She was not alone.

Holding aloft her everburning torch she made her way down into the depths of the shrine, hugging the wall as a violent aftershock ripped through the ground, forcing the shrine shut and entombing her in darkness. Her footing all but lost she remained steady, placing her free hand against the wall to help keep her balance as she climbed the remaining steps downward until she reached the end. Laying in rest before her was a large room holding within its confines four coffins of ancient craftsmanship. To her surprise, however, three of these coffins were laid bare, their former contents raided of all that had been deemed valuable by their intruders. The fact that there had been four crests upon the shrine and that there were four coffins within was not lost on her, and she immediately began to examine them more closely to determine whether or not one of the open coffins belonged to her ancestors, or if that honor was to fall upon the one still sealed. Out of the corner of her eye she also noticed markings on the floor with only trace amounts of dust. Praying that they were tracks belonging to the feline she began to call out to it, but held her hand to the grip of her greatsword just in case the markings belonged to something more.

Much like the figure born by the third opened coffin, her own ancestor. How long has it been since its children laid this one to rest? How long since its name had been uttered by the tongues of the living? To be buried with only half the honors of this one was a fantasy she could scarcely dream, but it pained her heart nonetheless to see her forebear desecrated so heartlessly. A glimmer of hope sparked within her, however; the thought that, wherever one's soul finds rest might come with the realization that the body was nothing more than a shell for the spirit, and so long as it was the spirit that continued on in peace was all that mattered. Still, she had to question the nature of her ancestor's burial. Upon the body lay the hilt of a luxurious sword, its once glamorous countenance stripped bare of the gems it had once been inlaid with. With that once cool spark within her now burning furiously the woman grasped the hilt and gripped it with all of her might. It was then, upon closer examination, that she noticed that the hilt was still attached quite firmly to the silver greatsword beneath it, appearing to be embedded not only through both the corpse and the coffin, but struck through the very stone that lay beneath it!

Immediately another, strong shiver surged through her spine as she released her hold upon the hilt. The ranger thought back to Shensai and the family whom she belonged to. She knew nothing outside of faerie stories, but with childlike innocence she had to ask herself: could they be true? For what purpose was her ancestor skewered in such a way? Fortunately for her she had no need for new swords as her own, although worn from battle, still served her well; likewise, she was not a graverobber, and after coming face to face with the past she was not about to dishonor her kindred, even if she had grown to distance herself from her family name, taking another for her own. No, she would take her fears and heartbreak and turn it into fiery rage; and from that, focus it into white-hot strength. Eyes upon the ground she traced the broken traces of dust that littered the floor, observing the making of paw prints that moved across the ancient stone and stopped short at the wall ahead. Any hope that she might have held was further crushed at the sight of blood seeping beneath the wall, long since dried.

A question dawned on her: would a well built wall have even the slightest gap where it met the floor? Walking firmly towards the wall she placed her free hand upon it, pressing all of her strength against it. Would she be too late?

“The last time I saw my cat was three days ago when I let her out for the night.” Those were the words that Shensai had spoken to her, recalled upon seeing the sorrowful sight that nearly made her heart stop. The feline she had been tasked at finding, the elder's dear companion, lay dead upon the cold, stone floor. Instinctively she clenched her fists, tensed her body, breathing out a low, “merde…” behind gritted teeth as she realized that she was too late. As quickly as the sense of fury rushed over her it was soon gone, replaced by a calmness that came with unwanted understanding. Three days was a long time for any creature whom lacked proper food or water, and had the feline been trapped within these walls all of that time than no amount of haste on her part would've permitted her to save its life. Worse yet, she realized that this entire event was all for naught, that she could have spent it preparing herself for the tournament instead of wasting it helping someone who likely had one foot in the grave herself. She quickly cursed her lack of compassion, but still strained at the terrible realization that plagued her mind: how would she be able to break the news to Shensai?

Desperately seeking any reason to shake herself from the morbid atmosphere around her, the ranger raised her everburning torch to see that this room was very much unlike the tomb behind her. Standing against each wall rested large bookshelves overflowing with ancient tomes, filled with words and pictogrammes that were very likely beyond her ken. A desk, too, there was, positioned in the middle of the room; an ideal placement, well within reach of the shelves that surrounded it. As she glanced over the desk the woman caught sight of a parchment atop it, trying to gleam whatever meaning she could from it. Everything around her was fuel for her curiosity, her insatiable desire to grow stronger and wiser in the ways of the world. Yet just as she was readying herself to study the great works around her, she quickly fell back to reality. The shrine that sat above these chambers had closed shut upon her after descending into them and she had no knowledge of how she could make her escape. “Non…” she whispered to herself, focusing her thoughts on the situation at hand. This shrine held one of her ancestors within its confines and reacted to the blood that she had spilled upon it; if this shrine had been built to allow her kin access, certainly there would have to be a way for her to return to the outside world, as well.

After examining the parchment to the best of her abilities she gathered up the body of the feline in her arms and prepared to make her way out and back to Shensai.

If she knew how to laugh this would've been the perfect opportunity; the book was a falsehood, a block of cleverly decorated wood with a thick chain behind it, and upon pulling it the ground around her began to shake violently. Pressing herself hard against the bookshelf the ranger was able to keep her balance, watching as the book sank back into the shelf while in the distance she heard the sound of stone grinding against the earth: the shrine had reopened. Quickly scooping up the body of the feline and her everburning torch, she raced out of the shrine just as it began to close back up behind her, leaving its treasures and its secrets entombed for the next adventurer to find… save for one. Before she had begun to worry about her escape, she had taken some time to examine the parchment that rested openly on the desk in the study. Although the words that resided on the back of the parchment were archaic, she was able to recognize it as a form of Sylvan, the tongue of the Feywild. It described the means that one could pass through the world without trace, leaving one utterly invisible to the senses of those who may be tracking her. She was already adept at such careful moments within her forest home, but not so fortunate in less familiar climes. If she could fully unlock its power, the scroll would prove to be a great boon to her in the future.

On the forefront of the scroll, however, lay words of dire importance. They described a plan to steal the artifact that was to be the prize at the fighting tournament, but unfortunately for her the full details of the malicious intent had become too smudged to read. Even her understanding of the common tongue would not permit her to decipher any more clues from it, but perhaps there were those who could. Pausing a moment, she lay the cat upon the cool earth as she stuffed her crowbar and torch into her pack, carefully placing the scroll into a compartment for more fragile things after rolling it up. Gathering the feline back up into her arms she looked out at the path ahead that led back into town, thankful for the skills that would allow her to traverse the wooded terrain without leaving behind any tracks. She remembered that she had not been the only one within the shrine recently, and if any had followed her she would hope that her trek through the forest would've thrown them off of her trail. With her heart more emboldened than ever, she raced back towards town as fast as her legs could carry her, drawing inner strength from her experiences in the shrine as well as the decision to report upon the plans that she had found. The ranger would first turn to Shensai whom had been left at the tavern with her waterskin, returning her beloved to her before inquiring her about the shrine, less she turn to another for justice. With the tournament already under way, she hoped that she would not be too late.

Time passed around them as history unfolded before her mind, learning more about the city of Debolas than she had previously known. What caught her attention the most was the name of one whom shared her true name, and yet at the same time was wholly unfamiliar to her. Never in her youth had her family ever mentioned the name of one named “Denal.” After all, her's was that of a humble farmstead whom bore no great heroes; perhaps, as the ages wore on, her family forgot its history as their influence in the city waned? Immediately she tried to clear it from her mind, for the past had little bearing on her present, and with her family deceased and her true name denied she was more than ever focused on living life for herself, not for some forgotten kin. That is what she would convince herself of, anyway, but if one amongst the founders had indeed become a vampire and if her ancestor was as important as Shensai seemed to indicate then she couldn't help but have the feeling that she wouldn't be hearing the last of any of this. After all, if the means to open the shrine had been so secret, than just how long had it been since someone had last been within it prior to her arrival?

“Thou shall not worry, Madame Midel; Le way in was accidental and l'exact means to decipher le process was beyond m'abilities,” she half-lied, knowing full well the truth although disdaining it as the idea of self-injury never thrilled her. “Merci beaucop, for all that thou 'ast done for moi,” the ranger added, nodding her head towards her elder. “Une, last request; le waterskin that thou 'ast borrowed. I would like to see it returned, for it would be of dire aid on le journeys a'ead.” Her quest was now at an end, and what she had assumed to have been a simple matter at first had grown into a memorable experience, one that helped not only to strengthen her mind but her spirit as well. The ranger turned to face the door that led outside before looking down upon the scroll she held within her hand, pondering her next course of action. The true authorities would be quite some distance away, and she feared that the theft would have already occurred by the time she reached them, if she wasn't already too late. She decided that the best idea was to make her way to the coliseum itself and to make contact with those whom presided over today's tournament, less they are powerless to stop this doom.