The third key wasn’t in the mortuary.

Resting her tired body on a low step, Autumn gazed out over the chamber of ash as the scent of incinerated undead filled the air.

Upon the felling of the mad Lich, the barrier he’d cast separating them from the mystic library and greater tomb had vanished. And with it, so too did the few remaining undead that’d escaped her fiery breath.

Thankfully, none of her friends had been hurt beyond a few easily treatable cuts and burns. Nobody had contracted any deadly diseases from the undead at the very least.

With their way back now secured, they’d searched through the piles of ash and glassed sand for any valuables and discarded weapons and armor along with the remaining key. While the search for the key had proven fruitless, the same could not be said for their general looting. From the ash they’d retrieved a great deal of melted bronze once the stone floor had stopped glowing red.

Still, that meant the key to the pharaoh’s tomb was gone — stolen, if the mad Lich was to be believed.

In his madness, the Mad Embalmer had mistaken them for the thieves, accusing them of taking his treasured key. While this had directly contributed to their hastening towards violence, Autumn didn’t believe that such could’ve been avoided, given both the Lich’s derangement and predilections towards their bodies.

Autumn coughed, wincing as that aggravated her raw throat.

Who knew breathing fire could have such deleterious effects?

As she downed some water to soothe the ache, the witch wondered whether the taken key was the same as the one she carried now — the one she’d rescued from that altar to evil.

And if so, where was the last?

Autumn’s thoughts naturally drifted back to that dark chamber. Annoyingly, but understandably, none of the others wanted to talk about what she'd seen in that shrine to the dark pantheon of evil gods. Even the usually amicable Eme was staying quiet.

While she wanted to respect their beliefs and desire to forget, if they were going to come across these sites with increasing frequency in the future, Autumn wanted to know as much as she could about these thirteen, now eight, evil gods. And about their relation to the so-called noble pantheon of good gods.

As long as the knowledge of them itself wasn’t harmful, like some other fantasy gods she’d not name.

Autumn shuddered.

Hopefully, the warp didn’t exist in this world. She hardly needed those kinds of angels and demons in her life right now.

She’d have to ask them later. For now, everyone was busy partaking in the time-honored adventurer tradition of looting.

Along with the clumps of melted bronze that they fully intended to take back home to sell, they found several dozen weapons that were mostly intact, half-a-dozen sets of scorched armor, and a handful of sooty, ancient jewelry pieces made of blue glass and gold. While they stashed away the swords as is, they snapped the spearheads and arrowheads off their charred, rotten wood. They didn’t bother with the tower-shields and the yew bows were little more than ash.

Autumn couldn’t help but wince each time they pulled ruined loot from the ash.

While she didn’t regret using the spell to save their lives, or at the very least, prevent injury and bring the fight to a swift conclusion, the sight of the burned wealth still hurt her mercurial heart.

When Pyre told her just how much Mummy dust and wraps sold on the open market, Autumn almost fainted.

According to the alchemist, powdered mummy was a highly sought after ingredient used to brew potions that’d cure a variety of debilitating magical diseases. As the Echea Empire banned the creation of undead — she’d given Autumn the side-eye at that, which the witch willfully ignored — and the fact that unclaimed ancient tombs like this were hard to come across, the linen-wrapped undead were literally worth their weight in gold.

Thankfully for Autumn’s heart, some of the tomb’s guardians had survived the fight merely scorched.

Quickly and carefully, the adventurers gleefully processed the dry undead into nearly fifty small bag’s worth of dust and wrappings. Autumn almost had dust coming out of her ears at how much they stuffed her belt pouches full of the stuff. She was just glad the pocket dimensions held stuff separate from each other.

Autumn offered a few apologetic prayers to Suthir for her party’s desecration of the undead bodies. Even if it was for a good cause — to cure diseases…and their wallets.

For the Mad Embalmer, she offered nothing.

The Lich’s ashes lay separately from the rest. Even in double-death, he was alone.

When Autumn had spoken her newly learned word of power on her own for the first time, she’d only managed to ignite the Lich’s robes. However, that’d been enough. The magical flames had quickly caught the Lich’s dry flesh into a grand conflagration that couldn’t be quelled until he was naught but ash. And without a soul jar to tether his soul to the mortal plane, death had finally claimed him.

A reaper’s mercy.

He’d have to pay for his own way across the Styx, for there was nobody who cared to place coins upon his eyes…if he had any.

The only things to have survived her Witchfire — she was calling it that now — were those of enchanted make. A ring, an amulet, and a grim necromantic staff. Like all the other unidentified things they’d found, they’d bundled them up in spare cloth without touching them to be examined later by a professional.

Autumn added an identification spell to her list of things to learn.

Oh, and at Autumn’s urging, they’d scooped up both the Lich’s ashes and the two halves of the sundered phylactery as well. While she didn’t know how much they were worth, or who exactly would pay for them, her half-remembered, tangential gaming knowledge told her they’d likely be more expensive than everything else put together…hopefully.

As the loot continued to disappear into her belt pouches, Autumn wondered idly just how much they could carry and how much room was left.

They’d not found a limit yet, but sooner or later, they would. She didn’t want to become one of those hoarder gamers that kept everything “just in case.”

Autumn’s thoughts were interrupted by another pulse of her headache.

Using a word of power was no less taxing on her mind now that she knew two. A mortal mind like hers just wasn’t supposed to understand nor speak the language of magic unaided or without great training. What Autumn was doing was the magical equivalent of sticking a fork into a power outlet to charge her spells.Or something like that. Her metaphors could use some work.

That she could do anything other than writhe on the floor was astounding and a testament to her force of will. Not that she appreciated it with her brain pounding against her skull.

“Ow.”

“You okay?” Nethlia asked as she stopped beside Autumn.

Squinting up at the demoness, Autumn shrugged. Something she regretted instantly. “Ow. Yeah, it’s just a headache. I’ll be fine in a bit as long as I take it easy. You all done?”

“Yeah, just waiting on the others now. Liddie’s giving the place one last sweep.” An awkward silence descended on the pair as they gaze at the wasteland of ash Autumn had caused. “So,” Nethlia drawled, “you can set things on fire now? That’s impressive?” she half complemented, half asked.

Autumn winced. “I doubt it’ll ever be as impressive as dragon fire again, but I’m sure I can light a good campfire,” she joked. “Now I’ve got both Begone and Burn. I’m sensing a B-theme. What’s next? Battle? Break? Bondage?”

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Nethlia chuckled. “Hold off on that for now. I’m sure two is plenty to wrap your head around. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Will do.”

As they talked about inconsequential things, like what they wanted for dinner tonight, the others steadily congregated towards them.

Pulling herself to her feet, Autumn favored Eme with a proud smile that made the catgirl blush. Her final strike upon the Lich’s phylactery had been rather cinematic to watch. Like a seasoned samurai, she’d cut without even looking, relying on her honed hearing.

Shyly, the bard basked in the praise and encouragement of the others.

Once everyone had gathered around, Nethlia addressed them all. “Good work, everyone,” she boomed. “I just wanted to say a few words before we move on. I wanted you all to know how proud and impressed I am with how you all acquitted yourself in that fight. It was a tough battle, and I don’t know many that could’ve come out of it unscathed like we did. So, good work, and keep it up.” Around the party, spines straightened with pride at her praise. “Now, we’ll move on before I embarrass myself. Pyre, Edwyn, how are your stocks?”

Pyre glanced at Edwyn before answering first. “I don’t know about Edwyn, but I used up three alchemical bombs here, three in the other chamber, and two on the ride over. I’ve still got half-a-dozen left and a brace of acid bombs. We’re good on healing potions. If this tomb goes on like it has so far, I’ll need to restock somehow afterwards if you want me to be of any use against the hag.”

Nethlia nodded firmly. “We’ll keep that in mind. Hopefully, we’ll find something later for you. How about you, Edwyn?”

“I’m good,” Edwyn grunted. “Only used up a handful o’ ma fire runes, but I got enough spare bones tae make more ifin ye give me time.”

“That’s good. We’ll make time later for you to do that. Any more issues I need to be aware of before we go?”

Once she was sure nobody had anything more to bring up, Nethlia turned and led them back towards the mirror and through to the chamber beyond. After checking it for traps, of course. You never know.

Autumn let out a shiver as she passed through the liquid metal. While Liddie hadn’t found any, she still half expected to set off a trap passing back into the false library. Exiting the mortuary, the party made their way swiftly to the sigil-locked door to the north of the hall.

The sandstone portal blazed with magical sigils as it loomed over the adventurers. Swirling sigils hammered into Autumn’s mind. With only the briefest of glances, she knew she’d never understand even a fraction of a fraction of the magic sealing the door.

Worn murals of elven mages decorated the door, old and young, elders and novitiates. Above the door sprawled a story, a riddle.

Autumn read it out loud as they approached.

“By Wizards three, the fires were born. By color bold, they mastered magic. Purple saw the first wizard to master the elements, and their claim upon them was known. Green saw the second through the frozen wastes of time, and by that coldness did they master themselves. Gray, cold and unknown, the last wizards sought out and with it outlasted the other two. Light the same and the path, old and young, shall open henceforth.”

As she spoke the final word, a trio of cold, ash-filled braziers ignited, filling themselves with low, orange flames.

“Huh, how about that.”

“Puzzles? Why’d it have to be puzzles!” Liddie whined.

Autumn shrugged. “It sounds like we just need to light these braziers with specific colors. Nobody happens to have zinc on them, would they?”

Nethlia held out a hand to stop them. “How about we check them over for traps first before we go throwing things into them. Edwyn, care to do the honors?”

“Gladly,” Edwyn said. Carefully approaching the braziers, they pulled out another trap-finding rune and activated it. The braziers predictably lit up. “Hmm? Nasty work this.”

“What’d you find?”

“Well, traps for one. If ye light them in the wrong order or wit’ the wrong color, they’ll explode intae a 30-foot radius fireball around themselves.”

Hearing that, everyone other than Edwyn backed up hurriedly out of range of the braziers.

“These fucking tomb builders,” Autumn grumbled viciously under her breath. “You can disarm them, right?” she asked louder. Just because she could now spit fire didn’t mean she was immune to it.

Edwyn shook their head regretfully. “Nay, not ifin ye want tae get through the door — it’s protectit against tamperin’ somethin’ fierce. Tae unlock the door, ye need tae cast specific combinations o’ magical elements or schools intae the flames. And nay, I cannae tell which colors gae tae which types o’ magic — the enchantment is mighty convolutit. Likely on purpose. Come an’ have a look. It’s safe as long as ye don’t cast anythin’ intae the flames.”

Nervously, Autumn, Eme, and Pyre approached while the less magically inclined of the party kept themselves at a safe distance.

Looking over Edwyn’s shoulder, Autumn spotted the mess they’d been talking about. Like a gordian knot, the magical circuits making up the braziers were snarled together in a great tangle. Only unlike the mythical knot, this one would detonate rather violently if cut out.

Autumn had no clue as to what to do.

“Pyre, Eme? Any ideas?” she asked hopefully.

While Eme just shrugged apologetically, Pyre examined the braziers cautiously. Crouching down, the young alchemist gathered up a handful of colorful ash that’d spill on the floor from the first brazier. As it spilled through her fingers, she tested it with touch, smell, and taste.

Autumn raised an eyebrow as Pyre spat out the ash.

“Evocation magic. Hot and cold. Maybe fire and ice aligned spells?”

“You can tell that from taste?” Autumn asked skeptically.

Pyre shrugged as she stood up and dusted off her palms. “We all have our talents. You cast freaky magic and raise undead bears, and I taste magical ashes. Uh, not that I recommend doing it my way if you’re not an Ignis like me. Anyway, my best guess is that we need to add both fire and ice magic to the first flame. Red and blue make purple.”

Autumn snorted. “What, you think they matched the colors thematically to the elements?”

“It makes as much sense as anything else around here.”

Eme hummed in agreement. Peering at the second flame, she spoke lightly. “So, green for the second flame? If blue is ice magic, does that make time yellow? That was what the riddle said, right?”

“Yeah,” Autumn nodded. “‘Green saw the second through the frozen wastes of time.’ Sounds like ice and time to me. Not too hard a riddle. Probably to make us overconfident and make a mistake, then…boom.”

The four of them shared a wary look at the braziers.

Picking up a handful of ash from the second brazier, Pyre tested it too. “Hmm, tingly,” she said as she tasted it.

“And tingly means time magic?” Eme asked.

“Could do. Reminds me of haste potion — they speed things up.” At the other’s annoyed looks, she huffed. “What? It’s not like I’ve had much experience making potions that deal with time. That’s far more powerful magic than my family could afford. I'm doing the best I can.”

“And we appreciate it,” Autumn reassured her. “Now, what about the third? In the riddle it said the third wizard outlasted the others. It also said cold and unknown, but as it needs to be a gray flame, it can’t be ice. Any thoughts? I think one half is Necromancy myself.”

“You would,” Pyre smiled. “Hold on, let me taste it.” After dabbing some of the ashes on her tongue, she hurriedly spat it out. “Yup, Necromancy alright, with a dash of enchantment magic on the side.”

“Enchantment? Like the braziers?”

Pyre shook her head. She gestured over at Eme. “Nah, more like bardic spells. Things that affect other people and the like.”

Eme perked up at her name.

Autumn smiled at her before laying out the plan. “So it’s — fire and ice, ice and time, and lastly, Necromancy and Enchantment. Edwyn, you take care of fire and ice. I’ll handle the Necromancy. Eme, do you have anything to handle time? If we could avoid wasting a haste potion, that’d be great.”

“I think so,” Eme nodded quickly. “Alacrity of Form makes you move faster, so it should work for the time element. And maybe a Song of Courage would work for the enchantment? Um, I’ve never cast on an object before,” she said nervously, “but I don’t see why it wouldn’t work.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Hopefully we aren’t all spirits if it doesn’t,” Pyre quipped.

Eme laughed quietly as Autumn squinted at the retreating girl.

While the others gathered behind Nelva’s spell-mirror shield, the three spellcasters arrayed themselves before the three flames.

Edwyn went first.

With far more confidence than Autumn felt, the Runelord consigned two of their runes to the flames — one of fire, the other ice. In the brazier, the runes activated. Instantly, the low fire roared higher as bright blue and red flames swirled into a vibrant purple hue.

Above them, the first lock brightened.

Eme now joined Edwyn at the second flame.

Nervously, she looked back at Autumn and drew strength from the reassuring grin the witch gave her. Into the flames, she cast her song alongside ice. Yellow flames licked at blue. In their swirling dance of timeless beauty, the flames steadily turned a deep shade of green.

Now the second lock shone as brightly as the first.

It was now Autumn’s turn.

She shared a fearless smile with Eme as they stood before the third flame. With a deep breath, she cast her necromantic might into the flames. The deep black fire whirled furiously within the brazier. Beside her, Eme sang her song of courage, a brilliant white to match the witch’s darkness. As the colors coiled in the basin, Autumn feared she’d overwhelmed Eme’s spell as the black flames dominated.

Yet, slowly, the song wore away at the darkness, turning it to gray.

The stone portal above them resonated with a deep thrum as the last lock shone. Slowly, the shimmering ward dissipated, unveiling a new chamber beyond. One far smaller than which they stood in — only thirty by thirty feet across. Three other doors led out of the chamber to the north, east, and west.

In the center of the small chamber sat a burnt out campfire, a tattered bedroll, and an old, discarded pack. From where she stood, Autumn saw someone had carved words into the floor. However, she couldn’t read them from this angle.

Glancing at Liddie, Autumn gestured to the opened, most likely trapped, entryway. “Eldest first!”