Damon stood by the dark stairwell beneath the altar, clad in his Ascendant armor. He debated equipping the Sovereign Mantle form—but ultimately left it in the standard Light Ascendant shell. The ashen crown hovered like a halo on his head, casting a faint spectral gleam. It was morning—the day they planned to leave the cathedral. The others were gathered behind him, weapons drawn and silent. Xander stood next to him, completely encased in the imposing armor of the Bound Colossus, its Sovereign Mantle active. The stairwell exhaled a faint dusty scent. The air hung heavy—like a tomb sealed for centuries. Damon frowned, glancing at Xander. "Meatshield, you go first…" Xander narrowed his eyes, conjuring a floating barrier of gravity magic, for added protection. Though he doubted it would do much. "I think you mean Frontline fighter..." Damon clicked his tongue, slightly irritated. "Just go ahead." Xander gave a short nod, gripping his spear with both hands. He eyed the weapon—it would be nearly useless in such tight quarters. He'd have to rely on his fists instead. That was fine. His armor's gauntlets were built like siege hammers. His punches were backed by gravity. Damon followed him, choosing to go before Leona. For some reason, the thought of letting her go first didn't sit right with him. The girls moved in after. Leona took the lead among them, followed closely by Evangeline and Sylvia, with Matia bringing up the rear. Xander's footsteps echoed softly into the dark, then his voice rose. "I can't see a thing... Evangeline, shine a light—or use that night vision spell Sylvia made." Damon blinked. He hadn't even realized how dark it had gotten. He could see just fine. His eyes were built for this—darkness made no difference. The same couldn't be said about his friends. The spell Xander referred to was a product of necessity—Sylvia's solution to their biggest issue in Lysithara. They couldn't risk using light at night, which meant they couldn't see. The spell fixed that by enchanting the eyes with temporary night vision. Only those with luminescent magic could cast it. When Damon tried, he ended up blinding people due to his shadow attribute. The spell was called Night Light. Evangeline stepped beside him, placing a palm gently over his eyes, casting the spell. Sylvia moved through the group doing the same. She glanced at Damon afterward, her lips curled. "Do you need a nightlight… or…?" Damon cut her off, he could see just fine. "My eyes are fine. I can see even better than I do in the day." Xander clicked his tongue. "If that's the case, why am I in front?" "Because you're a meatshield," Damon muttered. Evangeline lightly smacked his arm. "Okay, fine, fine. It's because your skill is most useful against physical attacks—and your body can take the abuse." Xander sighed and continued down the stairwell. "What do you think's down there…?" Damon shrugged. "Something the cathedral wanted to keep hidden. No one just builds a secret basement under an altar…" He rubbed his chin, lips twitching with ideas. "Maybe some ancient ritual site… or… maybe it's a treasure vault. I'd be so rich. I could kiss all my money problems goodbye." Evangeline scoffed, puncturing his fantasy. "With your luck, we're walking into the nest of some abominable creatures. Maybe giant rats… or an Arachnee who wants to use you to breed, then kill you—lay eggs in your mouth..." Damon glared at her. "Woman, can't you be optimistic once in your life? I'm usually the one bringing the gloom… but fine. Two can play that game. Maybe it's a den of huge, ugly orcs—get this, all male." He sneered with mockery in his eyes. "Hope they haven't seen a woman in a century…" Evangeline's glare sharpened. "Finish that thought, and by the Goddess, you will die." Sylvia sighed as the two kept bickering. Damon's gaze drifted around. 'I'm not scared or anything… I'm just a better man these days…' The girls glared at him. "What days?" Damon wisely chose silence. They continued on quietly, footsteps tapping the old stone. Despite the creeping dark, none of them seemed overly anxious—they took things in stride. "Should I blast the walls?" Leona whispered, her voice low. "Yeah, go ahead and bury us down here…" Damon muttered in response. Leona bit her lip. "Meanie…" Silence settled in again… until, finally, a faint light appeared at the bottom. Damon shifted into shadow, gliding ahead of the others. He reformed near the base of the stairwell, clutching his head as he pushed away the alien sensation of shifting. He shook it off and narrowed his eyes. They'd reached what looked like a narrow lobby. There was a skeleton in cracked armor resting against the far wall, one hand stretched toward the center of the room—clutching something. Two pale lamps flickered with ghostly flame, their glow illuminating deeply etched runes in the floor. A massive door stood at the back, silver runes crawling across its surface like chains. It radiated an oppressive aura—as if it had spent an eternity keeping something inside. Damon stepped toward the skeleton, kneeling beside it. The armor was ancient, corroded. A guard, maybe? He slowly pried its fingers apart. In its shattered palms rested a round object, covered in interlocking runes. The moment he took it, the skeleton crumbled into white dust—its existence extinguished, its duty fulfilled. Sylvia stepped up beside him, eyes narrowed. "This is a key… to the door." Damon nodded slowly. "A key... I'm not sure we should be opening that door…" Sylvia opened her journey book, activating her skill. Her face tightened. "I don't know what's inside. But I also don't want to pay the price to find out." Damon stood, the weight of the decision hanging in his chest. "…We open it." With a breath of hesitation, he placed the object into a carved groove on the door. A soft click echoed through the chamber. The runes pulsed. The door groaned… And then, slowly… it began to open. Revealing what lay sealed inside.