The scattered salt burns white, then sinks between the boards. An ancient sigil flares beneath the pantry, its lines outlining a narrow stairway where solid floor stood moments ago.
Lord Caldris
Those markings are older than my house. They are part of the seal imprisoning the curse, not merely a ward against it.
The floor drops open with a grinding sigh. Below waits a cramped undercroft packed with black ward-stones, each pulsing violet light through dust and age. A deliberate knock rises from the darkness.
The Thug
That is no settling stone. Something down there is asking to be let out.
Lord Caldris
The outer seal is open. If the inner one has begun answering, the curse has found its prison door.
Lord Caldris remains beside the broken crate, the last violet sheen tightening around his wrists. The Thug stays above the opening, dagger lowered but ready, while the knocking comes again, slower and more exact.
Lord Caldris
Dizevious, do not touch the stones. Look first, and listen. Whatever is below knows the seal has changed.
The violet pulses answer one another down the stairwell. Beneath them, something knocks a third time, directly under the lowest visible step.
✓ Quest Accepted
Discover what is imprisoned beneath the ward
✓ Quest Accepted
Return the thing to its own dimension
“Can do we send it home, Your Grace?”
NO (Even, rolled 64)
The third knock dies beneath the lowest step. In answer, every ward-stone flares at once, and the violet light folds inward, sealing the stairway in a hard ring of shadow.
Lord Caldris
No. We cannot send it home, Your Grace. This is not a door to its dwelling. It is the prison that has held it since before my bloodline had a name.
The curse-light around Lord Caldris's wrists pulls taut, as though the answer itself has become a chain. Below, the unseen knocker gives no fourth reply.
The Thug
So the thing is not trying to get back. It is trying to get out.
Lord Caldris
Precisely. The seal does not lead it home. The seal is the only reason it has nowhere else to go.
A hairline crack appears across the lowest step, but the black ward-stones hold. The prison has answered the question plainly: there is no safe return, only containment.
The Thug
Then keep it shut. I would rather be cheated of my pay than share a pantry with whatever is knocking down there.
“Grab a hand full of salt and watch the light. Ready to throw it.”
SUCCESS (Fair Perception, rolled +0)
Dizevious gathers a firm handful of salt and holds it above the sealed stair. He watches the grains, the ward-stones, and the taut violet chain around Lord Caldris’s wrists.
Dizevious Breeddrake
The light bends toward the crack before it touches the salt.
The signs become clear: the lowest step brightens first, then the nearest ward-stones answer. The glow does not breach the ring; it tests the crack and recoils.
Lord Caldris
There. You have seen it. The prison is holding, but that fracture is the point it will worry first.
The Thug shifts away from the stair, keeping his dagger low. His eyes follow Dizevious’s salt hand now, less doubtful of the seasoning than of what it can prevent.
The Thug
So you know when to throw it. Good. Keep your hand ready, performer. I would rather owe you than bury us both.
Lord Caldris
Do not waste a grain until the light crosses the ring. Until then, your watch is exactly what keeps this prison closed.
− Scene Quest Removed
Return the thing to its own dimension