It wasn't as much a gloomy scene as it was foreboding. He stepped cautiously in the direction of the mausoleum and felt a twinge of something deep inside. An unfamiliar feeling that would be known to him as fear. He was frightened indeed, and rightly so, he'd only been a field member for a turn or so, but the council saw fit that he was to take this mission.
Gathering his wits about him, he moved closer and closer until he was but an arms distance away. Plunging his hand into a cavernous pocket, he extracted the small trinket from the archives that'd been given to him by his superior.
Quite interesting, it was. A small shard, about an centimeter in length. Something similar to an amethyst or a sapphire, it even had a peculiar glow in the darkness. Strange shapes and symbols had been carved into the smooth surface. It felt cold and heavy in his grip.
Once again, he gathered his wits and began what his superior had instructed. He was to hold the stone to the door and wait for what "was surely to come."
So he took a stance not knowing what to expect and held it toward the barred entrance, his left arm bracing his right. It was harder than he'd predicted. The shard kept forcing back and as it crept closer it became more and more difficult to control. 'Strange,' he thought. Glowing more and more, the shard became heavier as the distance closed, until the weight of it became almost unbearable.
When he could no longer sustain the glowing mass, he released his grip, retreating his arm and letting it plummet to the ground. With a stony thud, it smashed into a stone slab near his feet that he'd not noticed. It fit snugly into the indentation carved out of the middle, the light emanating from the stone illuminating his surroundings.
After a moment of confusion... or was it uncertainty, the slab shattered leaving the shard to plunge further into the cold earth. And with a sound of stone converging metal, the darkness returned. Not sure if this strange event had concluded, he knelt down and with shaking hands, spread apart the pieces of the slab.
As he did so, the night was set alight with the blaze of a thousand suns! For a moment, he was blown back on his haunches, the hole blazing with blinding light. Panic pulsed through him. Winds rushed past his ears making it impossible to hear. Numbness filled his limbs. For once in his life, Gordon...was filled, head to toe, with horror. He couldn't move or breathe and all of his senses were dulled to the point of omission. And from somewhere deep in this terrifying, seemingly endless hole, an ancient and powerful voice erupted.
"You have been chosen, this night!" It boomed. "You've been granted a great power from the Wells of Arsinthion!" These words were seared into Gordon's mind as he recalled images of ancient writings scrawled on parchment and stone. "Only you can harness it! Use it well."
With these three last words, all went silent. And when he opened his eyes, the light had vanished. He could move again. Standing up, he inspected the slab. But the slab was no longer broken. And where the shard had originally landed...was a ring. A ring carved from what looked like brilliant silver and inlaid with the same glowing shard he'd released from his own hand.
He reached to pick it up and found that it was hot to the touch. Once again, he dwelled into his pocket, conjuring a small leather bag and placed the ring inside.
Standing up, he glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was watching. Once he was convinced, he turned back to study the mausoleum. For a moment he began to question whether all of this had actually happened. But his doubt was put to rest as he noticed that the M on the mausoleum was no longer weathered and ancient, but glowed bright white and cast dancing shadows along the moistened earth. And as he slowly retreated from the gloomy scene, the scent of magic was in the air.
