A cold breeze flowed out from the darkness inside.

A cold breeze flowed out from the darkness inside. Eldad smelled a faint odor of perfume, rot, and something else—the smell of death. From the few times he’d been inside a temple, he recognized the other scent. Incense. They stood quietly in the dark and heard faint sounds, hammering and digging, from far inside.

The youth lit a small clay lamp. By its dim light they now could see the narrow entrance had widened into a broad chamber with another opening on the left side. A careful examination revealed an archway of quarried stone, ancient stone. These caves had been used for generations.

Shields forward, crouching, with their finely made bronze blades pointing the way, Eldad led them forward.

Then, from nowhere, a light flashed. A shriek pierced the gloom. He felt blind. His ears rang. What was this? Behind him, one of the blackblades hissed, “Magic!” . . . .

​[from chapter 1 of Tombs of Kissuru, writing in progress]