The broken walls of the tomb led to a cave. The cave led to a ladder. The ladder led to the surface. To a cliff that would punish a misplaced step with certain death.

Would-be certain death. If a dream-drow failed to intervene. Again.

I was not tempted to test her kindness.

The facade of a crumbling temple welcomed us. Confirming my suspicion that this was a holy place. Not merely an abandoned grave site.

Perhaps it was both.

Regardless, it was a place of import. Long ago.

A heated argument from a pair of would-be grave robbers quieted. We had pulled ourselves into their sight. They nervously wielded weapons. Attempted to brandish threats.

Neither were warriors. Neither wanted to fight.

How might it feel for my newly acquired blade to part their flesh. To bathe in its first blood in perhaps centuries. To be baptised as I tested its edge against the living.

The two tried to force a decision. Shadowheart looked to me. Curious. Calculating.

They were the same as the elf. They smelled of fear. They could do no lasting harm.

They were not worthy.

I did not reach for the blade.

I stretched. I yawned.

Their eyes lingered. They knew I could crush them. They saw the weapon on my back. Longer than they were tall. More deadly.

They understood how effortless it would be.

They had no chance.

I told them they had only one thing: their lives. They should value it while they could.

They fled.

Shadowheart offered her first genuine smile. It shifted to a smirk as she saw my gaze. She complimented my finesse.

She was pleased the aura I exude was capable of doing more than mere slaughter.

She claimed us to be kindred spirits.

I could only think of this aura.

Do my thoughts seep into the world? Hint at what I might do? Does she see what others might not? Or is she merely wary?

I would be.

I was broken from my reverie. A rock crashed to the ground. It broke through a roof, revealing the room below.

A rush of footsteps came to investigate.

The pair of thieves were not alone.

We left the scene. Returned to the grave with the lich. He had wandered off.

Good riddance.

We went to the only path in the tomb we had skipped. It was a small alcove. A secret passage.

We opened the door. There were five people. Focused on a room opposite ours. Where the stone fell.

A mage stood nearby. Staying far from the danger of a stationary stone. He noticed us.

His screams drew his companions.

Shadowheart took aim at a barrel. It was filled with oil. It exploded as her flame breached the wooden barrier.

She retreated into the hidden passage. She grabbed my arm and pulled me along.

One of the surviving thieves began to scream in rage. He led the charge while others kept their distance.

I called upon the power of thunder in the doorway. The raging human kept his footing. Others were blasted into the burning rubble. They died.

The door slammed. The mechanism that had opened it broke with my spell. It gave us the advantage.

The human did not know his situation. He drew some blood. Lightning coursed from my veins to his weakened body. His corpse crumbled.

Shadowheart was not pleased. She was too close to the blast. I forgave her prudence in fleeing from the human. Given the situation.

Arrows thumped into the securely shut door. We left.

After salvaging what we could from the body.

We returned to the crater Shadowheart had made. We lowered ourselves into the room. Saw the same situation as before. With our positions reversed.

Shadowheart threw a bomb at the remaining grave robbers. One of the archers survived. She rushed the priestess and hit her point-blank with her bow.

I heard Shadowheart's response. Her whimper. I felt a familiar anger.

A few minutes later I saw a corpse at my feet. Both the halberd and my hands covered in dwarven blood.

No one hurts my Shadowheart.