Despite the daylight, I couldn’t shake the feeling of a shadow constantly following our group. It could just be the path of the Hero, lighting all but that which we leave behind. It could be the demon stalking our progress, licking his lips in anticipation of taking his payment for giving me a second chance. It could also be the taste of my inevitable first bite. My idle thoughts had sought a way around it, yet no answer had come. Soon.

“I wonder what keeps it so gloomy?” Florence narrowed her eyes up at the dense cover of dark grey clouds.

Now that we were beneath the shadow that fouled up the middle of otherwise empty fields, some of the fog had lifted from our vision, and we could see the graveyard for what it was. A twelve-foot wall of dark stone spread around, encircling the danger within. Despite the monks saying that it had been long abandoned, the wall was remarkably well kept - no signs of physical decay or encroaching plant life.

“Evil magic, probably.” Jakob shrugged and had an arrow at the ready.

It was something very supernatural feeling - coming from me that perhaps didn’t mean much. Especially after fighting giant man-eating plants. But to have a contrast between the mild daylight and then this cold abyss…

“Is going through the gate too obvious?” The Mage put her hands on her hips as she tilted her head.

Ahead of us, a wide wooden doorway blocked the entrance to the graveyard proper. Although it might be overly cautious, she did have a point. If there was something more untoward here than restless dead, then entry points were almost guaranteed to be trapped, watched, or heavily guarded.

“What do you suggest, then?” I raised my eyebrows and watched the pair. “If I weren’t here, what would you do?”

They exchanged glances and looked over at the wall. It wasn’t very tall and didn’t have any spikes or clear obstructions to avoid being vaulted. Depending on what lay on the other side, it might prevent an easy retreat or allow us to be surrounded easily.

“Give me a boost, Jakob,” Florence eventually decided. “Let me see over first before we commit.”

He nodded, and they walked over to the wall further down from the doorway. I slowly came closer but didn’t want to insinuate that I had encouraged their path just yet.

Awkwardly, he lifted her slowly. Their muttered complaints to each other, I chose to ignore. Were it not for their backstory, it would have been easy to confuse them for siblings. I crossed my arms as her head slowly rose above the edge of the wall. In more dangerous climates, I would advise against such action - unless you enjoyed getting things rammed into your eye sockets. Most did not.

After a few seconds, she waved a hand, and he lowered her to the floor. Her face masking emotions, she gestured for me to come closer - to which I obliged.

She knelt, and we followed suit. “Well,” she whispered, “there are a lot of zombies in there.”

Jakob frowned. “That was expected.”

“Like - a lot.” Slight apprehension danced around in her eyes.

“The doorway?” I asked, not wanting to lose sight of the forest for the trees.

She caught the thread of her original intention and nodded. “There’s a bunch of dead there, but I can’t see anything worse - pretty much anywhere we drop, we will be in the thick of it.”

“The doorway is as good an option as any, then?” Jakob relented, looking like he wished it was he who got to look over the wall.

I nodded. It was enough that they had thought of alternative means of entry, regardless of whether that panned out to a different approach or not. Even if the door did end up being trapped, it was a learning experience.

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“You any good at checking for traps, Jakob?” We walked over to the dark wooden blockade to our passage. It was also in near-perfect condition, with dark iron struts sinking over well-cut boards. There were no markings or additional detailing, just plain and functional.

“Not… especially,” he shrugged. “But I can try.”

“It would be a good skill to learn; some lairs are within dungeons.” I gestured towards the door. Plus, anyone paranoid and evil enough to have interlopers frequent their property uninvited like to have some manner of traps.

He stood before the door at first, just eyeballing it from a good two feet away. Checking the edges or looking for anything that looked out of place. Then, he knelt to glare along the floor and area joining to the door. Tripwires or switches that could be activated by the door opening. The Ranger tilted his head.

“Think there’s something here.”

Internally, I smiled. Despite the bad news this could pose - finding something was often better than not - because the absence could just mean you didn’t locate it.

Florence folded her arms and looked around as I knelt beside Jakob. His finger leveled at a small piece of stone that looked out of place. Normally, you would not think twice about something like that. Stonework often jutted about at odd angles - especially after time and wear. However, in picking up that the bricks had all been perfect, this one was especially errant.

I held out my hand near to it, waving slowly over the area. It was mechanical in nature, but the effect wasn’t a physical one.

“The curse,” I said in hushed tones. “Activated by the doorway opening.” I turned to Jakob with a big grin and slapped him on the back. “Looks like you may have saved our lives today.”

He jostled forward and almost headbutted the door before regaining his balance. We both stood up and beamed at the tired-looking Mage.

“Well, I don’t want to go over the wall now,” she pouted and glared at the trap. “There are a lot of undead.”

I rubbed my chin beneath my beard. “How hot are your flames, Florence?”

She shrugged and looked at the wall. “You want me to melt us a new entrance?”

My arms folded across my chest. Smart on the pick-up. “It’s okay if you think you’re too weak…”

“I’m not… listen,” she held her gloved hand toward the wall, “just because my power increases when I’m mad, doesn’t mean you can goad me into-”

“Let’s just climb over then,” Jakob interrupted, “would you like to go first, Victor?”

Florence growled and clenched her jaw, a burst of flame forming into a ball in her hand. With a deep breath, she blew it forward - although this time not as a burst of fire, but as a constant stream. The heat blew back her hair and cast deep shadows in the billowing grass around us. I raised an eyebrow towards Jakob, and he just shrugged.

That was something more than just conjuring fire. Nothing that I should be delving into right this moment - but the Mage’s affinity for fire was more than the fledgling level I had expected. I had been willing to write off the burst of immolation that saved the three of us as a one-in-a-million thing, a brief allowance from destiny to keep our stories going. But there was something dangerous lurking beneath that dim view.

The spout of fire relented, and she hunched over, panting and waving the excess heat away from her gloved hand. Unsurprisingly, the stone remained intact. It was now charred pitch black, and cracks had started to form from the weaker material that held the dark bricks together. If she had truly been able to melt rock, then we would have been in more trouble than I could imagine.

“Excellent work,” I beamed, despite her frustrated scowl. “Let me know when you are ready to proceed.”

The space between her and the wall had done a little worse in avoiding the effects of the flames. Bare earth, scorched and dry, now spanned the short gap, smoldering grass flanking the width of the carnage wrought.

“I know this seems like a lot of effort,” I stood in front of her, “and once we’ve easily killed the undead, it will seem pointless. But, everything has a point.”

“Uh-huh,” she gasped, standing straight finally in an attempt to get me to move away rather than continue to lecture her. “I’m ready.”

Jakob gave me a nod and stood a little further from us, arrow sliding onto his bow ready. He looked slightly anxious - or at least was focused on the looming fight. He’d be able to pick off plenty undead from afar until his arrows ran dry.

Breaching the enemy’s threshold was always the least fun part of the whole venture. Certainly, at least when you had so few abilities to do it with. When I could fly, I could just drop down from the sky in an explosion of crimson electricity. A bolt of death from false heavens. It was even more fun to do it when there was an actual storm - it was no wonder there had been so many tales about me. Bad ones mostly, about how I was a terror and blight to anyone living I came across.

I clucked my tongue and shook out my sword arm, facing the damaged wall with a dull glare.

Hopefully, there would be new tales told of me soon enough. Ones that were a little more favorable.