The blank winding halls twisted left and right, doors present at seemingly random intervals. They tried many of the doors along the way, but found either empty rooms or solid walls directly behind them.

  The line along the floor glowed to those with amulets, even after the stone gave way to soft red carpet. The smells of cooking drifted through the hall.

  “Line splits,” Twigly told Syler, pointing to a nearby door. This door looked different from the others, with a built-in hatch for passing items through it, and a small platform to set trays upon.

  “To a kitchen?”

  “Smells like it.”

  “You didn't happen to grab any keys, did you?” Syler asked Santar.

  “Jangly!” Santar pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and shook them noisily in Syler's face.

  “Thanks, bud.” After several keys the door swung open.

  The room was indeed a full kitchen, with a large sink filled with soaking dishes, a fire pit, large series of magically heated stovetops and ovens, and a wide central drain with four small chains that led out to the ankle bracelets of four halflings. Each of them were dirty, with dark brown hair. If he had to guess, Syler would have placed them as cousins or siblings. They all looked to be around the same age.

  They turned away from Syler and company, fearful to look in their direction.

  Winny swore. Hearing a halfling's voice surprised the chained cooks, and they finally looked up.

  “We have to free-” Winny stopped as Syler and Destin silently walked to them, lockpicks already in hand.

  “Who are you?” Syler asked the halfling he approached first.

  “The Brightbottle brothers, sir. I'm Rand,” the now free halfling began pointing to each of the others, “and that's Colman, Lyle, and Rufus.”

  “Thank you!” The other three all said in unison.

  “Anytime. You served the Longbottoms.” It wasn't a question.

  “Aye, sir. As we were going to do for the Lawsons. Raynard is a right prick, begging your pardon, sir.”

  “You tried to leave and he caught wind of it.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “I agree with your assessment. Is there a way down from here that bypasses the Prism wall?”

  “No, sir. But the dumbwaiter there should put you right in front of it.”

  “I figured as much.”

  Winny removed her amulet and handed it to Rand. “This should help you escape without getting lost.”

  Rand took the amulet graciously, “It seems our luck is back!” The brothers all ran to grab kitchen knives and rolling pins before darting out of the room the way Syler and company had entered.

  “I'm looking more and more forward to our chat with Raynard.”

  Winny scowled, “I know you said you'd rather not-”

  “I’m beginning to think an exception is in order.”

  “And we have conclusive evidence of slaving,” Destin pointed out.

  “So we do.” The smells of cooking meats made his stomach growl. How long had it been since he'd eaten? He pulled a bit of the tender meat and began chewing. “Brightbottles know their stuff.”

  “Really? Now?” Destin raised an eyebrow.

  “I don't like working on an empty stomach.”

  “You should try some!” Winny said with her mouth full.

  Santar ripped the whole leg off of the beast that roasted over the fire, savoring its delightful smell before digging in. He hummed a song of war happily under his breath.

  After a short break, they continued toward the vault. The maze walls stayed bare, but the width gradually increased until they turned a corner to see the enormous door. It was constructed of pure draka, golds and silvers smelted from the scales shed or harvested by the dragons of the realm. In the center of the vault was the bas relief of a face, the sour face of Karan Longbottom. On either side of the face were walls of flame. The flooring abruptly changed from the hall's carpet to large ceramic tiles.

  Winny again recited from the riddle, “A room filled with flames, dangerous and wild, guards the passage, where truth is reviled. To soothe the blaze and clear the space a painful truth you thus must face.”

  Syler inched a foot onto the tile, and the flames on the vault door began to move. Swirling flame pulsed along the tiles, forcing Syler back. As his foot left the tile, the flames ceased.

  Hideous laughter erupted from the animated face of Karan Longbottom.“Syler Dunn, what deliciously painful truth do you bring me today?”

  After several moments of consideration, “I regret leaving Cara alone that day.”

  “Of course you do, but that is not painful enough, child.” More coarse laughter.

  What could be more painful to him in that moment than his biggest regret? Syler stepped back and sat hard against the wall.

  “You okay?” Winny asked, resting her hand on his shoulder.

  “I don't know what could be more painful than that.”

  “We'll think of something.”

  Destin stepped before the glowering face. “Destin Redoran, surely you have a painful truth for me?”

  He stared at the tile floor for several moments before glancing wistfully at Winny. “I'll never have what Syler had.”

  “Ooh, so close,” the face giggled maliciously, “there is a closer truth than that.”

  He shook his head as he stepped back, unwilling to voice the referenced truth. Syler raised his eyebrows at Destin's boldness. Winny didn't notice the glance.

  Syler stood again, “There must be a workaround to this.”

  Twigly rubbed his green beard. “What if the truth must be painful for her? Not to us?”

  “Hmm.” Syler stepped back to the front.

  “You again? Ready for feeling pain?”

  “Sure,” Syler said, “I killed you last so you could feel the pain of all those whose families you had killed.”

  Karan's face twisted in sorrow for a moment, “A painful truth indeed, but not for you.”

  “What do you want to hear?” he said.

  “The truth that brings you the most pain, of course.”

  Syler let his thoughts drift back, isolating moments of regret and pain. Looking back now, he understood what the door had meant. The pain he felt from the regret of leaving her home was painful, but not the most. When companions from his past had died, that too struck him, but it was distant now.

  He thought of the exhilaration of his work with the Agency, of his final days when he cleaned out Longbottom Plantation. The guilt ran through him like lightning.

  “Despite the peace I had attained, a part of me,” Syler said slowly, “missed the excitement of the work.”

  The vault door split in two and swung open, the cackling laugh lingering on the air.

  “Guilt can cause as much pain as sorrow,” Twigly said as he gripped Syler's shoulder.

  Syler let out an unsteady breath. “Let's go.”

  The front of the vault entrance had an assortment of baubles set behind glass displays. Twenty five feet into the vault, a brightly glowing wall that shimmered with rippling colors spanned the entire room, splitting the vault in two. Along the walls along either side at 10 foot intervals were hanging rods enchanted to glow a bright white light.

  Winny whistled, “The Lawsons have far more than I was expecting.”

  “We're looking for a crown with four gemstones.”

  Santar punched one of the display cases, knocking it to the ground. The glass didn't break.

  “Aww,” Santar frowned and began striking down at the fallen case, blow after blow glancing off the glass. “This sucks.”

  “That isn't a crown anyway,” Destin said.

  “I do not think it is here,” Twigly said after they looked throughout the space.

  “Must be on the other side.”

  Winny pointed to the glowing wall, “Can you see through that?”

  Syler's eye glew briefly before he turned away blinking. “No. The aura is too strong.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “So we're going in blind.”

  Destin smiled, “Nothing we haven't done before.”

  “Twigly, when we activate the nullstone, all non-shadow magic will cease to function. Are you good with that?”

  Twigly hefted his heavy club, “I think I can handle it.”

  “Santar, that includes your lower arms.”

  Santar stepped up to the glowing wall next to Syler and let his mechanical arms power down. “No need ‘em!”

  “Winny?”

  She withdrew the nullstone from her side pouch and handed it to Syler, “You get the honors.”

  Syler grasped his amulet, Tootsie bounding out from a puff of yellow smoke. “You ready to play, Toots?”

  She gave a short bark as she squinted through the brightness. Syler formed the shadow ball in his right hand and tossed it behind her. Tootsie chased it down, barking happily as she bit the sphere.

  As before, the shadow wrapped around Tootsie and her form expanded, but this time it seemed more solid or darker, if that were possible.

  She pressed her large head into his hands in demand. He smiled and scratched her behind her left ear. Syler noticed both ears were a bit longer than when previously in this form. He thought of his mentor.

  A deep sonorous voice that seemed close and distant at the same time said, “Always ready to play!”

  Santar clapped his hands vigorously, “Big puppy talk!”

  “That's new,” Destin said.

  “Must be an influence from your Nature rune,” Twigly said.

  Syler only smiled wider and did as requested. “No time to celebrate now.”

  “Where are we?” Tootsie rumbled.

  “Longbottom basement. Get ready. Twigly, we’ll be sending out darkness as soon as the wall drops. Santar, I need you to break as many display cases as you can while the Teknaus is nullified.”

  “Smashy!” Santar shifted giddily from left to right.

  “Destin, Winny, Shadoweave and Arrowhead.” They both nodded. “Raynard is likely waiting behind the wall. We need him alive, at least a while. Can you pin him down, Toots?”

  “My pleasure,” she growled.

  “We’ll have five minutes before the nullstone wears off.”

  The stone felt heavy in his hand as he turned it over and over, admiring the obsidian facets. The world around him grew quiet as he raised the stone to the shining wall.

  “Thank you, Ears,” Syler whispered as he crushed the nullstone.

  The brightness around them abruptly ceased. Syler's eye stopped glowing. And only the lights nearest the entrance and exit still remained lit.

  The hulking form of Raynard stood before them, surrounded by 20 glamidan warriors wielding a variety of weapons. They had moved all the cases and tables to the outer walls, display cases showing numerous family heirlooms and magical paraphernalia, the protective runes of most of them faded in the nulled area.

  Shadow runic tattoos pulsed as three waves of darkness washed over Raynard and company. Syler led the charge, using his darkvision to guide him as he fired arrow after arrow, dropping two of the mercenaries before they bridged the gap. Two others had fallen by the dark arrows of his fellow Agents. Down to sixteen.

  Santar veered immediately to the left, grabbing and throwing any display he could get his hands on, sending shards of broken wood and glass scattering across the floor. Three of the llama folk warriors charged at Santar, falchions drawn. A glass cube carrying what looked like an obsidian vase crashed into the forwardmost mercenary, who crumpled in a writhing mass of shards, cuts, and blood. Fifteen. Santar drew one of his greataxes, inert in the null zone, and swung it out horizontally. Two heavy blades shifted course to intercept. The axe pushed through the first guard and only scored a small cut on the second glamidan. The first already shifted its position to flank the enormous half-orc, thrusting his falchion at Santar’s back.

  A heavy club intercepted the blow. Twigly forced the mercenary back, twisting his club from the blade and poking him hard in the chest, doubling him over. He brought the club down hard and the warrior collapsed into unconsciousness. Fourteen.

  The best equipped of the glamidae present, four with tekrystal encrusted scimitars and plated armor across their chests and legs, circled around Syler. Much to his surprise, they seemed to be able to fight just as well in the darkness, blades biting at him from nearly every direction. Syler leapt into a horizontal spin, swords passing over and under him, and as he landed daggers sped from his hands, deflecting harmlessly against the tough armor.

  “Shit.” His bow appeared in his hand just in time to narrowly deflect a slashing blow to his chest, getting only a tiny cut. Just as he received another scar from the one on his left, the right one’s blade bounced harmlessly from his armor, all strength having left the blow. The warrior slammed hard into the ground, a dark arrow shaft dissolving from his head. Thirteen.

  “Thanks!”

  Destin didn’t have time to answer as three spears struck at him, forcing him to pivot away back toward Winny. She was running through the tall folk’s legs, severing straps that held the leg plating in place. One of the glamidae she crossed under slammed a shield down at her, smashing her into the ground with a heavy grunt. The warrior picked up the shield to stab down with her longsword.

  Winny wasn’t there.

  Pushing off the shield, Winny leapt over the glamdan’s head, stabbing a dagger into her neck and twisting, landing softly on her feet, nearly falling as she realized her ankle was twisted from the shield strike. Shield and sword clattered to the floor as the glamidan woman tried to stifle the bleeding, quickly succumbing to darkness. Twelve.

  Raynard's muscles shifted beneath his dress shirt as he too stepped forward, rolling his shoulders as he flexed his fists open and closed. He ran straight at Destin, punching him hard in the face. Destin spat blood but summoned two shadow daggers, taking up a defensive stance.

  Raynard, with a confident smirk, circled his opponent, his movements fluid and precise. He knew he faced a formidable foe, but his arrogance fueled his belief in his own prowess. He ducked away as one of his guards was thrown by Santar, crashing, unimpeded, into several more of the vault’s displays. Ceremonial weapons, a cloak the deep blue of the sea, and the Eldergrove Crown fell among shards of glass and groaning guard. The crown was made from the intertwined branches of the central oak tree of the Grove of the Ancients in the Lyrah Forest, inset with four tekrystals. Red attuned to the energies of Battle, iron to Crafting, copper to Knowledge, and silver to Wisdom.

  Eleven.

  With a sudden burst of speed, Santar surged forward, ignoring the handful of guards chasing him and aiming a powerful haymaker at Raynard's jaw. But Raynard ducked under the blow with cat-like reflexes, countering with a heavy blow to Santar's midsection as he passed.

  The guards changed targets, rushing at the now closer Destin. The foremost foe’s whole body shook as Tootsie bowled into the fray, her massive jaw clamping down on the throat of the glamidan. She followed through her momentum, rolling with the guard until she was on her back, her strong back legs battering and clawing the mercenary to shreds. Ten.

  Syler swore as a jeweled scimitar cut into his side. He swung his bow in a desperate block, pushing out the second incoming blade, knocking the glamidan off balance. The third scimitar struck from behind, but Syler had anticipated and slid to his right, shoulder checking the recovering guard, knocking him prone. He spun, drawing his bow and loosing an arrow into the face of the backstabber. Nine.

  Santar grunted with the impact but quickly recovered, unleashing a barrage of punches at a spear-wielding soldier in retaliation, who danced around the blows, his movements graceful and evasive as he sought openings in Santar's defense. Scoring several hits, the mercenary was surprised that Santar continued on, grabbing him by the face. The scream echoed in the vault as Santar knocked the feet out from under his opponent, slamming him head first into the shattered glass on the floor. Eight. He grabbed the man by the leg and threw him at Raynard, knocking him to the ground. He recovered quickly, ignoring a rib jab from Twigly's club.

  As Santar and Raynard engaged in their fierce battle, Winny and Destin fought side by side, deflecting or dodging the blows of the four guards surrounding them. A blade bit at Winny's side, her grunt of pain drawing Destin's ire.

  Three daggers in quick succession. One deflect by sword, one by breastplate. One in neck. Seven.

  His distraction cost him, another blade slashing across his back. His armor tightened to stifle the bleeding, but couldn't stop the wave of nauseating pain crashing through him.

  With a blur of black fur, the guard who struck Destin was pulled to the ground. Tootsie growled as she bit down on her foe's arm, violently jerking her head back and forth. With a scream, the arm came free, the glamidan writhing in pain and clutching his shoulder stump. Six.

  She dropped the arm and bounded to Syler. “You need to take that crown and get below now while you can,” Tootsie whispered as her ears elongated slightly.

  “We aren’t finished here. Get Raynard! Wait. You shouldn’t be able t-” Light flashed through the vault as the prismatic wall reappeared, nearly blinding Syler. One of the fallen corpses was in the path of the wall and was sheared in two, the scent of burning hair and flesh permeating the air.

  Their magical darkness was gone, and the glamidan warriors regrouped. Two flanked Twigly on either side, viciously slashing at him, forcing him to be constantly on the defensive. One of the soldiers was pulled away as Syler reached out, black vines erupting from his hand and pulling the guard toward him. Raynard filled the spot left by the guard, and struck Twigly three times in the face. His emerald eyes dimmed as Twigly dropped his club, slumping into unconsciousness.

  Despite his slowly reawakening mechanical arms, Santar fought with a ferocity born of years spent in the arena. He used his brute strength to his advantage, aiming powerful kicks and bone-crushing headbutts at Raynard, who dodged away from Santar, unable to deliver the killing blow. Then Santar overstepped and nearly tripped over a series of spears that had scattered across the ground during the early chaos of the fight.

  Raynard’s retaliatory strikes were calculated and precise. He landed blows with lightning-fast speed, exploiting Santar's vulnerabilities with skillful strikes to sensitive pressure points and to wounds fresh and old. With the null zone having run its course, he withdrew a potion and drank it, narrowly avoiding the grasping hands of Santar. Raynard’s movements blurred as his speed doubled.

  “Toots, get Twig out!” Syler called as he withdrew his dagger from the entangled guard. Five left. Tootsie ran in front of him as he charged the other guard, firing arrows to keep the glamidan from injuring Twigly’s prone form. Strong yet gentle jaws clamped onto the dwarf’s leg and pulled him closer to the prismatic wall away from the remaining guards. Syler cleared the distance, swinging his bow to deflect the guard’s incoming blade, bringing the other end into his foe’s face. The llama-faced man screamed in pain and reached his free hand to touch his bloodied cheek. The pain became shock as he eyed the black fletching suddenly protruding from his mouth.

  Four. No. Destin sat on the ground next to Winny, breathing heavily and spattered with blood. The four remaining guards were sprawled in heaps around them.

  Raynard stood alone.

  Raynard and Santar clashed in a flurry of fists and feet, the sound of their blows echoing through the vault. Santar fell to one knee, a grimace of pain across his face as Raynard had barraged him with fast and heavy blows. Raynard reared back to deliver a haymaker of his own, his fist landing in a metallic palm as incredibly strong fingers grabbed him and pulled him close.

  Santar’s mechanical arms had returned to full function. He dug deep into his reserves, roaring with intensely focused rage. With a mighty roar, he launched Raynard away to slam into a nearby display case, knocking it loudly to the ground.

  Raynard, caught off guard by Santar's sudden burst of aggression, faltered for a moment, attempting to catch his breath. Huge black paws pinned him to the ground. Glowing blue eyes promised death, and her growl sent a shiver down his spine.

  Unclenching his fists, Raynard glared at Syler and his companions.

  “Hold, Santar,” Syler said as he stepped closer to the pinned Lawson.

  Santar, who had been charging back into the fight, dropped his arms and kicked at a nearby corpse, “You spoil fun, shadow man.”

  “You may still have fun yet,” he said as he crouched next to Toots, scratching her behind the ears. “Good girl.”

  “You win,” snarled Raynard.

  “I always do. Tell me about the Brightbottle brothers.”

  “My cooks?”

  “Yes. The ones you held captive in the kitchens.”

  “They owed a debt.”

  “As do you.” Syler spoke into a corner of the vault particularly cluttered with treasure, “How much do you owe?”

  The four halfling brothers sheepishly appeared from behind the clutter, surprised that they had been noticed. “Nothing now, sir. By our estimation we had our debts cleared years ago.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Syler said as he tucked a shadow dagger under Raynard's chin, drawing a thin line of blood.

  “They lie!” Raynard growled, pushing with futility against Tootsie's great mass.

  “Let me guess, to try to keep them, you attempted to charge so much for room and board they stayed indebted to you.” Raynard said nothing.

  “I have every intention of leaving you alone, Raynard. I can't say the same for them.” Syler picked up several shards of the reinforced glass, wrapping little handles of shadow stuff so they could be safely held, and slid them to the Brightbottle brothers.

  “Santar, make sure he doesn't flee. Twigly, when they finish up here, take everyone to Calista and see that the crown is returned.”

  Destin was standing before he finished. “Like hell we're leaving you alone.”

  “Yes, you are. I'll meet you outside. I need to do this alone.”

  “You aren't alone,” Tootsie padded alongside him.

  Raynard's agonized screams followed them as they descended into the sub basement.