The darkness in the underground prison was absolute. It was a thick, suffocating blackness, so complete that I couldn't even see my own hands. The only proof that Carl Zeiss still existed was the sound of his steady breathing somewhere across the cell.
"Do you really had to say a 'your momma' joke right there?" I finally grumbled into the void.
"Whatever," Carl's voice echoed back, completely unapologetic. "I saw a perfect opportunity and I took it. It's not like they were going to let us in anyway, not with the way they were looking at us."
"At least they would have chased us out!" I shot back, my voice rising. "We could have tried something different! But now we're in a pitch-black underground prison just because of your stupid joke!"
"Relax. At least we're inside the town now," he said calmly. "All we have to do is figure out how to get out of here and..."
He trailed off. "And what?" I prompted.
"I think this town isn't normal," he said, his voice losing its usual flippant tone. "Did you get a proper look at the guards and the citizens when they were dragging us here?"
"Yeah," I admitted. "Now that I think about it, all of them looked listless. Tired, like they had no energy."
"Exactly," Carl confirmed. "And I sensed a faint trace of a spirituoparasitic curse on that guard."
"Mind telling me what that is?"
"It's a forbidden curse. When placed on someone, it slowly drains their spiritual power and transfers it to the caster. Its teachings were banned across all species more than two hundred years ago. Most people nowadays only know the name from old books."
"Damn it! What kind of mess have you put us in now?" I hissed. "What if that person tries to put that curse on us?"
"Don't worry," he said, a hint of arrogance returning to his voice. "The curse on that guard was crude, not very refined. It won't work on me because I'm a high-class vampire, and it won't work on you because you have no spiritual power to drain."
"So... I'm safe from the curse because I'm so magically pathetic that it can't even detect me? Should I be happy about that?"
"For now, I think so," Carl said. "On the spectrum of spiritual energy, I am on the higher edge and you, my friend, are on the absolute lowest. The curse will ignore us both. Though," he added thoughtfully, "I might have some trouble if things get serious. I haven't had a drop of blood in over a hundred years."
As I was about to descend into a deep despair over my luck, a rattling sound echoed down the hall. A bright light blinded me as a guard appeared holding a lantern. The warm glow was the most brilliant thing I'd seen in what felt like an eternity. He stopped in front of our cell.
"The Baron, Aldric Veynar, current ruler of Dunford, wishes to see you," the guard announced, his voice as tired as his eyes.
My heart leaped into my throat. I took a deep breath and turned to where I thought Carl was. "Listen," I whispered urgently. "We are in this mess because of you. We can't run. You have to take responsibility and listen to what I say from now on, at least until we're out of here."
"Man, who do you think you are?" Carl scoffed from the darkness. "A dung-faced, no-magic ex-noble? Why should I listen to you?"
"Because you don't think with your brain!" I snapped back. "Has eating grass for a hundred years replaced all of your brain cells with straw?"
. . .
. . .
"Ah! Now you're pissing me off just like those guards!
"Listen, we need to cooperate as long as we're in this me—"
"Ahem," the guard cleared his throat impatiently. "Come with me. Both of you. Now."
We followed him without another word, our footsteps echoing on the cold stone floor. The guard led us up a flight of stone stairs and opened a heavy wooden door, revealing a courtyard. It was the middle of the night, and the sky was completely black. We must have been in that cell for hours.
The moment we took our first step inside the Baron's house, Carl's voice was a low whisper right beside me. "Careful. The intensity of the curse is highest here. The source is close."
Hearing him say that, I died a little inside. The guard led us through the house and into a lavish backyard garden, where he said the Baron was waiting. I kept my eyes glued to the ground the entire trip, too scared to look up. But the grass-brain next to me, Carl, walked with more confidence than I would have, even if I were an overpowered protagonist from some anime.
And why wouldn't I be scared? The source of that soul-draining curse was right in front of us. If he can do that, who knows what other terrifying powers he's hiding?
We both stopped in front of a large, ornate chair.A cold, raspy voice spoke from nearby, like the sound of dry leaves skittering across gravestones.
"Who are you? Explain yourselves. Where are you from, and what was this nonsense about a tomb?"
I finally lifted my head and couldn't believe my eyes. The Baron... was as thin as a tree branch, slumped in his chair, looking completely unconscious. The voice had come from a middle-aged man standing beside him, draped in a grey robe. I understood in an instant. This man was the source of the curse. Even a no-magic guy like me could feel a chilling aura coming off him now that we were this close. I had to act fast before Carl said something stupid again.
Taking a deep breath, I launched into the same story I'd told the guards. After I finished, the robed man was silent for a moment. Then, he burst out laughing, a wild, crazy sound that scared the shit out of me. Carl, however, looked completely composed. I swear, I will never figure that guy out.
"Excellent!" the man cackled. "I am the adviser of Lord Aldric Veynar. And you... you are telling the truth! At least, about the tomb's internal mechanisms. The tomb you described is the very one I have been searching for my entire life!"
He gestured to two strange, metallic devices sitting on a table, connected by a series of glowing wires. "If you were lying, you would be dead. This smaller one is the Judge," he said, tapping a polished silver sphere. "It's designed to detect the unique pulse generated by a disturbance in one's spiritual power when telling a lie. When it detects that pulse, it sends a signal to this one," he explained, patting the larger, more sinister-looking machine, "my Spiritual Power Manipulator, which would have killed you instantly."
"Oh, really!" I said, forcing a relieved smile. "So you believe us now!"
Great, we're safe! The machine is looking for a pulse created by spiritual power. Like hell it's going to detect a pulse that doesn't even exist! Still, was that old creep really going to execute someone just for telling a lie?! What kind of psycho is this guy?!
"Well, well, well," the adviser continued, his smile turning cruel. "I'm still not entirely sure it's the exact tomb I'm searching for. Therefore, the Lord has a new order for you. You will return to that tomb and bring back the unique artifact that exists only within it. And don't even think of running. I am sending my own trustworthy disciples with you, who will kill you both without hesitation if you stray."
I smell bullshit! The so-called Baron hasn't said a word! It's you giving the orders! You just contradicted yourself! You said it was the tomb YOU were searching for, so why would the Baron order us to go?
We are so fucked. We never found a tomb. It was a complete lie. And why the hell does this guy want to raid a dead person's home? You're already halfway to the grave yourself, you old creep! Wouldn't you be offended if someone tried to rob your tomb?
Just as my internal monologue was reaching peak panic, Carl finally spoke.
"Fine," he said calmly. "We will do it. But..."
The adviser leaned in, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "But?"
.
.
.
"...Do you have some carrots for me to eat?"
I'm really, truly fucked.
And so, our fate was sealed. We would be sent back at dawn into the very forest that had so harshly welcomed me to this world.