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The Mage's Path: Chapter 24
🕑 Added 2025-02-14 20:42:02 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s the second chapter of the week. Harry uncovers some information on his family and steps into a new dungeon.
Chapter 24
Harry stared at the parchment, the edges crumpling in his white-knuckled grip.
The Soul Examination results listed the enchantment's name in stark black ink: "Velamen Sanguinis"—the Veil of Blood. The magical signature belonged to his mother.
She had woven an ancient blood enchantment into his very being, using magic classified as dark to conceal something about his heritage. It drew power directly from his magic. Whatever his mother had hidden, she'd gone to extraordinary lengths to keep it concealed.
"The diagnostic spells were reading it wrong all along," Harry murmured, sinking into a nearby chair. "They detected dark magic and assumed it must be a curse. No one thought to look for blood magic."
Tonks pulled up another chair, straddling it backwards to face him. Her hair shifted through muted shades of blue as she processed the revelation.
"The spell's properly complex,” Tonks said. “Even the theoretical framework is giving me a headache. According to this, it wasn't meant to leave a visible mark."
"So either she miscast it, or something else interfered." Harry's fingers drifted to his forehead, tracing the familiar ridge of scar tissue.
Fifteen percent of his magic was continuously siphoned off to maintain the enchantment. He'd grown used to working around that limitation, but what could he accomplish without it? What truth could be so dangerous that his mother would sacrifice part of his magic to keep it hidden?
His mother must have left some explanation, some hint of what she'd been protecting him from. What was she so scared of? Did it have anything to do with Uriel?
"Your mum must have had a good reason for what she did," Tonks said.
"I know. I just wish I knew the reason why she used this method.”
Tonks snorted. "Even with it, you're still a little magical powerhouse, from what I've heard.”
Harry frowned. "I still want to get rid of the scar."
"Are you sure that's wise?" Tonks asked. "You don't know what could happen. Whatever your mum was hiding, she went to extraordinary lengths to keep it hidden."
"I'm not going to remove it immediately." Harry folded the parchment and tucked it into his robes. "But I want to search for the counterspell to remove it when I'm ready.”
"Do you think there is one?"
"I don't think my mum would do permanent harm to me. Maybe there's something in the Potter family vault?"
"That's a good bet.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair. “What do you know about my family?"
Tonks's brow furrowed. "Not much, if I'm honest. Your grandparents were Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. Bit of an odd name, Fleamont—he invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Made the family quite wealthy."
"And before them?"
"Like most old families, you're distantly related to loads of others. The Blacks, for example. " Tonks paused. "There's always been rumours that the Potters descend from Gryffindor, with the lion being your family crest. No proof though."
Harry didn’t correct her mistake about his family crest. "Interesting."
"You should dig into it more," Tonks suggested. "The library's bound to have books on magical genealogy. Or ask my mum. She’s into all that family genealogy stuff, even if the Black family disowned her. Might help explain what your mum was trying to hide."
"If only it were that easy,” Harry replied, before switching topics. “So, what's the favour you want?"
"I need a sparring partner." Her grin widened impossibly further. "To work on my accuracy."
Harry slumped in his chair. He should have offered galleons instead of a favour—anything would be better than becoming Tonks's personal target dummy. "When do we start?"
"Right now!" Tonks bounced to her feet, wand already twirling between her fingers. "Don't worry, I'll only use mild stinging hexes. Probably."
"How reassuring," Harry muttered, pushing himself upright.
His mind might be reeling from revelations about his mother's magic, but his body needed to focus on survival. As he took a defensive stance, he silently thanked all those hours of dungeon combat for honing his reflexes. He'd need every trick he'd learned to survive Tonks's idea of "training."
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Harry settled into bed, having just returned from his latest dungeon run. He opened his menu to browse his status, considering how he would spend his points.
Celeste perched on his shoulder, her tiny legs swinging as she peered at his status window. Despite having just cleared two dungeons, the fairy had too much energy.
"It’s about time to spend those points," she said. "We've been hoarding them long enough."
Harry studied his status window. He had twenty attribute points to spend. Now that he would be levelling up more consistently in the future, he didn’t feel the need to hold them in reserve.
Without hesitation, he allocated eight points to Intelligence, pushing it to thirty. The increase would finally allow him to decipher the tablets from Potter Isle. His attempts to improve the attribute through study had plateaued since arriving at Hogwarts, confirming his suspicion that natural advancement had reached its limit.
He spent seven points on Agility, raising it to match his Intelligence. Though Wind Dash provided bursts of speed when needed, the MP cost made it an inefficient crutch during extended encounters. Better to develop his natural mobility and preserve magical resources for offensive abilities.
The remaining points bolstered his Vitality to thirty-two, expanding his HP pool to a more comfortable three hundred and twenty. Recent encounters demonstrated the dangers of relying solely on healing potions—a single devastating blow could still spell disaster without a robust health buffer.
His meagre two path points hardly warranted consideration. He would save them for a more meaningful investment in new skills.
"Let's check your skills first," Harry said, opening Celeste's status window. "Might help us make a better decision about your attribute points."
Celeste's eyes darted across her skill board, examining the two paths available to her. Unlike Harry's sprawling selection of abilities, her choices remained streamlined and focused. Because of these limited options, she'd accumulated a tidy sum of path points.
"There," she said, tapping the Shadow Assault path with her tiny finger. "Void Prison."
Harry nodded, allocating three path points to unlock the ability.
======Void Prison | Active | Level 1 | Upgrade: (0/20) | Cost: 10 MP | Attribute: SPI/WIL
Description: Creates a spherical prison of pure darkness that traps and damages enemies caught within. The void sphere constricts around its target, dealing continuous damage while limiting its movement. Higher levels increase both damage and duration.
* Creates a 2-metre diameter sphere that lasts 10 seconds
* Deals minor dark damage every 2 seconds
* Reduces enemy movement speed by 30%
* Cannot trap enemies larger than the sphere
* SPI > 40: Increases damage by 25%
* WIL > 50: Doubles the duration.
* Upgrades to level 2 after trapping 20 enemies ======
Celeste giggled. “Unlock the next skill as well. It matches with Void Prison.”
Harry spent four path points to unlock the next skill in the Shadow Assault Path.
======Shadow Leech | Active | Level 1 | Upgrade: (0/1000) | Cost: 5 MP | Attribute: SPI/WIL
Description: Launches a tendril of darkness that attaches to an enemy, draining their life force and converting it into MP. The drain weakens over distance, making it most effective at close range.
* Drains 10% of target’s health over 5 seconds
* Converts the drained HP into MP
* Maximum range of 10 metres
* Can only affect one target at a time
* SPI > 50: Increases drain rate to 15 HP per second
* WIL > 40: Allows draining two targets simultaneously
* Upgrades to level 2 after draining 1000 total HP ======
"Rather clever combination," Harry mused.
"The MP drain's useless unless they've got decent MP," Celeste said, her tiny nose wrinkling.
"Higher-level monsters will have plenty to steal," Harry replied. "But what I find more interesting is how overpowered combining the two skills will be—your target’s HP would plummet."
A wicked grin spread across Celeste's face as she contemplated the possibilities.
"Now then, where should we allocate your attribute points?" Harry asked, scrolling through her attributes.
Celeste tapped her fingers against her chin. "Spirit and Willpower affect both skills, so ten points each makes sense. The remaining points can be spent on Agility.”
Harry distributed her points accordingly, and her updated status materialised before them:
====== Player Information
Name: Celeste
Occupation: Umbra Sprite
Level:13 Next Level: 7594
Experience Pool: (2200)
Attribute Points: 0
Path Points: 7
Resources
HP: 125/125 [100]
MP: 210/680
SP: 112/112
Attributes
STR: 3
AGI: 21
VIT: 25 [20]
END: 8
SPI: 34
INT: 10
WIL: 32
PER: 23
DEF: 2 [+ Equipment] 11
=====
Boons
Occupation:
Umbra Sprite: +1 SPI per level; increases the potency of dark spells/skills by 25%; grants Celeste access to two skill paths.
Titles:
Harry Potter’s Familiar: Has limited access to the Gamer’s menu.
One of a Kind: The only Umbra Fairy that exists today. Possesses unique magic that sets it apart from all other magical creatures.
Fairy Magic: Celeste can use all her spells without the need for a focus or external aid.
?????????: +1 to PER per level, +50% effectiveness towards ???
Burdens
Fairy Constitution: All HP/STA/DEF gains are halved. (Permanent.) ======
“Do you want another skill?” Harry asked.
Celeste shook her head. “Let me get used to the two skills first.”
Harry closed her menu and sank back against the headboard, absently running his fingers through his unruly hair. Though their steady progress offered reassurance, an undercurrent of frustration gnawed at him.
The parchment's bombshell about his mother—that she was responsible for his scar—demanded answers. There was also the mystery about the Halloween night when Uriel confronted his mother. His first taste of the memories in the tutorial dungeon had only whetted his appetite for the truth.
"We need to search harder for those other dungeons," he murmured, more to himself than Celeste. "The second half of that memory is out there somewhere."
He and Celeste had fallen into a rigorous routine over the past week, clearing the Abandoned Natatorium and Aspen Horror dungeons each evening before curfew. They only cleared the latter because the natural environment allowed Grove to recover in between running the Natatorium.
Harry remained frustrated by their plateauing experience gains. Having surpassed the Aspen Horror Dungeon's level cap meant only the Natatorium provided experience points.
He planned to reach level seventeen through the Natatorium alone before moving on to the next dungeon, but it wasn’t feasible. Each level demanded an exponentially larger experience investment, and clearing a single dungeon wouldn't sustain their advancement. Without access to additional dungeons, his progress would grind to a halt.
Harry had decided to tackle a new Dungeon over the weekend. It was classified as medium-sized, like the Aspen Horror Dungeon. So he would need at least a day to clear it. He just hoped he could find a reasonable explanation for his absence.
Beyond the dungeon diving, his magical studies bore unexpected fruit. Hours of practice in Transfiguration crystallised into something far more significant—the unlocking of its associated Primer:
======Transfiguration Mastery [Primer] | Active/Passive | Level 1 | Upgrade: Natural Growth | Attribute: SPI/INT
Description: Through dedicated study of matter manipulation, the caster develops an intuitive grasp of transformative magic. This Primer enhances all Transfiguration spells while granting unique properties that merge traditional wandwork with the system's capabilities.
* Reduces MP cost of Transfiguration spells by 15%
* Increases duration of temporary transfigurations by 25%
* Improves control and precision of transformative magic
* Each successful transfiguration increases the effectiveness of the next by 5% (stacks to 5)
* INT > 50: Can identify active transfigurations and their properties by sight
* SPI > 50: Grants the ability to layer multiple transformations ======
The improvement manifested immediately in his classwork, drawing notice from both Professor McGonagall and Hermione. His growing appreciation for the subject led him to contemplate its applications in dungeons, though its limitations within those spaces remained unclear. He could only transfigure small objects currently, which didn’t offer any advantages over his other abilities.
Besides his classwork and dungeon runs, he had been researching his family. Andromeda's response to his inquiries arrived promptly but offered little beyond confirming the Potters' connection to the Peverell line. The hint sent Harry and Hermione to the library, where Madam Pince directed them to The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
The story of three brothers encountering Death stretched credibility even by magical standards, but Harry couldn't dismiss the possibility that the legendary objects might exist. Perhaps his family vault would provide some answers.
Harry's frustration mounted over his inability to access the family vault. Though he'd petitioned Dumbledore for a visit over the coming weekend, the headmaster's response proved predictably dismissive—wait until the Christmas holidays.
His parents' will spelled out the restrictions in black and white: no access to the family vault without his magical guardian's permission until he turned thirteen. He would have to wait a few more months to get some answers.
Harry pulled the stone tablets from his inventory and spread them across his bed. His fingers traced the ancient symbols. His enhanced Language Comprehension skill offered tantalising glimpses of the language’s meaning.
He grabbed parchment and quill, methodically copying down recurring symbols. Patterns emerged as he worked—markings that appeared at the beginning of entries, others that linked concepts together. His skill didn't translate directly, but it helped him recognise these subtle connections.
A triangle-like symbol showed up repeatedly near numbers and dates. Another curved mark often preceded descriptions of people or places. Through painstaking cross-referencing, Harry built a crude cypher, matching symbols to their likely meanings.
The work proved maddeningly slow. He filled sheet after sheet with notes, testing translations only to discover they made no sense. But gradually, the language began to yield its secrets.
Hours passed as he refined his understanding. Harry finally began to decipher full sentences. Exhausted but triumphant, he started reading the first tablet properly.
One tablet chronicled five years of poor harvests, detailing how the settlers supplemented their food stores by fishing the rich waters around the isle. Another recorded the birth of twelve children in a single winter—a celebration tempered by the loss of three mothers to fever. His ancestors had been methodical in their record-keeping, preserving every detail of their new beginning. However, most of the records were mundane accounts of everyday tasks that didn’t provide any useful information.
Harry rubbed his tired eyes, fighting against exhaustion. Just one more tablet to examine. His tiredness vanished as soon as he started reading it. Unlike the others, this one provided some useful information.
"We fled through the gate as magic died in our realm. Those few who survived—barely twenty souls—emerged onto this windswept isle.
Here, where the waters rage and the storms howl, we build anew. The magic flows pure and strong, untainted by the corruption that poisoned our homeland. Linfred guides us with steady hands and a keen mind, though his methods provoke whispers. The locals mock his endless experiments, his constant tinkering with herbs. They name him 'the Potterer' in jest, watching him brew his strange concoctions.
But wisdom lies in his peculiar ways. His remedies heal our sick, his enchantments protect our homes. We who followed him through the gate know his true worth. And so we claim his mockery as our pride—we are clan Potter, children of the Shadow Realm, reborn in this new world.
Let those who come after remember our journey. Let them know of the realm we lost, where magic withered and darkness reigned. Here we plant our roots deep, here we forge new bonds. Though the gate stands sealed, we carry the old ways in our blood.
-Recorded by Aldrich, Keeper of Histories, in the third year of our sanctuary."
Harry's hands shook as he reread the passage. He grabbed another piece of parchment and wrote it down in English.
"Celeste!”
A grumpy fairy cracked her eyes open. "Do you know what time it is? Some of us need proper beauty sleep."
"My ancestors came from your realm." Harry thrust the parchment towards her. "The Potters escaped through a gate when magic began to fail."
Celeste dragged herself fully awake, peering at the ancient text. "Well, that explains the traces we keep finding. The Dusk Fairies, those strange plants, even that bloody Dire Wolf—they all crossed with your ancestors."
"Why hasn't anyone mentioned this before? Surely someone knew."
"Records get lost. Stories fade." Celeste settled on his pillow, stifling a yawn. "And honestly, would you go around announcing your family popped in from another dimension?"
"Fair point." Harry sank onto his bed. "But this can't be what Mum tried to hide. She married into the Potter line—this history isn't hers to protect."
"Unless..." Celeste's wings twitched. "What if she discovered something else while researching your father's family?"
"Maybe."
"We're missing pieces of the puzzle." Celeste burrowed into the pillow. "But they won't magically appear this early in the morning. Let me sleep."
"Fine." Harry set the parchment aside. "But we need to start digging deeper into this. Not knowing is going to drive me crazy."
Celeste's only response was a soft snore.
He tidied up his bed before opening the notification that had been blinking at him for several minutes.
======Congratulations! You have completed the Main Quest: Shadows of the Past. Rewards: Minor Mana Potion recipe. ======
Harry pulled the mana potion recipe from his inventory. The potential to brew his own potions instead of relying on random dungeon finds filled him with anticipation.
His eyes darted across the ingredients list until they caught on an unfamiliar component. By this point, he was familiar with the most common ingredients. This had to be another resource like Bloodroot—something that could only be harvested from within a dungeon.
Harry lay back, mind buzzing despite his exhaustion. The Potter history explained so much about the island—its connection to the Shadow Realm, and the creatures that shouldn't exist there. But it also raised more questions about his mother's actions. What had she discovered in her research? What truth had she thought worth concealing with blood magic?
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Harry sprinted into the Great Hall, robes askew and tie half-knotted. Most students had already finished breakfast, with only scattered stragglers remaining at the house tables. He snatched two pieces of toast, stuffing one in his mouth as Hermione and Ron approached.
"Overslept?" Hermione asked, adjusting her book bag.
Harry nodded, swallowing his mouthful of toast. "Lost track of time working on a project last night."
As they walked to class, Harry noticed Ron's slumped shoulders and downcast expression. He caught Hermione's eye, raising his eyebrows in silent question. She shrugged, concern etched across her face.
Ron had grown increasingly withdrawn over the past few days. At first, Harry had attributed it to fatigue from their mounting pile of homework, but this seemed different. The usual spark of humour had vanished from his friend's blue eyes, replaced by something darker.
They filed into History of Magic, claiming seats near the back. As Professor Binns droned on about goblin rebellions, Harry turned to Ron.
"What's eating at you?" he whispered.
Ron shook his head, pretending to take notes.
"Come off it. You've been moping about for days."
"Mum sent me a letter," Ron muttered, voice barely audible over Binns's monotone lecture. He pulled a crumpled parchment from his pocket and thrust it at Harry.
The letter's contents made Harry's stomach clench. Mrs Weasley threatened to have Ron removed from the family if he stepped another toe out of line. The words dripped with venom.
"She's always been like this with me," Ron whispered, staring at his blank parchment.
"Why does she treat you differently?"
Ron's quill snapped between his fingers. "It happened three years ago. Ginny was climbing this massive oak tree in our garden. I was supposed to be watching her, but I got distracted by a Quidditch magazine. She fell and broke her arm in three places."
"That's hardly your fault—"
"Try telling Mum that." Ink splattered across Ron's notes. "She went mental. Screamed at me for hours about how I could have killed her precious daughter. Dad tried to calm her down, but..." He swallowed hard. "She's never looked at me the same since."
Harry waited as Ron gathered himself.
"She'd always wanted a girl, see? Kept having kids until she got one. Last summer, I overheard her telling Dad she wished Ginny had been born before me." Ron's voice cracked. "Dad told her off proper, but..."
"The damage was done," Harry finished quietly.
Ron nodded. "She compares me to my brothers constantly. Bill's the successful curse breaker, Charlie works with dragons, and Percy's perfect at everything. Even the twins get better treatment—at least they make people laugh."
"That's rubbish," Harry said. "You're worth ten of Percy."
"Try telling my mum that." Ron scrubbed at his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if she'd have stopped at six kids if Ginny had come before me. Probably wouldn't even exist."
Harry thought of the Dursleys, of years spent unwanted and unloved. "Your dad doesn't feel that way though?"
"Nah. Dad's brilliant. Treats us all the same." Ron attempted a smile that came out more like a grimace. "Just wish Mum did too."
They fell silent as Binns floated past, but Harry's mind raced. He remembered his own cupboard, the constant reminders of his unworthiness. But at least the Dursleys had never pretended to love him. To have a mother's love withdrawn, replaced by bitter disappointment—Harry couldn't imagine anything worse.
"You could prove her wrong," Harry said, keeping his voice low. "Find something you're brilliant at and surpass your brothers."
Ron snorted. "I'm only good at chess."
"There's nothing wrong with chess," Harry replied. "But is there anything else you're good at or interested in?"
Ron raised an eyebrow.
"Right, Quidditch." Harry rolled his eyes. "Stupid question. Why not aim to try out for the Gryffindor team next year?"
"I doubt I'd be any good." Ron slumped in his chair. "The only position I see myself playing is Keeper, and Oliver's got that locked down tight."
"You could try for another position."
"Like what?"
"Any of them. But first," Harry eyed Ron's lanky frame, "you need to improve your physique. Build up some muscle, and work on your stamina. I could help—been doing some training myself."
Ron straightened slightly. "Yeah?"
"Start now, you'll be ready for trials next September. Show your mum what you're made of."
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Harry and Celeste materialised at the edge of a desolate garden, overgrown brambles choking what once might have been meticulously planned flowerbeds. Before them stood Borley Rectory—a hulking Victorian monstrosity that seemed to lean awkwardly, as if weighed down by decades of accumulated misery.
The house loomed like a wounded beast, its red brick facade scarred by time and tragedy. Broken windows gaped like hollow eyes, watching their approach with a malevolent stillness.
Celeste shivered, her wings tucking closer to her body. "This place feels wrong."
"Borley Rectory," Harry murmured. "Built in 1863 for Reverend Henry Bull. Supposedly one of the most haunted locations in England."
The house's history unfolded like a nightmare. Multiple families had lived here, each plagued by increasingly bizarre paranormal events. Ghostly apparitions, mysterious writings on walls, unexplained sounds of bells and footsteps. The Reverend Bull's family experienced strange occurrences first—phantom coaches, ghostly nun appearances, unexplained sounds that echoed through the night.
Subsequent residents reported even more terrifying phenomena. The Reverend Eric Smith and his wife experienced violent poltergeist activities. Books would fly across rooms, bells would ring with no one present, and mysterious writing would appear on walls—often in the blood-like script.
In 1939, the rectory burned down under mysterious circumstances. Some claimed it was an insurance scam. Others whispered of darker reasons.
The dungeon gate stood at the back of the house, partially hidden by a crumbling stone wall and overgrown ivy.
"Isn’t this exciting?" Harry asked. “A whole new dungeon to explore.”
Celeste sighed. “There’s something wrong with your brain.”
They approached the gate, its surface rippling like disturbed water. Text materialised before them:
======Dungeon: The Forbidden Cellar
Level Range: 5
Difficulty: High
Restrictions: Healing potion effects are reduced by 50%
Dungeon Break Status: 1 month
Environmental Corruption Status: 50%
Specifications:
* Visited by a Monster: Find traces of a terrifying monster inside the dungeon
* Necromantic Resonance: Zombie corpses can be reanimated by nearby undead
* The Undying: Monsters respawn every 12 hours
* Accelerated Magic Break: Shifts between the two phases more often======
"Brilliant. Zombies." Celeste's wings drooped. "Couldn't we find a nicer dungeon? One with puppies perhaps?"
"This one's got the shortest break timer," Harry said, checking his belt of potions. "If we don't clear it, those zombies could spill into the real world. Imagine what would happen if they reached a populated area."
Celeste shuddered. "Point taken."
They stepped through the gate. The dungeon's air struck them like a physical blow—thick with decay and something metallic that caught in the back of Harry's throat. His boots squelched against stone flooring slick with substances he'd rather not identify.
Cracked walls rose around them, glistening with moisture in the flickering torchlight. A treasure chest sat in one corner, while an enchantment machine stood against the far wall.
The exit door's wooden frame bore dark stains that looked suspiciously like dried blood. A persistent moaning drifted through, that raised goosebumps along Harry's arms.
"Our welcoming committee," Celeste whispered. "Fancy checking that chest before we meet them?"
Harry approached the chest. The lid creaked as he lifted it, revealing a grimoire bound in deep crimson leather. Dancing flame patterns decorated its cover, seeming to writhe in the torchlight.
"Fire Elemental Grimoire," Harry breathed, lifting the book. A notification appeared:
======Fire Elemental Grimoire
Description: An ancient tome containing fundamental knowledge of fire magic. The player gains mastery over fire in all its forms—from manipulating existing flames to conjuring powerful infernos from nothing. Advanced practitioners can master fire, create protective fire barriers, and even transform their bodies partially into flame.
Pyromancer Path: 0/10
Do you wish to unlock this grimoire? Y/N======
Harry confirmed without hesitation. The grimoire dissolved into motes of light and sank into his body.
He struggled to believe obtaining a grimoire had proved so simple. Had he known, he would have explored the dungeon ages ago.
He opened his skill board menu and spent two path points to unlock the first skill:
======Flame Dart | Active | Level 1 | Upgrade: (0/15) | Cost: 5 MP (per dart) | Attribute: SPI
Description: Conjures up to three concentrated darts of fire that can be launched at targets. The dart's speed and damage increase with the player's Spirit attribute. More advanced users can create even more darts.
* Each dart deals minor fire damage.
*10% chance of igniting the target, causing further damage over time.
* SPI > 40: Increases damage by 30%.
* SPI > 50: Increases the number of darts to four.
* Upgrades to level 2 after killing 15 targets. ======
"Perfect timing," Harry murmured. "Most undead are weak to fire."
“How would you know?” Celeste asked.
Harry shrugged. “From reading fiction.”
The moaning intensified, accompanied by a wet, dragging sound. Something scraped against wood—claws or nails marking time against the door.
Celeste's violet glow dimmed slightly. "Ready when you are."
Harry checked his menu. They were currently in the magic phase but he didn’t know how long that would continue.
"Let's see what our hosts look like, shall we?"
Harry pushed open the door, grimacing at the creak of rusted hinges. Shadows danced across stone walls as his Magelight spilled into a long tunnel stretching into darkness.
The stench hit him first—rotting flesh and decay so thick he could taste it. Celeste gagged, her tiny form ducking behind his collar.
A dozen zombies shuffled through the tunnel, their bodies in various states of decay. Strips of flesh hung from yellowed bone, and torn clothing clung to rotting frames. Several wore the remnants of Victorian-era clothing.
Harry's fingers tingled as he summoned three Flame Darts, the fire magic responding eagerly to his call. The nearest zombie turned at the light, its jaw hanging by strips of grey muscle.
"I'll draw their attention," Harry said. "You hit them from above."
"Right." Celeste zipped toward the ceiling, shadows gathering around her tiny form.
The lead zombie lurched forward, arms outstretched. Harry launched his darts in quick succession, each one punching through rotting flesh with a sizzling hiss. Flames spread across its torso, consuming rotten flesh. The zombie staggered but kept advancing, its burning form casting wild shadows across the tunnel walls.
More undead surged forward, drawn by the commotion. Their combined moans echoed off stone walls, building to a terrible chorus. The smell of burning flesh mixed with decay turned Harry's stomach.
"Shadow Lance!" Celeste's attack pierced the burning zombie's skull. It collapsed, its body dissolving into motes of light.
Harry sprinted sideways as two zombies lunged for him, their claws raking empty air. He summoned more Flame Darts, targeting their legs. The fiery projectiles burst against dead flesh, setting their lower bodies ablaze.
"Void Prison!" Celeste trapped a zombie in a sphere of writhing darkness. Its rotting limbs pressed against the shadowy barrier as Dark Resonance ate away at its HP.
A zombie slipped through Harry's guard, its teeth snapping inches from his face. He shoved it back, his hand coming away slick with putrid slime. His Flame Darts caught it in the chest, and the creature stumbled into its burning brethren.
"Harry, duck!"
He dropped as Celeste's Shadow Lance whistled overhead, skewering two zombies through their skulls. They collapsed like puppets with cut strings.
The remaining undead pressed forward, forcing Harry back toward the door. Despite their losses, the zombies' pack mentality made each survivor stronger. Their attacks grew more coordinated and dangerous.
"We need to clear some space," Harry called, dodging another swipe.
Celeste's wings hummed as she gathered power. "Void Burst coming up! Shield your eyes!"
Dark energy exploded outward, catching four zombies in its radius. The blast sent rotting limbs flying as shadows tore through dead flesh. When the darkness cleared, only three zombies remained.
Harry raised his hand, Flame Darts forming between his fingers. But before he could launch them, the temperature plummeted. Frost crackled across the stone floor, spreading from deeper into the tunnel.
The zombies froze mid-lunge, their hollow eyes fixed on something in the darkness beyond. A rattling wheeze echoed through the tunnel, and Harry's breath misted in the suddenly frigid air.
Something stirred in the shadows—something that made even the undead pause.
So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Harry and Celeste continue exploring the dungeon.
Thanks for reading.
