A strong sense of deja vu hung over Ihra as she stepped across the threshold of the Ekallali. It had been both a few hours and a few hundred years since she last passed through those doors, but the place was much the same as she remembered.

  The others paused to gawk at the elaborate entrance hall - a three-story interior courtyard dripping in silver and gold - but she ignored it. The entrance to the lower chambers should be in… She smiled as her eyes locked onto a small door hidden in the shadows on the far side of the room. “Over here,” she called out as she brushed past the hours.

  She paused briefly at the door, checking for traps, but there was nothing. Pushing through, she led them into a smaller chamber where a curved set of stairs led above and below. The clatter of their footsteps swelled to fill the hall as they raced down the cracked marble stairs, and Ihra hoped there was nothing around to hear it.

  They reached the bottom landing and, drawing on her memories of the map, she led them to the right. They passed through a few storerooms still filled to the brim with moldering goods before they reached another door, one quite incongruous with the ostentatious nature of the rest of the building - an aged oak door with a simple iron knob and a chain wrapped around the handle.

  She channeled Still Pond, biting her lip as the skill transformed a portion of her health into a temporary strength boost and smashed the lock with two quick blows of the misericorde’s pommel. The chains fell off with a clank, but the aged wood was so swollen from moisture that the door remained firmly wedged against its frame. She channeled the skill again, grunting in pain as it stole another slice of her health, but it did the trick. A shower of splinters assaulted as her face as the door caved in, revealing the passage behind. “Jas-”

  Ihra hadn’t even finished the word when she felt a surge of essence wash over, a soothing calm that restored the health a Still Pond had stolen before. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He loomed over her shoulder and peered into the ominous, unlit passage before them. “Still know where we’re going?”

  “This tunnel should take us almost the whole way to the ritual site,” she replied, as she started down the tunnel

  “Almost?”

  “It dead ends into the passage connecting the ritual site to the fortress outside of the city,” she explained. “When we hit that passage, we head left.”

  “Sounds easy enough,” he replied.

  “Maybe.” She chewed on the edge of her lips as they descended deeper into the darkness, lit only by the flickering flames on Jasper’s hand.

  “What’s wrong,” he asked, sensing her hesitation.

  “It’s probably nothing, but…the tunnel passes through one more chamber along the way.”

  “Did the map say what it was?”

  “Us?lukmu?t.”

  “Should that mean something to me,” Jasper asked. “I don’t recognize the words.”

  “I noticed the Fey texts had an odd dialect,” she said slowly. “Even the ones that were written in the common tongue were spelled differently than they should be. I’m not certain, but I think Us?lukmu?t might be the same thing as?lakkumu?ti.”

  “Oh,” Jasper replied simply.

  Ihra smiled grimly. “My thoughts exactly. Let’s hope the dead in the Hall of the Dead aren’t as lively as the ones in the city.”

  It took them twenty minutes at a steady jog before they neared the Ushlukmut chamber, and Ihra could sense the change in the air long before they arrived. The air ahead of them was cloying, thick with the sickly sweet smell of incense and an unidentifiable, earthier scent that largely confirmed her suspicions. “Hold up.”

  “Sense something ahead?” Jasper whispered.

  “I think we’re nearing the chamber. If there’s something hostile there, your flames might warn ‘em. Let me scout ahead first.”

  “Can you see in the dark,” he questioned.

  Ihra turned her head away, hiding her grimace. “Good enough.” The truth was she had no night vision abilities, but her perception stat was the highest in the group.

  “I’ll go with you.” To her surprise, the voice that spoke up was not Jasper’s or even Tsia’s. Jasper slid to the side as Nissila?t pushed past him and tapped Ihra on the shoulder.

  “I can see through any shadows,” she offered simply.

  “I can manage by myself.”

  “I’m sure you can,” the Stryn woman replied smoothly, “But it’s safer to have back-up.”

  Ihra couldn’t argue that. Opting to ignore the woman, she turned back toward the chamber entrance and began a slow, careful creep.

  “Did I do something to upset you?” Nissila?t asked when they were out of earshot of the others.

  She wanted to snap at her, to tell her to be quiet, but Ihra bit her tongue instead. “No,” she begrudgingly admitted, after taking a few beats to stew. “I’m glad you came, actually. I don’t have night vision.” Selene's grace, I’m sick of feeling weak.

  “I had wondered,” Nissila?t replied. “You have a special class then?”

  “It’s better than most archer or rogue classes, and a lot more flexible,” she said, not wishing to divulge the runes she could use, “but it doesn’t have some of the abilities you might expect.”

  “A hybrid, then.”

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  “Something like that.” Ihra froze and raised her hand for silence as the shadows in front of them moved. What was that? She readied her misericorde, straining her ears for any sound of approaching steps, but only silence greeted them. “Did you see something,” she whispered.

  “Movement, nothing more.”

  Trailing her left hand along the wall, she inched deeper into the darkness. The cloying scent grew rapidly as they moved forward and, eventually, a light appeared in front of them. That must be the chamber. They moved slowly and methodically, careful to muffle their footsteps as they neared the entrance to the Us?lukmu?t.

  Any lingering doubts she’d had as to the nature of the chamber disappeared when she reached the threshold. The chamber was long and narrow, with three rows of elevated sepulchers on either side of the passage.

  These were no normal tombs. Small shrines sat before each of the sepulchers, a few still holding the wizened remnants of their final offerings, while a large statue held court on the right side of the chamber. The design was different from what she’d seen in temples back home, but the throne of bones and the mace topped by a human skull sitting on his lap were enough for Ihra to recognize the statue as Yakhar, Lord of the Victorious Dead. The light that filled the chamber emanated from the statue’s eyes, a pair of glowing blue orbs whose enchantment had yet to waver. This must be where they buried their elites.

  Her eyes searched the shadowed corners as she crouched at the door, but her worry began to ease away. She didn’t know what had caused the citizens of Iltiab to awaken as the dead, but she was certain it was powerless against Yakhar and his maryannu.

  “Aahh.” She swiveled her head back to the center of the room as something groaned. There was silence among the sepulchers, and then the soft groan echoed again. Where is it? As she cursed her inability to find it, Nissilat brushed her shoulder and pointed toward the statue.

  “Behind Yakhar,” she whispered in her ear.

  This time she spotted it. A body was slouched between the statue of Yakhar and the nearest sepulcher. It was one of them, she realized with a frown, one of the mummies they’d seen outside the acropolis’ gates.

  Bones protruded sharply from its withered skin, and a long, curved sword hung limply at its side. Shattered bone shards lay in a circle around it, and she realized it had fallen in battle. “Are there any others,” she whispered back to Nissila?t.

  “It’s the only one I see, but…”

  Ihra caught her drift. The mummy lying beside the statue of Yakhar was the only one she could see, but it was impossible to know if others were hidden behind the sepulchres. Should we wait for the others? But she remembered the enemy Samsadur had warned about, and took a step forward. They were already taking too long to reach the ritual site; they couldn’t afford to linger any longer.

  She readied her misericorde as she crept toward the groaning mummy, which seemed unaware of her presence, but something about it continued to nag at her mind. It looked…familiar almost. It wore a tattered green robe with silver trimmings and a signet ring of black onyx. Is that?

  “Amel-Belet?” the name slipped off her tongue.

  The two froze as her voice echoed in the quiet chamber, but the mummy didn’t move. Kruvas?, she thought, releasing a shaky breath, as she took another step closer.

  The captain of the western quarter moved like liquid as it rose to its feet. With one smooth movement, it swept the black, curved blade into its hand and lunged forward.

  Nissila?t shoved her aside as the sword’s point thrust through where her head had been, and Ihra rolled to her feet.

  “Fall back,” the Stryn woman called. “I’ll distract him.” Her body twisted and morphed as she sank into the shadows and remerged behind Ame?l-Bele?t, but her backstab failed.

  Clearly superior to the mummies in the square, the undead captain whirled around with unnatural speed and its blade nicked Nissila?t’s torso before she dissolved back into shadows.

  “Leave her alone.” With a running jump, Ihra catapulted to the top of the nearest sepulcher, drawing her bow as she ran. The captain turned his attention to her, racing after her with a swiftness surpassing her own, but she fired a shot as she jumped off the ledge.

  She braced herself for the landing, rolling to the side as the mummy leapt down beside her and hammered his black blade against the ground. A second arrow bloomed out of his throat a moment later before she raced behind the sepulcher.

  It gave chase, but tripped as the shadows pooled at its feet, and Ihra spun around, firing an arrow straight through its eyes. It lunged forward with a roar, fist raised above its head, and Ihra only realized at the last second what it was doing. “Watch out-”

  “DIPA?R.” With two arrows embedded in its throat, and a set of vocal cords that hadn’t been used in centuries, the word was barely intelligible, but the magic ignited nonetheless.

  Nissila?t rolled on the ground screaming as her shadows were forcibly dispelled, and the bright burst of light blinded Ihra. Trusting only in her memory of where the mummy had been and the guidance of her ears, she rotated slightly and fired another arrow before throwing herself to the ground. As she rolled through the dust, she felt her piercing tick up another notch and knew she had scored a hit.

  Pain wracked her back as she hit the edge of a sepulchre and scrambled upward. The sound of footsteps thundered toward her and, still blinded by the light, she shot an arrow straight down at the ground and flung herself backwards. Moonlit Shards.

  Bellows of pain filled the chamber as the former captain trod on her caltrops and she scurried away, holding onto the edge of the sepulchre to guide her. She ducked on an impulse as a sound echoed behind her, feeling the kiss of the blade against her skin, and spun around.

  Black spots still danced across her vision, but she could see Amel-Belet well enough to aim for his throat as she drew the arrow back. Executioner’s Blade.

  She tripped as it loosed, and it dipped a little bit lower than she’d intended, punching into the captain’s sternum. Still unbothered by its wounds, the undead Fey charged at her, and she had no time to watch the arrow’s progress as she desperately wove her way through the frenzied flurry of blows the former captain rained down on her.

  She wasn’t fast enough. She screamed in pain as the black blade hit her shoulder, shattering the bone beneath and flickering her to the ground, but as she fell the shadows surged around him, and the captain lost his balance.

  He landed beside her, the black blade narrowly missing her face, and their eyes met. “Ame?l-Bele?t?” For a moment, a hint of intelligence gleamed in its eyes. Then Executioner’s Blade finally activated.

  The aroma of charred flesh filled the air as his torso was cloven in two by the burning blade, and the light in its eyes faded.

  “You alright.”

  Ihra whimpered as a hand reached down to grab her. “Easy, my shoulder’s shattered.”

  Adjusting her hand, Nissila?t helped her up and the two collapsed against the sepulcher, taking a few deep breaths before they retrieved healing potions from their bags.

  “You called him by name,” Nissila?t spoke first, as the scorch marks across her body began to fade.

  Ihra nodded, rotating her reknit shoulder gingerly, before explaining. “It was someone we saw in the vision. He was supposed to die in the forum.”

  “Clearly he didn’t.”

  “Clearly,” Ihra agreed. She leaned back against the sepulchre and closed her eyes, summoning the strength needed to rise and retrieve the others. If Ame?l-Bele?t hadn’t made it out of the city, did that mean the others had fallen as well? Hopefully we didn't go back in time just to spawn ourselves a bunch of new enemies.