The Tears of Kas̆dael

Gūla was already running as the dorēsah entered the chamber. White hot flames rolled across her arms, swiftly spreading up and down her body, as she charged at the beast. Like the last one, it lashed out with its talons, trying to snatch her up like an osprey hunts a fish, but she slid to the side in time and raising her sword, slashed across its torso.

The sword itself didn’t do that much damage, unable to penetrate the thick layer of dark brown feathers that coated the bird-man, but the fire that rippled down its shaft was another story. Like wildfire in a drought-ridden plain, the flames spread across the greasy feathers. Flames billowed off it as it swooped toward Jasper, and he threw himself to the side, slashing at the beast with his glaive.

Landing in the middle of the room, the beast spun around, seemingly unconcerned by the fire raging across its body - and suddenly the tables were turned. Not daring to let the contagious flames touch them, Ihra and Tsia fled to the edges of the room. Jasper didn’t have that luxury; with his back already against the wall, he had nowhere to go but forward, dodging low as the dorēsah lunged for him.

Scourge of Despair. As he tumbled across the ground, the spectral whip flailed upwards, wrapping around the bird’s flaming body, but this time no screaming specters emerged, for just like Gūla’s sword, the scourge failed to penetrate the thick plumage.

The beast had no time to stop its dive before it smashed into the wall where he’d been standing, but it quickly exhibited the same unnatural grace the first bird had shown. Catching the wall with its feet, it took three steps before it flipped head over heels and darted back toward him. Jasper, who’d been to cast another spell, didn’t have the time to dodge.

This time, it was Gūla who saved him. The white flames still claimed her body as she raced forward and cast another spell. Flame Whip. A tendril of molten metal extended from her wrist toward the dorēsah and coiled around the beast’s neck. Leaping to the side, she yanked the beast hard toward herself, pulling it away from Jasper. Gravity took hold, and the dorēsah hit the ground.

A moment later, it was on its feet again, its wing expanding and its feathers glowing as it sought to cast the same spell the previous bird had used, but it never got the chance. From behind, a blade of wind sliced into its throat; the first one only made it halfway, through, and the beast’s failed screech came out as a gurgle, but the second got the job done. Carried by inertia, the head rolled across the chamber as the rest of the flaming torso collapsed on the ground.

There was no time to enjoy their victory. Not wanting to be trapped in the small chamber, the four raced for the door, careful to avoid the still-fiery Djinn. Jasper made it two steps into the corridor before the next dorēsah was upon him.

But the birds were predictable. Just like the others, the birdman dove straight for Jasper, its talons outstretched as it sought to carve a canyon in its chest. Casting Flame Charge, Jasper twisted out of its reach and smacked the bird with his glaive. Just like the firebird’s spell, his flames sped rapidly down the creature, but he had learned the lesson from the room and didn’t allow the dorēsah to turn the flames against his friends. Instead, he cast a new spell - Hand of Glory.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected the spell to look like, but he certainly hadn’t expected it to summon a disembodied hand. Several times larger than a normal man’s, the blue hand that manifested in the space between them resembled that of a Mwyranni’s. Its palm was crisscrossed by dozens of golden lines that seemed to form a symbol he couldn’t recognize - not that it mattered.

The spell worked even better than advertised, for the dorēsah was not merely paralyzed but frozen in place - held in mid-air unable to move as the raging flames consumed it. The four didn’t back, raining blows upon it, as they cast frantic glances down the hall for any sign of the third beast.

Unable to resist, the dorēsah succumbed quickly to their assault, dropping inertly to the ground when the paralysis wore off after 30 minutes.

Then they waited for Jasper’s flame charge and Gūla equivalent spell to die down, nervously anticipating the next attack to come at any moment, but there was no sign of the third beast.

“There were three screams, right?” Tsia asked.

“Pretty sure there were,” Jasper agreed. “And honestly, I was expecting more of them.”

After another minute passed in silence, Gūla started down the corridor. “There’s no point in waiting - maybe there’s another beast, or maybe there isn’t, but we still need to find Sels̆arrat.” The others followed behind, spells and arrows ready for the fight they expected to come.

Pieces of the door to the next chamber were scattered across the corridor’s floor. A quick peak inside the room revealed one identical to the last - right down to the now-empty pod from which the dorēsah must have ridden. This time, though, Jasper got to see what else the room had contained before it had been turned into a battlefield.

All four sides of the chamber were occupied by grave goods. Much of it was furniture - beds, chairs, tables, and vases crafted from a mix of wood and stone. Unsurprisingly, they were decorated almost uniformly, painted black and gold with relatively few decorations aside from geometric shapes and patterns. There were more interesting pieces though: piles of brightly colored clothes, mostly green, a dozen crystals that matched the description Gūla had given, and even a small chest that was filled to the brim with gold and gems, which Ihra happily helped herself to.

Jasper had played dozens of games over the years where he’d happily plundered tombs, but as he stood in the shattered chamber, watching his friends fill their bags with booty, he couldn’t help but feel a bit melancholy about it. Is this what will happen to my grave some day? To my parents, my grandparents?

Sure, the dead had no need of these things, or at least, he didn’t think they did - knowing the gods were real had poked some holes in his previous certainty that grave goods were worthless in the afterlife - but it wasn't like he truly needed the goods either, and he wished they didn’t have to disturb the dorēsah’s final refuge. But we’re mostly here to rescue that mage, he reminded himself.

When the room had been thoroughly pillaged, the group moved on. There was still no sign of further attackers, but they grew wary as they saw the pieces of a stone door scattered on the ground up ahead. Preparing their spells, they cautiously crept up to the entrance of the next chamber and peered inside.

Like the others, the coffin had been opened from the inside. The amber goo inside the pod sported a fresh new cavern, but there was no sign of the dorēsah nor had the room otherwise been harmed. Jasper kept watch at the door as they looted it, expecting the bird to come diving out of the darkness just beyond the kethûm lights at any moment, but their looting passed in peace.

Continuing the hall, they paused as they reached the next chamber, where the door was undisturbed.

“Should we go in,” Ihra questioned. “There’s a good chance we might wake the beast if we try, and your missing mage probably isn’t there.”

“Probably not,” Gūla agreed, “but we have to be sure.” The two turned to Jasper, who frowned as he realized they both expected him to side with them.

Instead, he pointed to the darkness ahead, where he could detect the faint signs of another corridor jutting up and to the right. “Weren’t we hoping to find an alternate route through the circular door? That corridor looks like it might head in the right direction. We could always come back if it isn’t.”

The Djinn didn’t look entirely mollified by his suggestion, but she also didn’t object, and the four headed deeper down the hall. The new corridor was slightly narrower than the one it branched off of and ascended at a slope far steeper than any they had encountered thus far. The slope tapered off after only fifty feet and opened up into what could only be described as a small pavilion.

On the left, another corridor headed off into the darkness, but on the right and in front of them were two new chambers - the second of which was marked by a circular door bearing the same writing as before, though it was not buried as deeply into the wall.

Hurrying over to the door, Jasper tried futilely to pry it open, but it would not budge. “Damn it. It actually does connect and we still can’t get in.” He kicked the door petulantly and turned away. “Well, I guess there’s nothing for it but to go back and check the other chamber,” but to his surprise, Gūla shook her head.

“As much as I want to keep looking for Sels̆arrat, we can’t keep wandering in this crypt forever. We haven't seen any sign of her since that ambush sight, and while I think she could have made it through those doors, we can't get through them, so what does it matter?"

“Are you saying you want to quit?” Jasper asked in surprise.

“No,” she replied vehemently. “But I’m saying we might have to. Our primary mission is to get that canister analyzed, not to find Sels̆arra, and not to get ourselves killed. There are probably things of dorēsah down here and we can't fight them all - I don’t want this place to become our tomb too.”

“Do you wish to enter the sanctum?” The party spun around as a high, flute-like voice echoed behind them, and combat nearly broke out as they saw who had spoken.

The third dorēsah had snuck up behind them, though it hardly looked a threat. The creature’s left leg was twisted and one of its wings was missing, forcing it to limp slowly up the steep corridor. Aside from its injuries, though, it looked in significantly better shape than its allies.

Its brown feathers looked glossy and healthy, immaculately cleaned from every speck of the amber goo. Its hawklike eyes were clear and focused, and it spoke again as it neared them. “I assume we lost the war?”

Jasper was the quickest to recover. “I’ve met a few of your kind before, but you’re the first that’s ever spoken to me.”

“Is the between our people still that strong?” Sniffing the air, she edged closer to Tsia. “But I smell our scent all over you? Like us, but not quite.”

The princess backed away as Jasper explained. “The war was so long ago that our knowledge of it is little more than legend, but from what I understand, your people made a deal with their god that backfired; some of you were transformed into monsters, while others became a peaceful mount called the tsussîm. Tsia owns a tsussîm, so that's probably what you're smelling.”

The bird woman looked crestfallen. “Are we so diminished that we are nothing more than beasts of burden? And yet,” her feathers shook as a shudder wracked her body, “I can still feel the madness of the wise men’s foul deeds.” She trailed off into silence, a mute horror in her eyes as she pondered the fate of her people.

Jasper waited a moment for her to speak, but the silence stretched on interminably as she stared at the ground, and he finally spoke up. “You asked us if we wanted to enter the sanctum. Is that what this place is? And you can help us through these doors? We’re looking for a friend who got lost.”