© 2025 – J.B. Norman, published by Emona Literary Services
Roland snatches the idol off its plinth and grins toothily back at the others at the far end of the chamber. He flashes them a thumbs-up and…
…nothing happens.
“Wow.”
Lucia blinks in surprise.
“I was sure that was going to trigger a trap, or something,” she mutters.
“Well,” Alda offers. “When was the last time anybody was here? It’s been so long the traps have probably all broken down.”
Lucia glances down at Alda. “You say that now, but I guarantee that before today is over, we’re going to be running from a big boulder, or a spiked wall, or an acid flood. Something terrible, with lots and lots of screaming.”
Apolline closes her eyes and tilts her head, as if trying to hear a faint sound.
“I don’t sense anything magical. If there are any traps in here, they’re all purely mechanical,” the Aurorean sorceress notes.
“Don’t worry, Lucia. I’ll protect you,” Alda promises.
Even though she and Roland aren’t related by blood, they’ve been living as siblings so long that Alda grins the exact same toothy grin as Roland.
He’s clearly a bad influence on her. Lucia’s going to have to do something about that…
Petra nods thoughtfully, studying the walls of the old temple thoughtfully and looking for anyplace a big boulder might drop out on them.
“Fear not,” the Half-Troll Amazon declares. “If there is a boulder, I will punch it.”
“You can’t punch a boulder, Petra! That’s insane!” Lucia yowls like someone stepped on her tail.
Petra shrugs. “Not with that attitude, Lucia,” she counters.
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