Ocean waves dashed upon the rocky, sandy shores near the Lucky Sailor. An energetic violin played within, the music pouring out the open windows as brisk sea air dashed upon the hot faces of the clapping patrons within. Its bawdy, frankly inappropriate sign depicting a red-faced sailor and a mermaid swayed in the wind. Its sandstone walls and its stained glass windows gleamed like colorful mirrors, attracting the eyes of weary travelers from both the temperate southern lands and the hot desert to the north. On the precipice of both, its small dock, sturdy walls, warm fire and friendly barkeep made the roadside inn a favorite stop for many a weary traveler, even if the only drinks sold there were rum, tea, and water. Respectable merchants, pilgrims, and sailors alike rested there as twilight began to fade into night.

And then there was a less than respectable goblin who REALLY needed a place to spend the night.

Tatalia made her way along the road, steeling her nerves as she approached the inn. She saw the naughty sign outside and made a face, then decided it served to keep people from thinking the colorful building was too posh. Focusing on the task ahead, she stared at the door, knowing fully well she only had one shot to do it right. Tatalia only had one shot to perform the very dangerous task of... making her entrance.

I mean, Tatalia thought to herself, the worst that can happen is they string me up for being a goblin!

The thought was not encouraging. Tatalia grimaced, then took a deep breath and put on her best, most cocky smirk. She turned the shiny brass doorknob, shoved the door open, and moved inside with a confident stride.

A few people turned to see who had just walked in, and there were a few stares as the scarfed goblin - a monster to most civilized folk - made her way up to the bar. Not pausing for a second, the goblin reached into her coinpurse and flicked a coin up onto the bar, then stood on her tiptoes and peered up at the bushy-browed innkeep.

"That'll cover dinner and a drink, I suspect," said the goblin lazily in flawless Common, her own eyebrow flicking up to a lofty height as she regarded the large man.

The suntanned innkeep regarded Tatalia warily for a moment, then picked up the coin. He gave it a brief sniff, then gave it a bite with his tooth. Content with the quality of the metal, he nodded and shoved the coin into his pants pocket.

"Dinner coming up," answered the innkeeper.

Smiling, Tatalia made her way to the corner under the stairs, inwardly screaming with relief at NOT being immediately chased out by an armed mob.

The chair was a bit tall for Tatalia (clearly the owner didn't think about accommodating dwarves or gnomes, let alone goblins), but the young goblin climbed up into it just fine. She propped her feet up on the table one by one, then kicked her boots off, heaving out a sigh as she wiggled her green toes freely for the first time in two days. The sea air felt good on them, and the violin player's music was relaxing. The little scamp might have started drifting off into a nap right then and there, but she shook her head to keep awake, then reached for the furled up paper hidden inside the folds of her cloak. Yanking her cloak off and flopping it over the back of her chair, Tatalia then unrolled the map onto the table and her legs, then started to eye it carefully.

The journey she'd begun was already half done... or more than that, really. Traveling from the marshes out to the Sun Scorched Coast had been quite the trek, but she was so close to her goal, so close to making the discovery of a lifetime. Hidden somewhere near the coast was an ancient, nameless ruin - she'd come up with a name once she explored it, she'd long since decided - that purportedly dated back to the Age of Wonder! And if the conversation she'd overheard was true, nobody had actually explored the place fully... and it could, perhaps, contain a clue to the location to the legendary Sol Stone.

It was an exciting prospect. It was a chance to get a glimpse into the history of the world, perhaps even uncover the parts of it left untold. It was Tatalia's chance to make her mark. And, of course, there was probably treasure. That certainly didn't hurt.

As she reviewed the map one more time, Tatalia opened the satchel at her side and removed her pristine journal. She set the book on her lap and cracked it open to the bookmark she'd left, then used her old quill and inkwell to take a few notes. The would-be explorer knew her fortune was about to take a good turn. Sure, she'd spent her very last coin on a meal, and she was probably going to have to sleep in the stable or something, but she was almost at her destination! Things were going to be alright!

The Lucky Sailor.

To be honest, a place like this would hardly have been his first choice of tavern if only because of the gaudy sign hanging outside beneath the veranda; but an inn is an inn, and sometimes a man simply can't be picky when he's been trudging through endless sand, sun, and temperatures ranging from scorching to freezing depending on the time of day.

Yes, he’s certainly not complaining here in the shade of this colourful, yet tawdry building, currently filled to the brim with the twilight-rush of locals and travelers alike.

The sound of laughter and clinking glasses comes from crowded, redwood tables shaped like helms within the establishment. Metal-tipped boots click upon smooth sandstone flooring and become muffled by soft and aged planks as patrons approach the bar. Chatter and gossip from the various patrons within the inn create a gentle murmur of accompaniment to the quick chords of a violin.

The violinist, perched next to an unoccupied harp on an aged wooden stage adjacent to the main dining room, has long since lost the mundane, busy sounds of the tavern as he plays— far too caught in the energetic chorus of a jaunty shanty chosen to compliment the nautical themes of the inn. A shanty is not his first choice of music; it’s not his most practiced piece, certainly; but he’s in a good mood today, willing to try something a little new as his bow bounces on the strings to a quick, staccato rhythm.

He’s rounding to the end of his trip here.

He has been in the Zeinav Desert for… what? Two weeks or more? It’s a beautiful place, really; and while Zeinav City, and the Oasis hold their own brilliant charms, he still cannot pretend that the endless, snow-white sand that occupies so much of the Desert, does not get old real fast. Brilliant at first, certainly; but he has lost count of the amount of times he’s had to shake those beautiful, reflective grains of sand from both his violin and his boots, not mentioning his other bags and clothes.

He’s certain he’ll be picking sand out of his hair for the next several years, and truthfully, he’s eager to get back to a land with just a little more green to it within the next couple of days.

The shanty ends with a sudden rise of multiple strings keyed at once, and by muscle memory, Cantio lifts the bow with a flourish as he finishes his last song for the tavern. As the rumbling strings fade out, he blinks back into reality, the mumble and bumble of the tavern finally reaching his ears. He straightens his posture, tail swaying in compliment to his body as he tucks his violin to his side. There’s a scattering of weak claps from unknown corners of the tavern— from the sandy, brick-laden interior— decorated trim to trim with age-old nautical tools, decorations, flags, and what-nots.

He offers a polite bow and a flick of his cloak, making a large gesture with his free arm to a middle-aged human woman sitting at the closest table to him. ”I believe the Lucky Sailor’s lovely harpist will take over from here?” he bemuses; and she rises, her draping seafoam gown trailing the sandstone as he offers a hand to help her up onto the stage. She claps his one hand in both of hers— fingertips calloused from the years of her experience— and he feels a clink of metal coins drop in his palm with the exchange.

”Appreciate the break, hon. Get yourself something nice from the bartender as a thank you.”

”Sure will, good luck.” She waves a hand leisurely as she moves to take up her usual mantle. Someone, day-drinking surely in the back, whistles as she sways across the stage, and he feels himself rolling his eyes for her as the harp replaces his violin under the mumbling hush of the crowded tavern.

Settling takes him but a moment, despite his racing heart and subtly trembling hands; his violin and bow are placed swiftly back in their case once he leaves the barely foot-tall stage. He weighs the few coins the harpist had given him as he skirts the edges of the tables towards the bar; probably enough for a meal without digging too deep into his own pockets.

He finds his way at the corner of the bar, placing a coin in the innkeepers hand with a swift order. He does some odd thing— a sniff and a bite of the coin, like he can taste the legitimacy of the metal— before confirming he’ll get a meal eventually. Cantio smiles politely, but breathes a sigh the moment the innkeeper’s back turns, trying to release the pent up tension in his shoulders. He’s about to take a seat at the bar when something catches his eye; a stranger, practically curled up in a lone corner with a map.

A traveler?

He takes a peek around the bar, as if to judge whether this lone traveler is with a group, but he sees no one that appears to have any intentions of joining them at the table. For a minute, he weighs his options: he’s without a traveling band, since their destination had been this coast— and frankly, if this stranger had a small band to travel out of town, well…

That would be much safer than trekking through the sands. Alone.

He offers the innkeeper’s back a look, before pushing the stool that he’d been about to take, back into the bar. He steels himself before striding to that lone table in the corner, with only one occupant. His tone lilts curiously as he speaks. ”You look like you must’ve just come in. Traveling?” he guesses, tail swaying as he runs a thumb beneath the strap of his case to adjust it. ”You heading in or out of town?”

The goblin's ears flicked as a shadow fell over her table, blocking out the tavern's light. The seated woman peered up to see who the speaker was.

”You look like you must’ve just come in," came a man's lilting voice, his words clear despite the strange, gold-trimmed, crimson dragon mask he wore. "Traveling? You heading in or out of town?”

Tatalia took a moment to assess the person in front of her. A panicked, worried part of her insisted that only a bandit would ask that sort of question, but the sane part of her sharply told it to hush and let her focus. No, a bandit wouldn't generally wear such nice clothes; at least, the storybooks always depicted them wearing dark, grungy clothing and wearing scowling faces, and the storybooks were probably right. And he had a violin! Bandits probably didn't play music... And the mask looked a bit too fancy to be a bandit's mask. No, no; this was probably fine, Tatalia decided.

"Out at first light!" answered the young goblin cheerily, spreading her mouth wide in a lopsided, cocky grin. She idly crossed one of her legs over the other, stretching her foot out as she assessed the stranger. "There's fame and fortune awaiting me, and I'd be rude if I kept it waiting long!"

The little goblin's words dripped with confidence that she herself didn't actually have. But, hey, what was that saying she'd heard one of the guards at the castle say once? Fake it 'til you make it? It seemed to have worked for him, so why not her?

"Of course, I'm not sure you'd understand, being a minstrel and not a hardened adventurer like myself," mused the goblin, flicking a dagger out of her sleeve and playing with it in her hand, bouncing and twirling it this way and that. It was impressive, but not really a demonstration of any actual combat capability. "Still, I wonder why a tiefling would be asking me where and when I'm headed!"

Wait. Tiefling? She'd said the word without registering it. The goblin paused, perhaps for seeming dramatic tension, as she looked at the man again to make sure she'd said the right thing. And there it was! A tiefling's tail flicked behind him, and Tatalia silently marveled at the fact that she'd just met one for the first time. The very-not-hardened adventurer did her best not to look surprised.

"So, why don't you tell me why you're prying so! And have a seat instead of standing there," the goblin offered, slinging her legs off the table so the poor fellow didn't have her feet right in his face if he complied. "And you can order a round for us both while you're at it!"

It was at that moment that the barmaid arrived, bringing the goblin's dinner to her. Spicy steamed fish with warm, buttery bread and a little bowl of dried dates was set down before the roguish creature on a wooden platter, and a glass of chilled water provided as her drink. The goblin rubbed her hands together, then plucked one of the dates up, tossed it into the air, and caught it in her mouth.

Glancing again at the minstrel, the goblin's eyebrow arced on up with curiosity.

He finds himself, once again, thankful for the mask so frequently adorning his face, because he ends up doing a double-take on the figure he’s talking to; she looks up, and what he’d foolishly made the initial assumption to be most likely a middle-aged halfling or gnome from afar is revealed to be a young goblin up close, with a loose-fitted cloak, bright eyes, and wiry black hair.

He’s actually not sure he’s ever seen a goblin outside of illustrative books or tomes.

He blinks away the initial surprise, polite smile flickering back to his lips when she makes to answer him, her smile wide and her voice cheerful— and he’s not quite sure this is the conversation he was hoping to get roped into, by the initial sound of it. ”Oh?” he bemuses anyways, crossing his arms loosely over his abdomen as he cocks his head at her. ”I do hear that fame and fortune are quite an impatient pair…” he entertains her remark; although, her next comment has him breathing a contained huff underneath his breath.

”I might be a minstrel, but I’m a fairly well-traveled one at the very least.” He watches as she flicks a dagger from her sleeve, eyeing the way she bounces and twirls it between her fingers and palm as if it takes no effort at all on her end to do so— as if it would never cut her.

He’s almost envious of that kind of confidence.

Almost.

Behind him, his tail flicks and curls as the goblin picks back up after a moment of silence, offering the seat across from her at the table, and removing her heels from the surface; and for a moment, he weighs his options. He looks between her and the seat, before his thoughts are interrupted by the barmaid as she approaches. She sets down a few dishes on the table that the goblin must have ordered at some point before he’d started talking with her, and he steps back to make room for her as she does so.

He could certainly excuse himself or reject the offer; it’s an option, but it’s a bit of a rude one. So, after a moment of internal debate, he pulls out the chair across from her. He removes the strap of his case from his shoulder, and leans it tenderly against the other side of the table, before taking his seat, figuring— well, it wouldn't hurt. He had extra coin, and nothing better to do for the time, anyways.

He leans an elbow on the table and waves the barmaid over before she gets too far. ”Alright. What do you drink, then?” he asks, offering the goblin a glance as he awaits her order. ”As for me, like I said— I’m a traveling musician. I tend to talk quite often with travelers and hardened adventurers— such as yourself. Sometimes I end up traveling with them. Share stories, songs around the campfire, safety in numbers, and all of that.”

"What do I drink? Well, a lot of things!" replied the goblin with a sharp-toothed grin. "But I think I'll take rum, since you're buying."

Keeping up the façade of experience was a bit of work. Truth be told, Tatalia hadn't gotten to try rum before, though she'd snuck a few mugs of ale away from the castle kitchen before, and had bought a couple more on the road since. She rather preferred such drinks when they were free, and had no qualms getting the minstrel to get them for her. She had no money of her own anymore, anyway.

"Well, if it's company you seek, a well-traveled musician like yourself shouldn't have trouble finding someone to escort him about. There's sailors and merchants aplenty here," mused the goblin, pausing to plop a second date into her mouth. She'd never had them before, but those dates were very sweet, too much for something so shriveled and dry! She liked dates.

"Still," she went on after swallowing, "I suppose you're missing out on a good story to tell. Ancient ruins, lost treasures, secrets of a realm past... It'd make for a good story, I think."

It would make for a rather good story, wouldn't it? Tatalia thought to herself. I'd be famous if I had a bard to write about my adventure.

Inspiration struck her like a thunderbolt. The goblin grinned suddenly, and she leaned forward across the table toward the tiefling as the stout barmaid walked off.

"Actually, why don't you come with me?" suggested the young scoundrel eagerly, her words hushed as she glanced around to see if anyone was listening. "I could use an extra pair of hands, and you sound like you could use a little excitement. There's a hidden ruin not too far from here, just a couple days' travel off the beaten path. I've reason to believe there's an ancient artifact hidden there... or, at least, a means to find it." Then, with a wry grin, she added in as conspiratorial a tone as she could: "Wouldn't you like to be able to sing about the discovery of the legendary Sol Stone?"

It was, perhaps, a bit of a gambit Tatalia was making. For one, she didn't actually know if the Sol Stone would be in the ruins she was searching for. Secondly, she didn't know if she could actually find the ruins! The map was a little vague. And thirdly... she didn't know if she could trust the man in the first place, especially with such an important undertaking. But, dammit, Tatalia knew risks had to be taken, and if the minstrel was half so experienced a traveler as he claimed, his assistance would undoubtedly be invaluable!

Silence fell around the table, but not in the rest of the tavern. Scattered applause rang out as the harpist's song came to an end, dulled somewhat by the raucous laughter of rowdy sailors gambling underneath the flag of an old, sunken warship. Tatalia couldn't help but glance over, her eyes drawn first to the flag and the history it represented, then the wealth the seamen were playing for. It was more than she'd ever had in her whole life... the sort of wealth she sorely needed if she was going to travel the world in pursuit of history, the sort of wealth the adventure might bring her.

Knowledge and treasure both at stake, Tatalia turned back toward the tiefling, raising her eyebrow just as she had before before asking him a fateful question.

"So, how about it? Care to join me on the adventure of a lifetime?"

He can't help but breathe a puff of a laugh at her initial answer; she does confirm her choice of drink eventually, so he nods, offering the barmaid a friendly wave as she re approaches the table with a look he could only place as bored. "One rum, and one rum and ginger— more ginger than rum— when you've got a moment." he requests, palming a coin in the barmaid's hand as she offers it for the payment.

Being on his way out, he's in a fairly good mood, so he supposes he doesn't mind blowing what he's earned in one night— so long as he's got enough left for a room. He refuses to camp out in the sands any further.

The barmaid seems to be inspecting the coin when he hears the goblin speak up again; and he offers her a glance of acknowledgement. His shoulders rise in a carefree shrug while he speaks. "I don't usually have too much trouble finding the company of a traveling brigand — but I've spent a few hours here playing for the evening crowd— and I'm afraid many of the patrons were well into their second or third pints by the time I was able to finish, so... I'm afraid I'll have to save mingling for another day, when the sailors and merchants have more wits about them." he breathes a chuckle as he leans both elbows on the table and folds his fingers together beneath his chin.

His tail undulates with a wave of curiosity as she emphasizes her latest venture; ancient ruins, lost treasures, secrets of a realm past. Cantio cocks his head at her with a vague, but unspoken interest: "It does sound like quite the story, doesn't it?" he muses— but he doesn't get far when the goblin leans forwards so suddenly that it makes him jump. "I'm sorry?" He leans forwards himself, partially out of disbelief, partially out of being uncertain if he's actually hearing her correctly— but as she continues her hushed prattling, he realizes she's not kidding.

Or at least, she doesn't sound like she is.

He's about to object, but then she says: Wouldn't you like to be able to sing about the discovery of the legendary Sol Stone?

The Sol Stone?

He closes his open mouth, brows furrowing underneath his mask, tail swaying curiously as silence falls on their table. Between his rolling thoughts, he hears the raucous of sailors and merchants from the main area; someone hoots somewhere; and there's the scattered clapping of hands when the sound of a harp gently fades, and then eventually rises back up in the cacophony for another jaunty tune.

It's not the first time he's heard whispers of the Sol Stone; most recently, in his bouncing about the lands, he's heard the dramatic tales of treasure hunters and adventurers scouring ruins, cities, and old temples to little avail or to tragedy, for a piece of the artifact once created by Solaria. As a native to Sol City, home of the Temple of the Sun, the tales have always landed rather close to home, but... this is the first he's been directly a part of the conversation, and not eavesdropping upon one, instead. Could such a thing exist, or is this a wild goose chase? And how did she come into knowledge of the — potential — location of the stone?

He does not consider himself much of a singer, but he has learned to find the joy in it over the past four years. There's a ballad to be told in the finding of something like the Sol Stone; a story to be told, surely. An epic, even.

Still, the odds of the stone being found are so drastically low that a part of him knows better than to agree to a wild goose chase, but... the prospects... He does not care much for the spotlight itself, but to mark one's own name in history, and to leave a legacy not to be forgotten is a different kind of temptation that he is being offered.

When he drifts back into the present, he's absently playing with a dangling earring— looking at the goblin with her brow raised as she asks him for his answer. He breathes a hum, shaking away the pensive thoughtfulness for a thoughtful smile as he drops his chin into one hand. "How about we start with an introduction, first? Cantio von Lumen; Cantio is fine." he extends his free hand to the goblin. "You may have my interest, hardened adventurer. What makes this hidden ruin of yours so special that you think it could house..." he lowers his voice to match her conspiratorial tone— hushed under the raucous of the main room. "Something as ancient as the Sol Stone, itself? Or— a means to find it, I presume."

Tatalia couldn't help but grin a little more. She knew the bait had been taken. The bard was interested in the venture! Her chances of turning a tidy enough profit to fund future treks grew exponentially. With great aplomb, the goblin stood up in her seat.

"Introductions, yes!" The green-skinned rapscallion snapped her feet together, then bowed fancily to the tiefling, one arm before her and one behind. "Tatalia the Explorer; at your service, Cantio!" she declared with practiced formality. Her crooked smirk didn't look very formal, however.

With her introduction given, the goblin plopped back on down into her seat. She folded one leg over the other, then rested her elbow upon her knee, and her chin upon her fist. Only once she was comfortable did she begin to answer the bard's questions in earnest.

"Your doubt is justified, von Lumen. Rumors of the Sol Stone are as common as flaws on rotten meat! But," she noted, raising a finger on up, "I present to you not a fly's feast, but a whole metaphorical brisket! I have very real, very tangible proof that the ruins I speak of date back to the Age of Wonder."

As she spoke, the goblin picked up the map she'd so deeply studied earlier, holding it out to the bard. Her smirk grew, and her eyes gleamed.

"See for yourself," urged the goblin pressingly. "You'll have trouble parsing the text on the map. It's an ancient dialect of the common tongue, so old that only the most learned - or those with my gift - can translate it properly. And the calligraphy is in the style of the scribes of the old Sun Elf kings from before the Collapse. And you don't need to be an expert to see that while it has been enchanted to be durable, this map is very, very old.

"But that's not all. The travelers I got the map from lent it almost religious significance," continued Tatalia lazily, pinching her chin between her knuckles as she spoke. "Thankfully, they parted with it once I vigorously applied my wits and wiles. I'd say I made a good trade."

Tatalia decided that she wasn't technically lying with that description of the map's procurement. Of course, the 'trade' was that she'd left a fake map in place of the real one, and the travelers had been some very questionable, rough people, but that wasn't important.

"What's important is this map clearly leads to some ancient ruins that have not been fully explored, and the text on the map explicitly mentions the Sol Stone. It's unfortunately too faded to make out exactly what it says, but I'll bet it'll put us on the right track to finding it."

The text was faded. Enchanted or not, the map was incredibly old, worn by the ravages of time. And the route to the ruins was definitely there... leading right back into the desert, not far from the coast.

"So... what do you say?" The goblin cracked a grin across at the bard. "Are you in?"

"Tatalia the Explorer… it's nice to make your acquaintance." he agrees, his voice light and airy. The goblin bows with so much flare that it might rival his own persona, and he can’t help but laugh softly with the comparison. She is quick to plop back into her seat; and he waits patiently, polite smile ever-present, until she gets herself comfortable enough to explain. Frankly, had she not introduced herself as an explorer, he might make the assumption that, with her creative language, she would tell stories for a living.

Regardless, he folds his fingers together, letting her take the reins of the conversation until she pulls out the map he'd originally seen her reading. He furrows his brows beneath the mask, looking between her and the map for one moment, before gently taking the map she offers. He opens it carefully on the table, allowing it to curl ever-so-slightly off the edge to avoid unrolling it directly into Tatalia’s plates.

She's still talking while he studies it— and he’s… well, surprised by the amount of information she has on this thing. Certainly, he doesn't understand much of the old text, but his studies of the arts within Sol City had been extensive, and the calligraphy written on this map seems almost perfectly aligned with the scriptures of the Sun Elf kings of old, as she says.

Something rather hard to replicate properly, if you asked him; not to mention the quality of the map does appear… old in a way that would be hard to fake. Wear and tear? Easy to forge. Rips, stains? Child’s play. The age that comes from time, thinning the parchment and subtle fading of the texts? Significantly harder, but perhaps not impossible if you used some time-heavy methods.

That seems like an unlikely amount of effort to put into a quick buck; but, if it’s legitimate, who in the world would trade this map away to something so religiously important?

He peeks up at her from the map as she mentions the trade, his tail flicking almost skeptically, before he looks back at the map with a slighted breath of consideration. ”It’s awfully hard to believe anyone would willingly let something like this go...”

... Not without the intention of duping some eager, new adventurer into purchasing a map, anyways.

But, she’s still right; regardless of the procurement of the map, or the insanity of the previous owner to trade it, there’s a number of legitimate curiosities he notes on the map that peak his interest.

… Except …

He squints, narrowing his eyes at the map as he follows the route for the first time.

… Heavens to Solaria, it goes straight back to the coast!

It takes every ounce of willpower not to groan at the realization, but he’s almost certain he visibly grimaces, before Tatalia’s voice brings him back into the present.

So… what do you say? Are you in?

He takes a slow breath, wordlessly looking up at her, before looking back to the map; there’s a war going on inside his head, but he finds himself still speaking despite his many doubts and worries, unable to shoulder the possibility that this could actually be legitimate.

“I’m in.”

---

This was a terrible idea and he will never listen to himself again.

His desires can no longer be trusted.

That map she handed him was a siren’s song, luring him back to this godless expanse of empty sand and shallow shores, all leading to the same place deep beneath the dunes. And he fell for it. Two days of wandering around with a goblin and a map that, by now, he is almost convinced must be faked, but that he has not verbalized yet. Two days of curling up around a little campfire in the tempest nights of the coast, playing soft pizzicato melodies on an instrument so very out-of-tuned by the sheer humidity just to fill the silence between idle conversation and discussion of the map and their next direction.

If it weren’t for the sheer power of Tatalia’s seeming eagerness to push forth, he’s certain he would succumb to some kind of sand-related madness. He’s doing his best to hold himself together, truly; telling tales in idle time, doing what he does best to keep himself sane, lest he be a complete burden and downer.

But he truly cannot hide his disdain of the sand and the heat and the humidity that comes with the presence of these large bodies of water, and the sheer whimsical nature of the fluctuating temperatures at night, and all of the tropical plants. He has seen these plants for weeks, and they're starting to all blur together despite their somewhat welcome respite of being a color which is not beige or blue.

He slips then— his boots skirting from beneath him as they crest over yet another small, rolling bluff of sand and browning shrubbery— but he manages to catch his weight before he drops himself and his instrument into the sand (yet again).

Perhaps he should think of investing in boots with more grip, or just, never come to the Zeinav Desert again after this. That could also work. A gnoll could approach him with a map to all of the secrets of the universe in this very place, and he would happily say no with zero regrets.

He sighs, brushing his hands together to stave away clingy granules from his near-tumble, and narrows his eyes as they’re faced with a cliffside. To be fair, he had seen the wall for quite some time as they trekked. It was a big, sandstone cliff, easily visible, even when so far away.

Now that they are here, though, it… looks like a dead end, frankly.

It’s a big wall, certainly— stretching out for what looks like miles; but there’s no visible entrances— no ruins hidden amongst tropical trees or between inlets. No suspicious gaps in the wall, although the overhang of natural fauna and shrubbery from the nearby pocket of life, both living and dead crawls thickly across its surface, and makes it rather hard for him to see past. Farther down, the cliff narrows into a natural overhang, casting shade upon the rolling waves of an inlet curling beneath it, and to the right, there's a small pocket of tropical trees before it eeks out further into the white, sandy desert.

”... Alright, well." He claps his hands together, trying to sound upbeat despite the disappointment that comes with a melodramatic reveal of their destination. And, also, two days of travel for a cliff. "I think we’ve gone about as far as we could possibly go in this direction, so...” He looks up, placing his hands on his hips as he tries to process simple thought through the humidity of the afternoon-sun. ”What's our plan, o' holder of the map?”

It took an act of willpower for Tatalia not to just throw herself into the sand and be done with it all, but for everything else she lacked, the young goblin had willpower to spare.

It was her first time venturing out into the desert, and Tatalia had assumed the stories she'd read were exaggerating about the heat of the day and the cold of the night. For once, however, there was no exaggeration in the books back home. The sun's rays oppressed her in the day, and she was left a shivering mess inside her bedroll at night. The sand got everywhere, just everywhere, and by the time the second afternoon in the desert Tatalia's gear felt heavier on her shoulders.

But the goblin did not relent! She kept a grin on her face and some pep to her step. She knew the map was genuine, and the map said the entrance to the ruins was nearby. All she had to do was keep marching! It was a day away at most; why, she and the bard would arrive at their destination soon! There was lost history to be discovered, and new history to be made! Tatalia would never give up such an opportunity!

He might, though, thought Tatalia to herself as she glanced over at her companion. As always, his expression was perfectly hidden behind his mask. Whenever she was near him, he projected only polite determination and a friendly, encouraging demeanor. But whensoever she spied him from afar, he seemed to just radiate raw frustration. The journey was wearing on him... and, frankly, Tatalia couldn't blame him.

Tatalia, of course, did her part to encourage him as well. She let her enthusiasm for their project be known at every opportunity, excitedly guessing what sort of dangers the old ruin would have, or how far they were from their destination based on the map, or hypothesizing about just what the missing text on the map was supposed to actually say. It seemed to keep him going, and it helped her keep herself focused.

Dune after dune the pair crested. Rocky, salty shores were left at a distance, save for when some small inlet clawed its way into land. Scraggling, dead-looking plant life was scattered around, but as it mostly came in shades of yellow or brown, it didn't add much color to the landscape. And still on did the pair go, heading ever closer to their destination, hidden somewhere along a great, distant cliff.

The bard was the first to get a good view of their goal thanks to his longer legs. He slipped along the way, such was the treacherous nature of the sand, but ultimately reached the top of a dune and stared down at their goal. Excitedly, Tatalia climbed up after him, using hands and feet alike in her haste to get to the top. It was the hour of her triumph, the moment of her glory, the beginning of her long and illustrious career as a legendary explorer! Sure, her talk of being a 'hardened adventurer' was just talk, but the excited goblin could already feel in her bones that she was about to make that claim a reality!

Tatalia reached the top of the dune, breathed deeply of the desert air, and... and...

"Huh," huffed Tatalia as she regarded the cliff face stretched out before them. It was... pretty barren. And plain. And unbroken by any obstructions. And most importantly, there were no ruins; there wasn't even a door. "Huh."

Cantio murmured something and clapped, snapping the goblin out of her dazed state. She shook her head and listened to the rest of his words.

"I think we’ve gone about as far as we could possibly go in this direction, so... What's our plan, o' holder of the map?”

"Our plan? Oh, yes," began Tatalia, wiping sweat off her face with her scarf. "Well, the entrance must be along this cliffside somewhere! We'll just march up and down the whole of it, find wherever the door is, and open it! We'll be in the ruins and out before dinnertime!"

And with that boast, Tatalia marched off toward the wall!

---

It was past dinnertime, and the pair still hadn't found the damned door.

The full moon was high in the cloudy sky, its nightly sojourn across the night sky still early. The search for a secret entrance had been so vigorous that neither of the adventurers had actually bothered to gather materials to make a campfire with, not that the little tufts of brush and rare cactuses and bushes would have made a very good fire in the first place. Thus unopposed, the chill of the night grasped Tatalia by the back of her neck. She shivered.

"There's something we haven't figured out yet, that's all," the goblin insisted, really just talking to herself. The bard was nearby, but she'd stopped having a proper discussion with him some time ago. "The door is somewhere nearby, I just know it! The map clearly says so."

Tatalia paced back and forth in the moonlight, using its pale glow to read her map again. Yet no matter how long she stared at the map, no matter how much she focused, she still couldn't find any further clues as to the nature of the door they needed to find. It remained just as elusive as when the goblin had marched up and down the whole of the wall, staring and prodding and attempting to read phrases written on the map as if they were passwords. No matter her efforts, Tatalia just couldn't find the entrance.

The goblin folded the map up in her hands, sighing. She knew she needed a break. She was tired, cold, hungry, and thirsty, and while they had plenty of fresh water to drink yet, the pair wouldn't be able to get a proper fire going to feed themselves something warm, and she would never be able to sleep while on the precipice of the biggest discovery of her life. Tatalia groaned, paced back toward the wall again, and irritably kicked a small stone tumbling through the sand. She collapsed about ten feet away from the wall, not out of exhaustion so much as frustration, falling flat on her back.

"Good plan, Tatalia," she muttered to herself. "Trust the map of some crazy cult, why don't you? Yes, that was sure to pan out just wonderfully, wasn't it?" Sighing, she rolled her head to the side, her long ears flopping down against the sand behind her.

Tatalia stared at the wall from that awful angle. The stones before it gleamed in the moonlight. In a better mood, she might have described them as pretty, almost like diamonds, so touched by the moon they were. At the moment, though, they just seemed to be twinkling with laughter, mocking her for her failure. She scowled at them, idly wondering to herself how they could gleam so brightly with the moon still to the east behind the cliff wall. They were mere inches away from the cliff wall. The shadows should have winked their gleam out of existence.

But the shadows didn't reach the stones.

Tatalia blinked. She sat up, shaking her head and sending an avalanche of sand down from her hair and to the ground. Slowly, she stood, and she stared wonderingly at those stones whose gleam suddenly seemed like diamonds indeed.

"Cantio! Von Lumen!" the goblin called, glancing behind her toward the bard. "Come see this! Doesn't this wall's shadow seem strange to you?"

No sooner had Tatalia spoke than the world grew dark. The goblin blinked, then stared up at the sky, yellow eyes wide as she realized the moon had fallen behind the clouds! The damned clouds from across the sea, they'd swept the moon up and blocked its light out entirely! And the world was only darkness and disappointment.

"OH, COME ON!" shouted the goblin, throwing her hands up into the air, not that anyone could see them. "Now of all times?! We're on the verge of discovery! Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" The goblin kicked at the sand, and she immediately yelped and hissed in pain, bouncing in place. She'd kicked a small, buried boulder (which she'd have seen if not for the DAMNED CLOUDS), then managed to trip in the sand and fall backwards into it, getting her hair coated in the infernal grains. Again.

"Great! Just as we find the clue, the moon decides to take a vacation!" grumbled Tatalia, dropping her arms down onto the ground. "We don't have moonlight. We don't have firelight. We don't even have any candles! Why did I forget to bring CANDLES?!" Groaning, the goblin clutched her face and heaved out an exasperated sigh.

As she marched off, she had seemed ever-so-confident in her impromptu plan— he had to give her credit for her sheer determination.

Unfortunately, as dinnertime came and went, even with the both of them scouring the wall, they found nothing. In the heat of the evening sun, they had relentlessly hunted for anything— a symbol, a door, a gap big enough for the average humanoid to fit through— and to no avail. He's certain that not a nook or cranny was left unchecked for anything that could even vaguely resemble unusual or man-made tamperings.

And, well... perhaps even worse was that their intense search had left them empty-handed and without a fire. Neither of them, in the midst of the search, had even the inkling to gather the materials, which... he blames almost exclusively on having been baked in the sun for two days, paired with the exhaustion of the travel itself.

He sighs, shivering as a coastal gale cuts through the open air and ghosts across his skin in cold pinpricks, pausing the tune he's been plucking on the strings of his violin. He picks up where he left off once the chill passes through him, watching warm fireflies flicker to life at his fingertips with each pluck of the string, and fade away into the night. He turns to look at Tatalia from where he's taken up a seat on a nearby stone; she's pacing back and forth in the moonlight, speaking to herself— and maybe to him, albeit indirectly.

"Maybe we should call it a night, Tatalia?" he calls back to her, muscle memory driving the tune forwards, regardless of his inattention; he doesn't really need to see to pluck a song. "We've been at it well since sun-high. We might not have a fire, but sleep will still do us good." he keeps his voice light, somewhat encouraging, despite the misery of this whole situation; and, well... the frustration and disappointment has long since left his system— freezing with the chill of the desert at night. Now, he just feels... sympathetic for the goblin, instead.

It's clear to him that the map Tatalia traded for is a fake. It leads to a dead end; and yet, she still seems determined that it must be here. He supposes denial can set in strong, though; and for all of her eager optimism, encouragement, and determination to get here in the first place, he does feel quite bad that it's ended this way. He watches as she kicks at a stone, ultimately flopping backwards into the sand several feet from the wall; he can hear her muttering, but can't make out what she's saying from where he's sitting over the wind, the water, and the thrum of his strings.

He still sighs in response, turning his gaze out to the expanse of desert on the horizon while he juggles with the idea of breaking the bad news about the map, or letting Tatalia tire herself out and come to the conclusion, herself. It's while he's thinking of the easiest way to let her down that she calls out to him, and the sound of his name in the otherwise eerie hush of the desert makes him jump. He hits an odd flat note as his shoulders jolt, and he clasps his hand to the strings to stop their vibration. "What?" he calls back to her, swiftly moving off the rock, and tucking his violin beneath one arm. "What's so strange—?"

He's unable to even get a glimpse of what she's talking about when everything starts to darken around them; he throws a glance up to the sky, watching as dark clouds from well beyond the sea's horizon extinguish the light of the moon, and cast them completely in darkness.

OH, COME ON!

Cantio startles; left in the dark with only the sounds of a frustrated, cursing Tatalia— a thud— and then a hiss of pain. "Okay— okay, let's hold on for just a second. Don't move, let me come to you." A mild concern laces his voice as he hears a muffled clap of Tatalia's darkened silhouette hitting the sand, and her frustrated grumbling that follows.

He supposes she is only hu— er, goblin— after all, despite her otherwise optimistic attitude.

He clears his throat.

"Well, hold on, we may not need a candle, just... give me a second."

He takes a breath. Makes a point to focus.

He is still not very good at this, but he can certainly try it.

In the dark sounds the pluck of his instrument. The strings reverberate into the chilly night air; and with each pluck, embers of soft light flicker to life from the vibrations; rather than allowing them to fade as he usually does, Cantio moves to palm them, clasping them in a closed fist as the strings fade out.

He can't feel the things in his hand, but he can see the growing light beginning to peek through the cracks of his fingers; the ever-foreign reaction of something that he's not sure he'll ever get used to tingles in the skin of his palm as it forms.

Little bird of feathered down,
Come sing a song with me;
I find your song is soft and low,
and sweet as could ever be.

When the feeling subsides, he turns his hand and releases his clenched fist; and from it, something bright springs forth— and then it settles, perching upon his fingertips with a flutter. A plump but featureless songbird, fashioned entirely from a warm, orange-hued light, sets forth enough illumination for him to see where Tatalia has flopped back in the sand, and he breathes a relieved sigh.

"Are you okay?" he muses, frowning as he steps up nearer to her, and adds. "What was it you wanted me to see? I'm sure we can still..." He casts his gaze to the wall she'd been at before, and trails off. The little bird, fluttering its featherless wings atop his fingertips, casts a rather warm light — a soft, orange glow as it diffuses outward — and in comparison to the moonlight, it feels closer to the light that might emanate from the fire that they never started.

But here, in this particular spot on the wall— it does not reflect an orange hue, but a silver one— as if it doesn't take into account the temperature of the light. The stones glisten that moonlit ashen silver, despite the warmth of the light, and despite the deep shadows cast around them by the departure of the moon. It's startlingly out of place in a way that he hadn't realized from a distance; it's wrong.

He looks for a moment, stupefied, and offers the goblin a silent, but quizzical glance, before turning to look back at the wall. Hesitantly, he takes the few steps forwards that he needs in order to hold the bird out. He pauses, then pushes his fingertips through, and startlingly, into the stone.

As light meets the innards of the wall, it illuminates the illusion from the inside; turning it transparent, and bathing in a warm glow the hidden image of the smooth, sandstone doorway hidden behind it. Outside, it's subtle. The doorway is cut in a near-perfect rectangle, framed by sandstone brick, and marked by script alarmingly similar to what features on Tatalia's map; inside, it's too dark for him to see farther in— but the glow of the songbird brings to light patches of cracked sandstone brick, paving a path that leads straight into the cliff.

An entrance, tucked away behind a rather strong illusionary arcana.

"... Huh."

Life was full of pleasant little surprises, and the bard's magic was far from the least of those.

The weary, angry goblin felt relief when she saw Cantio sing a glowing light into life, one shaped like a cute little songbird. Tatalia could see again, and as she sat up, the bard came closer to investigate the mystery that Tatalia had discovered. He spoke.

"Are you okay? What was it you wanted me to see? I'm sure we can still..."

The words died on Cantio's lips. Both goblin and tiefling stared at the section of wall he'd just illuminated, glowing with a distinctly colder glow than the sections next to it. Then Cantio looked at Tatalia, and she nodded back to him.

The bard stepped forward. He reached his glowing hand toward the strangely lit section of wall. Tatalia's breath caught in her throat, and then... his hand passed through it, revealing a secret passage.

"YES!" shrieked the goblin in an excited and embarrassingly high pitched note. She laughed, then darted forward and waved her hand back and forth within the transparent, illusory stone, cackling with unbound glee. Eagerly, she looked back at the bard, grinning from ear to ear like a fool.

"And you wanted to call it a night!" said the goblin, yellow eyes looking wild in the songbird's gleam. "Well, thanks to my keen eyes and your magic, I think it's time to call the hunt on once again! Come along, you magnificent man!"

The goblin strode inside the illusion. She saw the writing above the doorway, and with a curious look on her face, she chanted a short magical phrase. When she was done, her eyes glowed briefly, and she squinted up at the ancient text.

"Hmm... Some of it has faded, but it's partly legible," the goblin mused, tilting her head to the side. "It says, ah... 'Only those keen of mind small within this shrine find...' And the rest is too faded too read."

The little black-haired woman glanced back at the tiefling, grinning yet again.

"But at least we know this is a shrine. And by the sounds if it, we have to face some challenges to find what we're looking for! Leave it to the elves to make everything so complicated, eh?"

And with that, Tatalia started making her way down the long hall, the light of Cantio's spell the only solace from the darkness for either of the adventurers. Unbeknownst to the goblin, the two of them left tracks in the sand leading straight into the shrine...

---

The whole hall dug into the mountain was built from sturdy sandstone, and it stretched on for at least several hundred feet. There were no lights upon the walls of any sort, no old candlesticks or torches or anything, and whole hall seemed plain and unadorned save for the grooves between the sandstone bricks. Cantio's light did not reveal much ahead or behind the pair, so they could not be certain how much longer the path would be, and whether it came to a dead end or revealed something of interest.

Tatalia could scarcely contain her excitement nevertheless. She chimed out a few ideas about what sort of obstacles the pair might encounter based on her previous experience (which really just meant she'd read about puzzles in a book), but she was wholly unprepared for what was ahead.

Ahead of the pair was a tall, domed room perhaps thirty feet in diameter, one seemingly carved from rose-colored crystal. The crystalline floor shined brightly as Cantio's light struck it. Fascinatingly, the crystal was polished like a mirror, reflecting the heroes' images back at them. And as it shone, it send light reflecting back through the room, revealing its entirety all at once, all just from Cantio's little songbird light. It was strange, beautiful, and... well...

Well, there wasn't a way forward visible anywhere in the room. There were no doors, no writing, no objects on the walls or on the floor... nothing.

"Huh," mused Tatalia. She looked down at her reflection on the floor, then at gleaming walls. Her brow furrowed. "Another illusion, perhaps? But I don't think they'd pull the same trick twice in a row..."

YES!

The high pitched shrieking and gleeful laughing of the goblin as she dashes forwards, waving her hand about within the illusory rock wall, fills him with an odd but subtle mirth that builds in his chest the more he processes. He looks to the goblin and meets her wild-eyed grin; and when she speaks up, her voice somehow more eager and excited than he's ever heard it before just to call him out, he breaks.

He laughs— and for once, it's not with typical controlled politeness, but a genuine bubble of laughter that's hard for him to contain. "I did say that, didn't I?" he breathes after he's done, "I'm glad you didn't listen to me; the entrance really was here all along, huh?" His formality drops for just a moment, tail undulating and flicking with a curious thrill as he holds the bird out further. He's never really felt like this before; it's new. Addicting, even. Like they've actually stumbled upon something exciting.

Like they accomplished something interesting, even though it was mostly Tatalia.

It reminds him of the feeling he first felt when he played for his first audience; a feeling that had long since been lost as he stepped up to the stage more and more.

It almost feels dangerous to allow himself to take hold of it like this again.

Tatalia's eager call moves him forwards; and, he follows the goblin into the illusion without a complaint; only pausing when she does to hold the bird closer to the script. She mumbles something under her breath; and Cantio offers her a curious glance; her yellow eyes, already bright under the light of the bird, gleam a little brighter as she translates something that he most certainly cannot read.

... Oh.

Is this that special gift she had mentioned back at the inn?

He cocks his head, impressed, as she makes a few conclusions about the journey ahead based on her translation. Perhaps its the adrenaline of discovery, but she could absolutely be making this all up and he'd believe her.
He still can't believe this place is even real.

"They did have a flare for the dramatic, I'd say." he agrees, following after Tatalia down the long hall; and without even a thought to the evidence of their entrance he puts his violin away for safekeeping.

---

As they walk down a path clearly not meant for visitors, he listens to Tatalia's excited prattling; sure, he has been listening to it the entire trip to some degree— but it seems he feels a newfound faith in Tatalia's abilities that had not quite been there previously. He's still on the adrenaline high, occasionally partaking in the conversation of Tatalia's puzzle explanations— asking questions about the puzzles she was describing, or about the methods to solving them.

But, the place ahead was nothing like those things Tatalia was describing from her other ventures.

The pair steps out into a room—-

and it's entirely made of crystal.

The interior lights up as Cantio steps inside with Tatalia, the light from the bird perched on his fingertips filling the roof as if it was the sun shining. He narrows his eyes against the change in light, catching sight of their reflections in this room that is... just... that. Smooth surfaces. No torches, no levers, no stairs, no doors— nothing but their own quizzical reflections looking back at them.

After a moment of processing and gazing about, he takes a breath, shifting the bird from one hand to the other, and breathing a short laugh as Tatalia speaks. "Well, if I know anything about being dramatic, it's that you never pull the same trick twice in a row for the same audience. This is only our first room, so, if we made it past the door— putting another illusion here would be too easy, right? We're still the same audience, they'd know we'd get here. So, they'd have to have a different trick for us, surely." he takes a step forward, past Tatalia, boots clicking against the gleaming floor.

Out of the sun, the sand, and with the proof of something more exciting ahead, he is certainly more invested now than he seemed to have been previously.

He keeps moving forward, tail flicking and waving, until he makes it to the opposite wall to meet his reflection. He reaches out, tapping the crystal gently with a finger. It meets his reflection and clicks against his nail, decisively very real and very hard crystal, and also probably very thick. He wonders if they can brute force their way through it somehow, but he has the upper-arm strength of a twig and Tatalia is... well, she doesn't seem like she could bust through this crystal that easily. If she could, he would be truly impressed.

"That being said and all— they really didn't want anyone to figure out the first trick, let alone this one." He looks around, glancing to the crystal at his feet, and the way his own reflection looks back at him. "I guess we should probably get started though, huh?"

And so, they do.

The pair feels and looks their way around the crystalline room, and it is flawless; so infuriatingly flawless. There's not a crack, not a button, not a hint of any mechanism or trap or entrance; no buttons, or slight divots. It's just crystal. It's all crystal. After an unknown amount of time of fumbling about this room, he's getting a bit tired of seeing his own reflection. He sighs, the adrenaline having mostly worn off from their initial discovery to be replaced by a puzzled frustration with their current situation.

He drops his shoulders and back against the crystalline wall with an exasperated huff, leaning against it to support his body weight— until he can't be bothered to even do that, and he slides down the crystalline wall instead— looking at Tatalia from across the room. He bends one knee, propping his chin in his elbow, and resting his arm with the bird perched on his other knee for Tatalia's sake. He... has no idea what to do; he's been looking for all the things which she described, but there's just nothing in this room but smoke and mirrors— minus the smoke, of course.

He drags his gaze around, eventually settling to where his boots are settled against the floor, tail curled around the iron tips.

"..."

He narrows his eyes, leaning up from where he sits.

He's trailing his gaze, following the length of his tail— and how the reflection touches at every point except one— where his reflection just... separates. Right where the furred tip of his tail meets the crystal. He quietly reaches out his foot, tapping the tip of his boot next to it and... yes, there's definitely something weird about this, right? The way his heel touches, but the toe is gapped? It's solid, not an illusion, but it's the most weird he's seen in this room so far.

He looks up, calling out— "Tatalia? Can you come stand here, and tell me whether I'm goingmad or not? Do the reflections here seem a little off to you?"

Tatalia nodded along with Cantio's assessment of the situation. It seemed unlikely the pair would face another illusion twice in a row, and the only way to find out the actual trick to the room was to test and check everything until the pair eventually discovered the secret.

Just as before, this was easier said than done.

As the pair searched the room intently, Tatalia tried everything she could think of. She felt about the wall with her hand, but there were no grooves. She tapped the wall to hear the sound it made, but it only ever made a solid thump. She stared into the reflections on the wall to see if, perhaps one of the reflections would reveal something that did not appear to her at first, like some sort of illusion that could only be seen through by reflection. But each time, her result was the same: no secret levers, no secret doors, no knobs nor buttons nor anything else. The whole room was exactly the same: smooth crystal, solid and firm, that defied all attempts at divining the puzzle's solution.

Still, Tatalia was on something of a high. After her last success, there was no way she was going to back down from this challenge! She was trying to figure out how to climb up to the domed ceiling and check there for the solution when she heard Cantio call out to her.

"Tatalia? Can you come stand here, and tell me whether I'm goingmad or not? Do the reflections here seem a little off to you?"

The shorter of the two adventurers cocked her head to the side, then obliged the request, stepping slowly over to where Cantio stood. She regarded the bard curiously, then looked down at the floor. Her brow furrowed. The musician was right: there WAS something strange about the reflection. It was different.

Tatalia crouched on down. She first felt the crystal floor near her, then reached out and felt the floor nearer to Cantio. There was a distinct difference in feel, too, and she'd have never realized that if she'd just been walking across the floor. She couldn't quite say what it was that made it feel different, but...

"I wonder..." Tatalia pressed her big ear against the floor nearest her, then rapped her knuckles against it. Thud, thud, thud. It was firm and did not echo. Then she moved next to the bard and did the same thing, and the sound she heard was thinner, more hollow.

"Okay. I think I understand now! Stand back," she told the tiefling. Then the little explorer yanked her dagger out from her sash, gripped it so the pommel was facing the hollow-sounding floor, and slammed it down at the floor!

The floor shattered into a scintillating cascade of rose-colored glass, leaving a fist-sized hole in the floor! Grinning, Tatalia smashed more and more of the floor, slowly revealing a stairway down.

"I guess it was an illusion after all! Just not a magical one," remarked the goblin with a goofy grin. "A clever ruse, too! The rest of the floor is hard crystal, but this part was glass the whole time. You've as keen an eye as I do, von Lumen!"

Without another word, the goblin descended the staircase, heading deeper into the strange puzzle-filled shrine.

The staircase went down a good fifty feet into the earth before ending before a big set of double doors. It didn't seem locked, and Tatalia didn't see any traps, so she just shoved it on open. Past the old, polished brass doors was a room that left Tatalia's mind asking questions again.

The room was not a complicated one. It was cube-shaped and made of simple stone, and there was a doorway directly opposite the adventurers. However, it had no hinges nor keyhole to be seen, nor any sign of a way to manipulate it. Instead, there was ancient script written above the doorway with seemingly random capital letters, and just to the left of the room's center was a set of straight, stiff cords that seemed to be connected to the floor and the ceiling. Tatalia idly stepped up next to one of them and give it an experimental tug. It was definitely taut. She slowly relaxed it back to its original position.

"I'll handle this," Tatalia said confidently, cracking her knuckles and then casting the one spell she knew once more. Her eyes flared again, and the yellow-eyed goblin stared up at the text on the wall curiously.

"This makes no sense at all," she said after a moment. "The words are whole, but it's gibberish! Falcon gregarious ode advance sift elf?" The goblin frowned deeply and shook her head. "It must be a word puzzle of some kind. But why would they capitalize these letters...? The 'F' in falcon, the second 'G' in gregarious, the 'D' in ode, both 'A's in advance, the 'F' in sift, and the 'E' in elf..."

As she spoke, the goblin was jotting notes down into her notebook, trying to parse the puzzle before her. But she did not have the training or background necessary to understand the text's true message.

He’s afraid to move while Tatalia comes closer, in case he loses this spot to the monotony of the crystalline room. His tail taps the ground, almost anxiously; rising and falling soundlessly against the floor. Eventually, Tatalia makes it to him, and he gestures with a hand towards where his boot is still resting against the reflective surface. ”Right there.” he confirms— only pulling back when Tatalia crouches nearby, her brows furrowed.

He watches as she runs a variety of test— first a touch to compare surfaces, and then a rap to compare the sounds. He pushes his back into the wall, lifting himself up to his feet as Tatalia directs him to stand back, and—

She smashes the pommel of her dagger directly into the floor.

His heart skips a beat when he hears the crack and shattering of glass, followed by the dripping clink of shards as they collide with something farther below. ”You’re kidding,” he breathes, tail flicking as he watches Tatalia smash the floor again, and again, slowly unveiling a stone staircase underneath. ”Indeed; I guess I gave them far too much credit about not using the same trick twice,” he sighs, tail flicking as Tatalia grins with her remark. ”Well… That’s true. I suppose it was quite a ruse… but, it was luck, honestly.”

He does feel that subtle mirth rise in his chest again; butterflies of excitement and discovery for what has passed, and what waits beyond the staircase. He moves to follow Tatalia down, careful of the rose-hued shattered glass cascading down the stairs.

The stairs lead down rather deep into the earth— surprisingly so, infact. He keeps the bird alight to guide their way, holding it out in front of him— but occasionally, drifting it to the side, to study the cracks in the sandstone walls.

Eventually, they arrive at a door— one which Tatalia just blows through after a quick once over— and he doesn’t argue, following after her with an agreeable complacency into the next room of this odd place, which…

He pauses, because it’s awfully strange; not complicated, not as breathtaking or puzzling as the last room, because there is actually words written and a door across the room from them. His tail sways curiously as he looks to the strings attached from floor to ceiling, and watches Tatalia give one an experimental tug, then carefully put it back. ”Well, I can’t read it— so you go right ahead.” he chuckles as she cracks her knuckles, and digs into whatever’s written on the wall.

He takes the brief time that she’s studying to look around; there’s five cords, it seems— seemingly for no reason. Other than the door and the text and the cords, the room sees otherwise featureless. No buttons or levers or anything of immediate interest aside from those— not that he’s suddenly an expert at this puzzle stuff, but he’s certainly feeling pretty on top of it right now.

He blinks, refocusing as Tatalia’s voice fills the room. ”Hm?” he hums, moving to step up beside her. ”Falcon gregarious ode… that’s not even a sentence.” he sounds almost beguiled. He cocks his head, frowning, as Tatalia explains random capitalization somewhere within the sentence, but… it doesn’t make any words in his head. Not that combination of letters.

Her voice fades out after talking about the letters, and Cantio offers her a glance, watching idly as she starts scribbling in her notebook in thoughtful silence. F, G, D, A, A, F, E.

He starts combining letters in his head, looking leisurely around the room with a soft sigh as he tries to consider if they’re missing something that they’re just not—

He freezes, his gaze landing on the cords.

Five cords, or five chords?

F, G, D, A, E.

A thunderbolt of excitement crashes through him. Without a sound, he drifts to the cords like a man possessed by a realization; hesitantly reaching out, he wraps his fingers around one, pulls back, and lets it snap. The vibration of a note reverberates through the room; low and rumbling; enough to nearly shake the stone walls.

Cantio feels those butterflies again.

G.

”What if it’s not a word we’re looking for?” he remarks, his voice quick in excitement as he snaps the next string in the order; it reverberates low, but higher than the last pitch.

D.

Okay. He can guess what order the last three are in without playing them. If the ancient Sun Elves have any brain at all, surely they won’t have put them out of order. He grabs both ringing chords, halting the sound and vibration.

G, D, A, E, F.

”What if it’s a tune that we need?”

He practically swings himself behind the ancient chords in his mirth, positioning himself so that he can reach all five chords with either arm; and as he moves to use both hands, the little bird hobbles onto his forearm. He hums it first, one foot tapping, to the rise and fall of the notes that Tatalia had rattled off earlier, and then mimics them on the strings.

For a few moment, the room fills with rich sound; it’s short and sweet, hardly enough sound to create a passage— but enough to create a quick rhythm. His last chord, the high E, reverberates sharply through the cavern as he snaps it back; and then, the room begins to tremble and shudder.

The door, with its lack of hinges or keyholes, opens as something in the walls screech and shift and grumble; and Cantio can barely suppress his excitement as he bounds past the cords back to Tatalia, golden eyes bright behind the mask. ”I can’t believe that actually worked,” he sounds breathless.

The door shudders to a stop— whatever mechanisms lie behind the wall grind and hiss with age— but it’s enough to allow them entry. Cantio swings forwards, enough to light up the inner room with the little bird.

The room opens to a large, circular platform surrounded by calm, deep water on all edges that he can only describe as dark as night. The platform has been carefully decorated; with stunning cut glass and sandstone of various shades and shapes swirling and forming into a pattern resembling the sun. The walls are just as carefully decorated; with elaborate murals depicting Solaria in various stages of folklore— and another swirling sun, haloing the helmeted head of a grand statue.

A tall, carefully carved statue of Solaria stands before them, in the place where the sandstone and glass meet; his helmeted head held high, and stone cloak swaying in a false illusion to some impossible gale. An altar table sits in front of him; and lying upon it appears to be a number of things, long-since discarded and left here to rust— including a small coffer, resting closest to the statue’s pedestal.

Cantio steps in hesitantly; the place is beautiful in its own right. A shrine, an tribute to Solaria, and... As he peers towards the water, wondering how it's made its way in here in the first place, he makes a horrible realization.

"... Heavens sake, are we under the aquifer, here?"

Watching the bard solve the puzzle so quickly was pretty exhilarating, Tatalia had to admit! Though she was certain she would have figured it out eventually (note: she would not have), the goblin was impressed as the final, high pitched chord played and the door began to slide upwards to reveal a new passage.

"I CAN believe it worked! Clever done, von Lumen!" exclaimed the goblin with mirth. "I imagine it shouldn't be long before we've found the secrets of this place."

Cantio practically flew ahead, clearly caught up in the excitement of it all, and Tatalia's short legs had trouble keeping up. As Cantio passed through the door, the whole room lit up, and Tatalia's steps slowed to a halt as she regarded the place with wonder.

"I suppose it's only logical the sun elves would build a shrine to Solaria," mused Tatalia as she regarded the place curiously. "I never associated that deity with illusions and tricks, but again... this place was made by elves. Although... it's entirely possible that he wasn't always viewed solely as the stern and strong father." Tatalia tugged at her hair as she gave the matter thought. "This is purely speculation, but could perception of him have changed over time, perhaps? Or were the sects and cults that worshiped him simply myriad and varied?"

Shaking her head, Tatalia decided to focus less on conjecture and more on observable facts. The room was was obviously a place of worship, and the architecture was unique and evocative. The explorer made note of such in her journal. She also noted the large body of water surrounding the sun-shaped dais, the elaborate, curving sandstone pillars reaching toward the ceiling, and, of course, the various offerings left on the table before the statue of the Father of the Gods.

Most of the objects left on the table had faded or rotted away. The barest husks of ancient flowers lay in crumbled, withered, dry petals upon the altar. So, too, did an old flask that Tatalia assumed once contained wine that had long since dried up. There were small wooden carvings, too, a ceremonial dagger (useless for combat), and a locked coffer that Tatalia could only guess held coins and gems.

"Cantio," Tatalia muttered gently. "There's some old cloth wrappings in my backpack. Carefully collect the artifacts as gently as you can and wrap them inside." Meanwhile, Tatalia stepped up to the old coffer and slipped a little set of tools out from a pouch on her sash. She went straight to work, fiddling with the lock with deft fingers. It was a mere minute before the goblin popped the old lock open.

The coffer's contents were definitely noteworthy. It was largely old coins, but there were a couple old gems as well; a ruby, a topaz, a diamond, and a small bracelet made of amber beads. Tatalia's eyes gleamed.

"I daresay we shall be dining well when we return to the Lucky Mermaid!" declared the goblin! She picked the old coffer up and twirled around to face Cantio, scarf swaying with her as she presented the coffer's contents. That ever-ready grin shot back up her face, and she passed the little chest to him while she began circling the room, careful not to fall off the edge and into the water below.

When Tatalia rounded about the statue, she found another set of ancient text written on the wall. Her last spell was still in place, so she was able to read it. The text both excited and frustrated her:

To have passed our tests three
A clever soul you must be!
But you must face another one
If you'd find the Stone of the Sun
So claim now your victor's prize
Writ below, so feast your eyes!

Tatalia stared down below the text, seeing more letters and blanks. It was a whole second passage, and she realized...

"It's a cipher!" The goblin laughed and smacked her forehead, heaving out a sigh. "The reward, the clue to finding the Sol Stone is a cipher! I guess we're not done with these elven games yet!"

Tatalia began copying the text she saw on the wall down into her notebook, first in the common tongue and then in the old tongue. She shook her head the whole while, and was just about to start solving the cipher (or trying to!) when her large ears picked up a distant sound. The goblin stiffened. Her ears flicked up. She glanced behind her, past Cantio, down toward the hall they'd just left...

Those were footsteps she heard.

"The goblin must be here somewhere!" growled a guttural, angry voice in the distance. "Down those stairs! The heathens must be made to suffer!"

Tatalia paled. She recognized that voice. The worried goblin snapped her book shut and quickly scampered next to Cantio, whispering up to him.

"Look, um- I know this isn't a good time, but we need to hide. Now." Tatalia grabbed the bard by his sleeve and started tugging him away, or at least trying to, toward the nearest pillar. She gestured for him to dismiss his magical light, then took a deep breath. She really didn't want to admit it, but...

"Umm... Remember how I got the map from those travelers?" the goblin whispered to her much taller compatriot. "Well, um, those travelers were cultists. And I stole it from them. It's a long story!" she added quickly. "And it's also not important! What's important is how on Charon they managed to find us! We didn't exactly leave a trail!"

"It's a good thing those imbeciles left such an obvious trail to follow, or we would never have found them!" laughed one of the cultists in the distance.

"HAH! Indeed, brother," said another. "The obvious tracks away from the inn, the abandoned ration wraps...

"The old campsites, the trail straight past the illusion, the broken glass..."

"It's hardly fair to be hunting such amateurs," chimed the second speaker.

"Still going to kill them, though."

"Of course!"

Tatalia's cheeks shifted from their usual green to a bright, angry and embarrassed red as the cultists made light of the pair's ineptitude. It took all her willpower not to throw herself at them in a blind fury as a group of four cultists marched into the shrine room.