Perhaps it was entirely in my head, or maybe it was a reaction to the ancient magic woven into every fissure of the room, but the air felt an instant sort of warm as we stepped over the threshold and down the stone steps slick with dark moss. Though cobwebs and dust covered piles of books, velvet lined furniture and deeply worn tables, it felt a fractured sort of reality. One that could truly have been paused for only a moment, breath held and waiting for the return of some wandering soul. Or four.
The chamber felt untouched, and yet entirely worn.
A study of sorts.
Enchanted torches sprung to life as we waded into the room, footsteps echoing over forgotten quills and crumpled parchments. The walls were painted in hurried symbols, all of which I wasn't sure I recognized. Enchanted brooms swept unperturbed at the edges, their gentle brushing the only noise aside our breaths and the flicker of flames. I was reminded of the same sort of brooms in San Bakar's tower and was once again infatuated with a magic that lasted so long.
A large rounded table rose from the center of a curved room, its top piled high with books bound in spines far taller than should be possible. A silent candelabra stood statued in cool wax, paused above half written pages, thoughts unfinished, stories untold. And over it all, dust lit moonlight danced through the cracks of the ceiling. Illuminating, beckoning, wishing us forward.
In a moment I was pulled in wanton fascination to the center.
My fingertips prickled with electric want, a yearning to touch it all, to press my fingers to the pages hers once were and perhaps press myself between the lines as well.
I pulled a parchment from its spot on the stone tabletop, the outline of it left in dust. Another journal page.
The world floated back to me as if in a watery haze. How long had I been unconscious? I only remember his eyes. Empty. Empty of sorrow, yes, but also-
I recall feeling a sense of euphoria as I watched the pain vanish, but then everything started to turn. When I fell, I must have hit my head. I neither feel nor see a mark, but the pain is throbbing. I can only hope it is not the Black Death.
At least he is no longer in pain.
"What do you have there?" Sebastian's voice low and calm just over my shoulder.
I handed it over, shuffling through another stack looking for more. "Another journal entry. Not sure its of much use though."
Ominis hissed as his shin slammed into a large wooden chest near an alcove a few paces away. He rubbed his leg while Anne approached, nudging his hand away so she could take a look. A single bed was tucked against the far wall behind them and I was shocked again with the notion that Isidora was here and spent so much time among it that she had needed a place to sleep.
But why a mine?
I mused aloud to no one in particular. "If Isidora was using the Undercroft and the cellar beneath her manor in Feldcroft... why would she create this space? And why hide it behind cryptic rune symbols and ancient magic."
I left Sebastian to ponder over the page, wandering around further. Empty pots settled on shelves, cauldrons of all shapes stacked precariously around the room and a large one hung over a burning fireplace, ready and warm for whatever Isidora had needed.
"Here!" Anne held up a large curled tube from within the chest aside her, an edge of it folded down to reveal a small bit of painting. "The canvas piece!"
Ominis huffed, still cradling his leg. "Our efforts weren't in vain after all... though something about this place still feels... odd."
"That's probably just your shin there mate. Gave it a good whack you did."
"I swear Sebastian-"
"I feel it too." I admitted, tracing my fingers over one of the enchanted brooms as it passed. It clattered to the floor, handle smacking against a glistening wall.
No, not glistening.
I couldn't help but laugh.
Of course there would be another ancient magic connection to the undercroft. Why wouldn't there be?
"Looks like I've got us a straight shot to the Undercroft."
"No way." Sebastian jogged over, tucking the journal page into his pocket. "Oh Anne, you're going to love this."
----
Anne's big brown eyes grew wide as we stepped through the wall and into the Undercroft, a small grin spreading across her face.
"Brilliant." She breathed, hands squeezing Ominis' arm tightly. The boy winced but said nothing, a small smile of his own growing, nose pointed in her direction.
Sebastian crossed his arms, beaming. "Told you."
"Why couldn't we have traveled that way originally? Certainly would have saved us a hassle."
Sebastian waved his arm dismissively. "Where's the fun in that Ominis?"
"No fun. Just safety."
Anne, having finally released Ominis' arm, stepped across the room to the triptych, unrolling the canvas as she went.
"The moment of truth." Sebastian hummed, helping his sister tuck the top corners into place where she couldn't quite reach.
A large mountain cliff loomed tall over a flowing body of water, small trees and rocks crashing against the edges.
"Please tell me one of you recognizes the location on this bit of canvas..."
"The good news is I do in fact." Sebastian stepped back, arms crossed and head tilted, studying the painting intently. "Bad news, we're in for more trouble-"
"Oh good." Ominis stepped up a couple paces behind us.
"Ranrok has taken over a huge mine along that coast. The hamlet near there has suffered greatly because of it-"
Prickling.
Aching.
Consuming.
The hair on the back of my neck suddenly rose as ancient magic bubbled in my blood fiercely.
"Atley?"
My head cocked and a shiver ran down my spine. I followed the pull through the room to the wall through which we had just come. Droplets of ancient magic swam beneath my boots, guiding me further forward until they pulsed frantically, a whispering curl of magic dancing up and into the center of the wall, pulsing with the beat of my heart.
A silent murmur tickled the shell of my ear.
Everyone feels some sort of pain.
I could feel the three of my companions close behind, worry thick in their footsteps.
"What's wrong?"
"Do you see something?"
Goosebumps ran along my skin, chills thick beneath my bones as the whispers continued.
So much pain.
Raising my wand and tapping the curl of light, I watched in awe as a delicate arched doorway bloomed between the stones. It pulled out from the center slowly at first before whirling rapidly, stone to liquid to solid brass. Two of the pillars on either side twisted and turned in on themselves until they too framed the new entry.
Just as it all began to settle, the doorway swung open, a deep thrum echoing through the space and blasting a vigorous gust of wind toward our bodies.
It slammed through the room, a crushing wave of cold.
The candle flames around the Undercroft whisked out in a moment.
And we were blanketed in a thick darkness.
"Bloody hell Barlowe."
The silence loud,
the dark suffocating.
My heart pounded as the residual magic faded within my lungs.
Pitch black and swallowed whole.
The smell of candle smoke wound through our startled bodies, fingertips clenched around wands but making no move to erase the darkness.
Slowly, something pulsed to life ahead where the door should be. A light, small and intricately etched into a small stone pillar.
I swallowed thickly, forcing my shoulders back and swallowing another chill that rippled down my neck.
One step
another
and another
until I stood over the illumination, its cool tones pressing against my cheeks as I read the words.
Prove to yourself.
Sebastian stepped up aside me, reading over my shoulder and I watched as the shadows tumbled across his freckled cheeks.
"It seems the Keepers aren't the only ones with a trial."