Chapter 4: The Mausoleum’s Gate
After saying goodbye to Ed and his unnamed orc brother, Lilith and Nidhogg headed for the tomb-fort’s heart, two shadows slipping through stone-breathed chill.
Some distance from the checkpoint, Lilith opened a small vortex to a pocket realm, and Abaddon slipped out, tugging Litt like a kite string.
The two dragons shepherded the two little ones along the dirt path, scales glinting like wet pebbles under dimming light.
As the Little White Dragon’s party pressed deeper, the sky dulled like ash, and blue-white mist feathered into the air.
Green thinned into nothing; black, withered branches took its place, with dark-purple vines of no known kind coiling like bruised veins.
Fear tightened her chest, a cold hand on the heart. Lilith edged beside Nidhogg and whispered, “What exactly is the Grand Mausoleum?”
“Think of it as the Undead’s crown city,” Nidhogg said, voice steady as iron. “The royal seat, called a palace by default.”
“It isn’t truly lavish,” she went on, like someone critiquing faded tapestries. “The Undead seem rich, yet their taste clashes with most species.”
“With the Moonswallow Mist rampant and infection everywhere, the Grand Mausoleum might already be a ragged ruin.”
“In short, don’t expect much,” she said, a gust that cooled hope.
“I wasn’t asking about their décor budget,” Lilith muttered, cheeks puffed like a sulking carp, her tail swaying stiffly.
“I mean, will there be skull-lamps everywhere, bone lights for show?”
“Of course not,” Nidhogg replied, dry as dust. “Who uses their own head as a lamp?”
“A big chunk of residents are skeletons. Those lamps would get you punched.”
“Good,” Lilith breathed out, relief like warm tea in winter. Then Nidhogg’s next words yanked the string tight again.
“I did hear some Wraith kids pretend to be lights,” she added, a hint of mischief under smoke. “They jump out to spook travelers for fun.”
Lilith pressed closer, clinging like a leaf to bark, voice trembling. “I should hurry and change.”
“This dress is a trap; it fights every step,” she whispered. “We’d better find somewhere darker.”
“You’re not afraid of the dark?” Nidhogg chuckled, a low drum. “No one’s around. Isn’t a brighter spot safer?”
“I’ve got night vision,” Lilith huffed, storm in a teacup. “Dark or bright, it’s all the same to me.”
“I’m more worried about light leaping off the roadside to bite,” she said, and the little dragon hopped up to thump Nidhogg with a playful punch.
“You were the one scaring me,” she accused, like rain scolding thunder.
“You asked,” Nidhogg grumbled, but the Black Dragon still did the job.
She found a snug nook for a quick change and handed the Little White Dragon a set of easy-move gear.
Lilith slipped into clothes and shoes made for agility, fear shedding like old bark, and strode ahead toward the Grand Mausoleum.
Along the way they met two other adventuring teams, both flowing out from the Mausoleum like debris after a flood.
The first team greeted the Little White Dragon in passing, then rushed off, urgency rattling like loose armor.
Their tall greatsword man had lost an arm; his comrades hauled him along, faces tight, moving like a torn banner in wind.
The second team looked much better, though cuts and bruises freckled every face.
The mage girl’s staff was broken, splinters like winter thorns, yet no one was maimed like the greatsword brother.
So they chatted a moment as they passed, voices a warm ember in the chill.
“Bad luck,” the mage girl sighed, spirit wilted like a plucked reed. “We ran into an elite unit not long after we went down.”
“After a scrappy stalemate, our captain called retreat,” she said, shoulders heavy but eyes still lit.
“At least we met plenty of common Undead inside. With the guild’s bounties, we can claw back some costs.”
“Not a total loss,” she added, a thread of silver in cloud.
“That’s already fortunate,” Lilith said, gentleness like a hand on a bruise. “That team we saw earlier? One of them lost an arm.”
“There might be other losses,” she went on softly. “No deaths is luck. And if you didn’t go broke, you can come back next time.”
“You’re right,” the mage nodded, a spark catching tinder. She raised a fist to Lilith, buoyed by the wind of encouragement.
“We’ll head back now. We’ll train up, then return to settle the score.”
“Good luck,” Lilith called, waving like a fluttering ribbon as they receded.
She nudged Nidhogg with her elbow and grinned. “Learn anything?”
While Lilith chatted with the mage, the Black Dragon spoke with their captain, a man weathered like old leather.
Nidhogg showed a small badge she carried, and the veteran spilled details with excited barks that echoed like drumbeats.
“Some,” Nidhogg said, brow creased like folded paper. “Their team’s average.”
“An almost-retired veteran led three half-newbies, just over the permit line.”
“They planned to skim the entrance and shallow layers, picking low-threat skeleton zombies, scavenging trash.”
“By accident they fell into a deeper zone,” she continued, voice dropping like a stone.
“A Death Knight broke their formation, but the captain had the sense to order a retreat fast.”
“They ran out with no casualties,” she finished, a tight knot loosening.
“Sounds brutal,” Lilith murmured, one hand over her heart, breath thin as a string.
“Yeah. That’s the trade,” Nidhogg said, calm as night water. “Still, keep your guard up.”
“We don’t owe the Undead our lives, but your goal is the Grand Mausoleum’s Reaper Fragment.”
“That path will be sharper. Better to be careful.”
“Got it,” Lilith said, the answer light as a flicked coin.
