Max, Lucy and the crows had spent hours wandering the empty city, searching every corner, every building, every street for something, anything, that could be valuable.
But no matter where they looked, they found nothing. The city was silent, the buildings pristine but lifeless, devoid of any treasure or even hints of past riches. All that remained was the overwhelming sense of abandonment, as though everything of importance had long since vanished.
Standing ontop of a tall building Max felt disappointed. "Guess we'll be going back empty handed."
'Craw!!!'
Suddenly Max received a mental message from sandcrow Ramla.
"huh? You found something!! Great, everyone gather at Ramla's location."
As Max approached the base of the tree where Ramla was, he saw it, a slight depression in the earth, almost hidden beneath the sprawling roots.
"Great job Ramla."
Craw ! Craw!.
After Brushing away the dirt and debris that had accumulated over what looked like a small door, Max just waited.
As his pets converged, Max put them inside the pet space, used his telekinesis to pull the door open, and with a low groan of shifting stone, the hatch revealed a narrow passageway leading underground.
Without hesitation Max stepped inside, the air growing cooler as he descended. The space was long and dark, and the walls were made of rough stone, their surfaces lined with intricate carvings and symbols.
"huh! more Dwarven style."
The passage led into a large chamber, far deeper than Max had anticipated. The chamber was a cavernous room, and in the center of it stood a large, ancient structure that looked distinctly dwarven. Its stone walls were reinforced with iron, and it was covered in more carvings and runes. Max could tell this was no ordinary place, it had the feel of something built to last through the ages, something of great importance.
On the walls of the structure, etched into the stone, was a history. Max's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, reading the carvings that told a story of three races.
.....
The three realms, the Human, the Elven, and the Dwarven, were once united in peace, bound by mutual respect and cooperation. Trade flourished between them, and the land was prosperous, a time when everything was beautiful and the future seemed bright.
But as with all things, the peace could not last. Traveling between the realms was difficult, far too hard for the growing needs of the people.
There was a pressing need to connect the three realms in a more permanent way. And so, after many years of debate and research, the leaders of each realm agreed to join forces and create space channels, pathways that would allow easy travel and exchange between the three.
None objected. The idea was revolutionary, and its potential for the growth of magic, power, and prosperity was immense. But they did not foresee the danger that lay in the connections they created.
After years of work, they succeeded. The channels were opened, but with them came an unforeseen threat. The realms were connected to something far more dangerous than they could have imagined, a place of nightmares, a void where nightmares poured out, threatening to destroy everything in its path.
They called it The nightmare realm, and it could not be contained. It was a force that could not be fought, a force that could not be undone. The realms had made a grave mistake, and the consequences were dire.
The Council of Mages convened, desperate for a solution. But there was nothing they could do. The space paths they had created could not be closed. Not without immense power, and not without the ultimate sacrifice.
And so, they devised a plan. They would forge the greatest weapon ever seen, a staff capable of sealing the rift, of closing the space channels. The best space materials from each realm were gathered to form the weapon, materials that were so rare and powerful they could not find a second of each.
They called upon the greatest Dwarven forger, a master craftsman with unparalleled skill, to forge the staff. He was honored by the task but also anxious. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and the pressure to succeed was immense.
Before beginning his work, the forger sought peace. He traveled to his old hometown to clear his mind, to find clarity in his thoughts. It was during this time that he encountered a young, strange mage, unlike any he had ever seen. This mage wielded a weapon unlike anything known in the three realms, a staff that was not a staff at all, but a strange device. The strange mage called it a gun, one that used force and power in a way the forger had never seen.
At this point Max's serious intrigued expression turned into amusement but he kept reading.
The forger, curious and desperate for inspiration, captured the young mage. He extracted knowledge from the mage's dead body, learning about the guns and the strange magic they wielded he also learned about the origins of the young mage being a soul from another realm but he didn't care about that.
With this new knowledge, the forger returned to his workshop, determined to forge the greatest weapon the realms had ever seen.
But when the staff was finished, it was not the grand tool they had hoped for. The staff was nothing more than a crude weapon that lacked the necessary magic to close the rift. Nor was it strong enough to fight against the nightmares, It was a complete failure.
And worse, it wasted the last of the precious materials, materials that could never be recast.
The hope of the three realms was dashed, and the rift remained open, its horrors continuing to spill forth.
Max was speechless.
"The actual...."
From that point on the text became unreadable due to being damaged, Max wasn't sure what damaged it but it was all broken.
All he can understand is that the three realms fought and won with heavy sacrifices, and that this place was built by the same Dwarven Craftsman in the story, he took refuse in the abandoned elven realm dying alone out of shame.
Max's eyes brightened as he started looking around and soon he found it, the tomb of the Dwarve.
.....