RAVEN'S GAMBIT

Tessa moved beside Lira, heart pounding in her chest as the lingering sensation of déjà vu refused to fade. She crouched low, brushing dust and debris aside, and her fingers traced a faint seam in the stone.

“There’s definitely a trapdoor,” she whispered, confirming what her instincts had already screamed.

She wedged small shims along the edges to prevent it from springing open. Then, with delicate precision, she chipped away at the nearby stucco. The work was slow, but her hands moved with strange certainty. A thin vertical crack emerged—a hidden door.

“It was all true,” she muttered aloud, disbelief coloring her voice.

“Everything.”

The others looked on, silent, as Tessa stepped back from the revealed portal. Thalia, watching her closely, nodded.

“We complete our sweep of the corridor first,” Thalia said, her voice steady. “No more surprises.”

The corridor stretched ahead, a winding ribbon of red tiles threading through an ancient gauntlet. Tessa moved ahead cautiously, sweeping for more hidden traps. She found several: cleverly concealed pit traps just like the one Lira had almost fallen into.

One by one, they were flagged and avoided.

At the corridor’s southern end, the red path split in two.

To the left, the path curved into a stone arch shrouded in mist. Set into the arch were three glowing stones: yellow on the lower left, blue at the top, and orange on the lower right. The mist churned lazily, concealing what lay beyond.

To the right, the path ended at a massive green devil’s face, worked directly into the mosaic wall. Its mouth yawned wide and pitch black, swallowing the light itself. There was no reflection, no end—just an abyss.

“Two paths,” Tessa said. “And we already know what waits behind the hidden door—the gargoyle. Doom. So…”

“We choose between devil or mist,” said Sir Cedric, resting a gauntleted hand on his sword hilt. He looked toward Thog, who gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Are we sure there’s nothing beneath the other trapdoors?” Thalia asked aloud, brow furrowed in thought.

“I’ll check,” Tessa volunteered.

She wedged the last of the pit traps open and dropped carefully down into the first. Thalia joined her moments later. They discovered a pair of goggles in the muck below—likely from a previous victim. Thalia pocketed them with a shrug.

But in the last pit—closest to the end of the corridor—they discovered something more.

A crawlspace, barely big enough for a person to squeeze through.

Tessa signaled up. “We’ve got something!”

One by one, the party descended. Thog held the rope steady for each, then climbed down last, hoisting the rope over his back. The crawlspace forced them into single file. Tessa led, checking for traps, followed closely by Thalia. Thog brought up the rear, his muscles brushing the sides of the stone tunnel as he crawled.

Far above and outside the tomb, eight efreeti climbed from shattered rubble, coughing smoke and dirt.

“That was one of the false entrances,” one growled, fury bubbling behind his eyes.

“Which now leaves two,” said another.

“We’ll look for signs of them. If there’s no evidence in the others—”

“Fool!” barked the lead efreeti. “Did you not see the Citadel overhead? They are here.”

Snarling, the group moved to the next entrance.

This corridor was equally plain, its stone walls rough and shadowed. At the far end, two doors loomed in dim light. This time, the leader motioned for only one scout to proceed.

The scout obeyed, creeping forward carefully.

Then—grinding stone.

A wall dropped from above, slamming down to entomb him.

“TRAP!” he howled, narrowly dodging beneath it and rolling free just as the partition sealed behind him.

Panting and furious, he stood. “They didn’t go this way.”

“Only one entrance remains,” said the leader, voice low and grim. “They chose the center.”

He turned toward the middle path—and the Tomb of Horrors.

TO BE CONTINUED...