"Thirty-three paces East from the innermost ring of plots. You should be present no earlier than the mid-night hour…"
Sebastian carefully sauntered amongst the lichen-ridden old graves, the soft moss-coated soil giving slightly under his boots. The ever-present fog in the cemetery was much thicker at this late hour. If it were not for the brilliant eldritch vapors darting here and there, it would be impossible to see anything at all. The sheer volume of voices swimming in his head was more than a little unnerving, but letting his guard down was necessary. Attracting the spirits with his tell-tale aura helped him navigate the graveyard. The makeshift torch he had created helped but little.
"One hundred and eight paces South, there stands the grass. The flora is not native, and marks a crypt. Remove the slab beneath."
Anonymous letters were not uncommon for Sebastian to receive. Many collectors mingled in high society, and wanted certain reading material or artifacts that they were interested in to remain secret. Others that wanted Medium services, or a political ghost writer wished for confidentiality for much the same reason. This letter was different.
There were no cordial apologies for secrecy, nor any promises of increased compensation for adhering to it. There were no specifics to the request, nor any place given to meet the client after retrieval. It only instructed him to travel to Perditi and rob a tomb. What he was looking for was not included either. Only its exact location.
While not one to follow temptations, curiosity and unanswered questions, on the other hand, were Bash's weakness.
Chills crept up Sebastian's spine. There in the grass he was looking for was an iron bar. The perfect tool to pry open the crypt's entrance. If his…client…had already been here, why didn't they just take what they were after themselves? He stared at it dumbly, the torchlight flickering across his skeptical honey-tinted gaze. No one was foolish enough to traverse the cemetery at night, let alone perceptive enough to recognize a face in the gloom. He knew it wasn't a body that was desired just by the instructions given. He recalled them as he worked at prying up the heavy stone slab.
"Walk the corridor until the first left turn. Walk this path to the dead end. There is a single, unmarked space here. Pull the sarcophagus out. Reach to the ceiling of its prison, and apply pressure until a stone gives way. Retrieve the contents of this hidden nook."
…Prison.
Sebastian had shivered at the word choice there. It disturbed him even as he read it from a warm, cozy bed in Adeluna.
Thud.
The stone lifted away without much resistance and flopped somewhat unceremoniously onto the dirt.
Coughing from the musty air rising up to fill his lungs, Sebastian set down the iron rod, and cautiously descended the narrow stairwell into the vast crypt below. He stopped midway, when a wild thought entered his mind.
Given the air of mystery surrounding these circumstances, what were the chances whoever wrote the letter intended him harm? Perhaps…seal him within the crypt?
He did not possess the concentration or force of will at the moment to mentally shatter the stone slab, but Sebastian did want to destroy it, just to be safe. It was far too heavy to lift and toss to break, so he took to it with the bar, bashing and hacking at it until it was sectioned into manageable pieces. Panting and now sweating, Sebastian leaned on the rod as he caught his breath. He winced as bile rose up in his throat. The sickly smell of the locale, and the already moist atmosphere that formed dew on his whiskers, mingling with sweat made his stomach turn.
Gathering composure, Bash took up the torch and descended once more, taking the iron rod with him too this time. He soon found the unmarked grave without incident. He set the torch upon the floor and pulled the rings of the hollow stone drawer to find it just that…hollow. There was no sarcophagus housed within. His heart thundered in his chest, but he nonetheless proceeded, feeling along the rough, dusty ceiling of the space until a smooth, perfectly square-cut piece gave in. He pressed it up and over, and leaned into the grave to grope about in the arm-sized hole he had uncovered.
Sebastian's tensions eased a bit when he felt the familiar texture and weight of a leather-bound book.
Withdrawing it from its resting place, he blew across the cover to remove the dust. The remainder of his breath caught in his throat.
There on the cover, stitched in blood red, was the very rune that had marked his desecrated home, so many years ago. Sebastian dropped the book in horror, hyperventilating, and almost stepping directly upon his only source of light as he backed away in panic. What felt like ages passed as he stood there, staring at the accursed volume. The only sounds audible now being the crackling of the torch and his own heartbeat. His breath had become shallow.
"What kind of sick joke is this?!" he shouted impotently to the halls of dead surrounding him, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
Sebastian at last shakily picked the book up again, and flipped through its pages. Nothing. He could glean nothing from it. He felt an energy emanating from it, but he could see no visions, and he felt no inclinations of its past. The writing within was just as arcane, in a language unknown to him. He wasn't sure if it was his nerves, or the book itself, but the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach intensified as his eyes scanned over the strange characters. An inexplicable, primal feeling of dread overtook him, and at the same time, he was captivated, almost entranced by the tome…mindlessly flipping through the pages.
Just then, the sound of falling stone upon stone broke the spell of Sebastian's stupor. He heard what sounded like raspy breath echo far away down the corridors of the crypt. Hastily tucking the book away into an inner pocket of his overcoat, Sebastian took up the torch and broke into a run for the stairwell.
