War of Style Chapter 1

No, I don't know why I have such weird dreams. But it's cool 'coz I can write about them. :)

This is Chapter 1 of 3 (so far)

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Chapter 1: Worst Case Scenario.

The sky was a deep inky black and it seemed that every damn person was trying to stop us. We had gotten an alert from the temple vault's alarms, and that could only mean one thing - someone had stolen the Proteiforme orb. Villagers asked for photos, shepherds ran wild for lost sheep and late-late night marketers shouted discounted prices as we half-ran half-bolted for the temple. It was an effort not to scream how close the end of the world, or worse - war - could be.

The temple was, of course, stupidly positioned on top the complete opposite side of the settlement, and by the time we managed to greet the front steps, the first yawns of the sun were winking past the horizon.

Up the steps, down the hall, down the stairway, across the back room, around the random fountain that every temple apparently needs, all the way to the vault guarded by-

No one.

I made a mental note of the ways my companions' breaths hitched at the sight of the unguarded...and slightly unhinged door that lead to one of the world's most treasured..well, treasures.

High alert was the silent message we sent each other as we carefully crept inside the vault.

Surely, I thought, our thief didn't know about the trapdoor. No one knew, I thought. No one except the temple masters, the guards, seventeen high spirit guides and-

Us.

So a lot of people knew about the trapdoor, I hushed to myself as we scanned the vault for anything out of order. But there was no way they could have known the secret password and lock combination that only a shapeshifter could open.

I returned myself to the room. Anything out of the ordinary was what a tilted head from Samaia asked me. I shook my head at her and kept looking. A click of alert came from Azrel and we rushed to his side, where he pointed to a single black bead left lying on the floor. Too obvious for a room full of gold and jewels somehow completely untouched.

So the trigger can't have come from this part of the vault, I realised as I swiftly darted to the rug we all knew hid the handle to the trapdoor. I swept it aside, registering the tinkling of more black beads on marble as I beheld the home of what had presumably been stolen.

Samaia hefted the thick iron handle, not even a squeak escaping the hinges as we peered into the room below.

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Thank you for reading! Chapter 2 will be out soon...