They rowed their dinghy out to the small galleon known as the Spirit, commandeering it for their own purposes.

  With Bj?rn's passing, and with Cosimo steadfastly refusing to offer any assistance in sailing the vessel, that left only five of them to crew the Spirit.

  It was awkward and slow going at first, none of them being well-versed in sea travel. Nico served as quartermaster, relying entirely on scraps of information he had read or overheard over the years.

  Their bearings were set for Verona.

  When the ship was in the open sea, Nico left it in Nico's hands and went to the ship's cabin to meet with Danieli and Cosimo. Earlier he had left her with the key, and tasked her with using the palantir to divine any information about it.

  It was dark in the cabin. Cosimo held a single kerosene lantern aloft, but it was outshone by the palantir itself.

  "Any leads?" he asked Danieli.

  Danieli said nothing, not hearing him. She cradled the crystal ball in both hands, staring dizzily into its smoky depths.

  Cosimo snapped his fingers in front of her face.

  "Where do we use the key?" he asked her, anger flaring. "What door does it open?"

  Danieli looked up at him, her eyes unfocused.

  "The Oculus," she said simply. "You should know, it has been a great trial retrieving this --"

  Nico interrupted her. "You know what the Oculus is?"

  "No, no, no. But I can consult the palantir --"

  "No," Nico said. "Not necessary. Every Veronan knows about the Oculus." The fact that she had gleaned this information from the palantir itself lent credence to her divination. Nico had always been skeptical of divination as a sorcerous art, but Danieli had already proven herself an able practitioner, and palantirs were among the most potent augurs.

  "Not just Veronans," Cosimo said. "I, too, know about the Oculus." He turned back to Danieli. "Tell us more. Does the key open a room inside the Oculus? Which one?"

  Danieli was still staring at Cosimo with unfocused eyes, a bit of spittle dribbling from her mouth. "It opens the Oculus. The palantir was quite clear."

  “The Oculus,” Cosimo said, looking from Danieli to Nico. “And then what?”

  “We improvise.”

  ***

  With the Spirit's meagre provisions, Nico managed to arrange minor disguises for each of them, and he used his Illusion magic to alter the ship's name from the Spirit to the Stormbringer. They moored Lucio's Marina the following morn, securing their vessel and departing unnoticed and unmolested.

  Later that day they regrouped in the Boboli Gardens, which were pleasantly secluded and offered a commanding view of the Oculus. They were of course still fugitives, still wanted by the Choir of Shadows. Impersonating the Duke was doubtless a capital crime. For this reason, Nico had arranged minor disguises for each party member, using his Disguise spell (on himself) as well as materials available on the Spirit, but still they dared not show their faces too long in public.

  The Oculus, the headquarters of the Choir of Shadows and the apparent object of their long and arduous quest, loomed high atop a rocky cliff, the slashed-O symbol carved into it staring down at them like a baleful eye. Danieli was staring up at it quite indiscreetly, wearing a puzzled expression on her face as if she were examining a curious butterfly. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the Oculus and the palantir in her outstretched right hand. The palantir had taken on a stormy purple hue.

  “I have a dread premonition about this place,” she said in her brittle voice.

  “As do we all,” Cosimo said dryly. “It is, after all, a deathtrap.”

  “The Oracle wishes to tell me something about it,” said Danieli, her voice barely more than a whisper. She peered closely at the palantir. Since acquiring it in Ambrose’s palace, her eyes had rarely left it.

  Cosimo shook his head, and turned to Leo and Nico. “How do we get up there? Those are sheer cliffs.”

  “There are believed to be two routes,” said Leo, whose knowledge of Verona’s geography and geology was second to none. “Rustic steps carved into the face of the mountain — you can almost see them.” The crude steps were so ancient Leo suspected they predated the Empire’s acquisition of the Myriad Isles.

  “Too chancy,” Cosimo said. “We’d be exposed and vulnerable. Anybody could see us climbing them.”

  “Agreed,” Leo said. “In my twenty-five years living in Verona, I have not once seen anyone climb those steps. It is said that the Choir of Shadows travel to the Oculus by means of a portal. Its whereabouts are, naturally, unknown. We could … somehow ascertain its whereabouts.”

  “Still too chancy. We would need to capture and interrogate a member of the Choir of Shadows. Dangerous, delicate work. Those are truly our only options?”

  “There are believed to be only two routes,” Leo said, “but I think I can find a third. We can approach the Oculus from the rear. It would be a steep climb, the terrain hazardous and possibly deadly.”

  Cosimo grinned. “I wouldn’t be in this business if I didn’t relish a little danger.”

  ***

  Leo proved an able pathfinder, and the path he found was physically taxing but scarcely perilous. By dusk they had scaled the acropolis on which the Oculus stood. Crouching low, they skulked around the side of the indomitable fortress. Their hands were ready to draw their weapons, but they prayed the cover of night would hide them.

  There were queer symbols carved on the side of the building. Not runes, that much he knew. But he wasn’t sure what they were. They were difficult to decipher in the dark, and no one wanted to risk invoking illumination and drawing undue attention. Danieli traced one of the symbols with her hands, and suddenly recoiled in shock, stumbling backwards.

  “I know what the Oracle wishes to tell me,” she said, a bit too loudly. Her voice was different. It was less brittle, and there was an edge of urgency in it.

  “What is it?” Cosimo whispered. “And keep your voice down.”

  Danieli reached into her satchel and produced the palantir. Before it had been violet and cloudy. Now it was pure ebony, an abyss of darkness that swallowed the scant moonlight around it and made her arms up to her elbows invisible. A dark look came over Danieli as she peered into it. And as if her body had been possessed, her eyes turned white, and she spoke in a deep masculine voice: “What has been sought has been found. Retreat now, or suffer imminent death.”

  Cosimo hesitated, eyes squinting at the diviner. Then his face hardened. “This is a trick — a trick of Ilhen’s to deceive or deter us. Something to test our will.”

  “The Oracle does not peddle tricks,” Danieli said, in the same voice that was not hers, eyes still white.

  “Aye, but Ilhen does. We’ve come too far to turn back.” He stepped forward and knocked the palantir from Danieli’s grip. The palantir returned to its normal white hue, and the spell broke. Danieli regained her volition, falling on her knees and scrambling to scoop up the palantir. There was abject fear in her eyes, which had returned to their normal color.

  “Please, Cosimo,” she said, pleading on her knees. She crawled over to him, grasping his leg from behind. “If ever you heed my counsel, do so now. Please. Consider it.”

  Cosimo turned, regarding her like an insect on his shoe, his jaw as hard as granite. “I have. Now consider this, Danieli: I have not crossed an ocean and parted with a substantial share of my wealth only to be deterred by inane prophecy. You shall follow me and face possible peril within.” He gestured to the Oculus, Ilhen’s Seventh, and then he reached down, clasping Danieli tightly by the throat. “Or defy me, and face certain peril without.”

  Danieli blinked, tears rolling down her face and onto Cosimo’s hand. She nodded. He released her and she collapsed in the mud.

  A knife between his ribs is all it would take, Nico thought. Five seconds of effort and the world would be rid of this menace. If only there was not Tomasso to consider…

  ***

  As they approached the front of the Oculus, the bejeweled city of Verona stretched before them in all its resplendent glory. Cockleshell fishing boats bobbed on the moonlit sea. Pedestrians strolled the softly lit pathways of the Boboli Gardens. Street lamps twinkled like firelights on the Via Cardenza. The sparkling city was a stark contrast to the ominous monument which loomed over them. Hewn from ancient gray stone and covered in mysterious etchings, the Oculus put Nico in mind of the Illusion Spire he had entered in Velbruk. Its facade featured immense pillars which held aloft a decorated portico. A yawning blackness spanned between them.

  Leo led the way.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Step by anxious step, they climbed upward. At the summit, they found a massive stone door engraved with the slashed-O symbol of the Choir of Shadows. It was limned in sapphire light, and it had a keyhole of a size matching the key.

  “We just walk right in?” whispered Leo, somewhat taken aback. He had been expecting they would need to infiltrate the Oculus by stealth. “This is the door the key unlocks? Where’s the Choir of Shadows?”

  “Here,” said an icy voice — a voice Nico recognized. It was the voice of the man who had detained him in the Musea. He turned and discovered a Choir of Shadows agent perhaps six feet tall with a lithe form. Behind his lacquered mask, severe green eyes glared at Nico.

  “We have been expecting you,” the icy voice continued. “Kindly stand still. Don’t make me kill you.”

  “Bold words,” Leo said, “for a man seemingly unarmed and unaccompanied.”

  “Seemingly.”

  “What the fuck is this place?” said Cosimo.

  “You are in no position to interrogate me, Cosimo Medea.”

  “You sure?” Cosimo said. “We have you outmatched, seven to one.”

  “Do you?”

  More Choir of Shadows agents appeared, slithering out from the darkness like ghouls. A few of them were armed with crossbows and sabers. One held a ball of focused red energy.

  Acting on instinct, Nico fished in his pocket, grabbing a spell scroll — Unremitting Aegis, his shield spell. He had been biding his time to use it.

  “Put your hands up!” yelled the man with the icy voice, his poise somewhat cracking. “Hands up!”

  Nico complied, scroll in hand.

  “What is that?” the man shouted. “Drop it!”

  “If you say so.” And he cast it down, muttering the scroll’s incantation: “Deflecto!”

  A vitreous purple shell sprouted up around them, extending twelve feet in diameter, encompassing all six adventurers but none of the Choir of Shadows. Inside it, they were invulnerable to the Choir of Shadows agents for five minutes. One of the Choir of Shadows agents fired a crossbow bolt at them, and it skittered harmlessly off the shield’s wall. The mage shot the ball of red energy; that too had no effect.

  “There’s no backing out now,” Cosimo said. “The only way out is through. Leo, do you have the key?”

  Leo nodded, and stepped forward, as the Choir of Shadows behind them were frantically screaming at them, their voices muffled by the shield wall. Oddly, they seemed more concerned than angry. Like the Choir of Shadows was genuinely fearful for their safety.

  There was no time to ponder that mystery.

  Leo inserted the key into the lock, and the door swung ajar of its own accord. An inky blackness greeted them. Leo was the first to step through — and then he fell.

  He screamed, thinking for sure he was a dead man, as he plunged through what felt like a vast and bottomless chasm. What a shit way to die!

  Then suddenly, without force of impact, he came to an abrupt yet graceful stop. It just a portal, he realized. But a portal to where, exactly?

  He was in a dark room, and had landed in something soft and cushiony… And strangely sticky. Strands of it clung to his hands as he pulled them away. He could hear the others around him, breathing.

  “Lee? Is that you?”

  “That’s me,” Max said. “Where the fuck are we?”

  Welcome, said a voice inside their minds, to my humble abode. The voice had an oddly snake-like quality. The words rattled in their ears.

  You each stand on the cusp of a perilous crucible. With luck, one may survive. The room you are in has three exits. Choose wisely, and choose quickly — my thralls are among you, and it has been so very long since last they slaked their thirst.

  “Did you hear that?” Max’s voice cracked in fear.

  “Y-yes,” said Cosimo, somewhat shaken. “What thralls? Who is he talking about? And what is this shit stuck to my hands?”

  “Webs,” Leo said. “Spider webs. Nico, Gianna — lights, please.”

  “I'm trying,” Gianna said. “The cantrip won't work!”

  The webs felt like steel hands grasping him. Nico strained against them ineffectually, pulling with all of his strength, succeeding only in immersing himself more deeply in the web.

  Click click click click.

  Something was above them.

  With one final heave Nico broke free of the web, tumbling forward and then dropped several feet onto the hard earth. He invoked the Shine cantrip, and a tiny orb of light was birthed. But just as soon as it came to life, the darkness consumed it ravenously.

  Just fucking work.

  Again Nico tried, focusing more of his mana into the cantrip. This time it flared brighter, defiant against the dark, and for one brief ephemeral moment their entire surroundings were illuminated in grisly detail.

  The were in some sort of cave. Dark crimson webs latticed the walls and floors, and above, descending purposefully, legs wiggling excitedly, were three Blightwidow spiders, a species of vampiric spiders. Each was about the size of a small wagon. Blightwidows were notoriously picky eaters. While they were known to consume almost any mammal, they had an intense preference for human flesh. Capturing prey in their webs, they would inject a paralytic poison in their veins, keeping them alive for days or even weeks or months, slowly feasting on their flesh.

  Click click click click click.

  At the flash of light, the Blightwidows briefly paused in their descents, hissing. Spraying acidic spittle. Fat orange gobbets of smoking acid rained down upon them, burning through the webs like tallow wax. One ball struck Max in the leg, and he roared with pain. Another landed just to the right of Gianna, which inadvertently freed her legs.

  It was dark again, the light from the Shine cantrip was still present but it was a feeble, sickly thing. Nico came over to Gianna, helping her to free herself. Leo had somehow liberated Wraith form its scabbard, and the enchanted blade was cutting through the webs like a knife through hot butter. He helped Cosimo untangle himself.

  “This way!” Nico roared. In the brief flash of light, Nico had seen a door in the corner of the room. He ran over to it, pulling it open. Four of them filed through.

  Max, alone, remained ensnared in the webbing. The acid had burned a hole straight through his knees, turning the flesh black and smoking. Leo stood not five feet away from him, sword poised.

  But he hesitated.

  One of the spiders had already reached Max. With one, hairy leg it caressed Max, as a mother caresses her babe. Max’s pained groans turned to pitiful terror.

  “Leo, please!” he cried. “Please help me. Please!”

  Leo took one step forward.

  The other two spiders had quietly landed to either side of Leo, barely visible in the penumbra. Nico charged forth, and just as Leo was winding his sword back, Nico grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him back.

  “No, it’s too late,” he hissed. “Too late for him!”

  The spider which had claimed Max was now rolling him into a cocoon. Leo once again hesitated, even as the other two spiders advanced on him. Nico pulled him even harder.

  Reluctantly, Leo followed him through the door.

  “Shut it!” Cosimo said as soon as he cleared the door. “Shut the door!”

  And Leo did as he was bid, slamming the door shut and pressing his body up against it.

  Max's shrieking wails could still be heard through the door.

  "Please," he cried, "please please please. Cosimo, I beg you!"

  But Cosimo gave no reply.

  Here, on the other side of the door, all was dark. Nico could not even see his own hands, and all he could hear was Max's pitiful weeping.

  "No, no!" he cried. His voice was getting softer. "No, please Cosimo! Mmm -- no, no - nn-nn-ng."

  All they could hear was his muffled groans, and then not even that. He was not dead, Nico knew. The Blightwidows had wrapped his in a web, and he would remain that way for weeks or even months, while they slowly feasted on him.

  Nico was slumped on the floor, consumed in darkness.

  The Sages oft said that darkness was merely the absence of light. But the Sages had doubtless never been within the depths of the Oculus.

  Nico knew for a certainty that the darkness here had a different quality to it. It was palpable. Physical. Vile. It crept over him like a hungry snake, clutching at his eyes, filling his throat. And though he could still breath, the breaths were short.

  There was one final, strained gurgle from Max, and then they were shrouded in absolute silence as well as darkness.

  And then Cosimo laughed.

  “We did it! Ilhen's Seventh — we made it!”

  “Well, most of us, anyway,” Leo said.

  “Max was deadweight. His absence will only speed our passage. Now can someone get me some fucking light in here?”

  Nico had been applying himself to that purpose ever since his Shine cantrip’s orb sputtered.

  “My cantrips aren't working,” he said, “alas…” He reached into his quiver and drew another scroll. Illuminate, the spell scroll, was far more powerful than the corresponding cantrip. Fortunately, he knew its incantation by memory. He threw it down, shouting "Luxos!"

  A globe of brilliant white light expanded, and then rapidly shrank, as if being swallowed by the darkness. But when it reached a diameter of about five feet, it held a steady, albeit dim, glow.

  They were in a low-ceilinged passage that slanted downward slightly. The walls were malformed and misshapen, marred by tumorous protrusions and queer shapes. At the edge of hearing was a strange slithering noise.

  “Whose voice was that speaking to us?” Gianna asked. “It seemed to be… it’s weird to say it, but it seemed to be in my mind.”

  “Ilhen’s voice, I wager,” Cosimo said. “Perhaps he used an enchantment to record his voice, and beam it inside the mind of anyone who enters this place.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Nico slowly, “this place is not the Oculus. It really is Ilhen’s Seventh. And look,” he gestured to the walls, where he noted symbols on the wall. “Diji glyphs. This is a Diji tomb.”

  That in itself was not odd. Ilhen used existing temples and ruins to construct his deathtraps, but why was this building believed to be the bastion of the Empress’ spy ring?

  Those symbols — and the very wall itself — seemed to be shifting, reformulating. He stepped back from it, just as a realization struck him.

  “The symbol of the Choir of Shadows itself is a Diji glyph. I never realized it before… but it’s a fairly ubiquitous symbol. One we’ve seen in several Diji temples.”

  No, he thought, not their temples — their tombs.

  “What does it mean?” asked Gianna.

  “Death.” A cold shiver ran up Nico’s spine. “We saw the same symbol in the Azkaya Library. Azkaya was itself a former Diji temple.”

  But as he was speaking, dark tumorous masses on the wall had shifted. Black tendrils protruded outward, and before anyone could react, a pair of them grasped Leo by the neck, pulling him in.

  Black and oily it was, a viscous tar oozing down his collar.

  A third tendril ventured out and immobilized his head.

  More shapes were reaching out, grasping for the rest of them. They were changing, gaining definition. One moment they were black tendrils, the next they had mutated into arms and legs, claws and spiked tails. The one which had braced Leo sprouted a fifteen-fingered hand.

  It was too much to take in.

  We are all going to die in here, Nico thought wildly.