Someone had been here. Recently. The way the papers were scattered, the drawers half-opened, the dust unsettled—whoever it was had been in a rush. Desperate. A beam from the collapse must’ve forced them out before they could finish whatever they were doing. Unlucky for them.

  Lucky for me.

  The study was sealed, no doors leading in or out—only that blasted trapdoor I'd found behind the broken wall of the library. A hidden space, secretive by design. But not secure enough.

  I scanned the desk. Most of the documents were routine filth—local power plays, minor corruption, shady trade routes, the kind of rot that festered under every city’s skin. Nothing worth bleeding over.

  Then I saw it. A leather-bound book, lodged halfway into a chest, the lock still halfway turned. Whoever had been here had tried to grab it and failed—likely panicked when the beam crashed down. The chest was dented, the floor scorched. They’d bolted.

  I pulled it free. The spine cracked open beneath my fingers. I flipped through the pages fast, eyes scanning for danger, for opportunity.

  And what I found…

  I didn’t expect everything.

  Payments. Names. Transactions written in clean, arrogant script—each one pointing to The Canu, the most infamous mercenary group on Orbis. Their reputation was soaked in the blood of empire loyalists. Open enemies of the Sheer Cold Empire. And this? These payments?

  This was treason.

  Treason that bled upward. The Chancellor. His inner circle. Maybe more.

  Punishment? There were only three options. Death. Eternal imprisonment. Or exile into the Sheer Cold Dimension—a place where no flesh survived longer than a few agonizing minutes.

  But that wasn’t all.

  Buried deeper in the tome were fragments—half-finished entries and encrypted names. Mentions of artifacts, scattered safehouses, and a chilling codename: “SP.” A note beneath it referenced coldian resurrection. I didn’t know what that meant.

  Yet.

  There was more, I knew there was, but time wasn’t my ally. Not here. Not now.

  I slid the book into my pouch, tightening the strap.

  Explosions still echoed above—muffled now, but brutal. That meant Jorguh was still alive. Still wrecking. Good. Let the beast keep breathing. As long as they were focused on him, I had room to hunt.

  I moved to the trapdoor and descended.

  No ladder. A spiral staircase, cut into the stone. Cleanly built. Carefully hidden. This wasn’t a panic tunnel—it was a passage designed for someone with secrets.

  I went slowly, steps silent. The air grew colder with each turn, thick with stillness. I could still hear the mansion groan above me, wood and stone buckling under Jorguh’s wrath.

  After minutes of descent, I reached the bottom. The floor was pristine, stone cut and polished. One narrow hallway stretched forward, swallowed by shadow. No torches. No sound.

  Didn’t matter.

  My eyes adjusted. Not perfectly, but enough.

  I moved.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I didn’t rush. This was the kind of place where traps waited. Where cowards plotted from behind magic and metal. The corridor stretched long, silent as a tomb.

  Then light.

  A chamber opened ahead, softly lit by strange lanterns hanging from the walls. They didn’t burn with fire—but with some green magical glow I couldn’t identify. Cold, almost sickly. But it didn’t flicker.

  The room was large. Empty. Stone walls, stone floor, nothing but space and silence.

  Except two doors at the back.

  I made my way to the one on the right. Pressed my ear against it.

  Movement. Not words. Shuffling. Quick. Panicked.

  Perfect.

  I drew back and waited, pressed against the wall.

  Then the door creaked open.

  She stepped out.

  A woman—young, maybe late twenties. Long blonde hair fell in soft waves down her back. A formal dress, woven blue and silver thread, glinting faintly in the green light. Elegant. Too elegant for this place. Fear draped across her face like a veil.

  I didn’t give her time to scream.

  One arm across her mouth, the other around her waist—I pulled her back into the room and shut the door behind us. She struggled, but weakly. No real threat.

  And I took a long look around.

  Jackpot.

  The alchemy room. Tables lined with flasks, beakers, coiled tubing and burners powered by runes instead of flame. Cabinets filled with glowing liquids, rare herbs, powdered metals, and arcane salts. This wasn’t just a lab—it was a vault of experimentation. A war chest disguised as science.

  I locked the door behind us.

  The woman glared, half in terror, half in fury.

  Good. She had fire.

  “Who are you?” I whispered into her ear.

  She thrashed again, but my arm tightened, this time with intention. Her breath caught—pain sharp enough to still her.

  “Who are you?” I hissed again.

  She mumbled, voice muffled by my grip. I leaned closer.

  “If you make a sound louder than a fly’s buzz,” I murmured, cold as frostbite, “I’ll snap your neck like dry twine.”

  She nodded. Tiny. Trembling.

  “Z-Zara,” she whispered, barely audible, each syllable laced with panic.

  “What are you doing here? What’s your purpose?” I pressed.

  “My husband locked me in. Said I’d be safe here.” She spoke through clenched teeth, desperate to appear composed. She wasn’t.

  “Your last name?” I asked, calming my tone. Whispering just above the silence.

  “Arnell.”

  The doctor’s wife. Just my luck.

  “Where’s your husband? Where’s the Chancellor? The Guard Captain?” I asked, each name like a blade to the throat.

  “I don’t know,” she breathed. “They left me here.”

  She was either the best liar I’d met… or broken. Maybe both.

  “Healing potions. Regeneratives. Are there any here?” I asked. Manach was still critical, and I needed hope in a vial.

  “No,” she replied. “But I can make them.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why would you do that?”

  Her voice turned steady, but not brave. Just empty. “So I can live.”

  I released her.

  She didn’t run.

  “How do you know this craft?” I asked.

  “I learned from my husband. I’m his assistant. The potions you need are simple. There’s a book here to guide the process.” Her tone shifted—professional, maybe even proud—but she still avoided my gaze.

  I watched her. Something didn’t sit right. “You could lace them. Kill with them.”

  She didn’t deny it.

  “No,” she said softly. “I know who you are. The Coldian with the injured friend. My husband—he hated you. Hoped you’d die.”

  That made me pause. “So, you’re not on the same side?”

  “I am,” she hissed.

  And that was her move.

  She struck.

  Fast.

  A blade slipped from her dress, thin and sharp, flashing toward my ribs. Too close. I twisted, the edge dragging across my coat. But I wore the Sheer Cold. The dagger met the unnatural chill—and shattered like brittle ice.

  Her eyes went wide with terror.

  Before she could scream, my blade was already inside her mouth—driven clean through with precision and finality. She didn’t even fall. Just… ceased.

  A shame. I needed those potions. But now I knew the layout of the alchemy lab. Maybe Leliana could do something with it later.

  But first—Doctor Arnell.

  I slid my blade free, blood trailing down her chin. Then, in silence, I removed her head. Clean, no mess. Found an empty sack nearby, tucked it in. Dead weight for a message.

  I locked the door behind me. The key slid into my pouch with the others.

  Then I turned to the other door.

  No sounds behind it. I pressed gently—no resistance. It opened to a long hallway. Lit, polished, empty. No traps I could see. Or maybe I was careful enough to step over them all.

  At the end of the hall stood another door. This one… different.

  No handle. No hinges. Just arcane crystals embedded across its surface. A single, larger crystal in the center pulsed softly—energy flowing like veins through stone.

  I studied it. Felt the hum of raw magic.

  Then I had an idea.

  I pulled Zara’s head from the sack. Held it near the crystal.

  The magic reacted.

  A low, haunting hum vibrated through the stone. Lights flickered. The door’s crystal core flared—and slowly, the great slab of magic-forged stone slid open.

  Neat trick.

  First time I’d seen something like that.

  I stepped through, deeper into the unknown.