August 29th, 761, 9:28 AM; Day 165 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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"Charles." Sarari caught him by the arm, before he left. "Dark magic is about this place, and I fear for you. Please be careful." The elven archer removed a stone that she had tucked into her armor. He caught the glitter of gold in the light of his magic torch, the gilded red half-heart glowing hotly as she placed it into his coat pocket. A moment of thought later, and she also handed him one of her blue-fletched arrows, the tip of it stained with blood. "It is the arrow that stuck Cavendish in the side," she told him. "I recovered it from where his illusion fell. Take it with you."
The others eyed the line of stones with some trepidation. Dieter took a few steps toward it, each one slower than the last. The mercenary eventually came to a dead halt, a great mental struggle taking place. However, it seemed that Dieter was not always as foolish as he seemed - caution won out over bravado, and he retreated from the line.
Harris, on the other hand, stepped up behind Andre, determination lining his face. He looked askance of none of you, instead directly facing the twin statues that stood before the entrance. "I have business in there," was all he said, walking forward with no sign of yielding. One look at his face and the others dropped all argument.
The air around you seemed to thicken as you approached, and you could feel the burning gaze of those black-headed guardians upon your skin. The eyes seemed to glow brighter for a moment, the heat intensifying to almost unbearable levels; then you were past, and your skin felt cold in the sudden dank of the temple entrance. Harris flexed his hands, his metal gauntlets grinding against themselves, but otherwise had no reaction to his immediate survival.
The second Charles' torch touched the blackness, it vanished.
It wasn't out. You could see, on occasion, flickers of the red flame dancing before they vanished once more. But the darkness remained swirling in front of you, blocking whatever lay ahead from sight. Your companions would fade and return to view as if you stood in a deep fog bank; it almost seemed as the darkness was a tangible thing, and you could see nothing beyond because the darkness was all there was to see. Tendrils of the thick, misty black reached out and swirled around you, as if to draw you deeper inside.
Vedarrak had watched the retreating expedition somewhat impassively. The Kommandant was now gone from your view, but you could hear his voice as you stared into the emptiness before you. "Please do not be too long in your survey. And if you find the eye, do your best to secure it. Things would be rather awkward for all of us if we return to the University without it, after all. I am sure you wish to avoid that unpleasantness as much as I," he said, rather amicably.
"And..." he added. "Good luck."
The blackness seemed to rush forward, enveloping you all in a cool rush of air. You could almost feel it, now, curling and twining itself about your skin. There was a sudden, piercing cold in your bones as the darkness pierced you through, crawling through your veins to fill your very soul with an unnatural chill. The world behind you vanished, the sight and sounds of your traveling companions swallowed up by the great void that lay within.
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A moment later, your eyes began to adjust.
You had been standing in the darkness for a few minutes before everyone had gathered, but only now did the outline of a room reveal itself to you. A drip was heard echoing throughout the chamber, and the humidity in the air began to sink into your bones. Behind you, Charles' torch illuminated a large pair of double doors, the only doors this room contained; they hung half open, though you had felt nothing before you when you had entered the tomb. Beyond it, the cavern opened up again, leading out to where your comrades waited.
The room before you had been ravaged by the rain. The reddish sandstone walls had been worn away in layers, the floor more so than the upper walls, which created a strange reverse-step effect that tapered to a point up above. It was impossible at this point to tell if the indentations on the walls had been carved by nature or by human hand. Flashes of color on the floor below were the only hint of the beauty that had once been; now they lay cracked or removed entirely, the pattern they had once formed obliterated by time. A few statues littered the room, armless, headless, missing toes or other chunks. Any sign of ownership that might have remained here had long since been destroyed by the relentless strength of water. All that remained intact was a long, shallow pool that stretched through the chamber, rippling as water dropped form the ceiling and onto its surface.
And yet... thick, verdant moss grew everywhere, the water trapped within it sparkling like diamonds in the torchlight. Creepers and vines climbed up the walls, twining in a still dance at the corners of the room. The chamber echoed with the music of the water all around. This place was ruined, and yet it was alive.
At the foot of the standing pool was a small inscription written in Akiri hieroglyphics - the only thing of meaning that had managed to survive here.
Ancient Akiri: The path you seek lies before you.
The pool itself had been made of highly polished black marble, ground so finely that it reflected the entire room like an obsidian mirror. Yet the reflection within was wrong, and you knew the stone was not to blame.
The room in the pool was crisp and untouched by the elements, formed of white stones that reminded you of bone. Beautifully carved elephant columns supported the roof, and the walls had been detailed in a thousand intricate mandalas, wondrous works that a man could stare at for years and still find something new each time. The doors, closed together so that you could see them clearly, were made of fine wood and ivory, each tusk bearing an entire story sculpted along its length. Black, multi-armed statues stood in place of the headless idols, each one so lifelike you could swear you saw them dancing. Thin, hooked chains swayed from the ceiling, holding glowing lamps aloft in a dazzling spiral of light. The chamber was spotless. No plant or animal intruded within.
Although many looked into the pool, only one stood reflected, all the others distorted beyond recognition: this, too, was altered. The figure in the pool was bare-chested, save for a thin necklace of human teeth around his neck. His dhoti were stained black and red, whatever color they might have been before completely covered by smears of old blood. In his hand, he gripped a knife. His eyes seemed less gold than bile yellow, which stared up at his counterpart with a pleased expression. The reflection grinned, revealing pointed, filed teeth.
"Welcome," the Tulpa said.
