RAVEN'S GAMBIT

The grinding sound did not stop.

From across the vault, each of the four iron statues twitched — not fluidly, but with harsh, jarring clicks, like oversized clockwork toys forced back into motion after centuries of silence.

Then they moved again.

Thud.

Thud.

THUD.

Thalia instinctively raised her dagger — but the shimmering glow at its tip vanished. Her expression twisted.

“No magic,” Elric breathed. “The field... it’s still active.”

The lead statue turned toward the group. It stood a full ten feet tall, shaped like a brutish warrior clad in segmented armor. No face — just a jagged maw carved into its mask. It hefted a glaive half as long as a wagon.

“We need to retreat,” Elowyn whispered, glancing at the urn.

But the doors had sealed. The exit they came through had folded seamlessly back into the stone behind them — not even a seam.

“We’re trapped,” Tessa said. “With those.”

The statues moved slowly — ponderously — but with deliberate purpose. One raised its hand, and a low humming filled the vault as the runes along its arm flickered dim red. Not magical… mechanical.

Sir Cedric stepped forward, shield raised, but even his eyes widened. “These are war golems. Ancient ones. Built before the arcane age. Before... rules.”

The second statue moved, dragging its blade along the stone floor. Sparks danced up, catching the reflected torchlight.

“We can’t fight these things like this,” Lira said. “No enchantments. No healing. No backup plan.”

“We can,” Thog snarled, already swinging Whelm onto his shoulder. “We just bleed more.”

“I don't like that plan,” Elric muttered. “Not even a little.”

A third golem turned to face them and raised its massive arm — then launched a chunk of molten metal from its chest cavity. It struck the sarcophagus dead-on, splitting it open.

But instead of bones or a corpse, dust spilled out — choking, gray, ancient. And something within it...

Laughed.

A dry, skeletal chuckle echoed across the vault. Every torch guttered. The temperature dropped.

The dust spiraled upward into a shape — no body, no skull — just a green jewel encased in dark vapor.

Tessa dropped her crossbow. “Oh no.”

Elowyn paled. “It’s not a fake. It’s a decoy. But he’s real.”

“Who?” Thalia asked.

“Acererak.”

The gem hovered there, pulsing faintly with sick green light — then zipped across the vault and hovered above the urn.

The lid of the bronze vessel trembled.

The efreeti inside began to scream.

But not from rage.

From terror.

Then the golems charged.

TO BE CONTINUED…