The pale light drains beneath the dais. Stone unfolds in a slow circle, revealing a stair plunging into immense darkness, while cold air rises carrying the dust of ages.
Edric remains near the threshold, one hand braced against a hooded pillar. Below, distant stone-shod footsteps gather, measured and numerous, though no figure yet emerges.
The Faint Voice
The host beneath the keep considers its ancient oath fulfilled. Its judgment has ended, but what was bound to that oath still keeps the road below.
The broken house-blade grows warm in Tancred’s hand, its metal answering the depths with a faint vibration. Each descending step seems to draw the hidden presence nearer.
Edric
The host has accepted thee, brother, but acceptance is not release. Whatever walks below may believe its duty has only changed.
The Faint Voice
Bearer of the house-blade, the stair is open. Descend if thou wouldst learn what oath remains after judgment.
The footsteps stop somewhere beneath the darkness. Edric watches Tancred from the threshold, and the open stair waits without command or promise.
Stop the buried host from advancing against the living