The mountain path wound steeply downward, snow crunching under their boots as the group picked their way carefully over icy patches. Silence hung heavy between them—each lost in their own thoughts about the deal they'd just struck—until Ethan finally broke it, his voice cutting through the cold air.
"Hey man…" He reached out and gave Hythesion's shoulder a gentle shake, his brow furrowed with worry. "What the heck was that back there? You put the pendant on the stakes?"
Arkar nodded in agreement, his golden eyes serious as he glanced at Hythesion. "Yeah… I know you were trying to help me get the book, but why risk something that important?"
Hythesion let out a slow breath, stopping for a moment to lean against a sturdy pine tree and look out over the valley below—far off, they could already see the faint shape of their cart and horses.
"Because that Bishop knows more than I thought." he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Think about it—all that tension… and yet he knew exactly where the pendant was. Not just that I had it, but that it was in my pocket specifically. How would he know that?"
He looked around at each of them, his gaze steady. "This is the only way we'll get our hands on the Book of Vanessa—and find out the truth about Janna, the bodies, and everything about the Church."
Geth kicked at a loose stone, sending it tumbling down the slope. "But what is the Ordeal Games anyway? We're going into this blind—and betting everything on it."
No one had an answer at first; they just kept walking, the only sound their footsteps and the wind whistling through the pines.
"All I know for sure," Hythesion said after a while, "is that it's some kind of fighting competition. Beyond that… I don't know.."
Every head turned to Arkar then—he was the only one among them who'd grown up in the White Order, who might know what they were facing.
Arkar slowed his pace, his mind clearly drifting back to his time in the church. "Ordeal Games were created by Vanessa herself, way back in the ancient dragon times," he explained, his voice carrying a note of reverence. "She made them as a way for dragons to test their strength and skills against each other—purely for honor and entertainment. No stakes, no grudges—just a chance to push yourself and learn from one another."
He paused, his expression darkening as he thought about what the games had become. "But as they were passed down through generations in the White Order… things changed. The elders started adding stakes, making bets. They said it was to 'spice things up,' but what was once about respect and growth turned into something much more personal. Now it's all about winning at any cost."
Arkar came to a full stop, turning to face Hythesion directly. "That's why I'm so worried about the pendant you bet, sir. These people—They'll do anything to win, to take what they want from us. We can't trust them to play by any rules but their own."
Hythesion just stared at the ground for a long moment, saying nothing. The weight of what he'd agreed to was clear on his face.
"Damn it…" Dale whispered under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets as they started walking again, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The group finally emerged from the tree line, where the slope flattened out into the small clearing where their cart sat parked. Maitara was pacing near the horses, her arms crossed and brow furrowed with worry—while Bayron was sitting on a log nearby, brushing down one of his draft horses with meticulous care.
"Hey! You're back early!" Maitara called out, hurrying over to meet them. "I thought you'd be up there much longer—what happened?"
Geth was already making a beeline for the cart, pulling back the canvas cover with a hungry look on his face. "I think Sir Hythesion should explain the details—all I know is I'm starving. I left some smoked fish wrapped up in there and I swear I can smell it calling my name."
Bayron stood Maitara, "Everything okay up there? You all look like you've seen a ghost—and not the friendly kind."
Hythesion ran a hand through his hair, letting out a tired sigh as he looked at Maitara and Bayron. "We need to talk. All of us."
Night had fallen hard over the mountain base, painting the sky in deep shades of indigo dotted with bright stars. Inside the large canvas tent the soldiers had set up earlier, warm lantern light cast dancing shadows across the walls as everyone huddled close together.
"–so that's everything that happened up there," Hythesion finished, slumping back against a wooden crate as he ran through the details one last time.
Maitara let out a low whistle, shaking her head. "Sounds like they're a real pain in the ass. And they just knew about the pendant?"
"Oh you have no idea," Akmenos grumbled, cracking his knuckles with a sharp pop. "Just wait until I get my fists on that Abe's face—he called me a 'horned devil' like it was some kind of insult."
"Yeah? Well get in line," Geth chimed in, wiping fish grease from his chin with the back of his hand. "He called all of us 'puny lower life forms'—I've been waiting for a chance to show him what a 'lower life form' can do."
Hythesion pressed his hand to his forehead, his brow creased with worry as he tried to work through their options. The tent fell quiet, everyone watching him think.
"Sir Hythesion?" Maitara spoke up, breaking the silence. "There's something Bayron and I wanted to show you. We found it while you were all up the mountain."
Curiosity piqued, the group followed her out of the tent into the cool night air. Maitara held a torch high, its flame cutting through the darkness as she led them a short distance from the camp to where thick brush had been pushed aside, revealing the mouth of an abandoned tunnel.
The entrance was narrow and dark, carved into the side of a rocky outcrop. "I went in to see where it went," Maitara explained as they gathered around. "Followed it straight back until I hit a locked door at the end—looked like it hadn't been touched in years. I tried everything to get it open, but it's embedded with anti-magic wards. Couldn't even get close to picking the lock."
She paused, her expression serious. "But the strangest part… I smelled something in there. The same thing I caught a whiff of back in Neverwinter Prison—like iron mixed with something sharp and chemical."
Hythesion dropped to one knee, running his hand along the rough stone edge of the tunnel mouth. "Then this must be the way to theirdungeons… maybe even where they're keeping the bodies."
He stood up slowly, his hand resting on his chin as he paced a few steps back and forth. The others stood quiet, watching him work through the problem.
"If we lose the Ordeal Games tomorrow," he said aloud, more to himself than anyone else, "we lose Arkar to the White Order, we lose the pendant, and we'll never get our hands on the Book of Vanessa. But even if we win—the only prize is the book. We still won't know where Janna is, or where the other bodies are being kept. We still won't find the source of this plague that's been killing people."
He stopped pacing, looking from the tunnel to his friends and back again.
"What to do… what to do…" he whispered, his voice heavy with frustration.
Suddenly, a spark of light flashed in Hythesion's eyes—like a candle being lit in a dark room. He spun around to face Arkar, his face brightening for the first time since they'd come down the mountain.
"Arkar—are there specific rules to the Ordeal Games? Things we need to know about how it's structured?"
Arkar tilted his head, clearly confused but willing to help. "Well… from what I remember, the games are set up between two sides—usually whoever issues the challenge chooses the format. It's always three members per team, one fighter per round. Three duels total—first side to win two rounds takes the whole thing." He furrowed his brow, studying Hythesion's face. "Excuse me, but what exactly are you planning? You look like you just saw a ghost… but a good one."
He picked up his pace, calling over his shoulder to the others. "Everyone—let's head back to the tent."
The group exchanged curious glances but followed close behind—even Akmenos looked a little lighter on his feet, hope starting to creep into his expression as he watched Hythesion lead the way back through the darkness.
Back inside the tent, everyone crowded around the wooden table as Hythesion stood at the head, his eyes bright with excitement. He snapped his fingers sharply to get their attention.
"Do any of you know who Alfred von Schlieffen was?"
Blank stares met him from every direction. Geth shook his head first. "Uh… no. Some kind of warrior? Merchant?"
"Sigh—fine, let me start from the top," Hythesion said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. Anyone who knew him could tell he was about to dive into one of his favorite topics. "Alfred von Schlieffen was a military strategist from long ago—he created what's known as the Schlieffen Plan. The whole idea was to fight and win a war on two fronts at once. And that's exactly what we're going to do here."
Ethan leaned forward, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean—attack on two fronts? We're already stretched thin as it is."
"Here's how it works," Hythesion explained, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "We split our group into two teams. One team will compete in the Ordeal Games tomorrow—keep the White Order busy, draw all their attention to the temple grounds. The second team will sneak into that tunnel Maitara found and head straight for the dungeons. If Janna and the other bodies are anywhere on this mountain, that's where they'll be hidden."
Maitara nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her face. "I like it—hit 'em where they least expect it."
"But it's a huge risk," Dale pointed out, leaning back in his chair. "If we split up, both teams will be weaker. Plus, who goes where? We can't just pick randomly."
"You're absolutely right—it is risky," Hythesion agreed, his expression growing serious. "That's why we need to choose the right people for each job. We have to play to everyone's strengths."
All of the sudden, Akmenos slammed his fist down on the table hard enough to make the lanterns rattle. "Sir Hythesion—I'm joining the Ordeal Games. No arguments. I've been waiting to get my hands on that Abe, and tomorrow's my chance to put him in his place."
Hythesion placed a steady hand on Akmenos' shoulder, his voice calm but firm. "I understand how you feel, But we can't make decisions based just on emotions. We need to think about what's best for the whole mission—not just settling scores."
Akmenos ground his teeth so hard they nearly cracked, but he nodded once and sank back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest in quiet frustration.
Arkar stood up, looking around at everyone with a steady gaze. "He's right. The White Order's warriors train their whole lives for combat like this—we can't afford to underestimate them. Every choice we make about who goes where has to be based on skill, not pride."
The next morning broke cold and clear, with the mountain peaks glowing pink and gold under the rising sun. Everything was packed and ready—supplies divided, roles assigned, plans double-checked. With a firm nod between the two teams, they split ways: one heading back up the winding path to the temple, the other making for the hidden tunnel entrance.
On the white stone plain at the mountain's peak, Bishop Kor'dor stood with his hands clasped over his staff, while Abe, Louie, and Anniebe waited beside him—Abe with his arm cross, Louie watching the arcway with calm focus, Anniebe's hand resting lightly on her weapon.
Then they saw them: figures emerging from the moss-covered arcway, moving with purpose across the plain. Arkar led the way, his posture straight and determined. Behind him walked Ethan—his lute slung over his shoulder, Next came Hythesion, walking firmly and prepared. And bringing up the rear was Akmenos—his jaw set, knuckles white as he strengthens his fist.
All four came to a stop at the edge of the plain, standing tall as they faced the White Order's warriors, ready for whatever the Ordeal Games would bring.
Meanwhile, at the mountain's base, Maitara held a torch high as she led Dale and Geth into the dark tunnel. The air grew cool and damp the moment they stepped inside, the stone walls slick with moisture. Dale carried a heavy crowbar and lockpicks, while Geth had his sword drawn—its steel gleaming in the torchlight.
As they disappeared into the shadows, a small gray bird perched on a nearby branch ruffled its feathers, tilted its head as if watching them closely, then spread its wings and shot upward, flying fast toward the mountain's peak.