The further we moved from our location in the Underdark, the more the oppressive atmosphere seemed to close in on us. The air was thick, heavy with something that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t just the weight of the earth above us or the eerily quiet dark—it was as if the very land itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
The route we were following was narrow and winding, barely wide enough for us to walk side by side. The ground beneath our boots felt unstable, as if the very stones we trod on had been worn down by years of use and unseen forces. Every step we took seemed to echo through the tunnels, amplifying the silence around us. Even the usual rustle of movement—small creatures skittering along the ground or the flutter of unseen wings—was absent. The air had a strange chill to it, even though we were deep underground, far from the reach of any cool winds or breezes.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. It wasn’t a physical presence—there were no eyes in the shadows, no creatures lurking just out of sight. But there was an uncanny awareness that seemed to settle in the air around us, a gnawing sensation in the back of my mind that made me want to glance over my shoulder at every turn.
“Be vigilant, we have no idea what we are walking into as we travel near the area.” I told my group. “Remember this is a Council member we are hunting.”
They all nodded. “Careful, got it!” Greg spoke up.
“I still don’t understand this mission…” Rider spoke up confused by the mission that we were sent on. “Isn’t she still around?”
“Mhm… I questioned myself but Théoden and the Princess very much admit that she is no longer there.” I told them.
“Interesting…” Rider spoke softly. “Carry on then I suppose…” I could tell he was still very leery but willing to follow my command.
The silence stretched for what felt like hours as we moved closer to the location. The uneasy stillness of the Underdark pressed down on us, heavier now, as if the very air itself was waiting for something to break the monotony. The spell that I had cast earlier was still humming faintly, guiding us in the right direction, but its pull had grown more distant—almost as though whatever we were closing in on was pulling away, hiding itself further in the depths.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being led into a trap, though nothing in the environment suggested we were being stalked. No growls or scraping claws on stone, no flickering of shadows from unseen creatures. Even the typical hum of subterranean life—the distant chirp of a bat, the faint scurry of tiny legs across the ground—was absent. Instead, it felt as though we were intruding on a place that had been left forgotten for far too long, and whatever remained here was waiting, patient, and still.
We pressed on, our footsteps muffled by the thick, damp air and the smooth, slick stone beneath our boots. The further we went, the more the weight of the silence began to press against me, pulling at my nerves, making me second-guess every movement. I had expected traps—crude or clever—waiting to snare the unwary. I had expected something, anything, to suggest that we weren’t walking straight into the heart of whatever had killed Sybil Nomaty. But there was nothing. Just emptiness.
When the cave came into view, the first thing that struck me was the way it seemed to emerge from nowhere. One moment, we were walking along the narrow corridor, shadows stretching around us, and the next—there it was. The entrance was small, barely wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder. The opening was jagged, worn smooth by years of exposure to the elements or possibly even the hands of something powerful. But the most striking thing about the entrance was its round, almost unnatural symmetry.
The edges of the opening seemed too deliberate, too perfect, for something that had simply formed naturally over time. It was almost as though the cave had been carved by something that understood geometry, that had designed the entrance to be this narrow, this precise.
I stopped about ten feet from the entrance, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the ground in front of me. We were close. Too close.
"She must be there…" I whispered under my breath, more to myself than to the others. My eyes narrowed as I studied the entrance, trying to pick out anything unusual from the darkness beyond. There was something off about this place, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was too quiet, too still.
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I motioned for the group to halt and signaled for them to take cover along the stone walls, blending into the shadows. They moved quickly, their feet silent on the slick rock, and soon they were crouched behind jagged formations of stone, their faces tense and alert. Greg’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, Rider’s fingers drummed lightly on his dagger, and even Greg, the one least prone to hesitation, seemed on edge.
With a careful, slow movement, I stepped forward and gave a quick peek around the corner into the cave. The air was even heavier here, thick with the faint taste of something metallic, something burnt. It was a strange smell—almost as if the air itself had been scorched and had never quite recovered.
What I saw made my skin crawl.
Inside the cave was a wide, domed chamber. The ceiling was smooth and uniform, formed by layers of rock that sloped gently upward toward the center. The whole space felt unnaturally perfect, as if the walls had been shaped by an unseen hand to be as symmetrical as possible. It was unsettling in its stillness—no echoes of sound, no drips of water or rustling of underground creatures. Just a perfect, silent space.
At the center of the cave, a large, dark pillar of rock rose from the floor. It was impossibly smooth, too smooth to have been carved by natural forces. The material of the pillar gleamed faintly in the dim light from the torches outside, its surface almost mirror-like in places, but it wasn’t just the surface that caught my eye—it was the thickness of it. The pillar seemed too thick, especially for the size of the cavern. It almost seemed to split the room, drawing your attention to its presence, pulling you in.
The most bizarre thing about the pillar, however, was the way it shimmered. In certain places, the rock itself seemed alive, pulsing faintly with some kind of energy. The shine of the stone wasn’t just reflective—it felt like it was feeding off the light in the room, drawing it toward itself. It almost looked… alive in some way. I didn’t know what to make of it, but the sheer impossibility of it made my stomach tighten.
I swallowed, forcing myself to focus. It didn’t look like anything I’d seen before, certainly not anything natural. There was no doubt in my mind now—Sybil, or what had been left of her, had to be near as the pull from my spell was strong.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the weight of the moment. The stillness of the cave pressed on me, each breath feeling like it was drawn from the depths of some unseen abyss. The unnatural calm was unsettling, and as I scanned the space one final time, my gaze landed on something that made my heart skip a beat.
To the left, partially obscured by shadows, was a shape that seemed out of place—too obvious in the stillness. A coffin.
At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. After all, the Underdark was a place of death, but this… this was different. It wasn’t an ornate burial box, crafted by some noble family or designed to hold a powerful figure in death’s embrace. No, this was a makeshift coffin—roughly constructed, made from cheap wood that had been hastily nailed together. It was the kind of coffin you would see in the poorest of towns, made by hands that didn’t have the time or the means to craft something more elaborate. There were no fine engravings or ceremonial touches—just raw, splintered planks bound together with crude nails. It looked like it had been assembled in a hurry, almost as if someone had been desperate, trying to get it finished as quickly as possible.
The wood was dark, stained with age, and rough from exposure to the elements, but that wasn’t what made my stomach twist. No, it was the way it sat there—positioned almost reverently on the stone floor, nestled against the side of the cave like it belonged. Like it had always been there. The sight of it, sitting in that unnatural stillness, was enough to pull a cold shiver down my spine.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. My mind raced to catch up with my senses. This was it. This was what Théoden and the Princess had been so cryptic about. I had hoped, in some small part of me, that they were wrong. That Sybil wasn’t really gone—that what we were walking into was something we could still salvage. But now, staring at the rough-hewn coffin, I could feel the weight of the truth pressing in. Théoden hadn’t been exaggerating. Sybil Nomaty was no longer with us.
“Damn…”I muttered as I shook my head. “Alright…” I said as I turned back around, “I will go in first. Keep watch.”
They nodded and I carefully began to travel in the cave. I tried to be as vigilant as possible. Especially as I approached the coffin.
Once I stood within arms length of the coffin I held my breath as I carefully removed the lid. There, she lay peacefully.
Sybil's body…. Was almost beyond recognizable but I managed to seek the truth as I located a golden broach one that only her family had. “May you rest easy now…” I whispered.
I took a moment to give her a moment of silence. One she deserved before I sent a message to Théoden. “Found her Captain…”
“Bring her back up to the surface…” He told me, “Utilize caution. I can help if needed.”
“I can manage.” I responded back as I whistled for my companions to enter the cave so we can began the descent back to the surface all while carrying a coffin.