the cleansing alcohol. Her eyes were still trained on the mercenary, but she didn’t lunge at him when he cleaned her light wounds. Seamus watched the entire process, his eyes occasionally glancing over at Lowe, who was currently digging through some barrels and crates in the abandoned vault.

“Here. It’ll help you get your strength back,” Seamus offered Lilith his waterskin full of Horcus tea, which was most definitely cold by now. She seemed to hesitate for a moment but eventually accepted the tea. Seamus unclipped his cloak and handed it over to the berserker afterward. “It should keep you warm. The vault doesn’t really have heating.”

As Lilith rested, Seamus looked around the vault since he had nothing else to do. He walked around the empty place, his eyes glancing at the discarded crates and barrels.

“More Valdoras,” Seamus realized aloud, noticing more of the blue coins scattered on the ground and some actual gold pieces. He knelt down to pick them up, his eyes glancing around his badly lit surroundings.

“Found it!” Lowe’s voice sounded out from across the room, followed by the sound of something humming. Torches suddenly lit up in the room, surprising Seamus and the others as warm light illuminated parts of the vault. In the end, however, only a few of the torches lit up, leaving most spots darker than some. “Dammit! Something’s really messing with the ley lines here!” Lowe shouted frustratingly.

Seamus didn’t pay attention. His eyes looked over the now-lit vault. From what he could see, it was most definitely not empty. There were crates of weapons and clothing, works of art leaning against the stone wall, and even statues depicting ancient heroes. Seamus walked up to one statue depicting a woman in striking armor. He looked down at the name, reading the name aloud.

“Jenis Kord. Bane of Dorinfal.” He raised an eyebrow, the name familiar to him.

“I’ve heard of her,” Miles said behind Seamus, stepping up to the statue beside him. “She fought and killed the Lord of Dorinfal centuries ago. Back during the Second Great War.”

“That’s a half lie,” Lowe called out, his head buried in a crate. “She had only fought him. The killing blow was from someone else.” The gnome pulled his head out of the crate. “And unlike the stories, it wasn’t as heroic as the bards may make it seem. The point of the battle was attrition, and it had ended in a bloodbath according to the old records.” The gnome sighed as he shook his head, deciding to focus his attention on another barrel nearby.

Seamus took one more look at the statue of Jenis Kord, her name still bothering him.

‘Could’ve sworn I heard the name before,’ Seamus idly thought before he headed off to look over the rest of the vault’s contents. He picked through old swords and maces, even trying out one of the nearby round shields.

“Too wieldy,” Seamus muttered after a couple of practice swings and stances. He placed it back before glancing over at the paintings by the wall, which were obscured by darkness. Seamus stepped up to them, his attached spell crystal illuminating them. Seamus stared at the first of the paintings, an old one judging by the thick layer of dust.

Still, he could make out the painting, which depicted a knight in what looked like burnt and destroyed armor, flames engulfing it all as he stood defiantly. He held a sword in his right hand while raising his left hand into a clenched fist. Seamus wasn’t sure if the marks on his exposed left arm were glowing symbols or just specks of dust. He looked down at the small name, which was worn out to where it only read:

‘G—ald —rd, Knigh- of E-bers.’

Seamus frowned, deciding to move on to the next painting. This one depicted an armed woman in a white cloak, her hair pale blond, and her eyes bright green.

“Guardian of Azurvale,” Seamus read in a whisper before moving to the next painting.

“Tyok, Kasan.” This one depicted a scene of a beautiful forest filled with uniquely shaped trees, complete with blossoms floating around the scenery. It was unlike anything he had seen in Valenfrost.

“The Deserts of Areno.” The next painting took a different approach, a direct opposite of the previous one. It was a bright desert, golden sand dunes going for miles as a cloaked man rode on a strange-looking horse with humps in the foreground. Seamus looked over at the next paintings, which were illuminated a little better by one of the nearby torches. Upon looking at the next set of paintings, Seamus raised an eyebrow.

The first of them was one of the bigger ones, even beating the young man in height alone. It depicted an older man with coarse gray-streaked hair, accompanied by a matching beard and sea-green eyes. He wore a cloak over his battle-worn armor, a pin depicting a bear’s paw, a staple symbol for his clan. Seamus frowned at the painting of his father, his hand brushing some of the dust of the nameplate.

“Yorn Halvorson. Age 550,” Seamus murmured. His father’s painting brought back memories of Seamus’ training. Back when both Yorn and Roger had instructed the young Halvorson on how to fight quickly and avoid fatal strikes. They were burned into his mind and body, his own muscles aching with the memory of those long mornings of repeating the same maneuver over and over until the boy dropped from exhaustion. Seamus frowned and gave the painting one more look before he walked off to the next portrait.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he focused on the next painting, a lump forming in his throat as his eyes focused on the painted canvas. The depicted woman had red hair that was beautifully braided, held together by the golden pin that represented her family and clan. Her blue eyes were inviting and bright, the paint strokes somehow reflecting the life that beheld them. She had a warm, soothing smile that somehow changed the atmosphere of any room she walked in. Her laugh back then would have made anyone’s day, even warming the stony heart of her husband. She wore modest clothing, including a gold necklace that had been passed down for generations.

Seamus wiped his eyes, feeling how that lump grew harder to swallow. He soon forced his sight away from the painting, deciding that he wanted no more reminders.

“Are you alright?” Miles asked from afar, his attention on some of the discarded weapons.

“I’m fine,” Seamus responded, taking a deep breath as he looked at the rest of the paintings. Most of them depicted portraits of people Seamus knew well, except for one. The last of them caught his attention, intriguing the young man to come closer. Seamus stared at the painting of the man, feeling an air of recognition coming from the portrait.

It depicted a man with pale blond hair and a beard that was relatively messy except for the braided rattail that extended long past his shaggy hair before resting on his shoulder. He had dark green eyes that stared at the viewer, his gaze piercing almost. His gear was light as well, with no fancy steel armor nor rune-imprinted weapons. He wore only a thick gambeson and light chainmail, a small wolf insignia pinned on his belt. What was even stranger about this particular man was that while most of the men depicted in the portraits were frowning or had neutral expressions, this man was grinning. It was almost as if he was enjoying himself despite his obvious battle scars and worn-out gear.

“Who are you?” Seamus wondered, not even recalling a single memory of this man. He looked at the nameplate, which was mostly scratched out. The only word he could make out was ‘Blyth.’

‘Perhaps he served with my father before I was born.’

Seamus frowned as he felt unease at looking at the portrait for too long. He turned his back on the painting, deciding to ignore it as he headed off to where Lowe was.

“Did you find your artifact yet?” Seamus asked as he kicked a small empty vase.

“It’s in here somewhere,” Lowe muttered as he dug into a barrel, throwing out old bottles and pieces of art. Seamus sighed, rubbing the back of his head as he looked around the poorly lit vault. It was much fuller than he had initially expected. Most of the items here were worth more than their weight in gold.

“Why would he leave all this stuff here?” Seamus wondered aloud, his eyes soon focusing on something glinting in the darkness. He made his way to the mystery object, his spell crystal’s light illuminating the way.

“What in the...” Seamus muttered as he came face to face with a set of light steel armor. After wiping some of the dust off it, Seamus could see how the metal still shone in the magical blue light. It reflected the young man’s visage on its smooth breastplate, displaying his dirty and tired self. Seamus noticed some engraved runes bordering the edges of the pieces of armor. They were lifeless, however, devoid of the magical enchantments they once held. Seamus focused on the breastplate once more, his eyebrow raising as he noticed the red wax seal stamped on its heart.

“Delphine’s symbol,” Seamus realized, his eyes widening as he recognized the image of the seven-pointed sun. He had heard countless stories about his father but never really thought much of them outside of the fact that most of the stories were filled with the over-exaggerated nonsense that bards had made up for drama and entertainment. He had never truly expected his father to take on Lumen Knights.

‘Maybe it was a gift or something,’

Seamus tried to find the reasoning in it, but knew very well that it was probably not the case. He could see scratches and visible marks on the steel, as well as faint signs of blood on the armor. The person who had owned this set had definitely gone through a battle with it. Seamus picked up its helmet, feeling its weight a bit before placing it back.

“This is insane,” he muttered, his eyes passing over the red wax seal once more.

“Seamus! I think I found it!” Lowe’s voice sounded out, catching the young man’s attention. Seamus hurried over to the gnome, who was digging through one of the wooden crates.

“This is where your artifact is?” Seamus started before he caught a blue glint in the box. He raised an eyebrow, kneeling as he got a better view of the case’s contents. He blinked, watching as Lowe dug through what looked like a sea of Valdoras and gold. “There has to be at least a thousand gold’s worth in this case!” Seamus exclaimed, his hand moving to grab one of the blue coins.

“That’s not what’s important,” Lowe muttered, struggling as he searched through the case of coins. The gnome grinned, his hands slowly moving as he pulled out an object from the crate.

It was a small gold and ivory statue of a cat, detailed perfectly to the whiskers and raised paw. It seemed to smile as it sat, almost as if it was mocking the confused young man. Seamus stared at the object, unsure of what to feel.

“This… is the artifact?”

“Yes!” Lowe exclaimed, his hand brushing some dust off of the small statue, revealing a runic symbol on its back, nonmagical from the look of it. “I know I sound crazy, but this artifact here is responsible for a lot of death and suffering. We must keep it out of the wrong hands.”

Seamus frowned, looking at the statue once more. It looked like something he would see in a trader’s tent back in Vindis. “It’s a cat statue…”

“It’s disguised like a cat statue to fool anyone looking for the real thing. I’ll explain when we get out of here. I can dispel this thing’s illusion then and—”

“We can’t,” Miles suddenly interrupted. The follower was at where the vault ended, darkness obscuring most of the wall. “You were thinking of using this door to leave, correct?” Miles asked, turning over to the two men.

“Yes…” Lowe answered slowly, his brow furrowing as he stared at Miles. The mercenary sighed, his hand sliding off of the wall.

“Don’t bother then. The exit had caved in at some point. So unless we’re as strong as a band of merry orcs. We’re stuck here.