Rene led the others inside, positioning herself between the two groups. Bea and her brother sat on the couch past the obstacle course of alchemical and sorcerous implements while Clair and Harlowe stood near the door. Rene snapped her fingers and the debris in the room moved and flowed into more discreet piles, one of which she sat on. 

"I step outside and find the four of you about to attack each other. What the hell happened?" Asked Rene.

Harlowe waves the severed arm she was holding. "Those two over there came walking out a tree like a pair of the fae." She points it at Rene. "And the arm is evidence of what's actually going on."

Berthold adjusted himself. "My sister and I were coming here because of what she ran into earlier today."

Bea pushed past her brother as she stood. "We've got something really bad out in the woods, their nest it's… alive."

"Alive?" Clair looked from Bea to the arm. "I'm assuming our two discoveries overlap."

Rene raised a brow. "It may very we–" The air buckled and cracked, interrupting her. "Of all the times!" She shouted, running from the stack of books she had just been sitting on. "Sides of the room, everyone, we've got a guest."

Near where she had been was now a floating hole in reality. Its edges were tinged green and waved like frayed cloth. Inside was a view into what appeared to be a curio shop. One androgynous caster stepped in from the left and another from the right. The pair of them poured magic out of the portal and into Rene's home. The threads of green light wrapped around the varied magic circles embedded in the floor and used them as anchors. A shrill sound emitted from the portal as it creaked and expanded into an oval, the edges held taut by arcane force.

The left twin spoke, "it is I–" The right interrupted, "we!" Both of them looked to each other and scowled. "It is we, Vallentin," they both said with a bow. 

Harlowe looked at them, then back to Clair. "You didn't mention these two."

"Didn't exactly think I'd see them any time soon." Clair pointed over to the pair. "They're meant to be looking for the person who… killed me."

Harlowe leaned in. "I thought it was the ghouls that killed you?"

"Well yes, but it's becoming more and more likely it was somehow at his behest," explained Clair. 

The two Vallentin held up a finger each. "Yes! The man who sent the little phobophage after you, dear cleric." They weaved a circle in the air and in the center was a floating mirror. "This one," said the left Vallentin, "is the one," explained the right Vallentin. "That killed you," they both said in unison while using their free hands to point at the mirror.

The mirror itself quivered and shattered only to reform a moment later. Within it was the image of a man in dark heavy robes. He stood nearly six feet, not exactly a stand out trait in Kasite. 

Bea spoke up, "if it's just going to be an image of some mysteriously average man, I don't think it's going to help us." 

"This isn't now," said the right Vallentin. "You need to watch," said the left.

Everyone there returned to focusing on the mirror held by the Vallentins. 

He was trudging through snow, the robe held tightly to his body. The mirror grew and they could see there were four other people with him. They seemed to be hunters, one of them had a bow with a crimson string. After some talk between the gathered people the robed man held out a strange object towards a mound of snow-covered earth. The object looked like a gyroscope with a many faceted crystal in the center. Its rings spun and twisted before resting in a flat configuration of concentric rings. 

Sound came from the mirror as the Vallentins continued to add complexity to the spell.

One of the others spoke. "This really the place?" He looked at the inert mound. "Seems a bit like nothing happened."

As if to answer him the mound heaved and rose, shaking the snow off of it. The gathered people pulled back as something wrenched itself out of the snow. What appeared to be a golden door jutted out at an angle. 

"You look the fool now, Egil," said one of the men.

"Shut it!" Snarled Egil.

The robed man held up his hand, quieting the others. "Stand back." He flicked his wrist and the door creaked as magical force pulled on it. "The way will be open soon."

He strained his hand against the form of his spellwork. The door groaned and tore off, flipping out and away into the forest before settling with a crash. The others looked to him, he raised a hand and the earth rose into a ramp. Wordlessly, the group entered the now open door. The five carefully descended the hall, holding onto the walls which hummed with magical energy.

“When exactly is this occurring, you two?” asked Rene.

The image in the mirror froze.

The left Vallentin spoke, “any attempt at scrying this individual in the current time is,” the right continued, “not able to pin his location. This is from around a year back.” 

Berthold looked to the twins. “How is that possible?” 

“Time like a tapestry laid out before you,” said the left Vallentin, “if you know where to look,” finished the right, wagging their free finger at Berthold.

He raised a brow. “Can you look forward?”

Both Vallentins reached to hold the other’s chin. “Not if you want useful information.” They shrugged while putting their free palms up. “To labor the symbolism, it’s like a blind man who has never weaved trying to figure out which thread goes where.”

Clair spoke up, “Those men with him, I think I know who they are. They’re the ghouls…”

“That much is clear given,” Harlowe pointed at the red stringed bow one of them carried, “that. So, what is that place they’re going into?” 

Bea shivered where she sat. “I’ve seen those lights.” She stood up. “When I was out in the Nebelwald today, I saw it.” She swallowed. “Actually the reason my brother and I came here today was this and…” 

“She’s been… bound to the Fae,” said Berthold. 

Rene ran over to Bea, nearly tripping on a pile of books. “Babe, let me see.” She held Bea’s right hand and stared at the back of it where elaborate green writing glowed faintly beneath her skin. “Seelie script,” she paused, “required service of… four seasons.” Rene pulled Bea into a hug and whispered, “Don’t panic, we’ll figure this out later, okay?”

Bea nodded into Rene’s neck.

“Sorry to break up the moment,” said the Vallentins, “but we don’t have all that much time to keep this portal open,” finished the left Vallentin. “You can keep talking amongst yourselves, but we need to get this shown to pay off one of our favors to you, o saviour,” they said bowing and looking to Rene.

“Just continue, I’ll explain to them after if I have to,” said Harlowe.

The Vallentin’s nodded and the image on the mirror began to move again.

Further and further they went, deep into the earth. What they were inside of still remained unclear, but it was clearly beyond anything made in the current era. Not even the automata built by the Artificer’s of Megiddo or Tynan Weir compared to what was inside. The man in front conjured a halo of light around his head as they continued to descend into the darkness. They came to another door, seemingly made of gold. 

“Simple,” said the robed man.

He placed the gyroscopic key into an indent next to the door and the corridor illuminated with light. The group no longer had to brace themselves and found that the orientation of gravity matched the angle of the floor. The door slid open. He retrieved the key. 

“So, this is one of them, the storied golden arks of our past.” He smiled, his teeth capped with clear, sharpened gems. “You lot, stay close and don’t touch anything.”

The others talked amongst each other as they looked at the grandeur of the main chamber. It was massive and dome-like in shape with a second level of balconies that overlooked the central area where they stood. The whole of the structure was made primarily of the golden material with accents of silver and marble. Slowly, the robed man walked into the center of the room and looked around. The others followed, careful to not bump into any of the tables and chairs that were connected to the floor. 

The robed man ran his hand over a console. “Magnificent.” 

He walked to the front of the chamber, or what seemed to be judging by the layer of glass behind a segmented shield of golden metal. In front of him was another set of consoles, magical runes still burning soft blue on its surface. There was a slot for his ‘key’ in the center of the bank of consoles. 

He pressed it into the slot. “Now to see if this was truly worth the price those jackals in Winsch demanded.” 

The whole area shuddered as the lights went out briefly. The four that had come with him tried to bolt for the exit, only for the door to slam shut. Above the robed man, near the glass, was an illusion in the same blue light that coursed through the ruin. The image of a man’s face, perfect to the point of being uncanny. The illusion spoke in a language none of them knew with a lilt and stops that flowed like a staccato. It paused and looked at the gathered peoples. It frowned.

“Middleborn.” Its eyes fixed on the robed man. “You do not appear to speak Tiran, who are you?” 

The robed man grit his teeth. “I am ██████,” the name was missing, as if torn from time. “I do not speak the old tongue.”

“I understand, then how is it you came to have a keystone?” The illusion stared at him. 

“Time has passed since this ark fell, we are told the old empire is cursed, ruined.” He swept an arm around the room. “All of this glory lost to time.”

The illusion blinked and nodded. “Temporal data confirms this. Middleborn, what are you here for?” 

“To bring back that age. It existed before and it can again.” He drew himself up. “We squabble and quarrel with each other in my homeland. It has soaked the earth with wasted blood. The old empire, Lahad Tir, was a shining beacon of civilization. Humanity done right. I would see it return.” 

“You are of the blood of our allies in the uncivilized world.” The illusion stared at him. “You seek to join the Tir Volg and escape your fate as a Middleborn.” The illusion chuckled. “It is possible.”

“To that end, I seek access to the stores of power buried deep in this ark.” He looked to the four others that had stopped actively trying to escape and whispered. “I have filters.” 

The illusion closed its eyes. “Containment in lower levels is not secure. You risk your life by descending. However, I will allow it, it is not as if this ark will ever fly again.”

The man removed the keystone, causing the illusion to fall away into glimmering pieces. He turned to the four near the door. “We have more work ahead of us.”

He twisted his hand and drew magic together with it. The frightened men tensed then walked over to him, wordlessly.

The spellwork holding the mirror fell to pieces and the image went with it. “That’s what we were able to find on your mystery man.” Both Vallentins stretched their arms. “He wants to bring this shitshow back to its ‘former glory’. Have you seen this place?” The left Vallentin gestured around. “It’s a damn cursed mess full of monstrosities and mad nobility.”

“So, that’s what’s down there then,” said Rene.

“But what about the whole… look, when I went there it was covered in flesh, like the ground was breathing and there were so many of those things. They were made of all kinds of animals, twisted and broken into monsters.” Bea shook. “What is a golden ark, what the hells is Lahad Tir?”

Harlowe stepped forward. “Vallentin, if you’ll stick around just a moment longer.” She took the severed limb and pushed it towards the portal. “Look at this, in the tissue of it. Does that look familiar?” 

The twins leaned in to examine the stump. "That looks like what we're dealing with over here." The left spoke next, "it's a curse, not unlike the one you bear." They both spoke, "though this example isn't so virulent.'

"What do you mean?" Asked Clair.

"It's the Undying Flesh. It's everywhere here. In the people, the plants, the earth." The right Vallentin slashed open the left's forearm. "Watch."

The wound bled for a short while and then small tendrils of flesh grew out of the sides of the wound. The protrusions wrapped around each other and pulled the wound closed. Even the blood skittered back inside as the wound sealed itself.

Harlowe spoke, “doesn’t seem much a curse to me.” 

“It isn’t like this in others of a less… divine origin,” the pair explained. “It would twist even your form, half-ghoul.”

“Her name is Harlowe, Vallentin,” said Clair. 

“I’m okay, Clair.” Harlowe looked back to the Vallentins. “So, what works on this stuff?”

“Fire will for a time, if your mystery man found an ark…” the Vallentins trailed off.

Rene stood up. “Then you’ll need to find whatever is spreading the curse and kill it. I’ve got a plan.” 

Bea looked to Rene. “And that would be?”

Rene smiled wide. “We throw my door at it.”