The passageway’s walls offered a stage to the dancing light, its old stone surface illuminated from the cracking torchlight carried by the ghostly pale courser leading the team of four. The warm hues painted the corridor to a warmer colour, offering some solace for the party shrouded in darkness. There was no chatter disturbing the silence this time, but a tense quiet, all either focusing on the echoing hoofsteps of the group, or keeping their eyes glued to a certain view, like the one walking in front or this offered performance of the torchlight. 

There was something eerie in the mission leading the four stallions that day. Soon they were not alone with their shadows, but a mysterious dull liquid, gashing underneath the rocky footing, pulsating like blood in the veins. Hard to say if any found comfort in this newfound companion of theirs, even Honeybun, the gluttonous slime of Caspian refused to take a bite. Something was very wrong with these dense liquids and Caspian wished they didn't get the chance to figure out what. Not so uninterested, Caelum was quite encouraged by the presence of something possibly evil. His mission being to discover possible threats and harmful objects which could hurt others and be a danger, he was quite fueled by zealous passion. Even though having a sharp mind and a good head on his neck, his wisdom lacks due to his fiery will to do good.

Light fills the exit of the passageway and the group of four comes to a halt when they find themselves in a tomb. The crescent moonlight penetrates down in the open cracks of the earth, beaming a ray of pale light down onto the half opened sarcophagus. It is made by a peculiar stine, which looks somewhat translucent and appears to be glowing in the moonlight. Detailed and defined carving can be seen on the side, painting several scenes of hunt, travel and worship, yet neither appears familiar to the untrained eyes. For it is thin, two legged and sharp eared creatures who are the main characters in the carvings. 

Among the four, Caelum is the first to step closer, however he gots quickly intervened by the dark stallion. A single golden eye piercing through him and alerting for danger.

“ This is no ordinary tomb. Someone was buried here, alone and separated, sealed from the others for a reason. Exercise precaution and be prepared. “ - only now does the rest discover the chains and circling lined around the sarcophagus, parts of the shattered and destroyed. Ratatoskr's warning rooted in the heart of the rest fortunately, and even the overconfident, self-proclaimed leader let him approach the eerie stepstones of the circular altar. The dark liquid, like the roots of a tree, is flowing from the sarcophagus, twisting and turning as they try to find a way away from the chamber.

The Blood-hued black stallion feels a burning sensation as he closes distance with the resting place of the unknown elf, with every step his golden eye resisting to the host of the body, till the point he reaches the opened lid and pears inside. Skeleton remains of a thin, humanoid creature can be found inside, his ribcage pierced with several silver blades, legs and wrists nailed to the stone-like coffin and teeth as sharp as the thorn blades supposed to end his existence. 

Just like the knives, Ratatoskr can feel a sharp pain, dropping to the ground and exhaling his pain. Wind gusts through the chamber, blowing like a scream, hurtful and terrifying. The body might have perished due to the embrace of death, but something remained. A vengeful will, a grief and grudge, the unfulfilled rage and unsatisfied hatred of the spirit.

“ We . . . are not welcome here ” - few worlds could leave the lips of the dark stallion, but was enough for the rest to understand the magnitude of the situation. The dark liquid feels your panic and reacts in kind, ushering backwards and filling the stone coffin with void. It takes shape, not quite exact, something which might have once resembled something living now finds difficulty to remember. Drakes galoppes through the chamber, his hooves heavy on the stone floor and every echo disrupting the liquid in its work. Scooping up the unable partymate of his, the pearl shine stallion drags Ratatoskr back to the party as the rest is rooted to the floor from the sight unfolding in front of their very eyes.

The words of the Harvester flash in their minds, and only then things make sense now.

TBC