Damian waited for a moment so that the two young men wouldn't notice him, then continued to follow them, hiding among the narrow alleys between the houses, careful not to draw any attention or make the slightest sound that might give him away.
Otto and his dark-skinned companion kept exchanging words the entire way. Damian couldn't hear their conversation from his position, but they also failed to notice that someone was tailing them.
When they had passed by him earlier, he hadn't managed to catch much of what they said. He had only picked up the words "cave" and "treasures," which were enough to spark his interest and convince him to follow them.
The two continued walking until they passed the city limits and entered the forest. Damian was careful to maintain distance between himself and them, moving silently while following the light of the lantern in their hands—the only source of illumination in this darkness apart from the moon.
He paid no attention to the gloom; he had even left his own lantern back in the alley where he had hidden earlier. He wasn't foolish enough to light his way and risk being spotted by his targets.
About fifteen minutes—or perhaps a little more—passed as they ventured deeper into the forest. Then he heard the sound of trickling water ahead. It was a small stream. The pair slightly changed direction and continued walking along the stream until an old palace appeared near its bank. It looked abandoned at first glance, but the light coming from inside immediately dispelled that impression.
The trees grew sparser near the building. The palace was surrounded by an old iron fence. A strong horse was tied to a tree nearby, and another one was tethered beside it. As soon as Otto and his companion crossed the fence and knocked on the palace's ancient door, it opened instantly. A sturdy-looking man with short black hair appeared; he seemed a few years older than the two. After making sure no one had followed them, he let them in and closed the door behind them.
Damian watched all of this from just a few meters away, hidden behind a massive rock outside the fence.
The palace was enormous. Otto and his companion entered and headed toward the main hall. There, Otto spoke in an irritated tone, showing clear impatience:
"Fabian, I hope what you told us is true—otherwise don't blame anyone but yourself for wasting our precious time."
In response, Fabian gave a small smile and replied confidently:
"I promise you it will be worth your while. Let's hurry—the other member is waiting for us in the basement."
Fabian stepped forward and led them toward an iron door on the side. Unlike the old palace exterior, everything inside looked relatively modern, from the furniture to the iron basement door.
Off to the side, the dark-skinned young man spoke in a slightly mocking tone:
"What's with those strange clothes of yours? You're starting to look like one of those fanatics from those weird churches!"
Fabian had been about to open the basement door when he heard the remark. His expression changed; a flash of anger crossed his face, though of course the other two didn't notice anything.
He quickly opened the heavy iron door, revealing a long stone staircase. A strange smell permeated the air, and torches burned along the walls all the way down.
"Let's go. Cyril will get tired of waiting. He arrived here before all of us…"
Meanwhile, outside the palace, Damian was trying to figure out how to get in. The place looked quite old—probably more than a hundred years old, judging by the vines clinging to the walls and the weathered gray stone.
"Should I wait for them to come out, or sneak inside now?" he wondered to himself. But he quickly decided to wait a little longer. If they took too long, he would find a way in and take a look at what they were doing.
From what he had gathered, the two were meeting other associates and would head to the cave together. So in all likelihood they wouldn't stay long before leaving and continuing toward their destination.
And even if they were only planning things here and wouldn't leave soon, there was no harm in learning the location of this cave so he could reach it before them—or set traps and prepare to take them down after they retrieved the treasure. There were many possibilities to consider.
Several minutes passed while Damian waited patiently, but he began to lose patience after nearly twenty minutes went by. No sounds could be heard from inside—just deadly silence.
He waited a few more minutes, hesitated for a moment in thought, then decided to sneak in. He found an old wooden window on the first floor with one section broken. He placed his hand and foot into the crevices in the stone wall and began climbing nimbly. After several failed attempts, he finally succeeded and reached the window.
The room inside was dark and empty, with spider webs clinging everywhere. As soon as Damian entered, a web stuck to his face, but he quickly brushed it away and focused intently on his surroundings.
The room was completely bare. He moved toward the door and opened it quietly. After confirming the corridor was empty, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. He checked that no one was in the nearby rooms, then cautiously proceeded along the hallway until he found the stairs leading to the ground floor. He paused for a moment to scan the area again, then began descending silently and carefully, without making the slightest sound.
"If I didn't desperately need money for my future plans, I wouldn't have followed these kids," he sighed softly while inspecting the ground floor.
He was certain they were still here—but where exactly was something he would soon discover.
He searched every room on the ground floor with care, moving quickly and silently, until he found the iron door from earlier. He examined it and discovered it was unlocked. After a brief pause, he opened it cautiously and placed his foot on the first step.
The old stone staircase was lit by several flaming torches. He descended slowly and very quietly. Faint sounds began to reach him from below—something like chants or incantations. The deeper he went, the louder the voices grew, until the scene below finally revealed itself to him.
He remained hidden; those below still couldn't see him, while he could see some of them. The sight made him narrow his eyes.
There was a large group of people dressed in loose black robes and wearing masks that concealed their faces. They stood in a wide circle, illuminated by black candles arranged in concentric rings. On the floor, drawn in dark red chalk, was an eight-pointed symbol encircled by the rings, and inside it—an inverted pentagram.
In the center of this series of circular symbols and candles stood a black coffin engraved with strange red runes that gave off an ominous aura. The coffin was half-embedded in the ground. Beside it stood a man in loose black robes slightly different from the others. His completely black mask featured a third eye opening on the forehead—unlike the rest of the masks. In his hands he held a book bound in black leather, clearly marking his special status compared to the others.
"This looks like some bizarre ritual of a satanic cult. Seems those two companions from earlier were unlucky," Damian thought, letting out a faint sigh. There was no benefit in continuing to watch this unless he wanted to invite more trouble upon himself.
But just as he turned to leave, a voice made him turn back.
"Bring one of the two."
The chanting stopped; silence fell over the place. Two figures from among the many masked individuals went and dragged Otto—who was unconscious—and placed him on top of the coffin.
Damian watched with a strange expression on his face, which grew even stranger when he saw their next move. The man in the center closed the black book and handed it to someone, then another person approached and gave him a sword before returning to his place. They resumed their circular formation as before and began chanting once more.
The man took the sword with elegance and, without the slightest hesitation, made a clean slash across Otto's throat. There was no wavering in his movements. He wiped the blade on Otto's clothes, handed the sword back to one of the masked figures, had the book returned to him, and rejoined the chanting with the others.
Blood quickly covered the surface of the coffin and flowed along the crimson engravings. As soon as the runes were filled, a brilliant crimson light erupted, dimly illuminating the entire space. The corpse began to tremble faintly!
At first the shaking was weak, but with each passing second it grew stronger until the body suddenly started to wither. The blood was visibly drawn into the coffin, absorbed in a clear and eerie manner. Within seconds, what remained was a desiccated mummy—nothing but skin stretched over bones!