Chapter 80 – The Room of Lies Part 1
The door out of the relic chamber closed behind them with a low, final thud.
For a few breaths, no one moved.
The four stood in a narrow stone corridor lit by a faint, sickly glow that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. The air was cooler here than in the treasure hall, but heavy, like something thick and invisible was hanging in it.
Tamara exhaled and rolled her shoulders, trying to bleed the tension out of them. Her muscles still ached from the last fight. Mara leaned slightly against the wall, shield slung over her arm, breathing slow and controlled. Sera's hands trembled just enough for Tamara to notice, even though the healer was trying to hide it. Vulgrat wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, eyes still wide from adrenaline.
"…We're not going anywhere like this," he said quietly. "If the next room is anything like the last one, we're walking into it half-dead."
Tamara nodded once. "Agreed."
She slid down the wall until she was sitting, legs folded under her. Mara took a place beside her, shield propped against her knee. Sera dropped opposite, back against the other side of the corridor, closing her eyes as if even the dim light hurt. Vulgrat sat last, cross-legged, already fumbling with his storage ring.
He pulled out four vials—slender glass tubes, the liquid inside shimmering faintly, each a different shade.
"Stamina potions," he said, handing them out. Should get your limbs listening again. And these—" he produced a second set, thicker vials filled with a pale, milky light "—meditation potions. Just enough to stabilize your essence flow."
Tamara accepted hers with a quiet "thanks." The tonic burned down her throat like warm fire, then spread through her limbs, untwisting the knots of fatigue. The meditation potion tasted of mint and something sharper, like biting into clean snow; her core responded, Light stirring, threads unkinking and settling back into their proper paths.
Mara grimaced at the taste, then shrugged as strength began to seep back into her arms. "Not bad," she muttered.
Sera hummed softly, already falling into a light trance, fingers folded in her lap. Color came back to her cheeks.
Vulgrat took his own in practiced sips, eyes closing, shoulders relaxing. "We rest ten, maybe fifteen minutes," he said. "Longer if we didn't have a cursed pyramid trying to kill us."
Tamara opened one eye. "You think we'll get a choice?"
"Not really," he admitted. "But I can pretend."
Silence fell, but it wasn't empty. Their breathing synced, four different rhythms slowly aligning. Essence pulsed through the corridor—not loud, not dramatic, just steady. Tamara could feel her ice-aspected Light settling again, frost threads knitting through her veins, responding when she nudged them. Mara's aura was heavier now, more solid, shield-and-stone. Sera's presence smoothed out into a soft, green-tinted glow. Vulgrat was a little sun and candle both—fire and light braided tight.
After a while, Tamara pushed herself to her feet. "All right," she said. "We move."
"Yeah," Vulgrat agreed, climbing up. "We don't know how time works in here. For all we know, we've been in this place for seconds outside—or days."
"That's… comforting," Sera said dryly.
"Cheerful as always," Mara added.
They shared tired, crooked smiles. It helped.
Then they turned and followed the corridor deeper into the pyramid.
The path narrowed as they walked.
At first it was subtle—just the way Tamara's shoulders brushed the walls if she didn't walk carefully. Then the ceiling dipped. The walls edged in closer. Before long, they were forced into a single-file line.
"Shield up front," Mara said. "If something jumps us, it hits me first."
Tamara didn't argue. Mara took point, her new shield held before her. Even in the muted light, the relic gleamed—etched with ancient runes and a bulwark sigil that pulsed faintly with power. Behind her came Vulgrat, then Sera, then Tamara bringing up the rear.
The air here smelled different. Less like dust, more… stale. Old.
The corridor ended in a door.
It wasn't grand or ornate. Just a flat slab of dark stone fitted perfectly into the frame, no handles, no hinges. Words were carved into it in a language the System politely translated in their heads:
Don't believe what you see.
Believe what you feel.
Trust in the light.
Destroy the dark.
Vulgrat frowned, stepping closer. "A riddle," he murmured.
"Obviously," Mara said.
He ignored her tone, mouth moving as he read it again under his breath. "Don't believe what you see… believe what you feel… trust in the light… destroy the dark…"
Sera tilted her head. "You think it's literal? Illusions?"
"Almost definitely," Vulgrat said. "This place already likes playing with perception."
Tamara crossed her arms. "So… what, we walk in blind?"
Vulgrat's eyes sparked. "Actually… yeah. Maybe."
He rummaged in his ring again and pulled out a coil of rope. It wasn't fancy—just thick, durable fiber—but the way he handled it said he'd thought of this before.
He started looping it. "Mara first," he said. "You tank. If something smashes us, you're the wall."
Mara snorted. "Flattering."
He tied the rope around Mara's waist, then his own, then Sera's, then Tamara's at the back. The knot was tight but not painful.
"If this is what I think it is," he said, "our senses are going to get messed with. Sight for sure, maybe sound. The riddle says don't believe what you see, so obviously we shouldn't. Believe what you feel—means trust your body, not your eyes. Trust in the light, destroy the dark… could be metaphorical, could be literal. But…" He looked at each of them in turn. "I'm betting this whole room is one big trap for the unwary. You look? You lose."
Sera licked her lips. "So we… walk through with our eyes shut."
Tamara raised a brow. "You're sure?"
"No," Vulgrat said. "But I'm confident enough to bet my life on it. And yours. So… don't make me wrong, yeah?"
Tamara stared at him for a second, then nodded. "All right."
Mara grunted. "Fine. You're the alchemist. If this goes bad, I haunt you."
Sera laughed weakly. "I second that."
Vulgrat smiled tightly. "Good. Everyone—close your eyes. Don't peek. Not even a little. Not unless I say it's safe."
One by one, they obeyed. Darkness swallowed the corridor.
Tamara felt the tug of the rope at her waist as the others adjusted. The absence of sight made the faint sounds in the corridor sharper—someone's breath catching, cloth sliding over leather, the quiet creak of Mara's shield strap.
"All right," Vulgrat said. His voice sounded bigger in the dark. "Mara, when I say, push the door."
"Say it."
"Now."
Stone groaned.
The door creaked open, a low, grinding sound that vibrated through their boots. A breath of air rolled out from the space beyond—cold and damp, carrying the faint scent of stagnant water and something sour.
Tamara's skin prickled.
"Forward," Vulgrat said. "Slow. Trust the rope. Trust your steps. Don't trust anything else."
Mara stepped.