They wouldn't have done something so stupid as disturb the tomb, but Kiva, the abandoned squire, and Jelle, the washout artisan, were on their last legs. They were alone in this world; only the serpa tomb was with them. People as desperate as they had come here before. They'd not returned. They'd all entered under the the cracked and vine-ridden arch set into the green hill and vanished. The stairs were practically two sets by now, they were so divided and cracked by time and vines.
Darkness beckoned from beneath the arch. Kiva and Jelle couldn't help but stare into it.
Kiva told Jelle she'd take care of reconnaissance, to just stand back a moment. Her spirit projected from her body, streaking into the darkness. The cracked stones led to four alcoves: left-right left-right, each with an egg-shaped stone, infested with natural ropes. At the end was a large stone slab of a door.
They weren't alone.
Something, someone, far far below them, stirred. A presence so malevolent it made Kiva pause. It reached out to her; a chill washed over her soul.
It was coming.
Coming back to her body, Kiva yelled at Jelle that they needed to hurry. They needed to get what they could and run. They dashed for the slab of a door, through the hall. They grabbed the bottom of the door and began to yank as hard as they could. The floor beneath the slab, which had been depressed, started to rise up; dirt and vines dropped on Jelle and Kiva's heads as the ceiling above them began to creak open. Getting under the door, Kiva and Jelle stood on the pressure plate, bracing the slab on their shoulders and backs. They rolled through the doorway, together. The slab slammed back down with a loud KRASH, catching Jelle's robes and ripping them off, leaving him in his underclothes, exposed to the cold air of the tomb. Kiva's sword had been trapped under the stone slab.
The active stillness of the dark greeted them.
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