Sleeping

Bard stood quietly in the vast, deathly silent underground space, his nerves taut and his gaze grave.

The communication device fixed to his armor strap was still emitting hollow howls.

Even though he did not understand how the device worked, basic magical knowledge told him that this was the result of the Message Spell being completely blocked—but when had that happened?

The crystal was still glowing faintly, and the runes on the device's surface were still functioning normally. This appearance of everything being normal had lowered his guard, leaving him unable to tell even now when communication had been cut off... Perhaps he had gone too deep into this strange, dark place. The Cecilians on the surface probably could no longer see the images he was sending back.

Bard took a deep breath and slowly calmed his rising anxiety. Rather than rashly attempting more calls or continuing forward, he cautiously took a step back, preparing to return the way he had come.

He might have been blocked, or the Message Spell might have failed because of the distance. If it was the latter, returning the way he had come should solve the problem.

But the instant he took that step back, the scene before him suddenly changed.

Lights suddenly came on in the dark, shattered Council Hall. Bright Magic Crystal Lamps lit the entire chamber as brightly as day. The enormous cracks in the ceiling and nearby walls had vanished at some point, and the broken stone tables and chairs that had fallen to the ground were once again whole. In this suddenly restored Council Hall, dozens of robed figures sat around the long table, holding a tense and solemn meeting.

Bard heard voices coming from around the long table:

"The False God's Body has gone wrong. We can't control