With Dravencoles vanished upon the altar, the remaining party split to make the most of their time in the crypts. Ferinthria and Landor stayed behind to guard the altar in case Dravencoles returned, while Momeline and Lirielle pressed deeper into the tunnels.
Behind a hidden door, they found a creature waiting—pale, stretched skin pulled taut over impossibly long limbs, a noseless face split by a maw of spiked teeth. Momeline noticed a collar around its neck bearing the symbol of the Deathless, followers of Vaelith. She struck first, but the thing was fast. In a moment of desperation, Lirielle banished it, and the room fell silent. Whatever had lurked here had already claimed its prize; the chamber was looted bare save for scattered coins and a statue of Saint Corvin, the vigilant guardian often placed to ward off thieves. In a nearby room, Momeline discovered a mace radiating dark magic and claimed it for closer study.
Two priests descended into the crypts, questioning what the party was doing below. They offered to lead the group to another chamber, but Lirielle caught something in their words that didn’t sit right. She called them out as cultists, and the pretense shattered. Skeletons clawed up from the stone floor as the false priests attacked, but the party cut them all down and returned to the altar.
They rested another day in the crypts, hunger gnawing at them. Castellan eventually found his way down and demanded answers—what had happened, and where was Dravencoles? The party deflected, but the paladin’s absence spoke loudly enough. Castellan told them the city above was turning against them. He promised to speak with the King on their behalf and left.
Moments later, a bird darted through the passage before the hidden door sealed shut. Talan shifted back to his natural form and delivered grim news: Castellan was telling the people above that the party had been summoning undead into the cathedral. Before they could process the betrayal, the dead came again. Undead poured from the walls and the earth in wave after relentless wave. The party fought until exhaustion blurred their vision and their arms burned. As the tide threatened to overwhelm them, Lirielle—battered and desperate—pressed her hand to the altar and willed Dravencoles to return. In his final vision among the stars, Dravencoles saw her face and heard her call to fight alongside them, to continue in service to the people. He chose to answer.
Light erupted through the dark chamber. Dravencoles stood before the altar once more, the Hammer of Elandria blazing in his grip. He brought it down upon the undead with holy fire, and radiant light scoured the corruption from the room. The dead fell and did not rise again. The party, battered but alive, gathered themselves and made for the surface—ready to face whatever awaited them above.