Eyes in the Dark

Light in the Deep

The tunnels grew colder as the party rode, the air thin and wet as old breath. The metal of the dwarven rail-cart groaned beneath them, echoing down a corridor that had not known sound for an age. Ahead, something glimmered in the dark—a lone lantern, perhaps, or some reflection in the stone.

They slowed the cart and stepped off, boots clinking on the iron track. Silence pressed close. Somewhere beyond their light came a scrape, a whisper, something moving.

Karl murmured a prayer to Kord. White-gold light flared in his palm: pure, defiant, and bright enough to show what waited ahead.

The Basilisk

The glow fell upon scales like oil on water, dark green shifting to dull bronze. The creature crouched low, long as a horse and thick as an ox, its claws gouging furrows in the stone. Bony ridges crowned its head; pale emerald eyes burned without reflection.

Beside it stood two Drow wrapped in black leather and silver thread, holding its chain like priests at a ritual. The basilisk strained against them, its head swaying slowly as though tasting the light.

Turned to Stone

Karl’s prayer became a gasp. His arm froze in place; the light held steady, but the man had become stone.

Halen cursed and leapt forward, only to turn grey before his greatsword met the air. Toby’s eyes followed the movement and he too stiffened, frozen in mid-breath.

Only Asuran remained—the shadow beyond sight. The basilisk’s gaze slid past without meeting his own. He stayed low against the damp wall and reached for the glass sphere at his belt.

Fire from the Dark

Asuran hurled the sphere towards the Drow, aiming by their whispers rather than sight. The glass struck and cracked like thunder. Red and green fire burst across the tunnel, followed by screams.

The Drow burned where they stood. The basilisk thrashed, chains clattering as firelight twisted over its scales. It collapsed with a sound like grinding stone and falling sand.

When quiet returned, smoke filled the tunnel. Karl, Halen and Toby stood as statues in the dying light.

The Long Recovery

After an hour, Karl’s hand moved. Grey stone softened back into flesh. By the second hour all three companions lived again, cursing and shivering, their skin still grey as ash.

The basilisk also lived, though weak and bound. Soot and torn cloth covered its dangerous eyes. Even helpless, its presence unnerved the party: a creature whose gaze made a mockery of life itself.

Karl said Kord’s light had revealed what should be destroyed. Asuran answered that light kills the careless—and that the wise strike from the dark.

What Remained

The Drow remains were brittle, charred and twisted. Most of their belongings had melted into slag, but a half-burnt cloak of stealth remained serviceable. Several tough, blackened vials had also survived the fire by chance.

The rail tunnel fell silent once more. Behind them waited the cart and the old road through the underways; ahead lay darkness, smoke and the unanswered question of where the Drow had been taking their living weapon.