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The Price of the Truth — Chapter 1
They found themselves in an old cellar illuminated by torchlight.
If someone had told him a month ago that he would be chasing a powerful relic in a cellar filled with dangerous entropy creatures, he would never have believed them. Yet, here he was, in a dark underground chamber, alongside two useless fools, pursuing a relic. A place he had never heard of, full of puzzles and traps. His companions: the blond-haired, blue-eyed, red-cheeked Lathan, with two curls falling over his eyes, and Groka, the bald, bearded dwarf whose beard reached his belly.
Lathan tilted his head slightly toward the ominous corridor on the right and said, “The relic is this way — I can feel it.”
“My dwarf senses point to this side,” Groka declared, gesturing toward the unlit, cobweb-filled passage on the left. Groka was considered an idiot even by dwarf standards. Among his friends, he was known as “Bald Groka,” though it had little to do with his lack of hair.
“We’d better listen to Lathan,” said Regner, pointing to the crumbling sandstone corridor on the right. The path had no torches, and the only light illuminating their way came from the torch in their hands, casting long shadows on the walls. The corridor was filled with an unsettling darkness — unlike the partially lit path they had…
