RAVEN'S GAMBIT

Blackrazor hungered.

Though it lacked a voice, it whispered. Though it had no eyes, it watched. Though it could not move, it waited. It was a weapon of darkness, of ambition, of devouring. But it was clever too—dangerously clever.

Khopesh, its current bearer, was a problem.

Undead.

A mummy. Immune to its whispers. Resistant to its charm.

Blackrazor could no more manipulate Khopesh than it could cut the wind. It stirred restlessly within the sheath, its sentience coiling like smoke. It would need a living host soon. One with pain. With hunger. With need.

The others in the party—warmbloods—were potential vessels. It just had to wait.

Tessa ‘Quickfingers’ Vell was the first to rise, slipping out of camp while her companions still snored or whispered in hushed tones about the previous day’s battle. She returned to the crawlspace and carefully checked the hidden door they had passed over before. It creaked open, revealing a small chamber that resembled a prison cell.

Levers protruded from the wall. Strange ones. Mechanical, yet old. There was no apparent threat, but the room gave her chills. She made a quick mental sketch and retreated quietly.

Back in the main chamber, the others were waking and preparing. At Tessa’s suggestion, they turned their attention to the secret door in the northern wall behind the three chests. Sir Cedric Lightbringer gave the signal, and they moved in single file down the narrow tunnel beyond.

The path wound forward, natural rock closing in tightly. Torches cast eerie shadows as they twisted through the rough corridor… until it opened into a vast, surreal chamber.

The group halted in awe.

A long, wide hall stretched before them—its floor tiled in colored stone, its ceiling arched high above them. But what caught the eye first were the walls. They were covered in frescoes—painstakingly painted figures of monsters, humanoids, beasts, and hybrids—each holding a colored sphere. Each detail vivid, surreal, and ancient.

Tessa stepped forward, trying to keep her heart from pounding out of her chest.

“These... these are clues,” she muttered.

She pointed, eyes wide:

• Gold sphere, held high by a naga.

• Orange sphere at waist, cradled by a mummy. Khopesh’s gaze lingered on it, unmoving.

• Purple sphere at the feet of a minotaur.

• Bronze, held at waist by a nymph.

• Gray on the shoulder of an owlbear.

• Bright Blue, at the feet of a sahuagin.

• White, above the head of a red slaad.

• Turquoise, balanced on a satyr’s shoulder.

• Scarlet, waist-high with a mind flayer.

• Pale Green, held at the feet of a medusa.

• Pale Blue, shoulder height on a werewolf.

• Silver, at the feet of a four-armed gargoyle.

Tessa narrowed her eyes.

“Why does that one look familiar?” she whispered, staring at the silver sphere. The others looked too, but no one shared the sense of déjà vu that twisted in her gut.

More spheres filled the chamber:

• Green, high above a half-orc’s head.

• Yellow, on the shoulder of a falcon-headed being.

• Pink, gripped by a yuan-ti.

• Black, near the feet of a hydra.

• Pale Violet, shoulder-level with a kuo-toa.

• Red, at a skeleton’s waist.

• Buff, at the feet of a bearded human wizard.

• Indigo, high above a bat-winged woman.

At the far end of the chamber loomed a stone arch, filled with shimmering, shifting mist. Three large, dull-colored stones were embedded in the arch:

• Olive on the lower left.

• Russet at the top.

• Citron on the lower right.

Sir Cedric scanned the room, sweat clinging to his brow. “Is this a puzzle? A trap? Or both?”

“I’d say ‘yes,’” Theron muttered grimly.

“We should study the spheres before we even think of touching that arch,” Kaela warned.

“No signs of movement… yet,” Thalia added, eyes narrowing.

Tessa stepped back slowly from the wall. “This whole chamber—it’s a test. And I don’t think we get second chances in here.”

Above them, the painted creatures stared back, silent and eternal.

And still, Blackrazor waited. Watching. Hungering. The game was only just beginning.

TO BE CONTINUED...