Following the old man’s cryptic nudge— “*Seek the guardians of the forgotten*”—felt less like a treasure hunt and more like voluntarily signing up for a midnight stroll through the city’s digestive system. Down I went, squeezing into alleyways barely wider than my shoulders, the only light spilling from flickering streetmps high above.

  The air shifted the further I descended, trading rot and cheap ale for a damp, earthy smell that tickled my nose. An almost sweet scent, if you ignored whatever unspeakable things contributed to it. Below the surface, the city breathed differently.

  I started hearing things, too. Not the drunken brawls or te-night market haggling that colored the streets above. These were… whispers. Just enough to make me question my sanity. A nguage I didn’t recognize, bubbling up from the walls like trapped steam escaping a kettle.

  “Great,” I muttered, pulling my cloak tighter. “Now I’m hearing voices. Azazel working overtime, I guess.”

  The “instructions” from the shopkeeper were less than helpful, just a series of vague ndmarks and increasingly unsettling directives. “*Follow the serpent’s eye,” he’d rasped, handing me a charcoal sketch of a ridiculously abstract carving. “Where the stone weeps, the path reveals itself.”*

  Right. Like *that* wasn't going to make me stand out to the wrong crowd if anyone were to actually see me with that!

  The serpent’s eye turned out to be a cracked tile on a crumbling wall, barely noticeable unless you were actively looking for abstract reptiles drawn by lunatics. The ‘weeping stone’ was a genuinely disturbing statue whose face appeared to be perpetually slick with condensation. It wasn’t natural; the air was dry as dust.

  With a sigh, and more than a little hesitation, I pced my hand on the stone. It was cmmy, almost *alive*, and the feeling shot up my arm like an electric shock. A section of the wall groaned and slid inward, revealing a narrow passage that plunged into darkness.

  “Well then,” I said to the statue. “Here goes nothing.”

  My fingers danced over a couple of basic shielding spells before I dared to venture inside. The tunnel was barely shoulder-width, the air thick with the scent of mildew and old stone. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, a chorus of forgotten nguages scratching at the edge of my hearing.

  One section had a series of alcoves built into the walls; I was starting to make out patterns. I saw my hand move on its own. More symbols. I felt this was starting to come out of me.

  I fumbled in my pack for a tinderbox and lit a small candle, the flickering fme casting dancing shadows that made the already oppressive space feel even more custrophobic. The walls were covered in carvings, intricate patterns that seemed to writhe and coil in the candlelight. Symbols, familiar, but just beyond my grasp. They were like a half-remembered dream but were so familiar to me, and I felt as if I could remember what each of them meant.

  Suddenly, a symbol came straight into focus. More real than I imagined. More defined. Sharp. A voice. It was speaking to me.

  I stumbled forward, tracing the symbol with my finger. The stone felt warm beneath my touch.

  This pce... it was humming with magic. Not like the precise, structured spells I was used to casting. This was raw, untamed energy, swirling around me like a tangible force. It tingled on my skin, raised the hairs on the back of my neck. It was exhirating and terrifying in equal measure.

  A gust of wind snuffed out my candle, plunging me into near-total darkness. The whispers intensified, swirling around me like a vortex.

  Then, a voice. Clearer now.

  “*He comes…*” the voices sung.

  I froze, every muscle tense, and that's exactly where my fear started.I hated this.

  The tunnel opened into a rger chamber, and the sight that greeted me stopped me dead in my tracks.

  The chamber was vast, easily the size of a small cathedral, with a high vaulted ceiling that disappeared into the shadows. Flickering candlelight illuminated the space, revealing rows of robed figures huddled around a rge stone table in the center of the room.

  They were chanting in that same unknown nguage, their voices rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm that resonated deep within my bones. The air crackled with energy, thick and palpable. It was a gathering of some kind, a ritual perhaps or some kind of meeting. This was clearly it.

  Cautiously, I edged closer, keeping to the shadows. I scanned the perimeter, searching for any sign of guards or traps. The figures were too engrossed in their chanting to notice my presence - or so I hoped.

  I needed to get closer, to hear what they were saying.

  Creeping along the wall, I ducked behind a crumbling pilr, using it as cover. From here, I had a clearer view of the stone table. It was covered in strange symbols, simir to the ones I’d seen etched into the walls of the tunnels. In the center of the table sat a single object: a small, intricately carved box, radiating a faint, golden light.

  My breath caught in my throat. The box… it felt familiar.

  As if drawn by an invisible force, I found myself moving towards the table, my footsteps silent on the stone floor. I wanted to touch it, to feel its power.

  “*…Sos… guide us… reveal the path…*” the robed figures chanted, their voices resonating with fervor.

  I edged closer and closer, until I was standing just a few feet from the table. The golden light emanating from the box pulsed gently, casting strange shadows on the faces of the figures around it.

  They were old from what I could tell by the pale skin of the neck. Were they not using face-covering robes, I would have assumed they were either really old or really sick.

  I leaned in, trying to decipher the symbols on the table. They seemed to shift and change before my eyes, forming patterns that danced just beyond the edge of my understanding. It was as if they were speaking directly to my subconscious - and I can tell they were. They were almost begging me to do something, but what?

  I focused my mind, trying to grasp the meaning of the symbols.

  Suddenly, one of the figures raised his voice, his words cutting through the chanting. "*The time is near. The veil thins. The return is inevitable.*”

  A murmur rippled through the assembled figures. Fear, excitement, anticipation... I could sense the emotions swirling around me like a tangible force.

  Return? Veil? What were they talking about?

  They’re obviously referring to demons and the barrier. They want to tear it down. I had this deep understanding, even if the words were completely unknown to me. These freaks want to watch the world burn.

  I gnced around the circle and the symbols, trying to see if their robes had anything reted to the Souls’ god. It looks as if that theory was correct. Not only did the symbols matched, the figures were whispering ‘Sos’ every two seconds.

  In my haste, I shifted my weight and dislodged a small stone from the pilr. It cttered to the floor, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.

  Every head snapped up, and every pair of eyes, suddenly glowing with an eerie light, turned towards me.

  The chanting stopped, the air suddenly still. The energy that had been crackling through the chamber seemed to coalesce into a single, focused point, centered directly on *me*.

  “Who’s there?” A voice, low and gravelly, cut through the silence.

  I froze.

  “Show yourself!” The voice was sharper now, ced with authority.

  I debated my options. Try to bluff my way out? Attack? Run? None of them seemed particurly appealing.

  I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the pilr, raising my hands in a gesture of peace.

  “I… I didn’t mean to intrude,” I stammered, trying to sound as harmless as possible. Easier said than done, considering I was trespassing in a hidden chamber beneath the city. “I was just… passing through.”

  A snort of derision echoed through the chamber.

  “Passing through, were you?” The gravelly voice belonged to a tall, imposing figure standing at the head of the table. His face was hidden by a deep cowl, but his eyes, burning with an unnerving intensity, were clearly visible. “How very convenient.”

  “I heard voices,” I continued, my voice gaining a little more confidence. “I was curious.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” another voice hissed from the shadows.

  The figures around the table shifted, their robes rustling like dry leaves. I could feel their eyes on me, assessing, judging. I was outnumbered, outmatched, and definitely out of my depth. I had to at least save face.

  “Who are you?” the leader demanded, his voice devoid of emotion.

  “My name is Elias,” I replied, deciding that honesty, or at least a version of it, was my best bet. “I’m… a researcher.”

  “A researcher,” the leader repeated, tilting his head slightly. “What exactly are you researching, Elias?”

  I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “Ancient symbols,” I said finally. “I’m trying to understand their meaning.”

  The leader’s eyes narrowed, and a strange smile pyed on his lips. “Symbols, you say? And what symbols might those be?”

  “The symbol of the God of Souls,” I blurted out, and immediately regretted it.

  A gasp rippled through the chamber. The figures around the table recoiled as if I’d uttered a curse. The leader’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “How do you know of that?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp with suspicion.

  I could feel them slowly surrounding me.

  “I… I came across it,” I said, trying to sound casual. “In an old book.”

  “An old book,” the leader repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief. “And you just happened to stumble upon the symbol of a forgotten god?”

  “It’s true!” I protested, feeling my anxiety rising. “I don’t know much about it, but I wanted to learn more.”

  The leader studied me for a long moment, his gaze intense and unnerving. I could feel the weight of his suspicion pressing down on me. Finally, he spoke.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  A collective sigh seemed to emanate from most of the crowd. Time to do something before they actually… I don’t know, kidnap me? I have no idea what these societies usually do.

  Suddenly and as if according with the rhythm of my thoughts, two figures stepped forward, grabbing my arms and pinning them behind my back. There was little I could do.

  “You’re lying,” he continued, his voice low and menacing. “You’re here for something else. What is it you really want?”

  Was I getting interrogated by the Inquisition? I was half-expecting them to pull out the Spanish Pillow and start getting the truth out of me. Oh, the irony.

  “I told you,” I said, struggling against the grip of my captors (a ughable effort, but I had to try). “I’m just curious. I want to understand the symbol.”

  The leader ignored my protests. “I believe you are a spy,” he stated, his voice cutting through the air. “Sent here to steal our secrets.”

  “That’s absurd!” I excimed. “I don’t even know what your secrets *are*!”

  “Perhaps not,” the leader conceded, “but you *intend* to find out, don’t you?” He gestured towards the box near the table with golden light. “That light, the connection to the god. It shows that we are destined for greatness. And you will be stopped because the divine wills it.”

  I didn’t move; I could not move.

  “We cannot simply let you leave here, Elias,” he continued, his eyes boring into mine. “You know too much already. But perhaps… perhaps there is a way for you to prove your sincerity.”

  I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “How?”

  “We will test you,” the leader decred. “We will give you a challenge. If you succeed, we will consider sharing our knowledge with you. If you fail… well, let’s just say that some secrets are better left buried.”

  He stepped aside, revealing a young woman standing behind him. She was tall and athletic, with piercing blue eyes and a determined set to her jaw. She carried herself with an air of quiet confidence, and those few strands of hair that were not under the robe were as white and bright as snow.

  “Lyra will assess you,” the leader said. “And she'll be the one stopping you if you fail.”

  Lyra stepped forward, her gaze unwavering. “There is an artifact hidden in these tunnels," she said, her voice clear and strong. "A relic of the God of Souls. Retrieve it for us. If you can, we will believe you are worthy of our trust.”

  “What kind of artifact?” I asked, my mind racing.

  Lyra smiled, a cold, humorless expression. “That is for you to discover. You have until dawn. If you do not return with the artifact by then, you will be considered an enemy. And we will deal with you accordingly.”

  The guards released me, and Lyra stepped aside, gesturing towards a narrow passage leading away from the chamber. “The tunnels are complex, and filled with traps,” she warned. “Be careful.”

  I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. I had no choice. I had to take the test. If I wanted to learn more about the symbol, about the God of Souls, and about how any of this could possibly help me get out of my deal with Azazel.

  “Very well,” I said, turning towards the passage. “I accept your challenge.”

  As I walked away, I could feel Lyra’s eyes on my back, watching me, judging me. I knew that this was just the beginning. The tunnels were bound to be filled with dangers, both magical and mundane. But I had to succeed. My life, and possibly my soul, depended on it.

  I had no idea what kind of artifact I was looking for. No clues, no hints, nothing. Just a vague directive to find something “reted to the God of Souls.” Wonderful.

  The tunnel air immediately changed – colder, damper, and ced with a faint metallic tang that suggested forgotten bloodstains. Torches flickered fitfully along the walls, casting long, dancing shadows that pyed tricks on my eyes.

  As I crept deeper into the darkness, I heard the faint shuffling sound of shifting stone. Traps. Lyra hadn’t been kidding.

  I cast a quick detection spell, and the air in front of me shimmered, revealing a tripwire stretched taut across the passage. A nasty-looking crossbow bolt was aimed directly at my head from a concealed niche in the wall.

  "Well, that was almost embarrassing." I muttered to myself.

  I carefully disarmed the trap, my fingers nimble and precise. My years of research had given me an intimate familiarity with ancient security measures - a knowledge that was about to come in handy.

  The tunnels twisted and turned, forming a byrinth that seemed designed to disorient and confuse. I consulted the mental map I had been creating as I walked, trying to keep my bearings.

  The whispers had returned, louder now, swirling around me like a physical force. They spoke of secrets and betrayals, of power and sacrifice. The effect was almost an incentive to walk into a trap instead of having to hear any more weirdness.

  They did not seem to be actively hurting me, though, or attempting to drive me away. Instead, it seems their voices had a sense of… guidance.

  *Take the left path*, they whispered. *The air is cold there, do not tarry*.

  At a crossroads, I chose the left path based on the whispers. I cast a warming spell around myself, bracing for whatever awaited me. The temperature plummeted, and I could see my breath misting in the air. Patches of frost clung to the walls, and a yer of ice coated the floor.

  Another trap – this one even nastier than the first. A pressure pte concealed beneath a yer of ice, triggering a cascade of razor-sharp icicles from the ceiling.

  I dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the falling bdes. One of them grazed my arm, slicing through my cloak and drawing a bead of blood. "Damn you, Lyra! "

  I moved forward, my senses on high alert, using every trick I knew to detect and disarm the traps that y in my path. The tunnels were a deadly gauntlet, designed to filter out all but the worthiest of seekers.

  Eventually, I reached a dead end. A solid stone wall blocked my progress. Disappointment crashed over me, but I didn't give up. I ran my hands over the wall's surface, searching for any hidden mechanisms or secret passages.

  The wall’s texture had different properties. It wasn’t a dead end. I was so close to find it that my chest started burning.

  Finally, I found it and pushed. With a groaning rumble, a section of the wall slid inward, revealing a small chamber beyond, just like what the voices instructed me.

  The chamber was dimly lit by a single brazier, casting eerie shadows on the walls that the voice instructed me to step into. In the center of the room sat a pedestal. And on the pedestal... was the amulet.

  It was crafted from a dark, obsidian-like material, carved of a shape that looked a lot like Sos' sigil. It pulsed with a faint, inner light, and radiated a palpable sense of power. I reached out my hand with some hesitation.

  As I picked this amulet, I heard voices behind me.

  I turned to see the robed society members there, staring bnkly at me. The doors locked, and my heart dropped.

  One of them talked and said that I truly was meant to use this power, while he drew a knife.

  I started getting scared and took a fighting stance, but stopped when he got close to me.

  He pushed the knife forward into my wrist, drawing out a great quantity of blood on top of my demonseal.

  With a great shout, my power was unlocked, and I could feel a surge of power that I was not meant to use. I am in pain and screamed to wake up more people, but to my despare, they were all the same!

  "All of you! Why?!" I shout.

  Lyra comes from behind and apologizes of the outcome, that I should have been born something else. She looked as if she was feeling sorry for me.

  They leave the room, and I stay with barely any energy. Even in that state, I try to heal myself, but I'm getting tired really fast. I could barely cast the spell without vomiting something. Gross.

  I barely pass out. Did I manage to actually make the right choice?

  Then, I managed to reach the surface.

  Dawn was breaking as I stumbled back into the chamber where the society members awaited. They stared at the sight of me, exhaustion etched on my face. Was that the st sunrise I am ever going to witness?

  In my hand, I clutched the amulet. But a bloodly wrist and the society members awaiting with an unsure gaze.

  Lyra stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "You succeeded," she said. "You retrieved the artifact."

  Taking a step back, the leader of the crew seems to try to push the society member out of the picture.

  But something wasn't right. Even though I had completed their challenge, but they seemed hesitant, uneasy just now? And they are trying to cover it up?!

  As dawn fully shines, Lyra grabs my hand and looks at the symbol and then at me. There were feelings there. More emotions. Why is she grabbing my hand?

  She then quickly pushes me to run and get as far as possible before I die.

  As I quickly run to a safe pce, I hear the door shut behind me.

  ***Okay