Mark of the assassin - a Shadowbane tale

Slaan kicks through the weakened seam, stone bursting inward. The hidden chamber opens on two handlers frozen mid-pry, a slab half-lifted from the wall. On a rubble altar between them, the scroll case throbs with faint light, each pulse echoing the mountain below.

One handler lunges for a hooked knife. The other snatches at the altar, but the glow flares brighter, as if the chamber itself notices Slaan. Bram pushes in behind her, while Lord Markul squares up at the seam, blocking the retreat.

Dust rains from the ceiling. The stone pulse deepens, and the scroll case gives a sharp, hungry hum. If the handlers secure it now, the node wakes fully, and the toll cairn becomes a trap with no way back.

Slaan snaps both hands up and releases the spell into the chamber. A hard pulse of force and shadow slams across the handlers, stealing their sight and dropping them out of rhythm with the room.

The one with the knife staggers blind into the slab. The other recoils from the altar, fingers clawing at empty air as the glow around the scroll case flickers under the shock.

Dust rolls from the ceiling with the next tremor. The handlers buckle, stunned and blinded, and the hooked knife falls useless to the floor.

The scroll case remains on the altar, humming in the trembling dark, but the handlers cannot reach it.

Slaan cuts the spell inward, and the chamber seems to inhale with it. Both handlers jerk hard, their rhythm broken again as shadow clings to their throats and chests.

Two thin shadow bolts snap from her hands, one after the other, striking each blinded handler before they can recover. The knife-hand caves toward the floor, and the other reels away from the altar, choking on empty air.

The glowing scroll case shudders on the stone, still humming, but now the only movement near it is their stumbling retreat.

Bram lunges in under the falling dust and clamps both hands around the case, wrenching it off the altar as the tremor rolls through the floor.

The handlers collapse into the rubble behind their own blindness, while Bram turns with the scroll case held tight against his chest. The chamber's humming falters, then follows him in a faint, angry pulse.