Manifest Fantasy

A high-pitched whine pierced the air as the TOW missile streaked toward its target: the Sentinel Lindwyrm. Henry watched through the CROWS display as the missile closed the distance, his finger hovering over the trigger for follow-up shots on any new weak spots.

Impact. The warhead detonated against the Lindwyrm’s head and neck in a blinding flash, the overpressure wave rippling through the surrounding fog. The Lindwyrm shrieked, the sound deafening even through their ear protection. Smoke billowed from the blast zone, mixing with fog and dirt.

The creature thrashed its head, tossing dark blood into the environment as it staggered back toward the treeline and disappeared behind the debris. Chunks of flesh and shattered scales rained down, but Henry couldn’t tell if it was dead or not. By all accounts, it should be – the TOW missile was a weapon capable of taking out IFVs, and there was no way the Lindwyrm could’ve survived a direct hit to the head, could it?

“Sera, wind,” Henry called out.

Without a word, Sera acknowledged and blew away the smoke with a strong gale. The area where the beast once stood was empty, save for the blood and viscera on the clearing grounds. The Lindwyrm bellowed again, the guttural sound echoing from the forest.

“Lost visual on target. It retreated back into the forest,” Henry said.

The radio crackled with Ryan’s voice, “Copy, reloading. Though I reckon it ain’t gonna fall for the same trick twice.”

Ron looked up at the rearview mirror. “Think it ran for good?”

It wasn’t a question Henry could readily answer, even with what he’d learned about the Sentinel Lindwyrm. They were a territorial species, but also incredibly intelligent. The TOW had hit the damn thing right in the head and neck, a solid hit that should’ve put it down for good. Sure, it could’ve run, but he knew better than to assume the fight was over just because of one lucky shot.

Henry kept his attention on the screen, still scanning the treeline for any sign of the injured monster. “Negative. If anything, it fell back to lick its wounds. Chances are, it won’t abandon its den; we won’t be able to investigate the site until we confirm the area is secure, and that only happens when that thing is dead.”

“Captain,” Sera called out suddenly, “to the west, I espy frost forming from the treeline!”

Henry swiveled the CROWS camera to face the western side. The ground near the trees seemed to be freezing over, frost spreading out from the forest like some kind of fast-forward nature documentary. It coated everything it touched, leaving behind a landscape that looked more like Antarctica than the surrounding Grenden Forest. It was smart – damn smart, he had to give it that. There was only one reason why it might try to freeze over the ground like this: to limit their mobility and make it harder for the MRAPs to maneuver.

“Son of a bitch,” Henry muttered. “Alpha Team, be advised. The Lindwyrm is using some kinda wide-area frost effect. It’s flash-freezing the clearing. Hayes, get ready. Sera, Kel, try keeping the frost at bay.”

The two Sonarans acknowledged, using earth magic to crack the ice and fire magic to melt it away. It worked, but marginally. Even after all that, it seemed the Lindwyrm still had a lot of mana left over – or was simply better than the two Sonarans at exploiting the ambient mana of the environment.

The Lindwyrm was out there, lurking just beyond the veil of fog and frost. It was just a matter of time before it made its move.

And then it happened. Throwing up dirt to mask its charge, the Lindwyrm burst out of the forest like a living battering ram. It emerged at an angle, putting Henry’s MRAP directly between itself and Ryan’s vehicle. In that moment, he realized exactly what the Lindwyrm was doing. It was using his MRAP as a shield, preventing Ryan from getting a clear shot with the TOW missile. The creature was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than they had given it credit for. It had figured out their tactics, their weapons, and it was using that knowledge against them.

“Owens, get us out the way!” Henry yelled as he brought the gun and grenade launcher to bear on the Lindwyrm.

He aimed for the beast’s wound – which had frozen over – and opened fire. With how erratic its movements were, it was hard to accurately target the weak spot. Most of the bullets and grenades hit the scales, pinging off and leaving behind little more than scratches and dents. These weapons were enough for light vehicles, not tanks. While a few of the shots managed to hit their mark, it wasn’t quite enough.

Henry felt Sera jump down from the hatch and secure herself to her harness as the beast approached. Soon after, the Lindwyrm slammed into the side of the MRAP with the force of a runaway train. The MRAP rocked violently, the hull groaning and screeching as the creature’s bulk battered it. The vehicle then tipped, the world around him tilting at a sickening angle as the MRAP was lifted off its wheels.

For a moment, everything seemed to hang in suspension, the fog swirling around the vehicle like the world’s most surreal snow globe. Then, with a final, wrenching groan of tortured metal, the MRAP toppled over, crashing down onto its roof with a bone-jarring thud.

Inside the vehicle, Henry and Sera were thrown against their restraints, their bodies straining against the harnesses as the world turned upside down. Cracking plastic, popping rivets, loose gear shifting and tumbling, gunshots from the other MRAP outside – it was true chaos. The only thing Henry could take solace in was the fact that the reinforced frame of the MRAP held, its roll cage protecting him and Sera from the worst of the impact.

He shook his head, blinking away the dark spots and blurs that danced across his vision.

“...there? Captain?” Ryan’s voice came through his headset.

“Yeah,” Henry grunted. “Sitrep?” he asked, feeling pain as he spoke.

“Target ran back into the forest, but I’m damn sure it smells the blood in the water, over.”

Henry took a breath and exhaled. Assuming the Apache left base immediately after they fired their flare, they’d probably get here within a few more minutes. “Copy. Maintain overwatch. We stay put til Thunder 1-2 gets here, over.”

“Solid copy, Alpha Actual. We’ll keep a lookout, over.”

Henry rested his head on his seat. He could taste blood in his mouth, feel it trickling down his chin from where he’d bitten his tongue. Fuck, he didn’t bite it off, did he? A cursory feel around his mouth confirmed that his suspicions – thankfully – were false. He wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve and rinsed his mouth with a cleaning solution before spitting it into a bottle.

Beside him, Sera groaned softly, her breath coming in short, pained gasps. She had already pulled out cleaning pads from her Individual First Aid Kit, tapping away at minor cuts before healing them with magic.

“You alright?” Henry asked, his voice rough and strained. Even getting the words out hurt, causing him to wince.

“Worry not for me,” Sera chided gently. She took a break from tending to her scrapes, bringing her hand to caress Henry’s cheek. “‘Tis your own state that demands attention.”

Henry felt the warmth of her hand – or was it the blood rushing through him? For a moment, he couldn’t tell what Sera was doing, overcome by shock. Then, as a soft yellow glow surrounded her hand, he understood. The stinging sensation in his mouth drifted away, replaced by a slight but much more preferable soreness.

“Thanks,” he said, finding himself staring a bit too long into Sera’s eyes.

Sera smiled, “Of course, Captain.”

Before the moment could get any more awkward, a pained groan emanated from the driver’s seat. Henry turned to the front. “Owens? You good, bro?”

Ron’s face was pale, his teeth gritted against the pain. “My leg,” he managed, his voice tight. “Think it’s twisted.”

Henry cursed under his breath. Without proper diagnostic tools or a doctor around, he had to recall his first aid training. It was hard to be sure, but the symptoms suggested a severe sprain, and possibly a minor fracture. Cutting the fabric of his pants to get a better look, it didn’t seem too bad. He quickly assessed Ron’s condition: the leg was swollen and bent at an awkward angle, not typical of a simple sprain. Ron couldn’t move it, but the bruising was light and most importantly, there was no protruding bone or bleeding. Thank goodness.

A twisted leg wasn’t life-threatening, but they could kiss running for the excavation site goodbye.

With the Sentinel Lindwyrm still an active threat, they were basically stuck in here until help arrived. Taking their chances in the MRAP seemed much better than risking it out there.

Isaac’s voice came through the radio. “Alpha Actual, we’re repositioning to get a clear shot. Standby, over.”

Henry could feel the vibrations of the other MRAP’s engine through the frame of his own vehicle as Isaac maneuvered for a better firing position. He could picture the TOW launcher swiveling, Ryan’s finger hovering over the trigger, waiting for the perfect moment to let the missile fly. He’d just have to hope that the Lindwyrm would make a mistake.

Henry turned to Sera, then to Ron. “We’re gonna drag you back here. Can you move your leg at all?”

“Nah, can’t,” Ron replied.

“Fuck. Alright, this is gonna hurt, but we gotta get you outta that seat.” Henry positioned himself next to Ron, careful not to jostle the injured leg. “Sera, I need you on his other side. We’re gonna lift him on three, okay?”

Sera nodded. “On your command, Captain.”

“Okay. One, two, three!” Together, they lifted Ron as gently as possible, maneuvering him out of the driver’s seat and into the rear of the MRAP. Ron hissed in pain, but he didn’t cry out.

Once they had him settled, Henry turned his attention to the injured leg. “Sera, I need you to hold his leg steady,” he said, rummaging through Ron’s IFAK. “I’m gonna splint it, but I need you to keep it aligned.”

Sera did as she was instructed, her hands gentle but firm on Ron’s leg. Henry worked quickly. He’d done this before, in training and in the field, but never in conditions quite like these. The MRAP’s interior was cramped and messy from the tumble they went through.

He started by checking the circulation in Ron’s foot. Removing his boot and sock, Henry placed a finger against the nail bed, watching for the color to return. It did, indicating that the blood flow wasn’t completely compromised. Next, he palpated the leg, his fingers probing gently for any obvious deformities or crepitus – the grating sensation of bone rubbing against bone.

To his relief, he didn’t find any. The leg was swollen and painful, but it seemed to be a severe sprain rather than a full-on fracture – just as he had initially suspected. Still, he couldn’t take any chances. A sprain could turn into a fracture if it wasn’t properly immobilized, and a fracture could turn into something much worse if it wasn’t treated quickly.

He reached into the IFAK, pulling out a rolled-up SAM splint. He positioned it along the side of Ron’s leg, making sure it extended from just above the ankle to just below the knee. Then, using the Coban wrap from the kit, he began to secure the splint in place.

As he worked, he could hear the muffled sounds of battle raging outside: the crack of icicles against the MRAP’s underside, the dull thud of explosions, the roar of .50 cal. He tuned it out, focusing all his attention on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now. The MRAP was built to withstand explosives – it would hold against some fragile icicle ballistics.

Sera, on the other hand, flinched a good bit. He could see the worry in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. She had training as an adventurer, no doubt, but she lacked the discipline of a soldier. To her credit though, she never wavered despite the ongoing chaos. She kept Ron’s leg steady, even as the MRAP shuddered around them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Henry sat back on his heels. The splint was in place, snug but not too tight. It would hold the leg steady, prevent any further damage until they could get Isaac to take a look at it.

“Alright,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “That’s the best we can do for now. Sera, you remember the Integrated First Aid course?”

Sera nodded. She was a bit shaky, but he could tell she was determined. “I do. Yet be forewarned, my skill shadows faintly that of the Arcane Scholar.”

Henry hesitated. Magic was still an unknown, something he didn’t fully understand. But hey, if Dr. Perdue was behind the courses, then surely they must account for something. “That’s fine,” he said, nodding. “Do it.”

Sera placed her hands on either side of the splint, her eyes intently focused on Ron’s leg in concentration. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a soft golden glow began to emanate from her palms, suffusing Ron’s leg with a gentle warmth. The swelling began to subside, the mottled bruising fading from angry purple to a dull yellow-green. Ron’s face grew more pained for a moment before slowly relaxing, the lines of tension easing from around his eyes and mouth.

Ron sat up, glancing wide-eyed at his leg. He gave an astonished smirk, “Shit, that felt kinda weird at first but it feels a lot better now.” He looked up at Sera. “Thanks. You’re a real lifesaver.”

Sera’s nod was accompanied by a playful tilt of her head. “Your gratitude is appreciated, Lieutenant. Though, save your words for when we’ve cheated death itself, not a moment sooner.”

Another explosion rocked them, the blast coming from the road they came in from. Henry leaned down, peeking out the cracked bulletproof windows. It was difficult to see through the spiderweb of fractures, but he could just make out the smoke and debris billowing from where the TOW missile had struck.

Ryan’s voice came through. “That was our last missile. We’re black on TOWs, over.”

Well, shit. Without the heavy firepower of the TOWs, they were in a world of hurt. The .50 cal could sting the Lindwyrm, but it couldn’t put the damn thing down for good. Henry pressed the PTT button on his headset. “Copy that. Did you neutralize the target? Over.”

Ryan’s exasperated sigh was audible through the radio. “Negative. Lost visual.”

Henry was about to respond when a new voice burst through the static, garbled at first but quickly clearing up. “Thund… inbou… secon… Repeat, Alpha Team, this is Thunder 1-2, flight of one AH-64, holding at Angels One with a full load of Spikes, 30 mike-mike, and rockets, time on station 2 mikes. Ready to receive sitrep and 9-line, over.”

Relief surged through Henry’s veins. It was the Apache, their guardian angel in the sky. He’d never been so glad to hear that call sign in his life.

Henry felt his heart leap in his chest as he responded. “Thunder 1-2, this is Alpha Actual. 9-line as follows. Line one: IP East. Lines two to four: danger close. Line five: target is one Sentinel Lindwyrm, vulnerable to anti-armor. Line six: 1500-1530. Line seven: No mark available, advise visual ID of target. Line eight: friendlies in immediate vicinity. Line nine: Request immediate effect, ready nothing follows. Fire at your discretion. How copy, over?”

The pilot responded, “Alpha Actual, Thunder 1-2 copies all. We’re inbound with eyes on the clearing. Initiating visual confirmation for target ID. Arming NLOS. Danger close acknowledged. Stand by for my call. Confirm when ready for engagement. Over.”

Henry acknowledged the transmission. They needed to create some distance, give the Apache room to work. But how? As if in answer, a thunderous impact rocked the MRAP. Henry was thrown against his harness again, this time making sure to keep his tongue away from his teeth. The Lindwyrm had rammed them again, but this time, the force of the impact had flipped the vehicle back onto its wheels.

That was their chance. He scrambled into the driver’s seat, ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulder. “Hang on!” he yelled, slamming the MRAP into drive.

The engine roared as he floored the accelerator, the tires churning up a spray of dirt and ice. The Lindwyrm, caught off guard by the sudden movement, let out a roar of frustration. Henry didn’t let up, pushing the MRAP to its limits as he put distance between them and the Lindwyrm. In the rearview mirror, he could see the creature giving chase, shrugging off the .50 cal rounds coming from Ryan’s MRAP.

Henry analyzed the ground ahead – the clearing was about to end. He had to slow down or risk flipping over again. It looked completely fucked, but then the sky above them erupted with the roar of rotor blades. There, materializing out of the mist like an avenging angel, was the unmistakable silhouette of an AH-64E Apache Guardian. It hovered over the clearing, its powerful searchlight cutting through the gloom.

“Alpha Actual, this is Thunder 1-2. We have confirmation on the target. Confirm you are ready for strike, over.”

Henry smiled. “Thunder 1-2, you are cleared hot, over.”

“Cleared hot! TOT 10 seconds.”

What followed was a display of firepower that Henry would never forget. The monster didn’t even have time to register the new threat before it was beaten down. The Apache’s 30mm M230 chain gun opened up, a stream of armor-piercing rounds tearing into the Lindwyrm’s scales. Dark blood sprayed from the wounds, painting the ground a grisly crimson. The creature staggered back, howling in pain and rage as it vainly attempted to block the attacks with ice. Perhaps it would’ve worked against the standard adventurer, but it was paper against rounds designed to shred steel armor.

The Lindwyrm’s body was covered in gashes, holes, and wounds. Its scales were falling apart by this point, barely holding together by thin fibers. With the Lindwyrm’s charge stopped, a pair of NLOS missiles streaked from the Apache’s launch rails, slamming into the Lindwyrm’s flank with thunderous detonations. The explosions ripped through the creature’s body, tearing it apart from the inside out.

For a moment, the Sentinel Lindwyrm remained standing, its body a ruined mass of shattered ice and pulverized flesh. Then, slowly, it toppled over, crashing to the ground with an impact that shook the earth.

“Alpha Actual, Thunder 1-2, off target. Assessing effects, stand by for BDA, over.”

Henry slumped back in his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. They’d done it. Or rather, Thunder 1-2 did it. Against all odds, they’d survived. The Lindwyrm was dead, and they were still breathing. He gave a shaky laugh, relief and exhaustion washing over him in equal measure. “Thunder 1-2, damn good shooting! Target confirmed destroyed. We’re battered but alive. We owe you one, over.”

“Just doing our job, Alpha Actual. Be advised, we’ll remain on station for ten mikes for re-engagement and support. Call us if you need another rain check, over.”

Henry parked the MRAP next to Ryan’s, stepping out to assess the damage. “Roger that, Thunder 1-2. Appreciate the assist. Let Overwatch know we’re heading into GB-2, Alpha Actual out.”

He took a moment to survey the aftermath of the battle, taking in the scorched earth, the shattered trees, and the gore that littered the clearing. So, this is what it took to fight a Tier 9 monster. It was a sobering sight, one that reminded them that even they had limits.

He made his way over to Ryan’s MRAP, where the others were already working to set up a perimeter. Ryan crouched by the side of the vehicle, examining a gash in the armor plating – right where the dent was.

He looked up as Henry approached, a wry grin on his face. “Well, if that wasn’t a damn shitshow.”

Henry snorted, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, magic bullshit, huh? How’s the MRAP looking?”

Ryan glanced over the damage, his hand brushing against the jagged edge. “Reckon she’s holdin’ up better’n expected, all things considered. She’s built sturdy, but even the toughest get a bit weary after a tussle like that. Gonna need some good ol’ Tender Lovin’ Care to get her back on her feet, I’d say. Just a bit of patchin’ up and she’ll be ready to dance again – just not with any Tier 9s.”

“Hard agree on that one,” Isaac said, stretching as he put a drone in the air. “Can’t imagine what a Tier 10 would be like. Godzilla?”

“Possibly,” Henry said. His gaze drifted to the corpse of the Lindwyrm. The creature was a mangled wreck, its once-fearsome form reduced to a heap of charred flesh and scattered bone. “Would probably need some bunker busters for something like that, maybe more. But anyway, let’s not get too comfortable. Yen, take Kelmithus and go check on Owens. Think he’s got a leg sprain. Managed to patch him up a bit with Sera’s magic, but I’m sure he’d appreciate a second look.”

“You got it,” Isaac said with a nod.

Henry turned to Ryan and Dr. Anderson. “Scout around the entrance, see what you can find.”

As the team dispersed to their tasks, Henry’s eyes returned to the Lindwyrm. There, Sera stood, crouching by the Lindwyrm and staring at it with an inscrutable expression. He hesitated for a moment, then made his way over to her.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.

Sera glanced at him quizzically. “Penny? Is that some form of currency in your world?”

Henry chuckled. “Well yeah, but it’s just an expression. What’s on your mind?”

Sera turned back to the Lindwyrm with furrowed brows. “I wonder of the strength of your armaments. A Tier 9 Sentinel Lindwyrm, laid low with such… effortlessness.”

Sera wasn’t bad at hiding her shock, but it still seeped through. Henry could imagine what ramifications and implications she was thinking up, possibly calculating what such technology was capable of. But, there was a side of her that seemed almost… interested; excited, even. Why not indulge?

“The Apache is a top-of-the-line attack helicopter. It’s designed to punch through heavily armored targets, like uh,” Henry responded, searching for the right words to convey ‘anti-armor’ without bringing up tanks or bunkers, “fortress walls or golems. Against something like the Lindwyrm, even with its magical abilities… well, you saw the result.”

With a thoughtful pause, Sera absorbed his words. “By its deed against such a beast, what tier might this Apache claim? On the Guild’s system.”

Henry scratched his chin. The Tier system was similar to the Richter scale or the decibel scale in that it used a logarithmic scale to measure the magnitude of power, with each increment representing a significant increase in strength. However, it wasn’t a definitive scale – a Tier 8 creature like a Mithril Golem would have a lot more durability than the Tier 9 Sentinel Lindwyrm they just faced. Given the right matchup, even Tier 5 adventurers could possibly pull off a win against a Tier 7 monster. Similarly, a careless Tier 7 adventurer could lose to a Tier 5 monster.

“Hard to say, really,” Henry admitted. “The guild teaches that some tactics and equipment are more effective against certain monsters than others. In the same way, the Apache’s effectiveness depends on a lot of factors – the skill of the pilot, the terrain, the enemy’s capabilities. All things considered though, if I had to put a number on it… maybe Tier 9 or 10? It’s definitely up there.”

Sera’s eyes widened, but not in a way that expressed complete disbelief. It seemed like she’d already expected an answer like this. “Tier 10, you say? Such is the tier of myth and legend. Has your world then, machines aplenty of this caliber?

Henry grinned. “Well, to be frank, the Apache’s just the tip of the iceberg. You should see some of the other toys we’ve got back home. Makes this look like a kid’s birthday party.”

Sera arched an eyebrow, a wry smile forming. “Careful, Captain. Your words may yet sway me to join your ranks. I truly wonder, are these ‘toys’ of yours truly as grand as you claim? Or are they merely the stuff of bards’ fancies, embellished to impress wide-eyed maidens?”

Henry felt his grin widen. “Hey, you could always see for yourself. Offer’s always open. We could use someone with your skills and knowledge. Plus, I bet you’d look damn good in a set of our fatigues.”

“My, my, Captain. You do paint a tempting picture, but I fear you underestimate the allure of my current attire,” Sera said, spinning around. “‘Tis not so easily replaced, even by your undoubtedly… fetching fatigues.”

Henry was about to respond when a voice called out in his headset – it was Isaac confirming that he and Kelmithus had fully healed Ron’s leg. “Well, I guess we’ll continue this another time,” he said to Sera, adopting a more serious tone. “We should probably get moving.”

Sera glanced at the massive corpse in front of them. “And the Lindwyrm?”

Henry studied the corpse, pulling off a bloody scale. It was icy to the touch. “Eh, the frost should preserve it for a while. We can’t call for Collection cause of the interference, so we’re gonna have to do that later. Glory awaits, eh?”

“Of course,” Sera nodded. “Lead the way, Captain.”

Henry regrouped with the rest of Alpha Team, approaching the excavation site entrance. It was a massive, open cavern – part of a spur that connected to a large mountain. The walls soared dozens of yards overhead, made of rough, natural stone, with the occasional artificial surface jutting out.

“Remarkably preserved, Baranthurian relics aside,” Kelmithus noted, eyes glancing over the sight. “The Gatebuilder construction, it seems, defies the natural decay to which the mountain succumbs.”

Dr. Anderson agreed with a nod. “Everything the Gatebuilders left behind seem incredibly resilient. The fact that they could withstand untold millenia of erosion and plate tectonics – I wonder what they’re made of?”

Henry ran his hand along a section of smooth, metallic wall hidden beneath the crumbling stone. “Who knows? Nobody ever found this throughout the centuries?”

Sera shook her head. “Nay, Captain. This land has lain fallow and forgotten for centuries, lost to time and the depredations of monsters. While the soil may be fertile, neither Sonaran nor Nobian, nor any other people, deemed it worth the investment to cleanse the land of its… fell inhabitants.”

As they moved deeper into the cavern, the team began to notice signs of the Baranthurians’ presence. Old excavation equipment, now rusted and decayed, lay scattered about the area. Abandoned drills sat alongside hydraulic jacks and pulley systems that had long seized up.

Dr. Anderson knelt beside one of the drills, carefully examining its components. “Fascinating,” he murmured, “it looks like these were probably steam-powered. The drill bits though – they’re made of a material I’ve never seen before. Some kind of enchanted crystal, perhaps?”

“An astute observation, yet of lacking accuracy,” Kelmithus said, joining him. “This is no crystal, but an alloy – a blend of mithril and adamantium, at the very least. Alas, I cannot say with more certainty, for Baranthurian metallurgy still confounds us.”

Henry watched as the two scholars continued to examine the equipment, marveling at the ingenuity of the Baranthurians. He could only imagine how much more of a nerd fest it’d be if he got Dr. Lamarr in the mix. Well, he couldn’t blame them. Ancient civilizations, forerunners and precursors, fallen empires – they took the cake when it came to mystery and intrigue in sci-fi.

Ryan called out from the far side of the cavern, “Think I found the Lindwyrm’s nest!”

Henry signaled for the team to approach cautiously. The nest was a large mound of rocks, ice, and various organic materials, tucked away in a side chamber that had been partially concealed. Whatever this section was, it must’ve been used by the Baranthurians for their vehicles before the Lindwyrm moved in.

“Definitely the Lindwyrm’s nest,” Sera confirmed, her nose wrinkling at the pungent odor that emanated from the mound. “The beast’s musk is strong.”

The nest didn’t have much of immediate interest. Some bones that Dr. Anderson might be interested in picking, but nothing else significant otherwise. Moving on, Henry led the team further into the cavern, searching for any sign of an entrance into the Gatebuilder structure.

It didn’t take long before they came across an obvious entrance: a massive sealed doorway that reached well over two stories high. It was a seamless rectangular expanse of metal set into the cavern wall. Unlike the rough stone that surrounded it, the door’s surface was smooth and unblemished, without any visible handles, keyholes, or control panels.

“I don’t see any signs of forced entry,” Dr. Anderson said, squinting as they walked toward the door. “No tool marks, no evidence of drilling or blasting. It’s as if the Baranthurians never even tried to breach the door.”

“Maybe they found another way in?” Isaac suggested. “They must’ve gotten those Gatebuilder artifacts somehow.”

Stepping in front of the doorway, Henry frowned and considered the possibilities. “The Gatebuilders were advanced. Maybe the Baranthurians found some sort of access code or artifact that let them through?”

“Or maybe it’s voice-activated?” Ron wondered aloud. With a deep breath, he projected into the cavern’s expanse, “Open Sesame!”

The echo of Ron’s command lingered as the team anxiously awaited a reaction, Henry included, who was half-convinced the door might just oblige. The seconds ticked by, with nothing happening. The unchanging facade of the door soon dashed all hopes.

Shaking his head, Henry couldn’t help but feel foolish for even a flicker of hope. “A for effort, Owens, but I don’t think the Gatebuilders had Arabian Nights in their library.”

Just as he finished speaking, the door suddenly hummed and began to slide open with a smooth, almost silent motion. A brightly lit corridor lay just beyond, beckoning them forward. The team exchanged startled glances, their weapons instinctively coming up to the ready.

“Uh, Captain?” Isaac said, “Did you do that?”

“Negative,” Henry responded. Could it be? Henry gave Ron a sidelong glance.

Ron gave a smug smile and a shrug. “You were saying?”

Henry peered down the corridor. It was an amusing prospect, but how likely could it have been? “Yeah, I don’t think it was your magical phrase, bro. Probably just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence it may be, but the way has been opened,” Kelmithus declared, granting each person an individual magic shield. “Shall we proceed?”

With a nod, Henry led the way, the team falling into formation behind them. As they stepped into the structure, the first thing that struck them was the eerie silence. Despite what Henry initially thought, there wasn’t even the rushing of wind. Hell, there wasn’t even a pressure difference to facilitate wind. It was strange, but then again, it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that the Gatebuilders had long mastered environmental controls.

The hallway stretched out before them, its walls lined with pulsing conduits. Their footsteps echoed off the smooth, metallic walls. He’d honestly take a cheery AI popping up out of nowhere to tell him about reclaimers over this unnerving silence.

Every few yards, the main passage branched off into smaller corridors and chambers, each one beckoning with the promise of new discoveries. The sheer scale and complexity of the Gatebuilders’ creation was one of the greatest marvels he’d ever seen. Rooms the size of aircraft hangars housed sleek, towering machines and obelisks whose purpose they could only guess at. Some of the smaller chambers had more identifiable things: tables, shelves, and chairs, alongside furniture or equipment that looked truly alien.

Though, for all the wonders they encountered, there was one thing that was conspicuously absent: any sign of the Gatebuilders themselves. Every room, every chamber, was empty. It could’ve been that the Gatebuilders abandoned them, or that the Baranthurians excavated everything long ago, or perhaps even a combination of both.

Eventually, they came across a room that was different from the others. It was smaller, more intimate, with a series of raised platforms arranged in a circle around a central dais. Each platform had a smooth surface, free from any engravings or other decor – all except for pulsing lights.

“What do y’all fancy this stuff is?” Ryan asked, stepping cautiously onto one of the platforms. “Some kind of control room?”

“Nah, I know exactly what this is,” Isaac snorted, a grin spreading across his face. “Beam me up, Scotty,” he quipped, stepping onto another platform.

At first glance, maybe, but wouldn’t a civilization like this have the means to teleport anywhere, without the need of individual platforms like these? Plus, the arrangement of the platforms suggested something else. Each platform had a corresponding partner, positioned directly above them. “Yeah, I don’t think these are what you think they are. Look up there.” Henry pointed. “Looks more like stasis fields to me.”

Ryan and Isaac hurriedly stepped off, eyes widening as they followed Henry’s gaze upward.

“Stasis fields?” Dr. Anderson murmured, stepping closer to examine one of the platforms. “Yes, I think you’re right, Captain. These platforms could suspend biological specimens, preserving them for study.”

They passed by more rooms, all as empty as the ones before them. Finally, they stumbled across a small locker room, or what looked like one. The benches were recognizable enough, but the lockers looked like simple slabs of metal. Either the lockers worked by teleporting stored items, or they weren’t lockers at all. It could just as easily be a server room, but then, why would there be benches in a server room?

Henry’s thoughts were interrupted by Kelmithus, who stood by an open passageway that seemed to have opened on its own. “I believe I may have found something of interest,” he stated.

Henry and the others hurried over to where Kelmithus was standing, his hand resting in the air next to a door set into the far wall, just beyond the passageway. Like the other doors, this one had no handle or hinges – just a faint outline that suggested it should be a door. Henry glanced at Kelmithus’ hand, realization dawning on him.

He doubted that Kelmithus would be one to engage in pantomime in a place like this, so there was only one possible explanation. Henry moved his hand toward the door carefully, his movements forcibly stopped by an invisible wall. Unlike the other doors, this one was shielded and did not open for them.

“Seldom are seals without purpose,” Kelmithus noted.

Sera nodded. “Closed doors oft hide secrets. Horrors may lie beyond. Or glory. Truly, ‘tis a coin flip – fine odds for an adventurer.” She smiled, looking up at Henry. “What say you, Captain?”

“I’d love to investigate, but we need to find a way in first,” Henry replied.

He looked around for a moment. Judging from the size of this compartment, it was likely some sort of vestibule or airlock – a decontamination chamber, maybe. It sounded about right, assuming that the locker room was used for storing personal effects or putting on biohazard equipment before stepping inside. And there it was: a small, simple button along the panel behind them. A similar button was built into the wall outside of the vestibule, hidden behind one of the ‘lockers’.

“Think I’ve got it,” he announced. “But… we should probably put our Envirosuits on, first.”

Henry fished his suit out of his Holding Bag. It looked goofy, pulling such a large suit out of a backpack, but he had gotten used to it. After putting his Envirosuit on, Henry produced a shotgun from his bag and loaded it with standard buckshot. Then, he tossed a scale he picked up from the Lindwyrm and tested the button on the chamber before they themselves stepped inside.

As expected, the passageway sealed itself, a window materializing from the new wall. A hum and a sweep of bright light soon followed before the door to the other side opened. It was hard to see through the slit, especially since the lighting on the other side was dim. He pressed the button again, opening the passageway on their side.

Henry picked up the scale, which was now sparkling clean. He glanced around. “Everyone ready?”

Ryan readied his shotgun. “Damn right,” he nodded.

“I’ll go first,” he said, stepping into the chamber. Hearing his own unsteady breathing within the Envirosuit, he calmed himself. Then, he pressed the button.