As the chill of night descended upon the village, the entire group, save for Torvald and Buren, congregated within the grandeur of the spirit transference room. The muted glow from the torches cast an eerie, dancing light across the chamber, accentuating the intricate designs etched into the stone walls and the large altar dominating the room. Against the altar, Evangeline's body sat, bound tightly by ropes that coiled around her wrists and ankles. Despite the containment, her eyes were alive, animated by anger and malice that seemed entirely alien to those familiar with her.

  A distance away, the emancipated figure lay on a makeshift bed, crafted from the bedding they'd retrieved from the carriage. Though barely more than a husk, the being bore Evangeline's consciousness within it. Her spirit, trapped within this fragile shell, fought valiantly against the frailty of the body, but its weak constitution limited her ability to communicate effectively.

  The tension within the room was palpable, a tangible thickness that seemed to choke the air out of the room. It was broken by the sound of footsteps echoing against the stone floor. Buren strode into the room, his heavy boots thudding against the ancient floor, the Gauntlet glinting ominously in the flickering torchlight. Without a word, he crouched beside the prone figure, a small vial appearing in his hand. The crimson liquid within glowed ominously as he uncorked it, its scent rich and intoxicating, wafting through the room.

  Emeric, watching the proceedings with furrowed brows, finally voiced the question that had been burning in their minds, "What is that?"

  "Extract from red lotus," Buren replied, his voice as steady as his hand that poured the potent liquid into the figure's mouth.

  The reaction from Faelun was immediate. "A potent concoction like that could kill her," he warned, eyes wide with apprehension.

  "She's dead either way if we don't figure this out," came Buren's grim reply.

  As the liquid was swallowed, the frail body jerked violently. Its eyes shot open, the irises glowing an intense crimson, while its back arched unnaturally. The skeletal limbs twitched and convulsed, each movement seemingly straining the thin skin stretched taut over bone.

  "Hold her down," Buren commanded, clamping his hand onto the figure's forehead, forcing a piece of cloth into its mouth to prevent it from biting its tongue.

  Emeric, acting on instinct, darted forward and grabbed the figure's flailing legs. He gazed into her anguished eyes and said, "Don't you dare go dying on me."

  At this spectacle, Evangeline's body - now the vessel of an unknown entity - let out a chilling laugh.

  After what seemed like an eternity of agonizing convulsions, the frail figure finally lay still. The room fell eerily quiet, the only sounds being the flickering of the torches and the collective held breath of those present. The figure appeared deathly still, so much so that it seemed as if the spirit within had finally given up its struggle. Emeric's face twisted in horror, the chilling reality of the situation reflected in his wide, terrified eyes.

  Suddenly, the figure gasped. A wheezing, gasping breath that filled the room with renewed tension. It was alive. Eyes blinked open, and the collective sigh of relief that echoed through the room was almost palpable. Buren's lips curved up slightly into an uncharacteristically gentle smile, a grateful thought in his mind, "One more day without burying a friend."

  Buren swiftly removed the cloth from its mouth and asked, "Can you talk?" The figure took a moment to regain its bearings. A bout of hacking coughs erupted from the figure, followed by weak, raspy attempts at words. Finally, it managed to whisper in a frail voice, "Yes, I think so."

  "Tell us what happened, and be as detailed as you can," Buren commanded.

  Emeric, crouched at the figure's side opposite Buren, interrupted, "Shouldn't we give her time to rest?" His voice was filled with concern, his eyes pleading.

  "The effect of the potion won't last, and she'll be worse off than she was before it," Buren explained, his eyes never leaving the figure's face. "We need to hurry."

  Emeric's face turned from shock to fury in an instant. His hands shot forward, clamping onto Buren's lapels and pulling him close. "And you didn't think to tell us this beforehand? What are we to you, just pawns on your gameboard you can sacrifice as you see fit?" he growled, his voice echoing with a wrathful rage.

  Buren didn't meet his gaze, didn't defend himself, simply staring blankly ahead. "What, am I not worthy of an answer?" Emeric demanded, his anger reaching a boiling point.

  The frail figure suddenly moved, its bony hand reaching out to rest on Emeric's knee. "He is right," it whispered, its voice barely more than a breath. "The mission comes first. That's the way I want it. This way, I can be of use, even if you don't manage to save me."

  Emeric's face fell at her words, the fury dissolving into sorrow. "Don't say that," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "We'll find a way."

  Emeric released Buren, letting his hand fall to his sides, and collapsed onto the floor. He sat there, at her side, reminiscent of a patient's relative waiting in a temple of healing.

  Buren gestured towards Faelun, waving him closer. The old man nodded and approached, his novices helping him sit down. "Yes, I'd better hear this," Faelun agreed, his voice steady as they all prepared to listen to the tale that was about to unfold.

  With the room hushed in tense silence, the figure began to weave her tale. She spoke of how she had explored the building alone, her keen eyes identifying the cryptic symbols on the walls as those they had been searching for. Just as she was about to head back to inform the others, a body she had initially taken for a lifeless carcass had shifted.

  "I had my blades out in an instant, thinking it undead. But then I felt a pulse, faint but undeniable," her voice was a whisper, her words heavy with regret. "His lips were moving. He was whispering something."

  She then recalled how she leaned in closer, trying to decipher the foreign incantations.

  "It was just the same few sentences being repeated over and over, but I had never heard the language before."

  Her voice grew unsteady as she spoke of how the crystals on the altar had begun to glow, the strange incantation repeating like a cursed chant.

  "All of a sudden, the plants and powders and the mysterious liquids set on plates and goblets flared into life, their flames dancing in rhythm with his chants. The symbols on the walls...they started glowing. I tried to escape but it was too late. My body fell to the floor, but I...I was no longer inside it," she said, her voice trembling with the memory of the terrifying experience.

  A translucent figure had appeared before her - a young, strong man with swarthy skin, marred by the scars of the Rupture. A sense of dread washed over her as she found herself being pulled towards the skeletal body, like an invisible tide, before being trapped within. At the same time, the man had floated across the air, into her body.

  "Seeing through the eyes of this body was like looking through a foggy window. Moving the limbs...it was like trying to break free from iron shackles. All I could do was watch as my own body stood up," she choked out.

  Her voice grew bitter as she continued, "He was gleeful. He was ecstatic to be in my body. He...he laughed and danced, touching my face, my body...overjoyed by his new abode."

  As the haunting memory played out before her mind's eye, she continued, "Cadoc was the first to enter, having come to look for me. Then he turned his back to what he though was me and...and he reached for my blades. His eyes...they were murderous. But Emeric appeared just in time. He...he reconsidered, slid the blades back into their scabbards."

  As the room remained quiet, a captive audience to her horrific ordeal, she pressed on with her tale. "There are echoes," she continued in a voice barely above a whisper. "Echoes of the one who used to own this body. I remember things I haven't experienced. I remember battles, fierce and bloody, fought amongst people who look like him. The man who stole my body."

  Her voice grew softer, almost wistful, as she delved deeper into the unfamiliar memories. "I remember the sting of betrayal, a companion I thought was close. Left alone to die, I stumbled into this chamber."

  She stopped for a moment, visibly collecting herself before continuing. "I hastily set up the ritual for the spirit transference, dragged in a body, someone raised to be a sacrifice in the ritual. But the wounds were too much. I was too weak. And...and the would-be vessel...it kicked me. In the crotch." she choked out, her face flushing at the embarrassing memory. "Never having felt such pain before, and I hope I never have to experience it again. I fell to the ground. He...he managed to escape."

  Her voice turned into a bare whisper, the pained memory too fresh. "With my last ounce of strength, I crawled to the chamber and slumped next to the altar. I remember the words I spoke, a curse, a pledge of vengeance on my own people."

  A distant look took over her eyes as she delved further into the stolen memories. "I thought it was my last breath, but instead of fading to darkness, I found myself clinging to life. Unable to move, barely able to breathe, I realized the circumstances, the surrounding conditions much have been just right to make the curse real. To imbue the wish with magic."

  The memories flowed, revealing years of painful existence. "I felt my body wither away, unnaturally slow. Each breath a struggle, each heartbeat a curse. The words of the ritual were my only companion in the lonely years, etched into my mind. Waiting...hoping that someone would finally stumble in."

  Buren's voice cut through the silence that had fallen after her tale, "Let's focus on the now. Do you remember the incantation?"

  Her nod was weak, but affirmative, followed by a raspy, "Yes, I remember it."

  His next question was immediate, "The necessary ingredients?"

  A moment of pause, her brows furrowing in concentration, "I think so...Yes, I do. I remember them. I remember where to find them too."

  Faelun moved closer, the old scholar's face full of interest, "Tell us."

  And so she did. She spoke of the plants needed for the ritual, how they look, where they could be found.

  "The crystals, too, need to be replaced," she added, even when the extensive explanation was causing the throat of the body she inhabited to turn coarse as sandpaper, the talking tiring the jaw.

  "Splendid!" Faelun exclaimed. "This will be a great trial run, we can ensure the procedure is safe before we proceed with the King."

  "We are not using her for a trial run!" Emeric's interruption was forceful, his stance unyielding. "We aren't proceeding with anything until we're sure it is safe."

  "Of course," Faelun hastily agreed.

  "One more thing," she murmured, her frail voice pulling their attention back. "I can't see my body from here...If I can remember parts of his life, he might also remember parts of mine, including how to escape binds and confinement."

  Their heads turned as one to the spot where her body had been bound. Now, only the ropes remained, her body was gone.

  "Flood it," Emeric swore, his face contorting in a mixture of fear and anger as he reached for his sword and shield. He was about to exit the room when Buren's hand on his arm stopped him.

  "What?" Emeric barked.

  Buren's gaze was steady on him. "I need you here. You need to watch over her and the rest."

  "I think he's right, Emeric," Faelun interjected. "According to the texts, these people destroyed their previous bodies to ensure no one could reverse the ritual. He's likely trying to do the same."

  "I'll go check on Torvald," Buren continued. "He knows not to trust anyone that looks like Evangeline. Remember, he is intent on harming and killing us. No one is to leave Emeric's sight. I will go look for the ingredients and follow the trail of our fugitive."

  And with that, Buren turned on his heels, leaving the chamber. His eyes immediately sought out the faint marks left by Evangeline's boots on the dusty floor, his mind already calculating their next move.

  Buren set off following the distinct tracks left by Evangeline's boots, which led him outside and towards their campsite. His pace increased to a jog, urgency fuelling his movements. As he approached, the panicked whinnies of their horses reached his ears, and he broke into a sprint. Rounding the corner of an ancient building, he found Torvald by the horses, pulling on the reins in an attempt to calm the restless beasts.

  "She—I mean he—whatever, they were here," Torvald began as soon as he saw Buren. However, he quickly turned suspicious eyes on Buren. "Tell me something only the real you could know and which I know to be true."

  Without missing a beat, Buren replied, "You played deaf to get a job with the Inquisition."

  A palpable sense of relief seemed to wash over Torvald. "Good enough for me," he said, relaxing his guarded stance. Buren's gaze had already turned to the ground, studying the fresh tracks that led directly to their camp and intertwined with Torvald's own footprints.

  "So, Evangeline's body came by," Torvald confirmed, following Buren's line of sight. "The man inside tried to take the horses, but he's not too familiar with her weapons. I was able to drive him off with my club."

  Buren's eyes narrowed on the tracks that veered off in a different direction from the camp. "He went that way," Torvald confirmed, following Buren's gaze. Nodding, Buren spoke up, "He has at least some of the memories left over in Evangeline's body. If his condition is like hers, he could potentially learn more as he stays in her body."

  "You're likely correct," Torvald said, nodding in agreement. "When he first approached, he tried to strike up conversation to fool me, but his pronunciation was off. I could tell the ritual had not yet been reversed."

  With another nod, Buren set off in the direction of the tracks. "His trail leads towards the area where the plants for the ritual supposedly grow," he mused to himself. "Convenient...or perhaps..." A more alarming possibility crossed his mind, quickening his steps. The dusty ground made the tracking easy, and if he had all the time of the world, he could have conserved his strength and let his prey tire itself by hurrying. However, his current target might do some damage if he got enough of a head start, so Buren, too, kept his pace up.

  Buren traced the path Evangeline's body had taken, which led him outside of the village and into a forest marked by the telltale signs of the Rupture. Bushy trees sported translucent trunks and leaves, their forms marred by ethereal tears caused by the Rupture's devastating influence. The omnipresent dust lent the surroundings a ghostly glow, but Buren caught sight of another flicker of light emanating from deeper within the forest. The scent of smoke confirmed his growing suspicion: his quarry intended to obliterate the ritual's key ingredients.

  Bursting through the dense undergrowth, Buren found himself on the edge of a grove, its trees aflame. The fire had ravaged the lower branches, leaving a charred skeleton in its wake. Amid the destruction, remnants of clay canisters littered the ground, evidence of the accelerant used to stoke the fire. Yet, untouched by the inferno below, the treetops held a bounty of large, blue flowers in full bloom. The trees crackled in the heat, and the seams of the Rupture running their lengths ruptured with volatile energy.

  Buren couldn't help a grim smile. "The ritual calls for 'Blossoms that conjoin with the night itself'," he mused, casting his gaze upwards to the flowers that mirrored the deep blue of the night sky. "It appears I've found the right place. My adversary left quite the beacon."

  Buren's eyes zeroed in on a blossoming flower hanging precariously above him. He spun the Gauntlet around from its shoulder joint, building up momentum until the metal limb was merely a blur. He took a few calculated running steps to build up more speed and leaped, throwing all the impetus he had built up in the Gauntlet in the same direction and launched himself towards the flower. The force of his Gauntlet-propelled leap sent him soaring over the towering tree. At the apex of his ascent, his hand closed around the delicate blossom.

  His momentum sent him flipping over the tree. Facing the ground now, it rushed towards him at an alarming speed. Quick to react, Buren used the Gauntlet to strike the earth obliquely, deflecting his fall and sending him into a sidelong roll. He came out of it in a fluid motion, smoothly rising to his feet.

  A quick check confirmed the blue flower was undamaged. Buren carefully stowed it away in his cloak before turning his attention back to the forest. Snapped branches offered a clear trail of his target's flight. He set off in pursuit, his pace unfaltering. The cat-and-mouse chase was far from over.

  Buren followed the tracks until they led him to a towering cliff face. The tracks continued beyond it, but his attention was drawn to a cluster of large, purple mushrooms growing high on the cliff. "These must be the ones whose fluids need to be squeezed for the ritual," he recognized. Before his quarry could locate more fuel to ignite a blaze, Buren decided to gather these first.

  He readied himself for a typical Gauntlet-assisted ascent, crouched and sprang upwards. His talons aimed to sink into the rock, but instead met an immovable surface. He stumbled back to the ground in surprise. "Impressive," he remarked, examining the cliff. "No wonder it still stands after centuries of erosion caused by the Rupture. It is hard as...well, rock." The stone was formidable, but the surface was dotted with crevices and outcrops that served as handholds for a more traditional way of climbing.

  Using the Gauntlet for leverage, Buren scaled the cliff. The climb was effortless with the assistance of the artifact, its iron grip holding him secure, its strength moving him ever higher with ease. Just as he made another leap upward, a sharp clink echoed from the spot he'd just vacated. Looking down, he spotted the broken remnants of an arrow, broken in two after hitting the stone instead of his back.

  "So, a change of tactics," he surmised. "Rather than destroy the ingredients, he plans to take out the collector." Eyes narrowed, Buren scanned his surroundings. The forest was still. However, his sharpened senses picked up on a fleeting movement behind a tree. His hand shot out, his Gauntlet snapping the incoming arrow from the air with unerring precision.

  With a fluid motion, he spun the arrow around in his fingers and sent it sailing back towards its source. The arrow embedded itself in the tree, sending a shudder through the nearby foliage as his startled adversary retreated. Having made his point, Buren launched himself to the height of the mushrooms. He gathered a generous amount into his bag before descending the cliff.

  His quarry was not far away, and Buren resumed his pursuit, unfazed by the sudden attack.

  Buren emerged from the forest into an open expanse of sandy terrain.

  "The winds and eruptions must hit these areas differently, based on surrounding shapes of land," he surmised. "The forest stands due to cover offered by the impenetrable cliffs, while the erosion has eaten away everything just nearby."

  Ahead, Evangeline's form retreated, a small figure on the vast desert canvas. He could easily knock her out with a stone launched from the Gauntlet's formidable grip, its unerring aim too much for anyone to avoid for long. Yet, he refrained, unwilling to harm her body, and so he maintained his steady chase.

  Her figure vanished behind a large sand dune. As Buren reached the top, he was greeted by an unexpected sight. A massive crevasse stretched out before him, a profound scar on the face of the earth. A constant stream of dust and sand, deposited by the persistent winds, cascaded down into the abyss.

  The trail had been erased by the shifting sands, yet Buren was certain he hadn't lost his target.

  "Must have dug himself in the sand somewhere nearby," he judged.

  He carefully descended the dune, the grains shifting beneath his boots with each step. He was near the location where Evangeline had suggested the necessary crystals could be found.

  Buren halted at the crevasse's edge and peered down into the profound darkness. Amid the cascading sands, he spotted the amber glint of a crystal, set against the chasm's enigmatic gloom. The abyss seemed insatiable, having absorbed dust for centuries without ever reaching saturation.

  Leaving the surface behind, Buren dove into the abyss, his Gauntlet latching onto the crevasse wall. The continuous rain of sand and dust would have been a treacherous challenge for any other climber. Yet, for Buren, his Gauntlet effortlessly clawed into the stone, providing him with a reliable grip.

  Upon reaching the crystal, he wrested it from the wall amidst a shower of sand that cascaded down his neck, trickling beneath his clothes. Suddenly, an echoing boom resounded from above. He craned his neck, only to be met with a dreadful sight: a massive landslide, a literal sand avalanche was tumbling towards him.

  His mind calculated the odds in a split second. The opposing wall was too far away to reach, and the landslide was too rapid to outrun. If it hit him, he would be torn to pieces, leaving only the Gauntlet, gripping the crevasse wall in a futile last stand against the Rupture's erosion.

  Reacting with inhuman speed, Buren propelled himself upwards, thrusting away from the wall. His momentum barely outpaced the cascading sand, and he avoided its crushing mass, but he was now suspended over utter void, with nothing apart from the sand within arm's reach. Amidst this chaos, a strange thought flashed through his mind, "If salmon can swim upstream, why can't I?"

  With a roar, he swam against the sandfall. He drew the Gauntlet through the grains like a swimmer through water, its claws spread wide. Utilizing all its power, he found enough resistance to prevent himself from being swept away. To his surprise, he began to ascend, swimming against the grain-fall like a salmon against a waterfall.

  As the sand torrent started to wane, he secured his grip back onto the wall. With a powerful upward thrust, he launched himself out of the abyss, landing on his feet at its edge, his cloak billowing around him.

  Despite his heavy breaths, he was intact. He spotted his quarry on top of a now lower sand dune. The man trapped within Evangeline's body looked at Buren in sheer terror before turning tail and fleeing once more. Buren took a moment to catch his breath, dusting off his clothes and shaking the sand from his ears before resuming his pursuit.

  "He certainly has enough tricks up his sleeve," Buren thought. Just then, a crystal pulsating with green light came sailing in the air over the dune. When it touched the sparkling sand, both the crystal and surrounding sand flashed pear green and burst with energy, letting out a booming shockwave. Buren covered his face with his cloak, and withstood the blast.

  "So, that's how he caused the avalanche," he thought as the roar died down. "Must have grabbed them from the armory, with the staff."

  His quarry's pace had slackened, the stamina of Evangeline's body waning from the persistent exertion in the shifting, unyielding sands. Buren followed, maintaining a steady pursuit. They were drawing closer to the city, a fact that suited him perfectly. He had gathered all the ritual ingredients; now all he needed was to apprehend the body that rightfully belonged to Evangeline.

  The figure had darted into a small stone structure, one of the few visible entirely above the dusty landscape. Upon entering, Buren found a stone staircase leading downwards. A sun-bleached altar stood in the center of the room, directly beneath a hole in the ceiling. It was easy to surmise that, during the day, the midday sun would shine directly upon it.

  Descending the stairs, he discovered a vast level below, far more spacious than the one above ground. Further stairs beckoned him downward. Retrieving a glowstone from his bag, he secured it into a sconce on the breast of his cloak, casting a pale illumination that cut through the darkness.

  What he'd assumed to be a humble place of worship was, in fact, the pinnacle of a far larger structure—a tower, perhaps—buried beneath an unimaginable weight of sand. His opponent's trail led through this unknown territory, and Buren knew he had to tread carefully.

  Crystal murals adorned the walls, their vibrant hues depicting scenes from both the everyday and the extraordinary—battles and celebrations, acts of devotion and sacrifice. He barely glanced at them, keen not to allow any distractions to interfere with his mission. He decided against mentioning the place to his comrades; they'd have to drag the curious Faelun away by force.

  Each level he descended was more vast than the one above, a pattern that painted an image of a massive, terraced pyramid encased in layers of sand. Despite the dim light of the glowstone, Buren's experienced gaze easily traced the tracks left in the sand. He followed the trail, delving deeper and deeper into the depths of the ancient structure.

  After descending through countless levels, Buren finally heard the echo of footfalls against the stone floor. He was closing in on his quarry. Softening his own strides, he advanced like a shadow, led by the sound to a monumental chamber.

  In the heart of the chamber, his adversary clambered up a flight of stone steps onto a raised dais. On a pedestal there rested a sword, its blade forged from a vibrant orange crystal that pulsed with an otherworldly energy. The figure of Evangeline, occupied by the intruding entity, closed her hand around the hilt of the blade. Buren noted the roof above the dais was made of clear crystal, like the parts of the floor on the levels above it.

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  "This arrangement must allow sunlight to penetrate all the way here, concentrating it to a point," Buren mused.

  Turning to face Buren, the man inside Evangeline leveled the sword at him. Her voice resonated through the chamber, awkward and stilted as if grappling with a new language, "Your magic is powerful, intruder, but this is where you will fall."

  Buren met his gaze steadfastly, replying in calm tones, "Just come quietly, and we will take you to a place where you can be helped once you return to your body."

  "No!" The shout came, a strange mix of raw fury and Evangeline's gentle voice. "I'm never returning to that prison. This body has the strength, conditioning, and grace I want. I deserve such a body after all I have endured."

  "It doesn't bother you to be in a woman's body?" Buren probed, his brow furrowed.

  A look of scorn twisted Evangeline's features as he retorted, "Why would it? In my countless lives, I have been a woman as many times as a man, the difference is as insignificant as you would consider a different style of clothes. Granted, you have the upper hand in sheer strength and physical ability, but that advantage is negated with the artifacts of my people. And once I am rid of you, I will indulge in a lifetime of pleasures only someone with the looks and sensitivity of a woman can know."

  "You'll have to rethink your retirement plan," Buren responded, beginning his cautious approach.

  His opponent swung the blade, and a crescent of blazing orange light surged towards him. The speed was too great even for the Gauntlet; he barely managed to shield part of his body with the armored limb when the wave of energy slammed into him.

  Pain, like a lash of burning fire, streaked across him. He was hurled backwards, colliding with the stone wall and crumpling to his knees. He rolled to the side instinctively, narrowly avoiding another flash of the searing attack that singed the stone where he had been moments ago. He scrambled to his feet, patting down the smoldering patches on his clothes.

  "I think you are right, intruder," his opponent called from the dais. "About my plans for the future. You have a body with impressive capabilities, not even counting that arm of yours. Once I have turned your companions to ash and gotten rid of my previous vessel, I will take the ingredients you have so courteously gathered and use them to switch our places. Then, I will go out, and with your constitution and the artefacts of my people, nothing can stop me. I will take you along, trapped in the body I currently inhabit, and you use you for my pleasure when the fancy strikes." Evangeline's face turned into a smile of perverse glee, an expression had surely never blemished her countenance before.

  With the flames extinguished, Buren's hand stealthily navigated under his cloak to the pouch of throwing stones he carried at his side. "I'll just have to apologize to her later," he thought, feeling the cool, hard edges of the stones against the Gauntlet's touch.

  With a swift and calculated movement, he launched one of the stones at his foe, his cloak billowing dramatically from the sudden force. His adversary was poised, however, and responded with an upward swipe of his sword, which cast a scorching arc of light. The stone was deflected, glowing red-hot as it rocketed upwards, ricocheting off the cavernous ceiling before skidding across the stone floor, heat radiating off it in visible waves.

  But Buren couldn't spare a second to track its course. His opponent was already unleashing a barrage of wild sword swipes that sent threatening arcs of light slicing through the air in his direction. He was prepared this time, dancing and darting through the lethal light show with a fluidity that made his movements near unpredictable. He spun, somersaulted, and cartwheeled, every twist and turn a narrow evasion of the deadly bursts.

  Descending the steps of the dais, his opponent closed the gap, shouting, "You can't keep dodging forever!" The figure of Evangeline fished a green crystal from his pouch with her other hand and tossed it in Buren's path. It erupted in a blinding flash upon contact with the accumulated dust, and the force of the explosion flung Buren backwards. His adversary was relentless, continuing to send blazing arcs of light his way even as he was thrown off balance.

  Yet Buren's reflexes prevailed. He twisted mid-air like a cat, latching onto the floor with the Gauntlet's clawed fingers to reverse his momentum, executing a swift sequence of backward cartwheels before landing deftly on his feet. Without missing a beat, he flung another throwing stone towards his enemy, but it was swatted away just like the first.

  Evangeline's face was alight with the thrill of the battle as her possessor boasted, "I can't wait to take the reins of your form! You have certainly taken good care of it." He brandished the blade at Buren, his tone taunting, "Just give up, so I don't have to burn you too badly."

  Buren studied the glowing weapon, the brilliance of its orange hue making him squint. "That weapon of his is certainly something," he thought.

  "Like it?" the man inside Evangeline called, spinning the sword effortlessly in his hand. "A masterpiece whose perfection took our master blacksmith multiple lifetimes of meticulous work. Finding a flawless piece of crystal large enough, then working it in a way that would allow the power to collect within and flow without hindrance, years of waiting for the correct conditions to put in the right spells... Such a weapon is beyond the capabilities of your kind, those who are chained to their bodies, even as they decay."

  He held the blade aloft, the room awash with its luminescence. "It has collected sunlight for centuries, and its reserves won't run out any time soon."

  "He's right", Buren mused, his eyes never leaving his adversary. "An indirect approach isn't working. Time to test the much-touted artifacts of his people against one of my own." He moved towards his opponent in steady strides, holding the Gauntlet up as a shield, its fingers spread. The metallic limb rumbled ominously, a sign that the magic it was about to confront was strong.

  "Are you trying to ruin my next abode?" his opponent sneered, a note of mockery coloring Evangeline's voice. The blade of orange crystal jabbed Buren's direction and a spear of light shot out, striking the Gauntlet's palm. Buren was forced to slide backwards but managed to maintain his footing, the hot air singeing his face. The Gauntlet withstood the attack and Buren quickened his advance.

  His opponent swiped and stabbed his blade of light, each impact creating a formidable force that slowed Buren's progression. The air grew unbearably hot, searing his lungs as he inhaled and he shielded his face with his cloak.

  Changing his strategy, his opponent aimed the next attacks towards the ceiling. Large chunks of stone began falling around Buren, forcing him to dart sideways to avoid being crushed. Simultaneously, another sweeping arc of light was sent his way. His footing was unstable and he was knocked backwards, spiraling in the air before landing on his feet.

  The Gauntlet was glowing a vivid red, the intense heat it had absorbed starting to singe his flesh at the metallic shoulder. "I'm making no headway this way, either," he conceded inwardly.

  The arena came to a jarring standstill. Buren, sweat dripping down his forehead and his metallic arm glowing a dull red, stilled his movements and took a moment to center himself. His posture sagged slightly, a testament to the heavy decision he was about to make. His opponent, on the other hand, was exuding an aura of confident superiority, content to wait out Buren's next move.

  "You will let my companions go," Buren stated firmly, his voice echoing through the chamber, "with the ingredients required for the ritual."

  His opponent seemed taken aback by his sudden proposal. "And why would I do that?" he responded, curiosity seeping into his tone.

  "Because that is the only way you are getting this body alive and in one piece," Buren replied, his gaze unwavering.

  For a fleeting moment, a look of surprise graced Evangeline's borrowed features, which quickly morphed into a victorious grin. "You have a deal."

  Buren entered back into the spirit transference chamber, a heavy aura of anticipation weighing down the atmosphere. His team's eyes widened in disbelief at his arrival, only to turn horrified at the sight of Evangeline striding behind him, the orange crystal blade pointing threateningly at Buren's back.

  Emeric shot up, his warrior instincts kicking in as he unsheathed his sword and shield, ready to charge. However, a swift, assuring gesture from Buren stopped him in his tracks.

  "That's right, follow your leader," Buren's opponent sneered, the foreign voice resonating in the chamber. "Don't be mad at him. If you ask me, he's made the most of his situation."

  He carefully maintained his distance, staying close to the wall as he maneuvered further into the room. He gestured towards the exit with his blade and declared, "Just me, metal-arm here, and my previous vessel. The rest of you: out."

  Their collective gazes shifted to Buren for confirmation, only to receive a solemn nod.

  Buren handed a bag filled with the necessary components for the ritual to Faelun. "Here are what is required for the ritual. The next time you see Evangeline, she should be herself, and hopefully remembers the invocations. You can save the King."

  "But what about you?" Elwin choked out, his voice breaking with worry.

  Buren merely shrugged noncommittally. "The next time you see him," his opponent interjected, a wicked grin playing on Evangeline's lips, "there's been a change in leadership."

  A gasp echoed through the room as the realization of his words sunk in.

  "There has to be another way," Emeric protested, but the ominous glow of the crystal blade cut him off.

  "I have waited for centuries, and my patience is at its end. Leave now, or I will reduce you to ash," their adversary threatened, a malicious glint entering into Evangeline's eyes.

  Their mouths opened to argue, but a soft gesture from Buren silenced them. He looked at each one of them, his gaze filled with a sorrowful determination. "I trust you to complete the mission," he said.

  Their spirits seemed to deflate all at once, the weight of their predicament taking a toll on their determination. One by one, they filed out, casting one last glance at their leader. The novices swallowed hard, tears welling in their eyes as they exited, leaving Buren behind.

  Buren crouched by the frail form possessed by Evangeline, the body wasting away, as the intelligence behind the curse behind the unnatural longevity had left. Tenderly, he clasped her skeletal hand in his own, providing a warmth that her deteriorating body could no longer produce.

  "Don't do this," she implored in a whisper, her voice barely audible. "The realm needs you, more than me at least. I am not afraid to die."

  Buren simply raised a finger to her chapped lips, urging her to preserve the scant strength left in her dying body. The effect of the red lotus was due to wane any moment now. He wished to maximize every second of their limited time.

  "Admiring the abode where you will spend your final moments?" His adversary jeered from across the chamber, his hands meticulously arranging the components for the ritual on the stone altar.

  Buren remained silent, his eyes observant. Not only was there a complete set of ingredients for the ritual, but there was also an additional set. It appeared that their agreement was being honored, at least to this point.

  "Take position over there," his opponent commanded once satisfied with the layout on the altar.

  They moved, their positions forming the points of an invisible triangle around the altar.

  "Any last words?" The man occupying Evangeline's body asked, his grin widening with sadistic pleasure.

  Buren merely stared, his silence resolute.

  "I'll be sure to make better use of that voice of yours," his opponent remarked, seemingly disappointed at Buren's lack of response. "You're just no fun at all."

  With that, he began the incantation, the sound of Evangeline's voice rising and falling rhythmically as the complex verses of the spell filled the chamber. The symbols etched on the walls of the chamber began to shimmer and glow, a spectral light creeping across their ancient forms. The crystal artifacts on the altar pulsated with the same ethereal glow, their illumination intensifying with each passing moment. The ritual ingredients, obtained from the exotic flora of the realm, started to emit tendrils of smoke before bursting into a controlled, mystic flame.

  Suddenly, the chamber seemed to convulse as a powerful pulse of energy swept across the room. Buren was thrown back, his body slamming against the hard stone floor. As he struggled to reorient himself, he felt an unsettling lightness. His body seemed to have fallen, lifeless and inert like a marionette whose strings had been severed, while he hovered above it.

  He raised his hands to his face, his eyes wide with shock. They were both flesh and blood. The metallic Gauntlet was conspicuously absent. Out of curiosity, he attempted to touch his right hand with his left, but they simply passed through each other without any sensation.

  "Intangible," he thought, his mind racing to understand his new state. His train of thought was interrupted when he felt an unseen force pulling him towards Evangeline's withering body. From his vantage point in the air, he noticed the ethereal forms of Evangeline and another man. Evangeline's spirit was being drawn back to her body, while the man's spirit, newly ejected from her form, was veering towards his own abandoned body.

  Buren felt an inexorable force draw him towards the desiccated body. His gaze lingered for a moment on his former shell, his eyes locking with the eager, hungry ones of the swarthy man's spirit reaching for it.

  "All or nothing," Buren steeled himself for the inevitable.

  His consciousness plunged into the frail body, the experience akin to diving into a still lake. But instead of water's embrace, he was engulfed in the strange sensations of this new form. Every feeling was faint initially, as if his senses were slowly adjusting to their new home. But a deep-seated fatigue soon overtook him, followed by an onslaught of pain, aches, difficulty in breathing, and an all-encompassing weakness.

  Peeling open his eyes was a struggle, like the effort of moving a carpenter's plane across a stubborn piece of wood. Each ragged breath was a battle, each inhalation sending sharp pangs through his chest.

  Through his blurred vision, he saw a figure collapse on her knees next to him. "Buren!" Evangeline cried out, her voice back in her rightful body. "Are you there?"

  He managed to give the faintest of nods in response. A low growl reached his ears, and he squinted to see Evangeline snatch up her blades and charge towards a vague shape beyond his limited vision.

  She brought her blades crashing down on the figure, who swiftly retaliated. There was a loud clash of metal, and the blades were flung from Evangeline's hands. She was thrown backwards, landing heavily by his side.

  "I'm sorry," she murmured, remorse lining her words. "I wasn't fast enough."

  "No one is," Buren replied internally, his physical voice failing him. "Not against the Gauntlet."

  "I wonder if she used the blunt of her blades to strike at my body," he thought in passing. "Better not to dwell on it."

  "You are lucky I'm in such a good mood that I'm going to honor our agreement instead of killing you," a familiar voice rang out. Buren's own voice.

  His eyes widened as his former body strode into his line of sight, his own face wearing a victorious grin. He watched as his body, now possessed by the stranger, admired the Gauntlet with unbridled delight. The man punched a hole in the wall, chuckling as chunks of stone shattered around the Gauntlet.

  "I'm not going to spend a moment longer in this accursed room," the man declared, hoisting the Gauntlet menacingly. Evangeline quickly covered Buren with her own body.

  "I'm not going to let you kill him," she vowed, her voice unwavering.

  "You have been there yourself," the man retorted. "You know the pain he is in, how his demise draws nearer even as we speak. I'm doing him a mercy, really."

  Evangeline's eyes shone with resolve. "He fought for me. I'm going to fight for him."

  "Ooh, this should be fun," the man sneered, his grin widening.

  Buren watched as Evangeline reclaimed her blades, while his body readied the Gauntlet for another strike. "She is not the slightest bit daunted, even when she must know she has no chance," Buren observed internally. "Brave, but stupid. I guess we have something in common, at least when it comes to stupidity."

  He felt Evangeline's muscles tense beside him, the spring before the leap. Mustering his dwindling strength, he lifted his hand and grasped hers. Her gaze flickered down to him in surprise. He tried to speak, but only a breath of air escaped his lips.

  "What was that?" she questioned, leaning closer. He repeated himself, her eyes widening in surprise.

  "Last words?" she repeated after him, clearly confused.

  "Ha!" His own voice roared with laughter, echoing off the cold, hard stone walls. "So, he finally came up with something good to say. Please, I'd be interested to hear what you have on your mind, just before it perishes with that crumbling body."

  Leaning closer, the imposter's gaze held an air of smug mockery. Buren closed his eyes, gathering his waning strength. His voice, surprisingly stronger than they'd have thought possible, delivered his final message.

  "The dreams," he intoned.

  Evangeline's eyes were wide with a potent mix of fear and confusion as Buren's cryptic final words echoed through the room. "What do you mean?" she demanded, her voice just above a whisper. Her question was answered not by Buren, but by the cruel laughter of the man now inhabiting Buren's body.

  "Isn't it clear?" he jeered, a wicked grin twisting Buren's familiar features into an unnerving caricature. "He's weary. Ready to sleep forevermore." His laughter echoed through the room as he raised the deadly Gauntlet, the threat of Buren's impending death hanging in the air. "And I'm more than willing to grant him his wish. Nighty-night, and don't worry—I'll be living the dream, in your stead—"

  But the laughter died in his throat, replaced by a gasp of surprise. His face contorted, first into confusion, then pure, unadulterated horror. His hands flew to his head as he reeled backwards, his cocksure demeanor evaporated. "These memories!" he shrieked, his voice echoing with terror. "What are they?"

  His eyes darted around the room, wild and unfocused. "Every night, they come," he moaned, his voice breaking with fear. "They're watching. They're always watching!" Panic seized him and he stumbled around the room, his eyes wide with terror as he sought an exit that wasn't there.

  "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?" he screamed, turning to face Buren's dying form. "I can feel them, I -- I -- what are they?" His voice trailed off into incoherent babbling, his terror palpable as he crumbled to his knees. "This can't be real," he sobbed, his hands clutching his chest as if he could physically fend off the memories invading his mind. "I can't breathe," he gasped, his breathing labored and quick.

  Evangeline watched him with a mix of horror and confusion, her gaze shifting between Buren's frail form and the man writhing in Buren's body. Buren's words made her attention snap to the frail form beside her. "Now," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "In the bag. Complete the ritual."

  "The dreams! The dreams!" their opponent wailed, thrashing on the floor.

  Without hesitation, Evangeline reached under the altar for the bag Buren had left there. To her surprise, it was filled with the components they needed to perform the ritual one more time. With a sense of urgency, she began the preparations, grinding the blossoms into a fine powder and squeezing the liquid from the pieces of mushroom.

  "No, I won't let you," Buren's voice echoed in the room. For a heart-stopping moment, Evangeline thought they'd been discovered, but the man in Buren's body didn't move towards her. Instead, he was fighting the unseen forces that tormented him, his wild swings making him lose balance and fall. Regaining his footing, he clawed at the stone wall, leaving deep marks behind.

  Ignoring the madness unfolding behind her, Evangeline focused on the ritual. Her fingers trembled as she placed the crystals in the exact position, ground the deep blue blossom into a fine powder and squeezed enough liquid from the moist mushroom to fill the plated. With a deep breath, she began to chant.

  Evangeline's voice rose and fell with the strange cadence of the incantation, the words, although familiar to her, sounded foreign and alien as they passed her lips. She stumbled over the pronunciation initially, her tongue tripping on the unfamiliar syllables. Yet the more she spoke, the easier the words became, her voice echoing the chant that she could hear in her mind.

  Evidence of her success was clear. The arcane symbols, carved intricately into the stone walls, began to emit a soft, eerie glow, mirroring the gentle radiance that pulsed from the assembled crystals on the altar. She repeated the chant, the rhythm of the words now firmly etched into her mind, and slowly, tendrils of smoke began to curl upwards from the array of powdered blossoms and liquified mushrooms on the altar. Sweat trickled down her face, a testament to the sheer concentration the ritual required, but she did not falter.

  Their adversary's shout cut through the ritualistic hum of the room. "No!" He staggered to his feet, his gaze, now lucid, fixed on the luminescent symbols adorning the walls. He spun around, locking eyes with Evangeline who continued her chant, unperturbed. "I won't go back," he spat out, his voice a feral growl, and with a lurch, he charged towards her.

  His movements were chaotic, a stark contrast to Buren's usual graceful agility. Unsteady and uncoordinated, he moved with all the grace of a marionette jerked around by a novice puppeteer. Evangeline didn't waver, her voice steady as she continued the incantation. Her stance shifted seamlessly into a defensive position, her twin blades poised and ready for the incoming attack.

  His attack was a wild, uncontrolled swing with the Gauntlet, a blow that had the force to shatter stone and bone alike. Yet, it lacked the precision, the lethal grace that Buren would have wielded it with. His footwork was non-existent, and when the lethal swing met Evangeline's crossed blades, his momentum was halted abruptly. It was he who was thrown off balance, tumbling backwards onto the cold stone floor.

  Evangeline did not waste a moment, her chant quickening, the words tumbling from her lips as she pushed the tempo, her voice a rhythmic cadence echoing through the stone chamber.

  The man inside Buren's body was desperate, a wild and terrified energy shining in his eyes. With a frenzied howl, he hurled himself at Evangeline once more. The room around them illuminated with the intensifying glow of the symbols, the entire space bathed in their mystic light. Behind Evangeline, the concoction on the altar suddenly erupted into flames, fire dancing and weaving amidst the smoke.

  He lunged at her just as she completed her final recitation of the incantation, his body crashing into hers. A blinding flash erupted from the ritual site, the flames and the glow from the symbols peaking in brilliance. Buren's ethereal world spun and whirled, and he felt that familiar sensation of displacement, as if he were suspended in the air.

  His body, the true one, fell onto Evangeline, pinning her underneath him. As the unseen gravitational force began to tug him towards his body once more, he saw the figure of their adversary, the spectral form echoing fear and desperation. His hands reached futilely towards Buren's body, a silent scream frozen on his spectral face, but the pull towards the withered, lifeless corpse was relentless.

  As they crossed paths midair, Buren felt a wave of terror emanating from the spectral figure, an emotion so intense it seemed to physically press against him. Then, with a rush, he was drawn back into his body. His perspective reoriented, spinning him around until he settled back into his rightful form.

  Darkness enveloped him for a brief moment, and then, slowly, sensation began to return. It was as though his senses were emerging from a far-off place, the sounds and feelings gradually amplifying until they reached their natural state. His eyes blinked open, his gaze falling onto the palm of his left hand. The warmth, the feel of his own skin, the solidness of his flesh—it all brought a wave of relief.

  "It's nice to have you back, but could you get up sooner rather than later?" Evangeline's voice sounded from beneath him, laced with a hint of amusement amidst the relief. Buren lifted himself off her, standing on his own two feet once more. He extended a hand to her, pulling her up to join him.

  The withered form lying on the ground convulsed, each labored breath accompanied by a wheezing, rattling cough. Buren, despite everything, found himself kneeling at the figure's side. His breathing was ragged and shallow, each exhale a struggle.

  Without a word, Buren reached into his pocket and withdrew a small quantity of powdered black lotus. Carefully, he sprinkled the powder into the spectral figure's mouth, followed by a trickle of water to help the man swallow. Somehow, the figure managed to consume the concoction, and within moments, a peaceful tranquility washed over him. The strain on his face eased, his labored breathing ceased, and his form went quiet, finally at peace.

  "He won't be waking up from that slumber this time, but at least his final moments are restful," Evangeline said softly. She watched Buren for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I must say I'm surprised to see you show him mercy, using your own provisions on an enemy."

  Buren merely shrugged as he rose from the man's side. "We both know what it's like, being in his skin."

  Evangeline nodded in understanding, her features softening. "I'm not blaming you. I think you did the right thing."

  She stepped closer, her gaze meeting his, a certain vulnerability replacing the typical guardedness in her eyes. "Thank you for saving me, even when it would have been easier to just keep going or take me out while he still possessed me. I have some memories of your fight: it's obvious you didn't go all out, and I can only surmise you were protecting my body."

  Buren shrugged again, offering no words in response. Instead, he turned and began walking towards the exit. "You're right," Evangeline said, her voice echoing slightly in the cavernous room. "We should go tell the rest we're okay and the situation has been dealt with."

  As Buren stepped out into the open air, a faint rustling of stones from above set his nerves on edge. Instinctively, his senses heightened, a sharp rush of danger instinct rushing through his veins. Almost simultaneously, the Gauntlet shot upwards, clashing with an unseen figure that was dropping down from the roof. The figure let out a surprised 'oof' and tumbled to the ground beside Buren.

  Recognition flashed through Buren as he saw it was Emeric who had tried to surprise him. He offered his hand, helping the winded man to his feet, while Emeric clutched his stomach, trying to regain his breath.

  "Is that how you greet everybody?" Evangeline queried, amusement playing on her lips as she sauntered over, one hand perched on her hip. "You remind me of the family dog we had when I was a child. Always pouncing on the ones he loved."

  Through labored breaths, Emeric managed to get out, "You won't stay quiet, while he is as silent as stone. I see you are back to your normal selves. " Raising his hand in a beckoning gesture, he called out, "They're alright!"

  "Did you not trust to take care of ourselves?" Evangeline asked him.

  "Better prepare for the worst; if it had been that other guy in charge of the Gauntlet, I figured the best chance to ambush him would be while he is acclimating to his new body."

  "That's pretty smart," Evangeline said. "For you, at least."

  At Emeric's call, Faelun and the novices appeared from behind a building further down the street, quickly rushing towards them. "It's over?" Cadoc asked, his voice laced with relief. Evangeline simply nodded in confirmation.

  "Marvelous, good to see you back in control," Faelun commented, visibly pleased. "Now, lads, fetch me my journaling equipment, and boxes and pouches for samples. I'm going back in."

  Buren cut in before anyone could respond. "You have one hour before we leave. I'll have to go fetch some more crystals, but otherwise we have what we need to carry out the ritual." He directed his gaze at the novices. "Copy the symbols on the walls as exactly as you can, including their locations." The novices nodded in understanding, rushing to carry out their orders.

  Emeric moved to follow Faelun into the building, prompting Evangeline to quip, "What, are you going to study history as well?"

  A mischievous glint sparked in Emeric's eyes. "I need a souvenir to remember this trip by, and was thinking that glowing blade of his," he replied, thumbing over his shoulder towards the entrance of the temple.

  At this, Buren paused in his steps, and, without a word, pulled the side of his cloak aside. A bright, ethereal glow emanated from the scabbard attached to his belt.

  Emeric's playful grin faded, replaced with a pout. "Not fair," he grumbled. "You already have the Gauntlet. Leave something for the rest of us."

  "Too dangerous," was Buren's curt response as he continued on his way to gather the needed crystals. A thoughtful silence hung around him. "Perhaps it's lucky that this place is so hard to reach," he mused, "Who knows what else lies here, buried in the dust."

  When he returned, Buren found that the campsite had been swiftly packed up, and the group was assembled, awaiting his return.

  Faelun, looking particularly haggard, caught his eye. "Leave me," he implored, his voice raspy from pretended fatigue. "I'll just slow you down. The King needs you. I'm willing to sacrifice myself for the good of the realm."

  "No man left behind, for better or worse," Emeric retorted sternly, crossing his arms.

  Elwin chimed in, nodding in agreement with Emeric. "Besides, what we have seen here is already enough to astound the Cleric community. You are sure to get the funding for a proper expedition now."

  At this, Faelun seemed to perk up, his previous exhaustion seemingly forgotten. His eyes sparkled with a renewed energy as he agreed, "I think you're right. We'll return, better equipped."

  Buren seemed to pay no mind to the conversation around him, his focus fixated elsewhere. With a flourish of his hand, he signaled the others it was time to move. Torvald, sprawled out lazily in the driver's seat, groaned reluctantly and hauled himself up.

  "I'm sore all over from lying about all day," he complained, his voice thick with disgruntlement. "Next time, it's someone else's turn to watch the camp."

  One by one, the rest of the group mounted the wagon, the horses beneath them champing at their bits, ready to move. All except for Buren.

  "Get moving," he instructed. "Wait for me behind the first hill. There's one more thing I need to check."

  His cryptic words sparked curiosity among the group, but they obeyed without question. Buren watched as the wagon slowly disappeared behind the distant hill. Once out of sight, he turned back to the city, the blade of sunlight grasped firmly in his hand. Its ethereal glow pulsed and sparked, reacting to his focus, as if it were an extension of the Gauntlet.

  "It seemed to react to the strength of the swing behind it," he mused, scrutinizing the blade's radiance. "Let's see how it likes the Gauntlet."

  Buren's eyes squeezed shut as the blade's brilliance intensified, forcing him to look away.

  "The secrets of this place are too powerful, too dangerous to be left for the Inquisition," he thought.

  With a swift, calculated motion, he swung the blade at the nearby dune. An instant later, the world went white, the ground shaking violently beneath his feet as a powerful shockwave of wind roared past him.

  When the chaos finally settled, Buren cautiously lowered the cloak he had shielded his face with. The landscape before him had been utterly transformed. The blast had caused the sands to shift places, while the heat had melted it. It was already cooling down, forming a thick layer of cloudy glass over the area. He tried the surface with his foot, then gave it a knock with the Gauntlet.

  "Seems like unnaturally glowy sand makes unnaturally hard glass," he thought.

  The city was now completely hidden beneath the hard glass cover. The blade in his hand had lost its glow, the once brilliant light now reduced to a dull sheen. He took a few experimental swings, but no arching light followed. With a shrug of indifference, he tossed the blade away, watching as it disappeared into the horizon, propelled by the excessive force in his right arm.

  Satisfied, Buren turned and made his way back to join the rest of the group, the city's secrets safely buried beneath the hard surface and desert sands.

  As Buren crested the now considerably lower hill, thanks to the blow of sand his explosion had caused, the wagon lurched into sight. Its horse team came barreling toward him, pulling up just short of him with a spray of dust and loose gravel. Everyone aboard was wearing a look of alarm, their eyes wide as they peered over the edge of the vehicle.

  "What happened?" Emeric called out, concern creasing his forehead. "More trouble?"

  Buren was quick to shake his head, dispelling their worries. "There was something wrong with the blade," he explained, his voice steady despite the recent chaos. "It didn't seem to like being separated from the people who made it, perhaps. I had to throw it away, and it exploded."

  All eyes remained on him, and while most of the group seemed to swallow his story, one person's gaze stood out. Evangeline's eyes were narrowed slightly, her expression one of disbelief but she said nothing.

  "The city..." Faelun's voice was barely a whimper, a mournful lament for the lost knowledge now buried beneath the desert sands.

  Emeric clapped him solidly on the shoulder, breaking the somber mood. "Tough luck, old man," he said with a grin that was borderline disrespectful, yet held a certain warmth. "But hey, maybe there's some other long-lost city for you to plunder."

  They turned back, until a slightly puzzled expression crossed Torvald's face as the wagon rumbled along. "There's just one little thing that would make the driver's job more easy," he said with a dry chuckle. "Knowing the route."

  Buren turned his attention to Evangeline, his brow furrowing slightly. "He knew of another path, but the memories did not have time to mature in my mind," he admitted. "How about you?"

  A small nod was her only response initially, her eyes distant as if she were scanning the annals of history in her mind. "Yes, I remember the path," she eventually confirmed. "But I have to warn you, all mentions of it were struck from their histories. I think it was because they wanted it to be forgotten."

  Evangeline continued, her voice low. "I think something in there demanded for this to be done, and they had to do it. But it was so long ago even he had forgotten the details."

  "This just keeps getting better and better," Emeric muttered, the sarcasm thick in his voice. His eyes, however, sparkled with anticipation - he was far from deterred.

  Ignoring the remark, Evangeline moved to sit beside Torvald. With a bit of parchment and a charcoal stick, she began to sketch out a map, her fingers deftly outlining the path they were to take. She carefully pointed out the landmarks they should expect along the way, her explanations clear and concise.

  "History willingly erased," Faelun mused, his eyes shining with excitement. "I can't wait to see what we find there."

  "Or what will find us," Buren thought to himself, as the wagon swayed on the uneven surface beneath.