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Kish woke up to the silence of the makeshift shelter, a soft breeze outside causing the wood to creak and groan. As discomforting as that noise was, though, the chirp of nocturnal insects brought a sense of ease and relief that he welcomed gladly. His eyes were quick to adjust to the dark, and he took stock of his surroundings. K’resth was asleep against one wall with Rasheid not far away and doing the same. Saren was curled up beside him, using her bedroll as a pillow as she dozed. He watched her for a moment. She was calm and serene, in spite of earlier unease and the chaos that had befallen the group so far. That was good.

He afforded himself a smile before pushing himself up and quietly making his way towards the door that was under guard. Ras’Dhin was seated just inside, reading over what looked to be a series of numbers and notations, though as Kish approached the Draconian mage gave him a curt nod.

“Rested?”

Kish sat himself down nearby. “Rested enough, yes. You?”

There was a soft chuckle. “I don’t sleep often. I find it to be a bit of a waste, in truth.” The draconian closed the book he was reading. “Let’s step outside for a moment, shall we?”

Kish watched him stand before following suit, stepping outside the roughshod house. The air turned noticeably cooler, almost uncomfortably so, and he shuddered at the sense of thousands of unseen eyes watching him. He tugged his robes about himself and quickened his pace to catch up to Ras’Dhin.

“Now then,” Ras’Dhin started as soon as Kish had joined him. “I want you to open your eyes and look around.”

There was a hint of confusion on Kish’s part at the request, and he glanced about expectantly. “Not too sure what you mean.”

“Not your own eyes, Kish. The robe.” The draconian took a seat, pausing to listen for a moment. Satisfied at the silence, he just nodded and waited.

Kish muttered a sheepish apology for his own misunderstanding before closing his eyes and concentrating, much like he had when he forced the robe’s eyes to close. When he opened his eyes again, there was a rush of overwhelming visual stimulation that flooded his mind. He could see the house, the stars overhead, Ras’Dhin watching him, off into the surrounding ruins of the town, and more. It was a glimpse of everything around him at once, and it was dizzying.

“Good. Keep them open and focus. Magic is very much like this. We can be overwhelmed if we cannot properly control it, but learning how to focus our mind allows us to command magic to powerful effect.” Ras’Dhin reached into his own robes and produced a flask, which he drank from with a smirk. “This is your first test as I teach you, little Kobold. Learn to control the senses and I will move on to the next discipline. Your fire was weak, and even I could tell it was not your true affinity. If you can’t reflexively and instinctively manipulate and draw upon that power, then you need to start learning proper focus.”

Something in Kish’s field of view moved, though he had a hard time telling just how near, far, or in which direction it was. The end result was being startled and tripping over his feet before falling to the ground. Surprise hit when, alongside the sky overhead, he could see the dirt and grass beneath him with remarkable clarity and detail as he tried to focus on everything at once.

Ras’Dhin was chuckling. “Silly thing… Close your eyes. Take a rest and then really think about how best to reopen them, hmm? Be deliberate. Be concise.”

Kish readily and gratefully took him up on the instruction to close his eyes and did so, exhaling softly as he just savored the sudden darkness. “I never thought I’d be so pleased to see the back of my eyelids.”

The draconian chuckled. “I can only imagine. Like I said, take your time but do not be too terribly slow. Instead, remember what I told you. Deliberate, concise, and controlled. Focus.”

Kish took a moment to relax a bit now that his own vision wasn’t being overwhelmed. “So, you know what these are?” He gave a light tug on the robe and shifted his gaze towards Ras’Dhin.

“Not fully, but I had a hunch. I’m glad to see it played out well. Quite the interesting find you’ve got there, and powerful if you know how to use it properly. Imagine being able to always know everything happening around you and you might get some sense of an idea just how useful an artifact like that can be.”

He frowned deeply at Ras’Dhin. “For all you know it could have been cursed.”

“Possibly, yes, but it wasn’t. No sense worrying over what could have or might have happened, especially if it didn’t.” Ras’Dhin tapped Kish on the nose. “Remember that well. Always look forward unless there is something to be learned by looking behind. Which does bring up a question for you. Why fire?”

Kish opened his mouth to respond before catching himself and actually thinking on his answer properly. “Back when I was a part of that war party, when I first met you, our party leader was a very talented magic wielder and he specialized in fire. He could do a lot with it, more than I ever could.” He sat up and stretched, looking at the robes critically while he spoke. “I used to use lightning, but it wasn’t ever as strong as his fire, so after he died I sort of just stopped using it and tried to do what he did.”

There was a soft snort from the Draconian. “Horrible excuse for a common folly. It’s not your element. You should have never walked away from what you knew before.” Ras’Dhin glanced skyward. “It’s going to be light soon. We’ll be moving once it is. Go back to what you knew before and, much like the use of those robes, learn to focus and concentrate on your control. That is my lesson for the night.”

Ras’Dhin made his way inside, leaving Kish to think on the short little lesson he’d been given. Though, it was a short-lived reflection and he shuddered at the silence that surrounded him after a few moments. They were, after all, in a dead town, and that fact alone was terribly haunting. Standing, Kish made his way back into the house and settled himself down to wait for dawn.

With an uneventful night behind them, the group packed up their belongings and crossed the town back towards the cemetery. The cratered spot where K’resth had triggered the explosive trap brought a few jests and chuckles, but those were only told to break the uneasy silence and apprehension in the air. Ras’Dhin and Rasheid led the way, consulting the chart they had been working on the night before which, Kish had found through a simple inquiry, detailed several mausoleums and crypts of interest which had been spotted during the previous day’s scouting efforts. At least those two had been paying attention to something while K’resth was triggering traps. Even he hadn’t been properly scouting too much, having simply crawled through one crypt to find enchanted robes that left him dizzy after using them.

In passing, Kish tried to read some of the names on headstones, but most were worn and unreadable, while those he could read bore names of little significance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, in truth. Perhaps just a distraction. Though the more he studied them in passing, the more he realized how damaged they had become over time. Cracks marred the surfaces of many while chips detracted from the craftsmanship the stone otherwise would have carried. The scratches, though, were the most ominous defect. He paused at one headstone, running a nail over the scratches that had rendered a name unreadable only to find the pattern frighteningly consistent with some beast or another. Perhaps the bone-abomination they’d encountered?

If they were lucky. Kish dreaded that it might have been something else.

He scurried to catch up to the group, drawing up alongside Ras’Dhin. “So, what are we looking for?”

“If my notes are correct, Kish, then we’re looking for a crypt that belongs to Dalrak. The few sites I’ve explored that belong to him are fairly consistent. He doesn’t dwell with the living, but rather underground in temples that reside beneath a mausoleum or crypt.” Rash’Dhin paused to study one such structure. “They are usually fairly subtle in their markings, but he always uses a crown surrounded by a flame in them.”

Turning his gaze to a nearby crypt, he glanced over the various engravings and etchings for a sign of said flame-wreathed crown, but nothing was openly visible that matched the description. He shrugged, following the group towards the next while casting a look towards Saren. She had been quiet most of the morning. Edging her way, he reached out to tug lightly at her robes and offered a smile alongside a look of concern.

“Hey Kish.” She exhaled softly. “I’m doing fine. I know… It’s just a somber and dead place.”

He nodded his agreement to the assessment and frowned. “Yeah. not much to say about it, really, is there.” He peered ahead as Rasheid, Ras’Dhin, and K’resth all started conversing over the map before each went in different directions. “Looks like they’re breaking up to keep looking.”

“Probably smart,” Saren remarked, shuffling about. “I’d rather not stay here any longer than we need to. The sooner this is over the better I’ll feel.”

A touch of concern fell on Kish as he looked his friend over. “You doing alright? You know, you didn’t have to come.”

Saren sighed, but then shook her head. “I’m doing fine. I’ll get over it. Just grumbling about things. You know what they say, right? Things are great so long as the cleric is complaining.”

He wasn’t convinced, and she didn’t look convincing. Kish frowned, but didn’t pursue the matter further. “When we get back from this, dinner’s on me. We’ll go by the Elk and get something fancy.”

There was a soft snort and a laugh from Saren. “That place? I don’t know...one, it’s all the way in the city. Two, I don’t think they’d let a kobold sit anywhere near it, much less inside. You know how prim and proper they can be at places like that.”

Kish waved the remarks off dismissively. “Pfft, come on. I’ve got plenty of coin to line pockets and make them forget I’ve got scales. They’ll look at me like I’m some six-foot tall trade mogul that owns half the city!”

“Or stole half the city.” She reached over, patting his head. “Still, sounds good. We’ll have to do something somewhere that won’t get you tossed to the curb.”

“Yeah. We should.”

A shrill whistle caught both of their attentions, and Kish turned to see Rasheid waving the rest of them over. Rejoining the group, Kish looked over the mausoleum that had been found. It was decrepit and looked almost as though a breeze would cause the structure to collapse. What looked to be angelic seraphim decorated the stone, but Kish couldn’t help a chill that ran through them. The eyes were all scratched out, the faces contorted as though they were in eternal pain. At the apex of the archway leading deeper into the dark interior, a flame wreathed crown was carved into the stone.

Ras’Dhin stood outside the entrance, just staring thoughtfully into the darkness while scratching his chin in thought, Sidling up, Kish peered into the darkness to try and see just what the Draconian was seeing, but nothing jumped out immediately. A thought hit him, though, and he started to survey the stonework for anything out of the ordinary. Wards. Wires. Flaws which denoted the presence of something terribly malicious.

Traps.

“You think it’s rigged up to do something?” Kish reached out again, tapping the stone gently. It was cold against his scales.

“I do. He is not one to leave something unguarded.” Ras’Dhin reached past the threshold, feeling the air against him. “Though, it would seem nothing is here at the entrance. Not that I can detect, at least.” He stepped into the mausoleum, waiting a moment before motioning the others to follow.

Rasheid and K’resth both were quick to follow. Saren was next after offering a hesitant look towards Kish, who was last to step through and into the dark interior. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the change in light, but soon enough he could see the grim decor that graced the walls of the place. More seraphim in varying states of tortured existence graced the ceiling while the walls bore alcoves meant to hold the deceased. All of them were empty, however.

There was an odd familiarity to the place for Kish, though, as he studied the place. Another mausoleum that was empty of the things that normally would have graced it. Indeed, decor aside, the only architectural difference he could find was the lack of a dark ladder-well descending underground. Instead, resting in that spot, was an ornate sarcophagus with chiseled engravings which looked to be some sort of cyrillic lettering. Kish couldn’t place it, though, and whatever was written there was lost on him. Still, his former sense of curiosity drew him closer, and he reached out to trace a nail along the stonework letters that trimmed the sarcophagus just under the heavy marble lid.

“So, what are we looking for here anyway?” Saren glanced back over her shoulder with a hint of nervousness. “I’m getting a very bad feeling about this. It feels wrong.”

“A trap door. Dalrak is not one to confine himself to a small space.” Ras’Dhin glanced at the sarcophagus. “Find anything there?”

Kish blinked, looking at the stone lid. “I was in one earlier that looked like this and had a ladder going down here. I’d probably guess it’s under this.” He paused, suddenly realizing what was being asked. “Oh! Find, right. No. No traps, nothing that seems dangerous on this, at least.” He ducked down to look under the lip of the heavy lid. “If I were setting up something, though, I would probably have something simple, or no trap at all, here. Let them all get inside with a false sense of security.”

“Makes sense. K’resth, Rasheid, let’s get this open.”

Kish and Saren moved to one side while the others moved in to lift the lid, letting it fall to one side with a loud crash. Dust kicked up clouded everyone’s vision for a moment and, upon clearing, Kish was able to see down into the sarcophagus proper. A wood panel acted as a false bottom, which was easily tossed to the side to reveal a narrow stairway that descended underground and into darkness.

“Right. Time for the scout.”

Kish looked up at Ras’Dhin. All eyes were on him for this one, and he gave a curt nod and started climbing into the sarcophagus. “Right.”

“Kish?” Saren stepped in close, offering a quick hug. “Be careful, alright?”

Offering a smile, Kish popped a quick salute and wink. “Hey, it’s dark, underground, and probably full of traps. It’ll feel like home to me.” He dropped down onto the stairs and began to make his way down. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Ras’Dhin produced a small hourglass from his own pack and set it on the edge of the sarcophagus. “Half hour at most, Kish. After that, we’ll decide if we’re coming after you or not.”

Mustering up about as much courage as he could, Kish just gave a smirk. “Heh, give me that long and I’ll find everything valuable before you even get a chance to come down here.” He tugged his robes about him and started down the steps.

It didn’t take long for the air to turn musty, a peculiar underlying sourness lingering in his throat with each breath. This place was ancient and, as he studied the stonework on either side of the stairwell, he realized that it most likely predated the mausoleum that hid the entrance. Behind him, the light from the opening vanished, swallowed by darkness, and the absence actually brought a hint of comfort to him as his eyes adjusted and his surroundings took on a familiar grayscale tone. Dark tunnels were his domain. It was hard for a kobold to not feel somewhat at ease when exploring an environment that was similar to the tunnels back home in the warrens. Still, caution drove each step as he looked and felt for the telltale signs of traps, even going so far as to try and detect signs of magical wards before dropping down to the next level of descent.

It was slow moving, but nothing exploded or tried to kill him. No traps, it seemed, so far. Ahead, he could see a cutout of a landing with a doorway and a great darkness beyond. Experience told him it was a possible chamber, and he was not disappointed. The landing opened up to a massive antichamber with a scalloped stairway leading down to a floor. Six pillars extended up a good three stories from the floor to support the ceiling above, and he could see ornate carvings along each of them. Lamps were set in the pillars, as well as along the walls as a means of illuminating the place, but they were unlit and most likely far too old to properly function reliably.

Along the walls, in line with the six pillars, were six stone sarcophagi each bearing an inscription in a dialect Kish couldn’t understand which he simply assumed were names or titles. Frescoes adorned the walls and ceiling, depicting various kingdoms. Six total. Each had a ruling head which was bowing towards the central figure on the ceiling, which was a dark-robed figure, a hood hiding the face, and a flame-wreathed crown atop his head.

Kish stared for a moment at the details of the work, trying to piece together the story much like he had so long ago in that gryphon’s cave. Six kingdoms ruled by loyal servants who had all sworn fealty to one dark entity: Dalrak. The kingdoms themselves appeared to be prosperous, but he could see the supply lines that were carrying riches and funneling them to Dalrak’s seat of power.

Turning back, he made his way towards the entrance and back up the stairwell. The rest of the group was waiting patiently and all eyes turned towards him as his head poked up over the edge of the entrance.

“No traps. Big place. Looks like there’s six sarcophagi down there and a big fresco that shows six different kingdoms all bowing down to Dalrak. How long has this guy been alive?”

Ras’Dhin snorted softly. “Too long. If I could end him, I would. His phylactery is a difficult thing to find, though.”

“So, are we going in to see what else is down there? The room looked pretty large and I’m sure there’s more to it.” Kish glanced about to gauge their responses. “I mean, it’s dark, though.”

Ras’Dhin and K’resth both shared a look, the latter simply shrugging before the former nodded.

“Alright, here’s the plan, then.” Ras’Dhin pointed to Saren and Rasheid. “You two will be waiting here for our signal. The chamber is dark and I don’t want you tripping and falling down stairs to your deaths. The three of us will go down and see if we can’t illuminate the place.”

“There were lamps on the walls, but if they haven’t been serviced in a while, they might not work.”

“Thanks for that, Kish. I’m sure we can figure out something with those.” Climbing his way into the stairwell, he motioned Kish down. “Lead on, let’s see to this.” He turned to Rasheid and Saren. “We shouldn’t be long. Once you see light, come down. If something should happen, shout and we’ll come up.”

Kish watched the two nod and settle in to wait before he turned to dart back down the stairwell. While he moved with a bit less caution, he still kept his focus and attention on the surroundings just in case he’d missed some nefarious device or trap on his first descent. Nothing came of it, though, and before long he was back on the landing looking out over the sprawling room. The two draconians drew up alongside him, glancing about.

“Move quickly and silently. Test the lamps. If they light, wonderful. If not, leave it and I’ll come around to address it. I don’t want to be in the dark any longer than needed in here, though.” Rash’Dhin pointed up towards the ceiling. “Up there, you see the slight domes along the ceiling? If you can, clean those off. I’ve a hunch they’ll help illuminate this place as well.”

Kish took a moment to spot the shapes and gave a nod. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Good. K’resth? Keep guard. If you see any of the lids on those sarcophagi move, let us know.”

Taking in a deep breath, Kish started down the stairs and towards the first of the pillars, sizing it up and testing the surface with his claws. Climbing wouldn’t be too difficult, and he was curious to get a better look at the lamps. Moreover, climbing was probably the only way to get up to the domed whatever it was that Ras’Dhin had pointed out before. He dropped his pack and slipped his robes off for the sake of mobility before grabbing his flint and scurrying his way up the pillar.

The lamp sat about halfway up the pillar itself, and up close he could see the thing was ornately designed, with various plates meant to help reflect and bounce the light around. He wiped one off to peer at the polished surface, which had held up well under the layers of dust. More importantly, though, when he opened the reservoir and looked inside, he could see and smell oil within.

Behind him, there was a bright flash as Ras’Dhin used a fire spell to ignite a lamp, casting shadows along the far corner of the room. Kish stared for a moment before closing the reservoir on the lamp he was on and striking the flint to light it. It took a few strikes, but soon enough the flame caught. He wiped off the rest of the reflective mirrors and climbed his way back down to move on to the next.

The rest were equally easy to clean and light, and soon there was the soft glow of lamplight casting flickering shadows in the corners of the room. Kish turned his attention up to the domes along the ceiling, now able to see them a bit more clearly. Unfortunately, they were nowhere easily accessible through climbing, meaning that it would take some other trick to get to them.

“Good, much better.” Ras’Dhin took a moment to look over the room. “Kish, see if you can find a doorway or something leading further down into this place. K’resth, get the others.”

Kish exhaled softly but began explorations in earnest as soon as he had his feet back on the ground proper. There were only six of the sarcophagi here, which meant one for Dalrak was missing entirely, but that also gave him something to work from as he started to scan the ornate stonework which presumably housed the remains of Dalrak’s loyals. They were lavishly decorated, with ornate pearl and gold inlay that seemed almost untouched by time.

A thought tugged at the back of his mind as he trailed a nail along the inlay. Getting in was far too easy. Raiders and looters would have cleaned this place out long ago if something else hadn’t kept them from doing so. What was it Rhas’Din had told K’resth? Beware moving lids? He shuddered involuntarily as chills gripped him and stepped away from the sarcophagus, crossing through the hall and towards the back of the room. A giant tapestry was hung, bearing Dalrak’s crest at the top while a generous depiction of the lich, imposing with a grim expression as he stood poised and proper before six battle standards. The standards bore the crests of the other kingdoms, and the piece was undoubtedly meant to reinforce the fact they all served him.

Kish stared at it for a moment, feeling almost as though the eyes were constantly watching him, before he dismissed the notion and reached down to lift the bottom of the tapestry up so he could look at the wall behind it. The cloth lifted easily enough, and as he moved along its length he found what appeared to be a seam in the wall.

“Rhas’Din! I think I’ve got something here.”

The draconian stepped over and joined him in exploring the seam before stepping back, looking up at the tapestry, and then simply reaching up to tear the fabric open so it was no longer in the way.

“Never liked this guy anyway. His decoration sense is appalling.”

Behind the tapestry, there was a clear indication of a passageway blocked by a door. Kish began scanning with eyes and nails alike as he searched for a way to open it and, upon finding a stone with a bit of give, pressed in. There was a satisfying click as the stone sank into the wall itself, followed by the grinding of stone against stone, and he stepped back in anticipation of the door opening.

Only, there was no movement. The door remained shut even as the sound of stone sliding echoed throughout the room.

Kish turned and looked towards Rhas’Din, who was looking behind them. He then followed the draconian’s gaze towards one of the sarcophagi just in time to see the heavy stone lid crash to the floor as a thin, bony hand reached up to grip the edge.

A skeletal figure clad in ceremonial plate armor slowly extricated itself from the sarcophagus, drawing a longsword from the scabbard at its side. What looked to be remnants of flesh hung from bone beneath the armor, and there was an icy glow coming from within the eye-sockets as it looked around the room. Kish couldn’t help the cold fear that gripped him when what passed as eyes settled on him.

“Oh,” the skeletal figure spoke in a haunting voice which projected far more than it rightfully ought to, “more. I was wondering when I’d be roused again. Oh, do I hear something?”

The skeleton turned its attention towards the stairwell as the echoes of footsteps coming down could be heard. However, the bony hand made a gesture and the sound of stone grinding again filled the air as a slab descended from the ceiling, closing the passage off.

“Can’t have any interruptions now, can we.”

Kish glanced towards Ras’Dhin, who was already stepping out to a more open area of the floor, away from the wall. The draconian had a look of cold confidence in spite of the unknown adversary and Kish couldn’t help but feel at least a little emboldened by it. He turned his attention back towards the skeletal figure, gripping his spear and running through possible spells in his head to use.

“So, a corrupted halfbreed and a kobold. Quite the unique pair. I might even be able to use those scales for something decorative when I’m done with you. I’ve always held myself as a bit of a gentleman when it comes to things like this, so I should offer introductions. King Asher, one of the Six who still serves Dalrak the Eternal.”

“Asher?” Ras’Dhin chuckled. “Can you even be a King without a land to rule?”

“Ah, titles are forever, beast. Shall I assume you will refuse to return the civility, then?”

“Kish. Kish Bluescale.” Kish shuddered again as the icy, unblinking gaze focused on him. “Scholar and explorer, recorder of history.”

Asher gave a slow nod. “Well met, Kobold Kish. Record-keeper, you say? Interesting. You I may spare. I should like to pick your knowledge. However, I can’t have you interfering here.”

Asher made another slight gesture and Kish felt something crawling up his legs. Glancing down, he gave a startled shout as frosty tendrils snaked from the cracks in the stone, solidifying as they wrapped around his body to hold him in place and render him immobile. One icy tendril wrapped about his wrist and spear, leaving him unable to use them entirely. Ras’Dhin, however, didn’t give Asher a chance to do much else, and there was a bright flash and explosion as the mage hurled a ball of fire that engulfed Asher completely.

For a brief moment, Kish was hopeful that would have been the end of it, but a loud cackle resonated off the walls before the undead King charged through the smoke with frightening speed, slashing out towards the draconian. Fortunately, Ras’Dhin was quick enough to jump back in time, avoiding what would have been a devastating blow.

“Oh, you are a feisty one, beast. I’m going to have fun with you.” Asher cackled again.

Kish watched for a moment as the two fought, again marvelling at the draconian’s fluid movement and dexterity. How many similar situations must the spellcaster have been in to actually grow accustomed to, and capable of, surviving a brutal melee confrontation? He pushed the thoughts back. Questions to ask later. First, he had to get out of this trap.

The ice was already starting to chill his scales and grow a little painful, but he could ignore that. The tendrils had effectively shackled his wrists and legs, but his fingers were still free. He concentrated, willing away the cold bite as a small flicker of fire started to dance from his fingertips, slowly growing in strength.

Ice began to melt, the cold slowly giving way to a growing warmth to the touch of his scales as the fire expanded. He grew the charge until it ecompassed his hand fully, drawing a soft hiss of pain as scales began to burn. Still, the work was done. There was a satisfying crack as the ice gave way, freeing his wrist, and he instantly set to work melting away the rest enough to break free.

The fight between Ras’Dhin and Asher was in full swing, Fire and ice lances were being flung between the two, and neither seemed to be relenting or gaining the upper hand. Asher was, however, distracted, leaving Kish to move about without being noticed.

Asher was undead. A confident, seemingly immortal one at that, and if Dalrak was a lich it was likely Asher’s own longevity was tied to a phylactery or other such relic. Hugging the wall, Kish made his way to the sarcophagus, lifting himself over the edge to drop inside. The interior was littered with various trinkets and the tattered remnants of burial cloth. He began sorting through them as something flashed by overhead.

Freezing momentarily, he held his breath, half expecting the leering face of Asher to appear before him, but the battle was still going on and had moved past his hiding spot. Exhaling, he resumed searching. Coins, a few bangles, and even a ceremonial dagger were littered in the mess of items before him, and it took him only a moment to realize that they were trophies taken from slain tomb raiders. So, while there had been others, none had made it past this point, it seemed.

He gave an exasperated grunt and glanced up at the massive fresco overhead. From this vantage point, the depiction of Asher himself was very pointedly clear, almost as if it were by design. His armor matched what the skeleton wore. Though, there was one piece, a crest with a blue eye, which the fresco contained on the breastplate which the skeleton lacked. He blinked at it for a few moments before resuming his search. Near the top of the sarcophagus, under a pile of rags, he found a gold trinket, a sapphire carved carefully and set into the gold acted as the depiction of an eye. It was a long-shot, yes, but there was little else to go by.

To ensure death, destroy the phylactery. That was how these things worked, if his reading was indeed truthful and accurate. Though, feeling the weight of the trinket itself, he doubted he could just smash it. It would take something far more violent and forceful. His gaze flickered about the room to look for something that could be used before being drawn upwards, and a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. That would indeed do well.

Taking the trinket, he scurried back out of the sarcophagus just in time to watch Ras’Dhin blast Asher back with a wall of fire. While visibly determined, fatigue was showing on the draconian’s features. Moreover, and far more concerning, was the fact his robes were soaked on one side in blood. Fortunately, the draconian was also in possession of the dead King’s sword as he stormed forward.

Kish offered a brief wave to catch his ally’s attention, raising the trinket up before scurrying towards the nearest pillar and starting to climb. The hand he’d burnt earlier while escaping the ice hurt, but he’d suffered worse in the past and, he fought through it long enough to get up to the burning sconce. Kicking the top off, he looked down at the oil reservoir and inhaled softly. There were a fair number of problems that could come from this half-thought plan, but other ideas simply weren’t coming to him. Without much thought, he simply dropped the trinket into the oil and channeled a gout of flame into it.

The explosion rocked the room and the heat cast by the oil-fueled fire was intense. He closed his eyes, shielding them as best he could from the initial blast as he simply channeled more fire into the mix. A second explosion was unexpected, however, and sent him falling back from his spot. Surprisingly, the pain from hitting the ground was brief, though recovering from the fall took a few moments. He coughed, rolling over so he could push himself to his feet right as the severed head of King Asher rolled in front of him. He froze, blinking only when Ras’Dhin’s foot crushed the skull to pieces and the draconian snorted.

“Good riddance.”

Kish coughed again, pushing himself to his feet. Pain was starting to set in, but at least this time he’d avoided blacking out. In front of him, Ras’Dhin was moving towards the back wall while casually tossing Asher’s sword to the side, outright ignoring his own injuries. Perhaps a bit inspired, Kish got his feet under him and followed, trying to ignore the pain in his side and from the burns and scorches that he’d undoubtedly suffered blowing the sconce to pieces.

“So, that worked?”

Ras’Dhin glanced back and nodded as he carefully explored the brick. “Yes. It did. That was a good find.” He paused his exploration. “Excuse me. I’m going to seal these other sarcophagi. Don’t push anything until I say so.”

Kish gave a slow nod and slumped back against the wall, watching as Ras’Dhin moved across the room casting a spell over each of the remaining tombs to keep them sealed. The draconian was limping, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he moved, but otherwise showed little sign that he was wounded. Kish couldn’t say the same for himself, though. The longer he sat, the more the pain set in. The fall was not a small one by any means, and careful exploration hinted at a couple of broken ribs. The burns also hurt, and his robes were scorched and charred in a few areas. They’d need replacing back in town for certain, but he could worry about that later.

“Start pressing. Let’s see if we can get the doors open.”

Climbing back to his feet, Kish started pressing on the different stones until one slid inward. A series of clicks echoed through the chamber and the stone slab covering the stairs started to lift. Ras’Dhin watched for a moment before disappearing up them. He kept pushing on more. A few slid in, activating something, but there was no movement to be had. Possibly traps to open the other sealed sarcophagi. He was glad they were shut. A final stone switch slid in and the stone slab in front of him finally moved, revealing a dark stairwell that led further into the depths of the tomb. A familiar hand settled on his shoulder and he turned to find Saren smiling, that ever-worried expression on her face as she did so.

“Come on. I need to take care of you and Ras before we get going any further.”

Kish gave a slow nod and turned away from the dark opening. Rasheid and K’resth were both wandering about the room, discussing amongst themselves and making sure the sarcophagi Ras’Dhin had sealed were remaining sealed. Ras’Dhin was seated on the edge of Asher’s open tomb, bandaging a nasty looking gash in his side, and he grunted softly as Kish moved close.

“Good job. Get some rest. We’ll be going deeper soon.”

Kish couldn’t help but smile inwardly. It was high praise indeed, even if the tone was very much tempered. He just gave a curt nod and settled himself down as Saren moved to begin treating both their injuries, pushing back the thoughts of what might await them deeper in the tomb of Dalrak the Eternal.